Necroscope 9: The Lost Years Read Online Free PDF

shame, or defeat, or surrender, and her thighs lolled open.
    18
    Brian Lumley
    He held her lips open with his thumb and smallest finger, and let the middle three elongate into her. His hand was quite still, but the three central fingers stretched with a caterpillar’s expansion, throbbing with the effort of metamorphosis like a trio of sentient penises, with pouting lips opening in their tips. And into her body they crept, while his thumb and smallest finger closed on her bud, to gentle it like a nipple.
    And with the old crone watching and knowing everything - laughing silently through a gap-toothed mouth whose eye-teeth at least were still sharp and white - so Francesco found the artery he sought and used his fingers to pierce and sip at the soft centre of Julietta’s sex where the marks, if he left any, would never be found, and the blood, if any continued to flow, would have its own explanation.
    Then, in a few seconds, a minute - as the girl went, ‘Ah! Ah! Ah!’ and turned her head this way and that, until her eyes rolled up - slowly Francesco’s jaws cracked open in a grin or a grimace, allowing a trickle of saliva to slop from a corner of his writhing lips. In that same moment his own eyes turned to flame, and then to blood! Julietta’s blood. But: Brother! It was Anthony; not a call as such (for the brothers were not gifted with the true art), but a warning definitely. A tingling of nerves, a premonition. Julio was coming!
    A moment to withdraw from Julietta, and another to lean forward and kiss her clammy brow. Then he was out of the room, flowing from Sclafani’s office into the corridor, and the door marked ‘Men’ closing softly behind him. And his penis steaming as he plied it in the privacy of a cubicle, once, twice, three times, before it spurted into the bowl. And even his sperm was red where Francesco pulled the chain on it …
    In the corridor, Sclafani was waiting for him. ‘Ah! Forgive me! I supposed you would be in there. Your brother asked me to tell you … Your man has returned from England … And your driver, Mario? … A radio message?’ He fluttered his hands, as if that were explanation enough. Which in fact it was.
    Francesco was cool now. He smiled his gratitude, and made for the balcony with Julio hard on his heels. ‘It’s been such a pleasure to have you,’ the fat man was babbling. ‘I can’t possibly bill you. What? But I’m already too deeply in your debt!’
    At the table, Mario stood by in his uniform and cap while Tony spoke into a portable radio-telephone. Francesco wheeled on Julio and almost knocked him over. ‘My friend,’ he said hurriedly. This is a private conversation. You understand? As for the bill: the pleasure was all ours.’ He pressed a wad of notes into the proprietor’s hand, more than enough to cover what they had not eaten. As Julio waddled off, Tony was standing up.
    ‘ETA in forty-five minutes,’ he said. ‘Even if we go right now, still the
    Necroscope: The Lost Years - Vol. I
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    chopper will beat us to the Manse.’ He shrugged. Francesco nodded and said, Til speak to Luigi en route.’
     
    In the limo Francesco sat up front beside Mario. Outside Palermo the
    static cleared up and he was able to make himself understood on the
    car’s communication system. ‘Your patient?’ ‘Sedated,’ came back a tinny, almost casual voice. Threw up a little … doesn’t seem to travel too well. The sedative, I suppose.’ From the back of the limo Tony said: ‘Well, purging can’t hurt.
    They’l
    be seeing to that anyway, at Le Manse.’ Francesco glanced back at him. ‘I left instruction, yes.’ And into the radio: ‘Any problems at the other end?’
    ‘None. Smooth as silk. Everything should be that easy!’ ‘Good,’ Francesco was pleased. ‘And this end? Control?’
    They’ve cleared me on to Le Manse Madonie. No problem.’ (Of course not. The Francezcis’ man in Air Traffic Control at Catania
    had picked up more than a year’s