bl.necroscope2-第87部分

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narled。　〃And　did　you　think　you　were　the　only　one　with　powers？〃
　He　crouched　down；　spread　his　shoulders；　laughed　in　their　faces。　His　neck　elongated；　the　flesh　rippling　with　a　life　of　its　own。　His　terrible　head　was　now　like　that　of　some　primal　pterodactyl。　His　body　seemed　to　flutter；　flattening　in　depth　and　increasing　in　width　until　his　clothes；　unable　to　contain　it；　tore　into　so　many　rags　around　him。　He　reached　out　his　arms　and　lengthened　them；　forming　a　blasphemous　cross；　then　grew　a　webbing　of　wing　down　each　side　of　his　body。　With　greater　ease；　more　fluency　far　than　ever　Faethor　Ferenczy　had　possessed；　he　pletely　remoulded　his　vampire　flesh。　And　where　moments　before　a　manlike　being　had　stood；　now　a　huge　batlike　creature　confronted　its　hunters。
　Then。。。　the　thing　that　was　Yulian　Bodescu　turned　and　launched　itself　at　the　thin…latticed　panes　of　the　wide　bay　window。
　Don't　let　him　get　away！　Harry　told　them；　but　without　need；　for　that　wasn't　their　intention。
　Yulian　went　out　through　the　latticework；　showering　glass　and　fragments　of　painted　woodwork　down　into　the　road。　Now　he　formed　an　aerofoil；　curving　his　monstrous　body　like　a　straining　kite　to　catch　a　night　wind　blowing　up　from　the　west。　But　the　avenger　with　the　crossbow　stood　in　the　gap　of　the　broken　window　and　aimed　his　weapon。　A　corpse　without　eyes　should　not　see；　but　in　their　weird　pseudolife　these　pieces　of　crumbling　flesh　enjoyed　all　of　the　senses　they'd　known　in　life。　And　this　one　had　been　a　marksman。
　He　fired；　and　the　bolt　took　Yulian　in　his　spine；　halfway　down　his　rubbery　back。　The　heart；　Harry　admonished。　You　should　have　gone　for　his　heart。　But　in　the　end；　it　was　all　to　work　out　the　same。
　Yulian　cried　out；　the　raucous；　ringing　cry　of　a　wounded　beast。　He　bent　his　body　in　a　contortion　of　agony；　lost　his　control；　sank　like　a　crippled　bird　towards　the　graveyard。　He　tried　to　maintain　his　fight；　but　the　bolt　had　severed　his　spine　and　that　would　take　time　to　mend。　There　was　no　time　left。　Yulian　fell　into　the　cemetery；　crashing　into　the　damp　shrubbery；　and　at　once　the　crumbling　dead　turned　in　their　tracks　and　began　to　file　out　of　the　garret　flat；　shuffling　in　pursuit。
　Down　the　stairs　they　went；　some　with　their　flesh　sloughing　from　their　bones；　and　others　who　couldn't　help　but　leave　bits　behind；　which　followed　of　their　own　accord。　Harry　went　with　them；　with　all　of　the　dead　he'd　befriended；　oh…how　long　ago？…when　he'd　lived　here；　and　new　friends　he　hadn't　even　spoken　to　yet。
　There　were　two　young　policemen　among　them；　who'd　never　return　home　to　their　wives；　and　another　two　from　Special　Branch；　with　bullet　holes　like　scarlet　flowers　blooming　in　their　clothing；　and　there　was　a　fat　man　called　Guy　Roberts；　whose　head　wasn't　much　of　anything　any　more　but　whose　heart　was　in　the　right　place。　Roberts　had　e　to　Hartlepool　with　a　job　to　do；　which　he　expected　to　finish　right　now。
　Down　the　stairs；　out　of　the　door　and　across　the　road　they　all　went；　and　into　the　graveyard。　There　were　plenty　of　stragglers　there　who　hadn't　made　it　over　the　road　to　the　flat；　who　simply　weren't　in　any　condition　to　do　so。　But　when　Yulian　had　fallen　they'd　ringed　him　about；　advancing　on　him　with　their　staves　and　threatening　in　their　mute；　mouldering　way。
　Through　the　heart；　Harry　told　them　when　he　arrived。
　Damn　it；　Harry；　but　he　won't　keep　still！　one　of　them　protested。　His　hide's　like　rubber；　too；　and　these　staves　are　blunt。
　Maybe　this　is　the　answer。　Another　corpse；　recently　dead；　came　forward。　This　was　Constable　Dave　Collins；　who　walked　all　aslant　because　Yulian　had　broken　his　back　in　an　alley　not　a　hundred　yards　down　the　road。　In　his　hands　he　carried　the　cemetery　caretaker's　sickle；　a　little　rusty　from　lying　in　the　long　grass　under　the　graveyard　wall。
　That's　the　way；　Harry　agreed；　ignoring　Yulian's　hoarse　screaming。　The　stake；　the　sword；　and　the　fire。
　I've　got　the　last。　Someone　whose　head　had　collapsed　utterly；　Guy　Roberts；　stumbled　forward　dragging　heavy　tanks　and　a　hose…an　army　flame…thrower！　And　if　Yulian　had　screamed　before；　now　he　did　so　in　earnest。　The　dead　payed　him　no　heed。　They　piled　onto　him　and　held　him　down；　and　in　his　extreme　of　terror…even　Yulian　Bodescu；　terrified…he　reshaped　his　vampire　body　to　that　of　a　man。　It　was　a　mistake；　for　now　they　could　find　his　heart　more　easily。　One　of　them　brought　a　piece　of　a　broken　headstone　for　a　hammer；　and　at　last　a　stave　was　driven　home。　Pinned　down　like　some　ugly　butterfly；　Yulian　writhed　and　shrieked；　but　it　was　nearly　over　now。
　Dave　Collins；　looking　on；　sighed　and　said；　An　hour　ago　I　was　a　policeman；　and　now　it　seems　I'm　to　be　an　executioner。
　It's　a　unanimous　verdict；　Dave；　Harry　reminded　him。
　And　like　the　Grim　Reaper　himself；　so　Dave　Collins　advanced　and　took　Yulian's　hideous　head　as　cleanly　as　possible；　even　though　he　had　to　strike　more　than　once　or　twice。　After　that　it　was　Guy　Roberts's　turn；　he　worked　on　the　now　silent　vampire　with　roaring；　gouting；　blistering；　cleansing　fire　until　there　was　really　nothing　much　left　of　him　at　all。　And　he　didn't　stop　until　his　tanks　were　empty。　By　then　the　dead　were　dispersing；　back　to　their　riven　graves。
　It　was　time　for　Harry　to　move　on。　The　wind　had　blown　Yulian's　fog　away；　the　stench　of　putrefaction；　too；　and　stars　were　shining　in　the　night　sky。　Harry's　work　was　finished　here；　but　elsewhere　there　was　still　a　great　deal　to　be　done。
　He　thanked　the　dead；　one　and　all；　and　found　a　M？bius　door。
　
　Harry　was　almost　used　to　the　M？bius　continuum　now；　but　he　suspected　that　most　human　minds　would　find　it　unendurable。　For　it　was　always　nowhere　and　nowhen　on　the　space…time　M？bius　strip；　but　a　man　with　the　right　equations；　the　right　sort　of　mind；　could　use　it　to　ride　anywhere　and　everywhen。　Before　that；　of　course；　he　would　need　to　conquer　his　fear　of　the　dark。
　For　in　the　physical　universe　there　are　degrees　of　darkness；　and　Nature　seems　to　abhor　all　of　them　much　as　she　abhors　a　vacuum。　The　metaphysical　M？bius　continuum；　however；　is　made　of　darkness。　That　is　all　it　consists　of。　Beyond　the　M？bius　doors　lies　the　very　Primal　Darkness　itself；　which　existed　before　the　material　universe　began。
　Harry　might　be　at　the　core　of　a　black　hole；　except　a　black　hole　has　enormous　gravity　and　this　place　had　none。　It　had　no　gravity　because　it　contained　no　mass；　it　was　immaterial　as　thought　itself；　yet　like　thought　it　was　a　force。　It　had　powers　which　reacted　to　Harry's　presence　and　worked　to　expel　him；　like　a　mote　caught　in　its　eye。　He　was　a　foreign　body；　which　the　M？bius　continuum　must　reject。
　
　At　least；　that　was　how　it　had　used　to　be。　But　this　time　Harry　sensed　that　things　were　different。
　Previously　there　had　always　been　this　sensation　of　matterless　forces　pushing　at　him；　attempting　to　dislodge　him　from　the　unreal　back　into　the　real。　And　he　had　never　dared　to　let　that　happen　except　where　or　when　he　desired　it　to　happen；　else　he　might　well　emerge　in　a　place　or　time　totally　untenable。　But　now：　now　it　seemed　to　him　that　those　same　forces　were　bending　a　little；　perhaps　even　jostling　each　other　to　acmodate　him。　And　in　Harry's　unfettered；　incorporeal　mind；　he　believed　he　knew　why。　Intuition　told　him　that　this　was　his…yes；　his　metamorphosis！
　From　real　to　unreal；　from　a　flesh　and　blood　being　to　an　immaterial　awareness；　from　a　living　person　to…a　ghost？　Harry　had　always　refused　to　accept　that　premise；　that　he　was　in　fact　dead；　but　now　he　began　to　fear　that　it　might　indeed　be　so。　And　mightn't　that　explain　why　the　dead　loved　him　so？　The　fact　that　he　was　one　of　theirs？
　He　rejected　the　idea　angrily。　Angry　with　himself。　No；　for　the　dead　had　loved　him　before　this；　when　he　was　still　a　man　full…fleshed。　And　that　was　a　thought　which　also　angered　him。　I　still　am　a　man！　he　told　himself；　but　with　far　less　authority。　For　now　that　he'd　conjured　it；　the　idea　of　a　subtle　metamorphosis　was　growing　in　him。
　Something　less　than　a　year　ago　he　had　argued　with　August　Ferdinand　M？bius　about　a　possible　relationship　between　the　physical　and　metaphysical　universes。　M？bius；　in　his　grave　in　a　Leipzig　cemetery；　had　insisted　that　the　two　were　entirely　separate；　unable　to　impose　themselves　in　any　way　one　upon　the　other。　They　might　occasionally　rub　up　against　each　other；　the　action　producing　reaction　on　both　sides…such　as　〃ghosts〃　or　〃psychic　experiences〃　on　the　physical　plane…but　they　could　never　overlap　and　never　run　concurrent。
　
　And　as　for　jumping　from　one　to　the　other　and　back　again。
　But　Harry　had　been　the　anomaly；　the　fly　in　M？bius's　ointment；　the　spanner　in　the　works。　Or　perhaps　the　exception　that　proves　the　rule？
　All　of　that；　however；　had　been　when　he　had　form；　when　he　was　corporeal。　And　now？　Perhaps　now　the　rule　was　at　last　asserting　itself；　ironing　out　the　discrepancy。　Harry　belonged　here；　he　was　no　longer　physical　but　metaphysical；　and　so　should　remain　here。　Here　forever；　riding　the　unimaginable　and　scientifically　impossible　flux　of　forces　in　the　abstract　M？bius　continuum。　Perhaps　he　was　being　one　with　the　place。
　Word　association：　force…flux…force　fields…lines　of　force…lines　of　life。　The　bright　blue　lines　of　life　extending　forward　beyond　the　doors　to　future　time！　And　suddenly　Harry　remembered　something　and　wondered　how　it　could　possibly　have　slipped　so　far　to　the　back　of　his　mind。　The　M？bius　strip　couldn't　c