Vivisepulture by Wayne Andy; Simmons Tony; Remic Neal; Ballantyne Stan; Asher Colin; Nicholls Steven; Harvey Gary; Savile Adrian; McMahon Guy N.; Tchaikovsky Smith Read Free Book Online Page A

push his luck, not with all six-foot-odd of Thaddeus Blaklok standing in front of him.
    ‘I’ll give you money – more money – if you hunt them down. Find them and kill them.’
    ‘I’ve got all the money I need for now. Besides, they won’t be back, trust me.’
    ‘That’s not the point. They broke into my house; it’s a bloody insult. I want them dead, I have to send a message – no one fucks with Clarence Horatio Arkell.’
    ‘Well, I reckon that’s your problem. I’ve done my bit.’ Blaklok turned to leave.
    ‘Wait. Just wait a minute.’ Arkell was standing now, his face red with exasperation. ‘I’m led to believe you’re a man of honour, Mister Blaklok, despite your reputation for wanton violence. I’ve heard tell you’re a man who will do the right thing.’ True enough, Blaklok supposed. ‘These men are killers. It’s not just me they’ve terrorised, look for yourself.’ Arkell held out a copy of the Chronicle . Blaklok could see the headline ‘Murder Most Foul’ emblazoned across the top in thick black script. 
    ‘Four others have been killed recently. Four other men of note… men I knew. Do you think it stops here? If you don’t hunt these animals down there’ll be more murders, you can guarantee it.’ Blaklok had to admit, it didn’t look good. ‘There’s no telling what these people are capable of. How long before they turn their attentions to women… children? Are you happy with these animals rampaging loose in your city?’
    ‘All right. No need to go on – I’ll do it. But you’ll have to cover my expenses.’
    ‘Of course,’ Arkell replied with a smile, reaching into his desk drawer and producing yet more bank notes.
    Well, in for a penny…
     
    ‘By dose! He bid off by fugging dose!’
    The voice echoed through the dark corridors, Blaklok could hear it from a hundred yards away. ‘I know, Mister Krane. But look what he did to my hand. These stitches itch terrible like. And whatever will I do when I need to pass water? I’m ever so clumsy with my left – I’ll get piss everywhere.’
    What a pair of fucking cry babies!
    He had stalked them for hours. It hadn’t been a difficult trail to follow, but it was circuitous. They’d tried to cover their trail in several spots, but they clearly hadn’t banked on being hunted by Thaddeus Blaklok. Now he had them in their den, and what Arkell had said about there being more murders had clearly been right. The deeper he went into their lair, the more evidence of their nefarious deeds was on display.
    Body parts were casually strewn about, severed heads hung on meat hooks and entrails were nailed to the walls and ceiling like birthday streamers. It stank, the sweet smell of rot, and had Blaklok a weaker constitution he might have retched his guts up on the blood-smeared floor.
    Ahead of him, illuminated through the gloom he saw them, one fat, one painfully skinny, nursing their wounds and moaning like school children.
    ‘Someone’s been busy,’ Blaklok said, stepping out into the light.’
    ‘You!’ said Milo, brandishing the stump of his missing hand.
    Krane merely stood, his face wrapped in bloody gauze, eyes staring about wildly in search of a weapon.
    ‘I think playtime’s over. You two need a dose of the rough stuff, and I’m the kind of bastard that’s ready to give it.’
    Blaklok let his greatcoat drop to the floor, exposing the tattooed flesh of his torso. He was painted with a myriad of different markings; arcane sigils, occult symbols, intricate scarring, all wound together to make a fearsome tapestry of his flesh. And as Milo and Krane watched in horror, some of those markings began to move and twist, glowing with baleful light or darkening and searing with their evil intent.
    ‘Wait,’ Milo managed to say. ‘It wasn’t us! We was paid. We’re just employees, like you. The real killers are the ones that hired us in the first place.’
    ‘Who?’ Blaklok demanded, the hellish contortion of his