by Darren Shan
Greygo tells me how he scoured the internet for interviews with me. He attended conventions where I was present, sometimes flying halfway round the world to hear me speak. He tracked down those who knew me, agents and publishers, and carefully pumped them for info about me.
It wasn’t enough. He couldn’t get inside my head. He didn’t want to approach me cold, as Andeanna, so he invented Joe to get close to me. He corresponded with me, taking his time, doing nothing to arouse my suspicions. He had no set plan for luring me to London. But he had a hunch that one day things would fall neatly into place. As they did when I got interested in spontaneous human combustion after he had mentioned it in a few emails.
‘From that moment, you played into my hands,’ he sighs. ‘There was nothing odd about me inviting you to London then — it looked like I was doing it in response to your plans to write a book about a subject I had turned you on to. It was natural that, in my excitement, I’d ask you to come here so that I could share the research with you.
‘I made Joe a child of the Troubles, allowing me to cover up — because of his supposed scars, I was able to wear thick clothes and stick padding down the arms and legs to make me seem larger than I am. You accepted the beard because I had a good reason for wearing it. You also didn’t look at my face too closely because you didn’t want me thinking that you were searching for traces of my scars.’
‘You thought of everything, didn’t you?’ I snort.
‘I had to,’ he mutters. ‘I was nervous the first time we met, but the more time we spent together, the less acting I had to do, until by the end, Joe was every bit as real to me as my mother. You never thought of connecting either of them to Gregory Menderes, because both were real, individual, complete.
‘I think you can work out the rest,’ Greygo says, rocking back on his heels. ‘I juggled the alter egos, careful never to cross my wires. It wasn’t easy going from your arms as Andeanna to your side as Joe, remembering what you’d told me as one and trying not to let that knowledge leak through the lips of the other.’
‘A virtuoso performance,’ I remark bitingly.
He shrugs. ‘I don’t think you can summarize it that simply. I wasn’t acting — like I told you already, I became those people. I created souls, not just faces and bodies, and carried them within me, as separate and whole as my own.’
‘Fancy words,’ I snort.
‘The truth,’ he insists.
‘What do you know about truth?’ I sneer. ‘You’re one big walking, talking, stalking fucking lie. Souls? You have to be human to comprehend the quality of a soul. I’ll tell you this, though.’ I raise the gun and press the muzzle to his forehead. ‘Souls are real. They do move on. And when you die, yours is going all the way to hell, you sick, twisted fuck.’
He doesn’t display any fear, just gazes at me with a look that’s half pity, half . . . what?
‘Don’t you understand?’ I growl. ‘I’m going to kill you.’
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘I know.’
‘It doesn’t bother you?’
He makes a gurgling sound. ‘Life hasn’t been much to speak of recently. Part of the reason I slipped so easily into character was because I preferred being Joe and Andeanna. They were sweet. They could sleep at night, untouched by nightmares. They didn’t look into mirrors and see a monster. I was happier as them. If I could go on being them, maybe I’d fear death. But I’m Greygo now. It’s just me. And I hate myself. That’s why I’m not afraid. Without my mother, my father, Joe, you . . . I’m nothing, just an empty shadow of a man. Death will be a relief.’
Tears trickle down his cheeks. It could be an act – he is, after all, an actor of the highest calibre – but I don’t think so. I believe he’s truly as miserable and lonely as he claims.
‘Why didn’t you kill me?’ I sob, tears coming again to these once barren eyes. ‘Wasn’t that the plan, to set me up and have me murdered too?’
He nods. ‘Once you’d killed my father, it would have been simple to step into his room and remove the evidence of Sebastian Dash, plant my own in its place. I had articles of yours stored away, to frame you with. And I was ruthless enough. I lured poor Axel to his death to test you, a trial run for the real thing. As Andeanna, I could be as brutal as I needed to be.’
‘So why didn’t you?’ I scream.
‘You know why,’ he says.
‘No. I don’t. Why?’
He looks down, tears blackening his face. When he looks up again, there’s a world of wanting and pain in his eyes. ‘I couldn’t kill you,’ he weeps. ‘I turned somersaults to spare you. I knew we were finished as Ed and Andeanna, but I hoped we could continue as Ed and Joe. I wanted you to flee and carry on with your life. I would have followed. We could have been friends. Even though I knew it might backfire on me, I couldn’t bring myself to finish you off. I had to . . . let you . . . go.’
He’s sobbing deeply. So am I. We’re almost beyond words. But I have to know. Before the end, I must have it all explained. ‘Tell me the truth. Why didn’t you betray me?’
He looks up, locks gazes and says in as close to silence as a whisper can ever be, ‘Because I love you.’
I thought I’d fallen as far into the madness as I could.
I was wrong.
‘You love me?’ I splutter, incensed by the disgraceful claim.
‘Crazy, isn’t it?’ he croaks.
‘You can’t mean that. You can’t!’
‘But I do. I love you, Ed, and I know you’re going to kill me anyway, but you forced me to say it, so I have.’
‘You can’t love. You’re a monster.’
‘I wish I was,’ he says softly. ‘But this was always about love. Love for my mother and father, then love for you. It wouldn’t have been so fucked-up if I could have distanced myself emotionally from any one of you. Love’s a bitch. You know love brought us here. Deny it all you like, but you know. It doesn’t make sense any other way.’
I look inside myself for a scathing remark, only to find to my dismay that he’s right. About everything. I wish with all my being that he wasn’t, that he was an evil, calculating bastard, or a sick fuck who’d put me through hell for kicks, but he isn’t. He’s a lonely, hurt, resourceful, talented young man whose love for those closest to him has led to the ruin of us all.
‘You know the really crazy thing?’ I ask quietly. My lips lift in a self-mocking sneer. ‘I love you too.’ He stares at me wordlessly, not shocked by the revelation, but by my expression of it. ‘After all you’ve done, regardless of your sex, you’re still the person I fell in love with, the one I would have given the world for.’
‘Ed . . . ’ he moans.
I look down at the gun, then toss it to the floor. Killing him isn’t an option. Manipulator and liar though he is, he’s Andeanna, he’s Joe, he’s all that has come to mean anything to me. I can hate him, but I can’t kill him, just as I couldn’t kill Belinda when she betrayed me. Gregory Menderes chose his patsy well.
As if in a dream, I rise and face the door.
‘Ed?’ Greygo says behind me.
‘So long, Andeanna.’
‘You’re leaving?’
I stop but don’t look back. ‘You want me to stay?’
‘Of course!’ He gets to his feet and shuffles towards me.
‘No,’ I murmur.
He draws to a halt. ‘Ed?’ he says again, fearful this time.
‘You’ve destroyed me,’ I whisper.
‘But you said you love me.’
‘I do.’
‘Then you’ve got to stay. We can make this work. We can save each other. It won’t be easy, but if nothing good comes of this, we’re finished, the two of us.’
‘We’re finished already,’ I sigh.
‘No!’ he protests. ‘Is it because I’m a man? I can change that. Everything’s possible. If you’re patient, I can alter my sex, become Andeanna for real.’
‘No.’ I smile bitterly. ‘Like I said, that isn’t a problem
for me. I thought it would be, but it’s not. Guess I’m more metrosexual than I assumed. Don’t become someone else again. Be yourself. It’s time.’
‘But if you leave . . . ’
‘Goodbye, Greygo.’
‘Ed!’ he howls.
‘You’ve destroyed me,’ I whisper again, only this time to myself, and I make for the door.
‘Ed! No! We can . . . ’ he starts, but he’s too late. It’s over. I’m gone.
EPILOGUE
London is a cold, cruel city in the winter. Dark streets. Dark people. Dark ghosts.
The ghosts are everywhere. I see not just my own gaggle now – who mock me jubilantly at every turn, rejoicing in my downfall – but just about everyone who died here and remained bound to the buildings and streets. Old, young, innocent, guilty, from the distant past and the recent present. They reveal themselves wherever I go. Their resigned eyes follow me sadly, patiently, knowingly, as I stumble by, unwashed, unshaved, clothes torn and filthy, sobbing, moaning, gibbering.
Are they real or am I imagining them? I don’t know. That doesn’t seem to matter any more. Answers are for wise men, not fools like me.
I have no idea how long it’s been since my showdown with Greygo. A week? A month? I’ve been sleeping rough, in old warehouses or under bridges. Not that I’ve been catching much sleep. The ghosts I have to face during my waking hours are a thousand times preferable to those that drift through my dreams — Andeanna, Joe, Greygo and Etienne. The fourth not as frequently as the first three, but the mystic has her moments, when her features dissolve in bubbling pools of flesh and blood to reveal a jeering skeleton, which in turn crumbles away to display the sad, haunted face of Gregory Menderes.
I think of Belinda sometimes too, and wonder if she misses Dash or ever thinks about me. I no longer hate her. There are worse than Belinda Darnier in the world.
I could go back. Track down Greygo and stop the suffering, kill or forgive him, crush or embrace him. But I won’t. I’ve been consumed by madness. I no longer have the strength to take control of my life. All along I’ve been a figure in a tragic play. Now I must accept my fated end with dignity and resignation. There can be no other way.
The one comfort in this cold city of callous spectres is that my death is certain. My days and nights are numbered. Bond Gardiner will find me and keep his promise. He’s a man of his word. Even if he doesn’t want to kill me, he will. He’s bound to his destiny as surely as I am to mine. It’s only a matter of time.
So through this city of ghosts I crawl, broken and alone, trying in vain to hide from thoughts of Andeanna. Cut loose from God and man, I seek refuge and comfort among the shades of the dead, and wait for them to claim me.
THE END
written between 5th april 1999 and 29th may 2012
Also by Darren Shan
THE SAGA OF DARREN SHAN
Cirque Du Freak
The Vampire’s Assistant
Tunnels of Blood
Vampire Mountain
Trials of Death
The Vampire Prince
Hunters of the Dusk
Allies of the Night
Killers of the Dawn
The Lake of Souls
Lord of the Shadows
Sons of Destiny
THE SAGA OF LARTEN CREPSLEY
Ocean of Blood
Palace of the Damned
Brothers to the Death
THE DEMONATA
Lord Loss
Demon Thief
Slawter
Bec
Blood Beast
Demon Apocalypse
Death’s Shadow
Wolf Island
Dark Calling
Hell’s Heroes
THE CITY TRILOGY
Procession of the Dead
Hell’s Horizon
City of the Snakes
OTHER NOVELS
The Thin Executioner
AN ORION EBOOK
First published in Great Britain in 2012 by Orion Books.
This ebook first published in 2012 by Orion Books.
Copyright © Home of the Damned Limited 2012
The right of Darren Shan to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 978 1 4091 4362 8
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