His mother had heard all of this before; she knew what he meant, intimately understood his otherwise vague words and expressions, even his tone of voice. For while he didn’t need to, he usually spoke out loud to her. He didn’t need to because he was a Necroscope (no, the Necroscope, the man who communicated with the dead) and also because she was dead, and had been since Harry was an infant. She was down there, where she’d been for more than twenty-seven years, in the mud and the weeds of the river, murdered all that time ago by Harry’s stepfather. Yes, and now that same traitor was down there with her, put there by Harry, but he’d stopped speaking to anybody long ago.
‘Why not look at it from their point of view?’ his mother said, reasonably. ‘Brenda had been through an awful lot for a small village girl. Maybe she simply . . . well, wanted to get away from it all. For a while, anyway.’
‘For eight years?’ There was a brittle edge to Harry’s voice.
‘But having made the break,’ his mother hurriedly went on, at her diplomatic best, ‘she found she was happier. And he could see she was happier, and so they didn’t come back. After all’s said and done, your main concern was for their happiness, wasn’t it, Harry? And you’d be the first to admit that you weren’t the man she’d married. Well, not exactly. Oh.r And he could picture her hand flying to her mouth, even though he knew she no longer had either of those things. Alas, she’d stumbled over her own argument, speaking not only her mind but Harry’s, too. ‘I mean – ‘
‘It’s all right,’ he stifled her. ‘I know what you mean. And you’re right – as far as you go.’ But because she had tried to be diplomatic, she hadn’t gone far enough. And Harry knew that, too.
What had happened back then, eight years ago, was this:
In the Mobius Continuum, Harry had discovered by chance the elements of an insidious plot which was unfolding in the mundane world. The vampire Thibor Ferenczy had set in motion a gradual metamorphosis in a child as yet unborn. He had physically (and psychically, spiritually) defiled an innocent unsuspecting mother-to-be, causing something of himself to attach and cling to her foetal child. Now that child was grown to a youth, Yulian Bodescu, and as he had developed so his potential for evil had outstripped his human and humane side to achieve a monstrous vampire dominance.
The task of the British E-Branch had been twofold: to seek out and destroy whatever remained of lingering vampire influences (especially what remained of Thibor) in the USSR and her satellites, and so ensure that the ‘Bodescu situation’ could never arise again; also to destroy Yulian Bodescu himself, through whom Thibor had determined to terrorize the world anew.
But Bodescu had discovered the covert workings of E-Branch, specifically their plot and determination to put him down, and had turned his awesome emerging vampire powers and cold, cruel fury upon them. His principal adversary in the Branch had been the incorporeal Harry Keogh, who at that time was trapped in the psyche of his own infant son. Kill Harry Jnr and Bodescu would also rid himself of Harry. After that . . . the remaining members of E-Branch could be tracked down and picked off one by one, at the vampire’s discretion.
This was a scheme monstrous enough in itself, but the true horror of the situation would lie in the aftermath of such a bloodbath; for then there would be no stopping Bodescu, who could create almost at will an army of undead followers which would spread like a dark plague across the face of the entire earth! And this was a very real possibility, for while Bodescu had become one of the Wamphyri, he did not have their self-discipline. They were essentially territorial; they had their cold pride; they were solitary and cautious, and usually firmly in control of their own destinies. Most of all, they were jealous of their powers, deviously protective of their Wamphyri nature and history, aware and appreciative of human skills and ingenuity. Only let mankind become aware that they were real and not merely creatures of myth and legend, and men would strive to hunt them down and destroy them forever! But Yulian Bodescu was ‘self-taught’; he had had no Wamphyri instruction. He was none of the things which had made them what they were and possessed none of their dubious qualities. He was only a vampire, and he was insane!