Resurgence, p.17
Resurgence, page 17
part #10 of Necroscope Series
As the draped box was lowered to the polished table, Julio gave a strangled cry and stumbled forward. The brothers at once got in his way and again took his arms. *We… we supposed you would want to see her.’ Tony explained. That is why the coffin has a window of glass. But Julio, you know the circumstances of her death…’
‘A wasting disease, yes,’ the fat man moaned. ‘A… what did you call it? A pernicious anaemia. “Pernicious,” indeed! A dreadful, terrible, murdering anaemia, more like! Your private doctor, the very best could do nothing.’
‘All true,’ Tony nodded. ‘Which means that… well, that she isn’t the Julietta you knew. This thing was like a cancer. It ate at her. It had its own peculiar odour that can’t be… masked. And Julietta may not be touched, or kissed. Hence the glass.’ ‘But… I mil know her?’
‘Of course. Our only wish was that you should remember her as she was.’
‘Still, I must see her.’
‘So be it,’ said the brothers together, and released him. Sclafani wobbled to the head of the coffin, slid back the grey silk cover, looked down on the face beneath the glass. It was dim; the glass was touched with a trace of dust; its sheen obscured the features of the pallid face within the frame. Sobbing, Sclafani clung to the edge of the table for support, and blinked his puffy eyes to improve their focus. And as the Francezcis silently took up flanking positions beside him, his Julietta’s beloved features seemed to swim up at him. Being short, his face was quite close to hers; on the other hand, the Francezci Brothers were like trees, shading him and Julietta both.
Still, Julio could see her fairly clearly now. And though her eyes were of course closed, she was—
‘—Smiling?” The word trembled from his lips.
The pain-killers,’ Francesco murmured. ‘At the end there was… oh, a deal of pain. Mercifully, we were able to relieve some of it But at the very end, your Julietta spoke of you… and smiled! Ah, yes, she died with a gentle smile on her face, Julio, just thinking thoughts of you!’
Sclafani’s eyes had made the adjustment now. They saw more clearly. But in all honesty, he couldn’t say he liked what they saw. Thinking of me? But… this smile is like a grimace!’
The pain,’ Francesco said again. ‘Despite the medication, she…’ And he paused. ‘But she hid it well.’
Sclafani kissed the glass over her lips; his tears fell on the dusty surface, acting like tiny magnifying glasses to blur and diminish the detail. ‘Just four short years ago, she looked like a girl!’ he groaned. ‘She was - she is - a girl! Yet now she looks like some strange pale woman.’
‘Four years,’ Tony repeated him. ‘She grew up, Julio. Your Julietta grew up, and was changed…’
‘Changed, yes. So waxy and sunken in.’ Sclafani hugged the top of the box.
‘Depleted,’ said Tony. The anaemia - like a cancer.’
‘And yet her lips are full and red!’
‘And all wasted,’ Francesco put an arm around the grieving Sclafani’s shoulders. ‘Our efforts, I mean. Still, you have the comfort of knowing she never shamed you, never knew a man.’
‘A comfort? It scarcely comforts me, Francesco! Where are my grandchildren? And would it have been so shameful? What, in this day and age? Her mother loved to love, even a man unworthy as myself! But Julietta, she is untried, denied such knowledge. Wasted, you are right. To be beautiful, and never have a chance to give of your beauty!’
There, there,’ said Francesco, clasping his shoulders and turning him away, while Tony slid the silk back into position.
Sclafani struggled for a moment, then finally surrendered to the inevitable. ‘But I will be able to visit?’
This place, where she spent her last years?’ (Francesco seemed unsure). Well, we shall see. To walk where she walked, in the grounds of Le Manse? Perhaps. But the vaults? Alas, no. Not even now. The Francezcis are there, Julio: private in life and death both. We were ever proud, and proud to have Julietta, too. We had hoped that you would be proud knowing she is here. Perhaps in this we have elevated ourselves, but…’
‘No, no!’ the other protested. ‘I didn’t mean to—’
‘… But if so, then we elevate Julietta, too. Not to mention your good self.’
‘You have been… too kind to me and mine throughout’
Francesco saw him to the door and outside into the courtyard, hugged him, shook his hand and gave him over into Mario, their chauffeur’s care. He watched him driven slowly away in the stretch limo. By then the other mourners, mainly Francezci people, had already dispersed.
Then Francesco returned to where his brother was speaking to the bearers.
‘Quickly, now,’ Tony told them. Take her down to the pit and wait there for us. But don’t go in until we’re there.’ And as they left he turned to Francesco. That all went very well.’
‘Hmmm? Do you think so?’ Francesco seemed distant, absent-minded; his thoughts were elsewhere.
‘What?’ Tony frowned at him. ‘But whaf s this? Don’t tell me you’re actually missing her!’
The other stood straighten ‘Perhaps, perhaps not. I don’t know. But one thing is for sure: she’s sleeping the last sleep, the Sleep of Change. My fault, I know. But whether I “miss” her or not isn’t relevant. What is relevant is that we can’t afford another Ferenczy in the house - and certainly not a Lady!’
‘Good!’ Tony nodded, and his eyes were feral in the gloom and glowed red in their cores. ‘For a moment there… why, I thought you’d gone soft on me!’
Francesco smiled, however grimly. ‘Soft? Ah, no. Julietta was just… so accessible. Having her here made it all so very easy. I suppose I’m basically lazy, that’s all. But miss her? I shall miss fucking her, be sure. She was so very good at it!’
‘But then, you taught her,’ Tony chuckled.
Well yes, there’s that, of course!’ Francesco laughed.
With which, they followed the bearers down to the pit…
In the lowest levels of Le Manse Madonie - in the very bowels of the place, mainly a natural cavern, but in part carved from the bedrock -the mouth of the pit was like a well, with walls of old hewn masonry three feet high. Indeed, it had been a well in the early days of Le Manse, many hundreds of years ago, when it had drawn water from an old cyst in the volcanic rock all of eighty feet deeper still.
Now the Francezcis stood at the rim of the pit and paused to consider what they were about And quietly, a little uncertainly, Tony said: ‘Our Julietta - or rather, your Julietta - is hardly pure.’
‘Pure?’ Francesco shrugged. “Who is, these days? Show me a good-looking virgin in Palermo over sixteen years old, and FD show you a liar!’
Well, true,’ his brother mused. ‘But still, you know how he likes them. And she’s not even clean - not scrupulously - as he is used to them.’
‘What?’ Francesco was short-tempered at the best of times, and this wasn’t the best of times. “What are you suggesting? We should have purged her, perhaps? Put her through the usual ritual and chanced waking her up prematurely? I mean, in case you hadn’t noticed, brother, our Julietta - or mine, if you will - is Wamphyri! She could do severe damage! I’m not worried about us, you and I, but the men, our lieutenants. The last thing we want is to lose someone at this stage of the game.’
‘What stage of the game is that?’ Tony was suddenly pessimistic; unusual, for he was normally the optimist ‘Has there been some subtle yet remarkable change in the last two or three years? Did I miss something?’ … Pessimistic, and sarcastic.
‘Yesssf his brother hissed, rounding on Tony, glaring at him from eyes as red as hell. The time has changed, narrowing down to his fucking time! Radu Lykan’s time! And the grotesque thing in this bloody pit has changed: Angelo, our dear father, more unreliable, and more demanding than ever. And our fortune has been depleted, which we still haven’t done anything about. And worldwide the Families are… they’re laughing behind our backs! I don’t know about you, but I can feel it! And since we started asking questions about this British E-Branch, and this Harry Keogh, and this fucking Alec Kyle - questions about dead men, for fuck’s sake -the CIA, and the KGB, and everyone else we used to use don’t want to know us! Then there’s this Drakul “sect” in England and Scotland, and our man’s report more than three months old now, and we still haven’t done anything about that either! What? And does it amuse you to ask has something fucking changed?’
‘Calm down, calm down!’ Tony sighed. ‘All right, so things have changed. But that’s not what I meant Or maybe it is. It’s just that I’m sick of the inactivity… of that and everything else: all the things you mentioned. Yes, that’s right: I’m just as sick and frustrated as you! And as if that weren’t enough, I now have to talk to him, try to get some sense out of him?
‘Huh? Francesco grunted, at least part-mollified. “Well, I have to admit I don’t envy you that But that’s the way it is. He won’t even acknowledge me!’
‘Which is why I wondered if giving him Julietta will do us any good.’
Then stop wondering,’ Francesco answered. ‘Instead, just ask yourself this: what good will she do us undead? For thaf s what she’ll be if we let her wake up - and Wamphyri! So then, it’s settled: she’s Angelo’s. And all that remains—’
‘—Is the bargaining,’ Tony nodded. “Yes, I know.’
‘And anyway, it’s probably best this way.’ In a rare show of camaraderie - a show, at least - Francesco actually put his arm across his brother’s shoulder, which Tony at once shrugged off.
What’s best?’ he asked, suspiciously.
That you’re the one Angelo talks to. I mean, he was ever difficult, our father, but never more so than now. Lef s face it my temper is too short; I haven’t the patience to… well, play with him. But you were always good at his word games. And anyway, he likes you.’
‘Huhr Tony grunted. That’s a compliment, is it?’ Plainly he was nervous; the way he licked his lips, kept glancing into the deeps of the well, or more properly the pit Thaf s supposed to make me feel better about it eh?’
Francesco narrowed his eyes and said, What is it? You’re afraid? But what of? I mean, this is hardly the first time that you’ve—’
‘You just don’t understand, do you?’ Tony glanced at him, cutting him short ‘No, this isn’t the first time, or even the tenth or twentieth that I’ve had to talk to him like this. But recently… every time is worse that the last time. Don’t you realize that when I go into Angelo Ferenczy’s mind, or let him into mine, the kind of jeopardy I place myself in?’ And before Francesco could answer, if he would: “Yes, you’re right I was always closer to him. I was able to “get on” with him, and he seemed to be genuinely “fond” of me. But do you think I don’t worry about that too? Well, I do, Francesco. I do…’
‘Eh? How, worried?’ Francesco frowned. That he could harm you in some way? But if there’s one of us he might want to harm it would have to be me. I honestly believe he hates me! And anyway, he can’t hurt either one of us from this pit’
Well, at least you’re consistent’ Tony sighed patiently, shaking his head at what he obviously saw as the other’s naivety. ‘For more than three hundred years you’ve never thought of him as anything other than a monster in a pit.’
‘Wrong!’ Francesco answered. ‘I’ve also thought of him as our father - and I’ve loathed the idea that we were spawned of that thing! But what happened to him was bound to happen. Why, even his twin was a monster, smothered at birth and burned as a freak. And do you know what has preyed on my mind these centuries, brother? It shouldn’t be too hard to guess. That we are of the same flesh! And is it waiting for us, too? Given time, will our metamorphism also run rampant, reducing us to so much lapping, filthy protoplasm?’
Now Tony gripped his arm. ‘Almost!’ he snapped. ‘For a moment there you almost had it. But you left out one very important word. So much lapping, filthy, sentient protoplasm! And one other thing, Francesco: the fact that he’s Wamphyri!’
‘Eh?’ Again Francesco’s eyes were wide, puzzled, staring.
‘And what are the traits of the Wamphyri?’
The other’s expression changed at once. ‘A word game,’ he sneered. This has to be a word game! Why, you’re as bad as he is! We can’t even hold a simple conversation without…’
‘Indulge me,’ Tony insisted. The traits of the Wamphyri?’
Francesco shook himself loose. “Very well, if it’s the only way we can go on from here. According to that thing in his pit, the Wamphyri were known for their greed, lust, lies and territorialism.’
‘And?
‘Eh?’
‘And their tenacity.1” Tony snarled. ‘Now do you see? It’s what I meant when I said you almost had it For you pointed out that he had “spawned” us” - without mentioning that we were only his bloodsons!’
Francesco shook his head. ‘I still don’t underst—’
1—He still has his leech!’ Tony cut him short ‘His leech? But by now… surely that too, has devolved to so much— ?’
‘No, for if that were so he simply wouldn’t want to go on. His leech is his tenacity, the only thing that keeps him going. And his leech still has its egg!’
‘Is that what concerns you? But you are already Wamphyri! Angelo’s leech or egg can’t couldn’t possibly, get into you.’
‘I know, I know,’ Tony was pale now, paler than ever. Tfet just recently, whenever I’m obliged to talk to him - like now -I get this feeling that he’s… waiting.’
Waiting?’
‘Waiting, planning, watching! Don’t ask me what for. Ill tell you something, though: I think we were damned lucky to get him down into this place in the first place.’
‘Huhf Francesco snorted. ‘He was the lucky one. A hundred and more times we could have done away with him during the final years of his devolution. And for that matter, we could do it even now! Send down a fifty-gallon drum of kerosene, a stick of dynamite… no more Angelo Ferenczy to get concerned about!’
‘And no more oracle,” Tony answered him. ‘No more powerbase. That’s the logic of the defeatist, brother. Ten minutes ago you started raving when I asked you what had changed. All right, I was being flippant. But you pointed out that the Families were starting to laugh at us behind our backs; also that various intelligence agencies are backing off from us. But how much more rapidly would they desert us without Angelo?’
‘Except for one small detail,’ Francesco answered, your logic is impeccable. That small detail being that we’re already “without” him! When was the last time our father uttered a single useful word? Or one that made any kind of sense? He’s gone, Tony, slipped beyond the pale. He’s no longer of any use to us. Well, except on this one occasion, as a means of disposal.’
‘And possibly as our mindspy on whatever it is that*s happening out there.’
‘Yes. One last chance to pin-point Radu Lykan’s lair, and learn the hour of his resurgence. One last opportunity to scry on this damned Drakul’s Tibetan aerie and maybe learn something of his plans. And if we’re lucky - if Angelo feels like co-operating, assuming he’s capable of it - one final glimpse, into our own futures.’
The first two, maybe,’ Tony was thoughtful now. ‘But not the last How can we hope to learn that from him if he isn’t a part of that future? He won’t advise us to bring about his own demise…’
Francesco’s jaws cracked open and his eyes lit in a monstrous grin. ‘And at last I see what a fool I was to have doubted you!’ he said.
‘Oh?’ Tony looked at him cooly.
‘You have considered putting an end to him!’
‘Out of pity, if nothing else.’
‘What? But a moment ago you feared him!’
‘And are the two so incompatible? Fear and pity? He is our father.’
‘He’s a monster!’
‘And are we any less?’
‘You are playing word games!’ Francesco flapped his arms.
‘We go round in circles,’ Tony’s tone was sharper; he was done with this now. We’ve talked too much, said too much. And we’ve done it in the wrong place.’
‘What do you think he might have been eavesdropping? And if so, that he would have understood? And then that he’d care? Nothing matters to him anymore; well, except that he raves and babbles to his victims, the minds that share his hell.’
Tony’s answer was to put a finger to his lips, glance once into the pit, and whisper, Well, he isn’t babbling now…’
It was true: the psychic aether seemed breathlessly still. But the pit’s miasma - the breath or effluvium of the thing it contained - went up as ever: a stinking mist that vaporized on contact with the electrified iron-mesh of the hinged cover that sealed the throat of the old well.
For long seconds the brothers looked at each other, until Francesco said, ‘I don’t envy you, as I said. But…’
’… It has to be done I know,’ Tony finished it for him. ‘And yes, I have thought of doing away with him. For after all, he’s the only thing that ties us to this place, and I fancy Le Manse Madonie has had its day. We could be elsewhere, as other people, doing other than we do now. You have suggested a fifty-gallon drum of kerosene and a stick of dynamite. But what if I were to suggest sufficient high-explosives to blow this entire place off the face of the mountain?’
‘I would in every instance agree with you!’ Francesco answered. ‘And to the world let it seem that we went with it’
‘Except even if we were to leave this place in ruins, that wouldn’t solve our problem - the fact that we are known to the dog-Lord’s people and probably to this Tibetan Drakul, and that sooner or later we must run into them. For you can be sure that they would not believe we were dead!’
