by Amy Cross
Abby
The further I get from Gothos, the colder the world seems. It's hard to believe that Patrick would have come out here to die, but I guess I can see the appeal: it's a desolate, empty landscape full of old bones. Picking my way across the rocks that litter the side of the mountain, I get closer and closer to the little campfire, and finally I realize that there's someone sitting next to the flames. I pause, trying to decide whether it's safe to keep going, but after a moment I see that the person is an old man. Figuring he must have seen Patrick, I decide to approach cautiously and ask him for help.
"My word!" the man says, laughing as he sees me approach. "It's been so long since I had a visitor, and now two come along on one night. There must be something in the stars. Come and sit down. It's such a cold night. Colder than normal".
"I'm looking for someone," I say.
"Oh, thank God you can speak," he replies. "The other one was rather gloomy. I had to prattle on and on for the both of us".
"You saw Patrick?" I ask, getting closer to the fire. The heat is hard to resist; I guess I can afford to stop for a few minutes.
"He didn't stay for long," the old man continues. "He warmed himself for a moment, but he wasn't in the mood to talk. Never has been".
"Who are you?" I ask.
He smiles and reaches out a hand. "Sir Edward Moss," he says. "I'm from the Berkshire side of the Moss family. I don't know if that means anything to you?" He sighs. "I suppose not. Young people these days aren't very interested in history, are they? To you, I'm just an old fogey who -"
"I need to find Patrick," I say, interrupting him. "Which way did he go?"
"That way," Edward says, pointing toward the horizon. "I don't suppose you'll have much trouble tracking him down. He was moving quite slowly. I've seen such things before. The death of a vampire is always -"
"He's not dying," I say firmly. "Not yet. I've come to take him home".
Edward smiles. "That's the spirit. You must never give up trying, even when you have no hope of success". He pauses for a moment, reaching his hands closer and closer to the flames. "I know a little bit about the vampires," he continues, "and I know a little bit about Patrick. I've studied them, you see. I even set up an organization to keep an eye on them. And there's one thing I can tell you about old Patrick. It's his destiny to die out here tonight. Alone".
"It's my destiny to save him," I reply.
He laughs. "Well that's something I've never come across before. Two destinies that contradict one another. I wonder how that might resolve itself?" He pauses, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small gold watch. "Do you happen to know the time? My watch isn't always very reliable, but it feels to me as if this night has lasted forever".
"I have to go," I say, "but if you're cold, you should go down to Gothos. They've got a huge house and I'm sure they wouldn't mind having a guest".
"Oh, I don't think that would do much good," he replies. "Gothos isn't going to last much longer. It's already starting to crumble. Anyway, I wouldn't survive the journey. Look at me, for Christ's sake. I'm an old man. I can't even feel my hands any more". As if to prove the point, he dips his hands directly into the fire for a moment, letting them burn for a couple of seconds before pulling them out again. "No pain. That's a good thing. I don't know if I even have the strength to get more fire wood tonight. When the last of this has finished burning, I suppose I'll just have to freeze, unless -" He turns to me. "It feels wrong for an old vampire watcher to die like this. Would you by any chance do me the honor of... you know..." He turns his head, to give me a better view of his neck. "Do that thing vampires do".
"No," I say.
"It would be an act of mercy," he says. "I've seen it done to others, and I would so dearly like to know how it feels. There would be no greater thing anyone could do for me, than to let me die at the hands of a vampire".
I stare at him for a moment. "I don't think I am a vampire," I say eventually.
"Oh, you are," he replies. "You're not like the old vampires. You're a new type, but you're definitely a vampire. Trust an old man who knows these things. Please. Patrick wouldn't oblige, but I'm sure you wouldn't mind taking my blood. It's all I have to offer".
"I'm sorry," I say, turning and walking away.
"Please come back!" he calls after me. "I just want to die a memorable death!"
I don't stop, and I don't go back. I know I'll have to bite someone eventually, but I don't want my first time to be an old man on the side of a hill; I want to wait for a mightier beast, something strong and powerful. Besides, I have to catch up to Patrick. Walking fast, I cross the mountain and soon find myself wandering across a barren landscape littered with broken skeletons. At first, I try to carefully avoid the bones, but eventually I have to just accept stepping on them. As I continue to walk, there's a constant crunching and snapping sound beneath my feet, until finally I reach an area where there are no bones. Ahead, there's nothing but a dark landscape, but snow is starting to fall.
And then I see him.
A few hundred meters away, Patrick has fallen to the ground. My first thought is that I'm too late, that he must be dead, but then I realize I can still feel his presence. He's weak, but he's alive. I start running, desperate to get to him, but I pull up short as I realize there's already a figure next to him. It's hard to make out the figure's features properly, and she seems blurry and faint, almost like a ghost. I take a couple of steps closer, and the figure looks up at me. Again, it's hard to get a proper look at her face, but she looks like... me. Like me, but not me. A little older than me, and with sadness in her eyes. She seems to be comforting Patrick. I feel my chest tighten and my whole body shudder as I realize there's only one person this woman can possibly be. After all this time, Sophie has finally returned.
Patrick
As I stare up at Sophie, she turns to look at something nearby. I watch her face, and I find it impossible to understand how she can show me any kindness, any mercy at all. After the things I did to her, the way I killed her... But she has come to me, in my final moment, even though she's long dead and the snow is falling straight through her body. Perhaps, though, this is just a hallucination. Why would Sophie come to me? Why would Sophie feel anything for me other than hatred? After all, I killed her and then I took our child and lost her forever. No, this can't be Sophie. Not the real Sophie. This is all in my mind. It's my dying hallucination. As I stare at her, she looks back down at me, opens her mouth, and fades way until all that's left is the dark night sky above me and the snow that continues to fall.
I'm alone.
"I'm here," says a voice nearby. Seconds later, I see Abigail's face appear above me. "Where did she go?" she asks, looking around. "Where is she?"
I stare up at her, trying to determine if she - like Sophie - is all in my mind.
"I saw her!" Abigail shouts, with tears in her eyes. "Why did she go away when I came? Why didn't she -" She pauses. "That was her, wasn't it? At least tell me it was her!" She waits for me to say something. "I just want to talk to her!" she continues, with tears in her eyes. "Please, make her come back". She looks around again. "Where is she?" she asks. "Come back!" she shouts at the top of her voice, before turning back to me. Tears are streaming down her face, and her bottom lip is trembling. "Please," she says, "if you only do one thing for me ever again, make her come back. I just want to hear her voice on time. Please. I know you can do it. Please, please try".
I close my eyes. This must be part of the hallucination. Abigail was locked in the room at Gothos; although it's technically possible for someone to escape, I find it hard to believe that she would have found a way, especially so fast. So many great vampires have gone into the room and become trapped, it's simply impossible that Abigail could have succeeded where they all failed. Are my final moments to be filled with these strange waking dreams? Opening my eyes again, I see Abigail still leaning over me.
"I'm taking you back to Gothos," she says after a moment. "If
she came to you once, she can come again. I'm going to take you back, and then you can take me back to the real world". She pauses. "Why didn't you tell me I have a sister? Why didn't you tell me about Gwendoline?"
I close my eyes again. Death must be just seconds away. After a moment, I feel something moving under my body, and I open my eyes to find that Abigail has picked me up in her arms and has starting carrying me back toward Gothos. Can this really be all in my mind? As the snow continues to fall, I hear the sound of crunching bones under Abigail's feet. Perhaps none of this is real; perhaps I've already died, and this is how it all ends. I'd like to believe that Abigail has managed to surprise me, but such things simply aren't possible. These can't be Abigail's arms that are holding me; they must be the arms of Death itself.
Abby
The night seems to last forever. As I finally get back to Gothos, carrying Patrick in my arms, the first rays of dawn are starting to appear to the east. I feel as if I've been walking forever, struggling to carry my father across the mountain before stumbling down into the valley. The snow seemed to follow us, but I didn't stop walking. Occasionally I heard noises in the darkness around us, but still I didn't stop. We even came upon Edward's dead body, frozen next to the embers of his fire, but we didn't stop to bury him; I just kept walking until finally I stood before Gothos, still holding Patrick. Finally the sun comes up, as if it has been waiting for our return.
The door to the study has been left open, banging in the wind. I carry Patrick inside and put him on the sofa, before going back to the door and locking it tight. Kneeling next to the sofa, I look into his eyes and see that he's looking straight ahead. He's not dead, but he seems to have given up on life. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, or even if there's anything I can do, but I figure I have to at least try. I grab a blanket from nearby and carefully place it over him. At least he won't be cold.
"Can you leave us alone for a moment?" says a voice behind me. I turn to find Diana standing at the door.
"I want to be with him," I say.
"He'll still be here when you get back," she replies. "Please, just give me a few minutes alone with him. There's something I need to give him".
Standing up, I walk over to the door. "Where's Gwendoline?" I ask. At that moment, I hear a crashing sound from elsewhere in the house, as if someone is destroying the structure of Gothos itself; the noise is accompanied by a distant scream, and then what sounds like a piano being destroyed.
"I believe she's in the conservatory," Diana says, "thought it might be best to keep away from her for a while. She believes you to still be locked in the room, and she believes Patrick to be lost forever".
"She's right about one of those things," I say, looking back over at my father's prone form on the sofa. "Is there any way to save him?"
"Perhaps," she says. "Let us see what the new day brings".
I glance over at the window. "I met an old man out there, camping on the side of the mountain".
"That's impossible," Diana replies. "Nothing and no-one can live out there, apart from beasts and shadows".
"He said his name was Sir Edward Moss," I tell her. "I said he should come down to Gothos, but he didn't listen. He's dead now. His body's still up there".
She smiles. "Sir Edward Moss died many years ago. He's buried in the garden, but the land around Gothos is full of ghosts". There's another crashing sound from another room; it sounds as if Gwendoline has worked herself up into quite a temper. "You were right to bring Patrick back," Diana continues, barely reacting to the distant carnage. "He wasn't supposed to die out there, and you need him".
"I'm going to find Gwendoline," I tell her. "She's my sister".
Diana smiles kindly, before turning and walking across the room toward Patrick. I head into the hallway, listening out for some indication of Gwendoline's location. I have no idea what I'm going to do when I find her, but I have to talk to her and find out what's happening. Now that I know she's my sister, I feel as if I owe her some help. Whatever's wrong, I can still make sure she's okay. There's no need for her to suffer here. Besides, once Patrick is gone, Gwendoline will be my only family in the whole world, and I don't want to be completely alone. We can work together. We can be proper sisters. I can taker her to the real world and show her a full life.
"Gwendoline!" I call out, my voice echoing through the house. "Where are you? It's me!"
I hear wood splintering nearby, followed by a grunt of fury. It's clear that she's close, though I'm still not entirely sure which direction to go. Figuring I might as well get started, I walk through to the reception room, but there's no sign of anyone. Heading over to the next door, I look into the billiards room and see a pile of dead maids gathered on the carpet. Getting closer, I see that they've all had their throats ripped open, and blood has pooled beneath them. Whoever killed them has arranged them in a neat pile, creating a macabre scene.
"What are you doing here?" says Gwendoline, who has appeared in a doorway at the end of the room. She looks awful: her dress is tattered and torn, her hair is unkempt and has several bald spots where clumps have been ripped out, and her skin is yellowing and wrinkled. She stares at me with the darkest green eyes I've ever seen, full of rage and hatred.
"I was looking for you," I say, trying not to let her see that I'm disgusted by how she looks. I turn back to the maids. "Did you do this?" I ask.
"You're not real," she replies. "You're still locked in the room".
"I got out".
"Liar!" she screams, close to tears. "No-one can get out! I put you in there and you'll rot forever!"
"I got out through the window," I tell her.
She pauses, looking completely disgusted by me. "Look at me," she says after a moment. "Am I still beautiful?"
"Yes," I say.
"Lying again," she mutters, limping toward me. Her left foot appears to be partially hanging off, and she leaves a trail of blood across the floor. "You've just shown me that you're an inveterate liar, Abigail. That means I can't ever trust you again. Not that I trusted you before, but I believed you to be simple-minded and easy to understand". She edges closer. "How did you really get out?"
"Like I said, I used the window". I pause. "The only thing that was keeping me in that room was my own mind. Once I realized that, I knew I could leave".
She narrows her eyes as she starts circling me. "It doesn't matter," she says after a moment. "Our father is gone. He went for his Death Walk, so we're both abandoned".
"He's back," I tell her. "I went and got him".
I can see the fury building in her soul. She's keeping her distance from me now, but she seems to feel nothing for me but pure hatred. "Why did you do that?" she asks eventually. "Let him die. We don't need him. He's never done anything for us. He just hurts us, and makes us suffer".
"I need him," I say.
"I needed him!" she shouts. "He didn't help me! Why should he help you? Why shouldn't you be forced to end up like me?"
"Come with me," I say, reaching out my hand. "Let's go and sit with him. He's dying, Gwendoline. Let's go and sit down as a family, just this once".
"Do you think I want to touch you?" she replies, staring at my hand as if it's the most disgusting thing she's ever seen. "This is probably a trick. You and Patrick got together and worked out how to hurt me again. I was wrong about you, Abigail. You're just like him. You're just like Daddy".
"No," I say, trying to stay calm, "I'm not. I'm not like him, and I don't think I'm like Sophie either. I'm me. I'm a little bit like both of them, but I'm my own person and I'm not going to hurt you". I keep my hand outstretched, hoping she might accept my offer. "If he tries to hurt you, I'll stop him," I continue. "I'll take your side. But please, come with me".
She pauses for a moment. "I can't let him see me like this," she mutters. "I'm hideous".
"You're not hideous," I tell her.
"Look at my skin," she says, running a hand across her wrinkled neck. "I worked so hard to stay beautiful, but it'
s all gone so horribly wrong". She pinches the skin, pulling a lump away and dropping it to the floor. It looks like a blob of yellow-gray jelly. "I should have died a long time ago. Ever since the day Daddy tried to get me to kill the deer, I've known that I'm worthless, but... I couldn't end my life. I wanted to keep living, so I could play the piano and be beautiful".
"You can still do that," I say. She looks so pathetic and alone, I genuinely want to help her. "Whatever happens, I'll take you with me. I don't know where we'll go, or what we'll do, but you can come back and see the world I come from. I don't want to be alone either. We can get to know each other, and we can be friends. We can be real sisters. We'll find a place to live, we'll get a piano, you can be beautiful and you can play the piano and we'll both be okay".
"I'm hideous," she says, her voice getting quieter.
"Don't talk like that. Come on, let's go and see our father".
Slowly, and cautiously, she takes my hand. Her skin feels cold and slimy, but I manage not to react as I lead her carefully out of the room.
"Can we go to a city?" she asks. "I've heard about cities. I want to see one".
"We'll go to New York," I tell her. "You won't believe how tall the buildings are. I've seen loads of videos about it. Oh, and you can try using the internet".
"What's that?" she asks, still holding my hand as we walk.
"It's this giant computer network. Most of it's pretty dodgy, but there's some good stuff on there. You can see pictures of the whole world. We can get some money and go traveling. If you really want to see cities, we'll go to London and Paris and Tokyo and everywhere".
She suddenly stops walking. "I can't," she says, staring straight ahead.
"Why not?" I ask.
She turns to me. "I'm scared".
"I'll be there with you," I tell her. Gently tugging her hand, I manage to persuade her to start walking again. We head along the corridor and through to the hallway. "Don't worry," I continue. "I'm kind of scared too. I don't exactly fit in anywhere, but it'll work out". To be honest, I'm kind of worrying how it's going to 'work out', seeing as Gwendoline looks like she's decomposing, but we'll come up with a plan.