Necroscope II Wamphyri(Vampyri) - By Brian Lumley Page 0,73

room at the girl beside him. Cousin Helen. She was very beautiful and had been very innocent. Not quite pure, but very nearly. Who it was took her virginity... but what did that matter? In fact he had taken nothing, and he had given very little. They had been fumbling lovers for an hour.

But now? Now she knew what it was to be 'fulfilled'. Indeed, she knew that if Yulian willed it he could fill her to bursting - literally!

A chuckle rose in his throat, formed on his lips like a bubble of bile. Oh,yes, for the Other wasn't the only one who could put out pseudopod extensions of himself! Yulian held back the laughter he felt welling inside, reached out a hand and with a deceptive gentleness stroked Helen's cool, rounded flank.

Even deeply asleep and dreaming the dreams of the damned, still she shuddered under the touch of his hand. Gooseflesh appeared and her breathing rapidly mounted to a moaning pant. She whined in her hypnotic sleep like a thin wind through a cracked board. Her hypnotic sleep, yes. The power of hypnotism, and that of telepathy which was its kin.

Nowhere in the literature - except for the occasional hint in some of the better fictions - had Yulian discovered mention of the vampire's control of others by will and the reading of minds at a distance; and yet this, too, was one of his powers. It was very inchoate as yet, as were all his talents, but it was also very real. Once touched by Yulian, once invaded by him physically, then his victim was an open book to him, even at a distance. Even now, if he reached out his mind in a certain way... there! Those were the dull, vacuous 'thoughts' of the Other. No, not even that: he had merely touched upon the Other's instinctive sense of being, a sort of basic animal awareness. The Other was aware of himself - itself? - in much the same way as an amoeba is aware; and because it had been part of him, Yulian could sense that awareness.

Now that he had taken or used Helen, Anne, George and Georgina, why, he could sense all of them! He let his exterior thoughts leave the Other and wander, and

and there was Anne, asleep in some cold, damp corner down there in the dark. And there, too, was George. Except that George was not asleep.

George. Yulian knew he would soon have to do something about George. He wasn't behaving as he should. There was an obstinacy in him. Oh, he'd been completely under Yulian's control in the beginning, just like the women. But just recently .

Yulian focused on George's mind, wormed his way silently into his thoughts and - a pit of black hatred shot with flashes of red rage! Lust, too - a bestial lust Yulian could scarce believe - and not only for blood but also. .

revenge?

Frowning, Yulian withdrew his mind before George could sense him. Obviously he would have to deal with his uncle sooner than he'd thought. He had already decided to make use of him - knew how he would use him - but now he must set a definite date on it. Like tomorrow. He left the unsuspecting undead creature raging and prowling the cellars, and - What was that?

Hair prickling at the nape of his neck, Yulian swung his legs down to the floor and stood up. It hadn't been one of the women, and he'd only just left George, so who had it been? Someone close by was thinking thoughts about Harkley House, thoughts about Yulian himself! He went to the curtains, opened them six inches, stared anxiously out at the night.

Out there, the estate. The old derelict buildings, gravel path, shrubbery and copse; the high perimeter wall and gate; the road beyond the gate, a ribbon of light under the moon, and beyond that a tall hedge. Yulian wrinkled his nose, sniffed suspiciously like a dog at a stranger. Oh, yes, a stranger - there! In the hedgerow, that glint of moonlight on glass, the dull red glow of a cigarette's tip. Someone in the shadow of the hedge, watching Harkley. Watching Yulian!

Now, knowing where to aim, he redirected his thoughts

- and met the mind of the stranger! But only for a moment, the merest instant of time. Then mental shutters came down like the jaws of a steel trap. The glint of spectacles or binoculars disappeared, the cigarette's glow was