Necroscope: The Plague-Bearer by Brian Lumley Read Free Book Online

many penalties of failure,” Francesco had told him then. But Mike could never be entirely sure that he’d heard him correctly. For at that point his stunned mind had been shutting itself down, while his shuddering body was already totally uncooperative; so that without the brothers to keep it upright, it would have crumpled like an empty sack to the cavern’s dusty floor…
     

     
    Thus Mike Milazzo had become an agent in thrall to the Francezcis, one of their local watchers—a spy not only on those Old Men of Sicily he’d once called capos but on the world in general—an errand-boy, runner, and talebearer; and, but only very occasionally, to ensure that he kept his edge and remained practiced in thuggery, a brutal enforcer when the brothers had need of such. And for a while—a matter of weeks, almost a month—Mike had stayed within their guidelines, obeying their rules to the letter.
    But a leopard may not change its spots, and being just such an animal—not merely a predator but a carnivore and a drinker of blood at that—he’d soon found the restrictions placed upon him frustrating, even demeaning. He had new, superior muscle to flex, and yet was on a leash; with teeth sharp as knives, still he was muzzled by masters he never saw, who contacted him where and when they wished and other than that were less than shadows to him. Why, for all Mike knew he might never see the Francezci brothers again! He would be in their service, always, but never more in their presence…at least he could always hope not!
    And finally he had surrendered to his nature: his “pure instinct,” as Anthony had had it…but in fact an instinct that was anything but pure. And the guidelines and rules had at once flown right out the window.
    As a result of which:
    Here Mike was in his car where he’d brought it to a momentary halt, staring across the stony, barren roof of the plateau, at the low, dark, sinister silhouette of Le Manse Madonie where lamps glowed a dull yellow above the gate in the high perimeter wall. Here he was in answer to his second “invitation,” in fact a command, which he dare not refuse; and as before there was no excuse for the things he had done.
    And remembering all too clearly what those things were: how he’d let enhanced passions rule and used them indiscriminately, and how he had used a name he should never use, Mike shuddered. He shook like a leaf in a gale however briefly, uncontrollably, and waited until the tremors ceased before slipping his car into gear and starting it rolling along the narrow, weedy, badly weathered track to Le Manse Madonie…
     

     
    This time Mike didn’t have so long to wait; or rather, the brothers were waiting for him! And there was little or no preamble when all three of them got seated at the same table in the same room as last time. But once more there were others in the room: Francezci thralls who, for the moment, remained in the shadows. Mike was fully aware of them, however, detecting their presence with heightened vampire senses. He hadn’t seen them—not even with night-penetrating eyes, for just like him they were expert at hiding in the gloom—but he could smell them and hear their breathing, and every slightest rustle of their clothing.
    As to their purpose there, these bodyguard vampires—especially now that Mike knew the brothers’ nature, their strength and near-invincibility—that was a nagging concern that raised his apprehension to almost insufferable heights. Perhaps it was simply that the twins didn’t want to dirty their tapering, long-fingered hands on such as him. But in any case that was all the time Mike was given to wonder and worry about it, for no sooner was he seated than Anthony was rebuking him with undeniable accusations:
    “Mike Milazzo, it seems there’s only one thing I can say in your favour—you didn’t run when we asked to see you! But then again, if you had so much as attempted flight you wouldn’t have made it to the