Necroscope: Invaders e-1

by Brian Lumley

  ‘“Ah, no,” said Malinari the Mind, in a voice like bubbles bursting on a pool of oil. “Not dead but undead, or soon to be. He knows things — of metals, machines and engines — and I would know them, too. But you… the things thatjyow know are of far greater interest. Moreover, I see that I am not the first of my kind that you have known.”

  ‘Zek could feel her knowledge slipping from her — slithering out of her and into him, like a greasy rope in a tug-o’-war — and she fed her thoughts to me that much faster. But Malinari would not be denied; he read her telepathic messages, too, interpreting them as best he might. As for her knowledge:

  ‘It was as if Zek’s past, her memories, her understanding of the world… as if it were all iron filings, and Malinari’s mind a vast magnet drawing them out of her. But she fought — oh, how she fought — so that what came to me was of the moment, not of the past, as she allowed me to see how it was, and explained in a kaleidoscope of telepathic scenes how it had been for her, and how if would be for the world if I didn’t receive her warning.

  ‘But she knew that it couldn’t go on — couldn’t be allowed to go on — for he was taking too much, and if she let him he’d get it all. About me, E-Branch, our espers, their talents Malinari would get it all, if she let him.

  ‘By now the others were up out of the sump: Vavara, incredibly beautiful in Zek’s mind, lit by her own radiance, alluring so as to further weaken Zek by her presence. And I saw her, but I’ll spare you any description because I know that any description would be false. For the beauty of a vampire Lady is literally skin deep. Let me just say this: most women — young women, especially those of great beauty — would hate her; they would be irresistibly attracted to her, but they’d hate her. And even the most blase man, a man drained by his excesses, sated to his full measure, would lust after Vavara.

  ‘And finally Lord Szwart. A darkness… a flowing, oozing something… a shape without a shape… the ultimate in metamorphism… scorning any fixed form for the constant, ongoing, unceasing mutation of protoplasm which was his existence. A fly-the-light, but more so than any other Great Vampire: the closest comparison we could make would be Nathan Keogh’s description of Eygor Killglance of Madmanse in Turgosheim, in a vampire world. But where Eygor was made of flesh and bone

  — albeit the flesh and bones of others — Szwart was of a far more elemental material. And most of it was darkness.

  ‘Vavara, seeing Zek drawn up against Nephran Malinari, and jealous of any naturally attractive woman, said, “Take what you will and finish it.” Her voice was beautiful as her lying form, as ugly as her words. And Szwart’s was a hiss of air driven out through temporary lungs specifically created, as on the spur of the moment, to enable speech:

  ‘“Aye, get done with it. There are young ones up above…. sweet meat for the taaaking… and a world entire to conquer.” But:

  ‘ “No, ah no,” said Malinari, and moved his slender hand to lift Zek’s chin. “She fights me with a will of iron, and I desire what’s in there.” And to Zek — and through her to me — “Do you know, the eyes are the windows of the soul? It’s true, Zekintha. But to these fingers of mine, they are also the doorways to the mind. And I weary of this and would have it quickly.” He held up two fingers before her, aiming them at her, only inches from her eyes.

  ‘Zek knew what he would do; but seeing his fingers vibrating, pulsing with purple veins, elongating and reaching towards her, she also knew what she must do. She volunteered a picture, thrust it at him, showed him the doom she’d planned for him and the others and seared it into his probing mind. Oh, she lied — described a devastation far greater than the truth, that would come ripping through the floor in rivers of fire and tortured concrete, threatening him even here — and perhaps Lord Malinari suspected it was a lie. But the way Zek’s eyes were locked on that open hatch, out of which the last of three lieutenants was even now appearing, he couldn’t take the chance.

  ‘ “What?” he said, furious where he drew back a pace. “And was this for me, for us?” Then he gathered her up, carried her to the hatch, and without pause… without pause…

  ‘Head first she fell, down and down, and as Nephran Malinari slammed and locked the hatch, the time was up.

  ‘That was when I woke up, drenched and shivering, hot yet cold, with Zek’s last words still ringing in my mind. ‘“Goodbye, Ben,” she said. “I love you…” ‘And then a blinding white light, which I prayed was only the dazzle of my bedside lamp as my trembling fingers switched it on. That’s what I prayed it was— ‘—But it wasn’t.’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN Charnel House

  It was plain that Trask couldn’t go on, so while he sat there shaking his head in a kind of numb disbelief, still seeking a reason for, or perhaps a solution to, his irreparable trauma, the precog lan Goodly took over. In contrast to Trask’s harsh, grating rasp, his voice was almost melodious:

  ‘It was a period of unrest among the old USSR’s satellite countries,’ he began, ‘one of many since the death of European Communism. The former Yugoslavia, Bulgaria, Romania, they were all in a state of political turmoil, and Radujevac stood at the crossroads, as it were, of all three nations. The Refuge was a kind of Sovereign Base Area — a British enclave, if you like — on foreign soil. But despite that, and as a result of its work, it was greatly respected and had achieved an almost diplomatic status. Of course, the British government had safe houses, embassies and the like, in all the former satellites. But because of the unrest access was always difficult, even to the Refuge.

  ‘Well, Nathan Keogh arrived at our London HQ that night, and he was in the process of explaining what was happening in Sunside/Starside when Ben got there. At first Ben was overjoyed, even relieved to see him. Maybe this was what had sparked his dream; perhaps in some way he had anticipated this renewed contact with a friend from the once-hostile environment of the vampire world. But as Nathan’s story unfolded, Ben’s awareness — his sense of dread, of foreboding — returned in short order. It was one of those times that come to all esp-endowed persons, when out of the blue they’re made aware of the other side, the downside of their talents. And now more than ever Ben’s talent was telling him that Zek’s telepathic message had been no mere nightmare…’

  As the precog paused, Trask levered himself off the desk, stood up straight and closed his eyes. He breathed in until his lungs couldn’t take any more, then made for the door. And no one said anything until he had made an unsteady exit.

  Covering for his superior — though in fact Trask needed no such excuse — Goodly said, ‘Did you hear the chopper?’ (No one had.) ‘Ben will want to see it safely down, and maybe… maybe talk to the pilot?’ He offered a shrug which was followed by an awkward silence, until Jake said:

  ‘lan?’ It was the first time he’d used Goodly’s first name. ‘Will you finish it?’

  Goodly looked mildly surprised as he answered, ‘Of course. All of this is for you, after all. But in any case there’s not much more to tell.’ And in a little while:

  ‘We had radio and telephone links to the Refuge,’ the precog went on. ‘Well, we should have had, but not that night. We tried but couldn’t get through. And because of what Nathan had told us, we feared the worst. But Ben — denying, or even defying his own talent — he had to know for sure, of course. Several means were to hand.

  ‘We called in our espers, everyone who was available, and put them to work. But long before the first of them arrived at the HQ, Nathan was volunteering his services. He’d been to the Refuge before and its coordinates were locked in his mind. But if Ben was right and the Wamphyri had come through the subterranean Gate — and if they were still there — what then?

  ‘For Ben, the next hour was an endless anxiety attack; he sweated and agonized over danger-fraught decisions and equally

  painful but inescapable truths. Having faith in his talent, he knew it was already too late — but it was Zek who was there at the Refuge! And Nathan: he would have gone at the sna
p of Ben’s fingers — indeed, he was the only one who could go, along that special route of his. And in fact we had to restrain him, order him not to. And Ben weighing all of this in his tormented mind, all the time knowing in his heart that it was too late, that it had been too late from the moment he’d started awake in a cold sweat at his home in Kensington.

  ‘Then Millicent Cleary arrived; Milly is — now she is — the very best of our telepaths. And right on her heels our locator of long standing, David Chung. I’ll never forget the scene in the Ops Room that night: Chung standing before the illuminated wall map with the tip of his index finger touching the location of Radujevac, and his left hand holding Milly’s. We frequently work in tandem that way. And after only a second or so, their reactions:

  ‘How David snatched himself back, away from the wall. And how Milly snatched back her hand from his! For the locator had sensed something — something at Radujevac, at the Refuge — and she had picked it right out of his mind: the clammy feel of it, its evil taint. Mindsmog!

  ‘Milly had hoped to contact Zek; firm friends and colleagues, they knew each other’s minds. But now, there was simply no trace of Zek’s telepathic aura, no indication of life. Hers was a “flatline” on the monitor of telepathic awareness. And as for the overwhelming presence of mindsmog: it couldn’t be denied or mistaken, and Ben’s worst fears were corroborated.

  ‘Of course, the Necroscope had his own way of looking into matters of that sort, but… no need to go into that here.

  ‘Well, just like last night I blamed myself. Why hadn’t I seen it coming? What good is a talent that only reveals itself when it wants to? Why is the future so bloody devious? I blamed myself that I hadn’t foreseen it, while Ben was in hell for having seen it! And the rest of the team, they were depressed that they’d had to confirm it. While at the Refuge, the mindsmog was rapidly dispersing…

  ‘After that, there was no holding Nathan. His father, Harry Keogh, had owed Zek favours. And Nathan himself was in her debt… not only was she a friend, one who had fought alongside him in Starside, but she’d even been involved with his discovery of the Mobius Continuum. No less than Ben, Nathan knew he wouldn’t rest until he — until they — were sure. Not sure that Zek was dead, for all of us knew that by then, but sure that she would never be wndead.

  ‘And so we armed ourselves, and Nathan took us to the Refuge. But a refuge no longer, for now it was a charnel house…

  ‘Ben, myself, Chung, and Lardis — huh! Try keeping the Old Lidesci out of it; he’d loved Zek dearly — Nathan took us along the Mobius route to Radujevac. It was some two hours, maybe two and a half, since Ben had come awake from his nightmare. More than enough time for the… the slaughter of the staff and children. From what we saw, twenty minutes had been enough!

  ‘Those poor kids, and the people who had looked after them; their torn, sometimes shrivelled bodies were already cold. They had been dead before Ben had driven his car even halfway in to the HQ. And I believe that seeing that for himself— that knowing there was nothing he could have done — was the only thing that kept him sane.

  ‘There were no survivors. Thirty-six kids and eight staff, dead or… or disappeared. Gone from us, anyway. For you see, we knew only too well that the ones who weren’t there… that they weren’t survivors, either. And certainly they’d have been better off dead. For they were now undead, or if not now, then soon. There was no other explanation for their absence; unless they had simply been taken as food, for later. But if that was the case, why only adults, when the children had been murdered out of hand and left behind? Anyway:

  ‘The missing staff, three of them — or rather two of them, since last night — were Denise Karalambos, a paediatrician from Athens, Andre Corner, a psychiatric specialist from London, and

  … and someone who isn’t any longer a problem: Bruce Trennier, the engineer. As for why they were singled out, there are theories but we can’t be sure. Trennier, as we’ve seen, found favour as a lieutenant. Perhaps the others are similarly situated. But anyone who feels sorry for them can forget it. They’d be better off dead — they’re going to be better off dead. At least, that has to be our point of view. Not to mention our intention.

  ‘But about Zek — and excuse me if I seem offhand; it’s simply that I find it best to be cold about certain things, for I’m sure my emotions would be just as fragile as anyone else’s if I were to forget myself and let them hold sway — Zek hadn’t suffered. When that blast hit the sump, she hadn’t felt a thing. Down in the basement, everything was askew. The reinforced concrete floor had buckled upwards; the turrets had been blown off their bases like popping a pair of corks; the cave of the resurgence… simply wasn’t there any more! The walls and roof were completely caved in, and it’s a wonder that the rear end of the Refuge hadn’t followed suit.

  ‘The Wamphyri and their lieutenants must have felt it, too: that awesome blast. Indeed, any creature in that basement — any creature of normal flesh and blood — would have been stunned by the concussion or even killed by the shock of it. But then, the Wamphyri aren’t human, and in all probability it only served to enrage them further. Certainly they raged through the Refuge.

  ‘The only good thing to come of it all, as far as I could tell, was that one of those bloody awful Gates was now well and truly closed. Oh, the Gate itself was still there, miles up the underground river, under the Carpathian foothills, but its single exit was finally blocked by two thousand tons of fractured concrete slabs and God only knows how much solid rock.

  ‘So much for that, but what about the three creatures who had come through and were already in our world? What about them and their lieutenants, and now a trio of new thralls to aid and advise them in their Earthly ventures? And three very intelligent thralls, at that, who knew the ways of Earth?

  ‘That, we believe, is the main reason why those three were spared… or cursed, depending on how you see it: because they could add to Malinari’s intelligence of this new and potentially dangerous world. And we also see something of his cunning — and of his ruthlessness, too — in the murder of the innocents. It was simply a matter of leaving no one behind to speak about what they had witnessed.

  ‘For you see, only six of the victims appeared to have… to have been used. And where they had been fairly well drained, the rest of them were just dead. But horribly dead. For most of them it had been instantaneous: stiffened fingers with nails as hard and as sharp as chisels had chopped through their backs or into their chests, to break their spines or crush their hearts. The terrible strength of the Wamphyri! But others… we don’t think some of the others had it so, well, so “easy”.

  ‘I said that certain corpses were shrivelled. But “shrivelled” doesn’t say it all by any means. Lardis, when he saw those bodies, said it was Szwart’s work. It wasn’t simply a reduction of bodily fluids but of… I don’t know, of the substance, the essence — the soul? — of the victims. The destruction of whatever it is that makes a person human, giving him shape, character, humanity, for Christ’s sake.’ These pitiful things, they no longer had any of that. Picture the last apple on the tree, all wrinkled and dried out by the sun, all fallen in, with the last of its juices fermented and sick inside it. When it falls or if you touch it, its skin splits, and deep in its core the pulp is rotten and black. That’s what they were like… ‘And there were others whose eyes were open, staring, quite empty, and for all that they were dead I couldn’t help but feel that they hadn’t known very much about it. Their bodies weren’t shrivelled like those of Szwart’s victims, no, but it seemed to me that their minds had been. And Lardis told us Malinari would have been responsible for that.

  ‘As for the female victims: their pale dead faces were full of awe, amazement… rapture? Some kind of exquisite, delicious agony? It’s true that I don’t have the words for it, but I might have a name: Vavara….’

  Well, enough. There are no words that can say how we felt. Appalled doesn’t nearly cover it. And nothing we could do
about it, not then, not immediately. What, we should alert the authorities, shout it to the world, initiate total panic and put the fear of God and all the devils of hell into every mortal human being on the entire planet… if we were believed? We couldn’t do any of those things, and for obvious reasons. Can’t you just picture the witchhunts? God, but we’d be back in the Dark Ages! Witch-pricking and human bonfires, and licences to torture and kill handed out willy-nilly, free to anyone with a grudge.

  ‘Medical research would stop, stop dead — or undead! The laboratories would search for cures, of course they would, and spread the thing faster than a plague. Blood donors? You think we’re short of blood now? But blood would become the most precious of commodities, and keeping it the first priority. People locked in their homes, making them impregnable fortresses, defending them with guns, silver, stakes, crossbows and whatever. And the filthy rich with their private armies, making the odd, eccentric hermit of, say, Howard Hughes’s meager stature seem like a high-profile socialite by comparison.

  ‘Borders. In the last fifteen to twenty years we’ve seen them open up. Britain has been cagey about controls, passports and such, thank God — but Europe? Can’t you just imagine the panic, see the chaos as all the old rules and statutes were reinstated, the checkpoints rushed back into being, with armed guards at ports and airports, and not forgetting the reservoirs, farms, fisheries, and… and anywhere where food is processed? And how long before countries started blaming each other?

  ‘When the shit — excuse me, the accusations — started flying, Russia and Romania would probably take the brunt of it, if only because the Gates are on their territory. But what about the UK, Great Britain? We’ve known about the Gates for thirty-odd years! Or am I just talking about “we,” the team, the organization — E-Branch itself, for God’s sake — and our involvement? As for our Minister Responsible, the “Invisible Man” at the top: hull But haven’t we all heard about this — er, how does it go? — this “culpable deniability,” or some such gobbledygook? “Damage limitation,” and the like? Does anyone care to guess what those things really mean? They’re just ways of carrying on lying to cover up unpalatable truths that weren’t told the first time around, that’s all. And folks, what that boils down to is we would get crucified! The end of E-Branch… and who would look after the shop then?