"Brian Lumley - Necroscope 10 - Lost Years 02 - Resurgence" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lumley Brian)

what? Her reminder? Its suggestion? Sensed, anyway, the human beast's resolution, his determination, the
fact that he would indeed go through with it. So be it it was of his own free will.
 Beyond the knoll, the narrow road was an icy black ribbon chopped two feet deep through the snow.
Maintained by the snowplough team that serviced the local villages, the road had last been cleared two hours ago. Since
when it had furred over again with a pelt of fresh snow, through which the tarmac's black ice glittered like jet. In these parts
conditions such as this were common; the weather would have to be a lot harsher to dose the roads completely. And in any
case, this was only a service road to the hamlet The mam highway, to Perth in the north and Dunfermline and Edinburgh in the
south, lay a mile and a half away through a pass hi the Ochil Hills.
The tiny hamlet itself, Sma' Auchterbecky, lay in a valley or reentry in the Ochils. This was the only road hi; it came to an
abrupt halt at a wooden footbridge over the currently frozen beck. Where the road ended a blacktopped rectangle served a dual
purpose, as a turning place for vehicles and as the hamlet's communal car park. The squat humped, anonymous shapes of
jacketed cars, three of
them - Sma' Auchterbecky's total vehicular complement - crouched on the parking area like a trio of oddly frozen mammoths on
some Siberian tundra.
No longer black- but grey-topped under a layer of snow, the rectangle turned briefly to glittering white as the light
of a full moon penetrated the threatening cloud blanket Only a momentary effect -a churning of leaden, snow-laden clouds,
allowing just one blink of the silver Cyclops eye - still the Thing felt it like the jab of a cattle prod. Magnetized by the moon, a ridge
of erectile fur stiffened along her spine; lured by the Lunar orb, & sound died unborn, aborted with difficulty in her throbbing
throat But at the same time a need was born in her belly.
The crimson cores of her eyes expanded, driving back the feral yellow; her jaws dripped saliva; her head turned, muzzle
twitching, from the safely sealed vault of the sky back to the cyst in the snow that was the man's lair. All of her awareness was
now centred on the cavern of the beast - the human beast - where he lay on his back, masturbating by red torchlight to a
pornographic centrefold ripped from a men's magazine. The Thing smelled his sex, heard his pounding heartbeat and
sensed the coursing of his rich blood. But this was scarcely the climax of the man's activity, merely a part of it The last part as
he... readied himself. For everything was now in position and the predator was poised. Only one thing was missing: the prey,
and she was coming.
It called for one final effort on the part of the Thing; for to simply let this go ahead - to encourage it if only by non-interference -
might in the long run mean endangering herself. Indeed, in any other scenario but this one, the man might even be
considered her ally, her cover! But not when he threatened one of her own. Wherefore:
You are making a mistake. There is great danger here!
But despite all the effort she put into it the man heard nothing - or if he heard anything at all it was only an echo from that
dream again:
Of the red-lit darkness... of the Loreleis taunting, and flaunting their flesh... of the Awesome Stalker, not himself'after all but
some other, or rather some other's voice in his head, questioning, whose simple questions he couldn't refuse but
must answer. That was what really stalked him, gnawed at him: the idea that he might have told someone (some thing?) his
innermost thoughts. But... in a dream?
It returned, as dreams are wont to do, unexpectedly. Finally he remembered it something of it at least
He stood on a black road on a black night and gazed into the yawning throat of a black tunnel cut in a black mountainside. And he was
frozen there, bereft of will, unable to move a muscle as something (a vehicle?) approached, bearing down on him in dreadful, inexorable
slow-motion out of the tunnel Its yellow headlights shone on him, fixed him in their
BrianLumley
Necroscope:TheLastYears-Vol.II
18
19

blindingglare,frozehimlikearabbitinhistracks.Then,fromtheutterdarknessbehindthedazzlingyellowlights,aquestion:
Wy"
' h?
Andheknewthemeaningofit,alsothathemustanswer.
'Because I want her.'