He snarled at them, in their minds, and felt the shutters slam into place as they clamped down tight as limpets to rocks when the tide goes out. They’d been close but not too close, probably in Bonnyrig, some house they’d made their HQ. Harry passed them by, attempted to search further afield, came up against mental static that sizzled like bacon frying in his mind. It was E-Branch scrambling his sendings.
Damn all you mindspies! he cursed. I should get out and let you all find your own paths to Hell. But I should leave something behind me to make sure you get there, something to give you nightmares for ever!
He could do it, too, if he so desired, for he had the plague in him. This could be his legacy to a world and race which had forsaken him: a plague of vampires.
Physically, his own vampire was undeveloped, immature as yet; but its blood was his blood and his bite must surely be virulent. And at his command, the infinite vastness of the metaphysical Möbius Continuum. Why, he could plant vampires in every continent in the world -right now, tonight – if he wished it. And maybe then they would wish they’d left him the fuck alone!
He rushed out into his garden under the stars and the risen moon. It was night, his time. Ahhh, his time! But maybe in more ways than one. They were here for a reason, these espers. They could be coming for him right now, invisible under their shield of static.
‘Come then, come!’ he taunted them. ‘And only see what’s waiting for you!’
At the bottom of the garden, someone pushed the gate creakingly open. ‘Harry?’ Penny stepped into view and started up the path towards him.
‘Penny?’ The Necroscope reached out to her with his arms and with his mind, but her mind was a blur – or rather a mist – in which her psyche hid without even knowing it. Mind-smog!
Harry felt devastated, but he must hide it. Now she was a vampire, or would be, and now she was his thrall. It wasn’t a crush any longer. And he wondered if it ever had been. After all, he had brought her back from the dead.
‘What were you doing out in the night? I told you to wait.’
‘But the night was so beautiful, and just like you I needed to think.’ She let him fold her in his arms.
‘What did you think about?’ The night lured you. You felt the first fires racing in your veins. And tomorrow the sun will hurt your eyes, irritate your skin.
‘I thought . . . maybe you didn’t want to take me with you. Maybe you wouldn’t.’
‘You thought wrong. I will.’ I have to, for to leave you in this world would be to sign your death warrant.
‘But you don’t love me.’
‘Oh, but I do,’ he lied. But it won’t matter one way or the other, for you won’t love me, either. Still, we’ll have our lust.
‘Harry, I’m frightened!’
Too late, too late! ‘I don’t want to leave you here now,’ he told her. ‘You’d better come with me.’
‘But where?’
He took her into the house, ran through the rooms turning on all the lights, quickly returned to her. And he showed her Johnny’s knife, with her name on it. She gasped and drew back from him. ‘Can you imagine him?’ he asked her, his voice dark as a winter night. ‘Can you picture him looking at this and remembering your pain and his pleasure?’
She shuddered. ‘I … I thought I’d forgotten. I’ve tried to forget.’
‘You will forget.’ He nodded. ‘And so will I … when it’s over. But I can’t leave you here, and I have to finish it with him.’
‘Will I see him?’ She turned pale at the thought.
Harry nodded. ‘Yes.’ His scarlet eyes lit in a strange smile. ‘Yes – and he will see you!’
‘But you won’t let him hurt me?’
‘I promise.’
Then I’m ready . . .’
One hour earlier on Waverley station in Edinburgh, Trevor Jordan had boarded the overnight sleeper for London. He’d made no plans as such; tomorrow morning, early, he would probably give E-Branch a ring and see if he could sniff out which way the wind was blowing. And if it felt right he’d offer them his services again. They’d check him out (in the circumstances it was only to be expected) and of course they’d want to know all about his experiences with Harry Keogh. But he’d make sure that all of that took time, and by then Harry wouldn’t be here any more. In the event he was still here, Jordan would cry off any work that went against him.