Dark Season: The Complete Third Series (All 8 books)

by Amy Cross

  "You want a milkshake?" I ask as we head inside.

  "No," she says.

  "I thought you liked milkshakes," I reply as we sit in a booth. "You hungry?"

  "Tell me about Sophie," she says, her eyes darting about nervously as if she's worried we're being watched.

  The waitress comes over and we order a couple of sandwiches and some soda. While the waitress is writing down the order, Abby looks intensely uncomfortable; she stares down at the table and seems almost to be sweating, as if she doesn't like being close to other people. Something's seriously wrong with her, and it's clear that Benjamin has managed to really fuck with her mind. This is definitely not the same cautious, curious Abby I first met back in Callerton all those weeks ago; this girl is uncertain, confused and angry. I'm not sure if I can undo all the damage that Benjamin has done, but I have to try; after all, I can't help feeling that this is partly my fault. If I'd been around more, if I'd talked to her, maybe she would have been okay. I just thought Todd would look after her, but he seems to be out of the picture.

  "What do you want to know?" I ask Abby once the waitress has left our table. "I'll tell you anything, but you need to give me specific questions". I pause, looking across the diner. "Let's hope there are no Tenderlings around this time," I add. The last time we were sitting together in a restaurant, the place ended up getting ripped apart by a gang of angry little red monsters. It's only been a few weeks since that happened, but it feels like a lifetime.

  "Don't worry," she replies. "They won't turn up, and if they do, I can deal with them".

  I smile. There's something about her tone of voice that makes me believe her. She seems more confident than before, as if she's got a better command of her abilities. When I first met Abby back in Callerton, she seemed like a scared, nervous teenage girl who didn't understand her own body; today, she seems to be totally in control, and there's a sense of strength and power about her that makes me feel kind of nervous.

  "Tell me about Sophie," she says after a moment. "I want to know everything. What she was like, what she did, what she sounded like, what she believed. Everything. Don't leave anything out, even if it doesn't seem important".

  "Why now?" I ask. "Why did you track me down to ask me these things now?"

  She shrugs. "I just though, while you're still... I mean, while you still maybe want to talk to me".

  "She was..." I pause. "Wait. Do you want the rose-tinted version where she was absolutely perfect, or do you want the truth?"

  "The truth".

  "She was flawed," I say. "She was kind and smart, and she was my friend, but she definitely had her problems. She made some bad decisions, especially after she met Patrick. I still think she could have survived if she's just stepped back and taken a more realistic view of things. Instead, she trusted Charles Nimrod and she allowed him to lead her to a dark place. I'm not criticizing, but she definitely didn't help herself". I pause for a moment. "She made a lot of dumb decisions, but she was in love with your father. People tend to make mistakes when they're blinded by love. That's one of the reasons I've always been careful to make sure I don't fall in love with anyone".

  "How much did she look like me?" she asks. She's so tense, it's hard to fight the urge to reach over and hug her.

  "A lot," I say. "A hell of a lot".

  She pauses. "I think maybe I saw her once. Is that possible? Patrick... took me to Gothos. I went out into the wilderness, and for a moment I saw this figure... She looked like me, but she was maybe a little fuller in the face. She had this sad expression, like something had gone horribly wrong. She was kneeling next to Patrick. I wanted to talk to her, but then she just disappeared right in front of my eyes".

  I take a deep breath. "It might have been her," I say, feeling a cold shiver run through my body. I've seen vampires and I've seen other stuff, but ghosts are something I'd prefer not to think about. I've known too many people who've died over the years, and too many of them would probably love to come and haunt the shit out of me.

  "Why wouldn't she talk to me?" Abby asks. "If she can appear to Patrick, why won't she appear to me?"

  "I don't know," I say, "but I can promise you one thing. She hasn't appeared to me either".

  "Why should she appear to you?" Abby sneers. "You were just a friend. I'm her daughter!"

  "I know," I reply. "I just mean, maybe she doesn't have control over it. Maybe she can't just pick and choose who she appears to, or when".

  "She should try harder," Abby says, and it's clear that she's taking this very personally. She desperately wants to talk to her mother, and she feels like she's being shunned. I guess it doesn't help that her father is so closed-off and quiet. "I mean, if I was in her position," she continues, "I'd do anything to come back and see me. I'd want to talk to me, to help me, to get to know me. Instead, she appeared to Patrick, the one who killed her in the first place. Why would she do that? Why doesn't she hate him the way I do?"

  I pause for a moment, not certain what to say. "She loved Patrick," I say eventually, although I immediately realize that my voice sounds weak and pathetic.

  "Not after what he did to her," Abby replies. "She must hate him now. She must despise him. She has to. I've seen what he's like, Shelley. I've seen how cruel and brutal he can be. Benjamin was right when he said that Patrick can't love. He wants things, and he grabs them and when he can't have them, he destroys them. That's not love. It's greed. It's all he can feel. How could Sophie love him, if he couldn't love her back?"

  "Maybe he could," I reply.

  "No!" she says firmly. "He can't love anyone or anything! He didn't love her. He didn't love Gwendoline. He doesn't love me. He's just a monster". She pauses, clearly consumed by anger. "What did he say to you?" she asks finally.

  "Who?" I reply.

  "Patrick". She takes a deep breath. "Benjamin says that, according to his sources, Patrick once whispered something to you. He doesn't know what he said, but... you have to tell me. Please, Shelley? What did he say? Benjamin knows what some of the words were, but there's a part he still needs to work out".

  I shake my head. "I can't tell you. I can't tell anyone. It's not..." I pause, remembering that day back in Dedston when Patrick, just before he turned to stone, whispered those deathly words into my ear. It was so strange, feeling his breath against my skin as he spoke... and then he was gone, leaving Sophie standing and screaming at me, demanding to know what I knew. Just as Sophie asked me back then, so Abby is asking me now. Still, after all these years, I can't answer the question, not fully. There's a part of what Patrick told me that I can never reveal to anyone.

  "Why are you being such a bitch?" Abby asks suddenly.

  I stare at her for a moment. "Excuse me?"

  "You heard me. You could tell me what he said, but you won't. You act like it's some kind of big, sacred thing, but really you're just being a fucking bitch. You're just torturing me on purpose". She leans forward. "Admit it. He gave you a message, didn't he? Something to tell me".

  "No," I say, lying. "That's not what he wanted me to do".

  "Then what?" she shouts. There's an awkward pause as the other people in the diner glance over at us. "What?" Abby continues, lowering her voice. "He never spoke to me. As far as I can tell, he never spoke to Sophie. But he spoke to you. Don't get me wrong, I've got nothing against you, Shelley. But I don't understand why, of all people, you were the one person he spoke to. I mean, you're... nothing. You're just a normal person".

  "Thanks," I reply.

  "You know what I mean". She pauses, glancing around to double-check that no-one's listening to us. "Patrick didn't love you. He barely even met you. So why would he suddenly turn around and whisper something important to you?"

  I take a deep breath, determined to keep my emotions in check. I'd dearly love to tell Abby the truth, but I can't. She's right: Patrick did ask me to give her a message one day, and I've got a horrible feeling that the day has finally arrived. But the message can't be delivered in wor
ds; it has to be delivered in actions. For that to happen, I have to wait until Abby reaches a certain point that Patrick predicted all those years ago. I just pray that he was right.

  "Will you tell Todd?" she asks eventually.

  "Where is he?" I reply.

  "Will you come with me?" she says. "I'll take you to him".

  I pause for a moment. Every part of me is screaming that it's time to turn and run, but I know deep down that I have a duty to perform. A duty for Sophie, and for Abby. I managed to persuade myself that I'd be able to run from that duty, but now I realize there's no escape. As the waitress brings our food and drinks over, I pause and put my hands under the table, determined to make sure that Abby can't see how much I'm shaking. Damn it, I don't think I've ever been so scared.

  "Let's eat," I say. "Then you can take me to Todd, okay?"

  "Okay," Abby says, seemingly becoming a little more calm. She even manages to crack a smile. "I bet he can't wait to see you".

  Chapter Four

  Dedston, 16 years ago.

  Another pause, and then Patrick nods.

  I think about this for a moment. “What's her name?” I ask.

  Patrick seems like he's almost ready to say something, but he holds back.

  “You can write it down for me later,” I say. “We're getting out of here”. I turn to look at the entrance, which is now almost completely covered by the fire. “Is there another way?”

  Patrick stands. He seems stronger now, as if his wounds have already begun to heal. He walks over to where Shelley is still keeping Dexter on the ground. Reaching down, Patrick pushes Shelley out of the way, then leans in and bites Dexter's neck, ripping a chunk clean away. He bites again, and Dexter screams, and then a third bite severs Dexter's head, stops the scream and leaves Patrick covered in blood.

  Dexter's head drops to the floor, and blood flows from his stumpy neck.

  “That's pretty gross,” Shelley says, staring in shock.

  Patrick rips more flesh from Dexter's neck, chewing it and swallowing it. He has that look in his eyes, the look of a wild beast. I used to hate that look, but I've come to appreciate it. It's part of him, it's part of who he is, and it's never going to go away.

  “And that's gross too,” Shelley says, looking at me as Patrick pulls a stringy bit of Dexter's body away from the bones and chews on it. “Dude, does he have to eat him?”

  I open my mouth to say something, but at that moment part of the ceiling collapses, covering us all in dust and sending me falling backwards. As I get up, I realize I can't see Patrick or Shelley, and the flames are getting stronger. At that moment, I feel a rush of cold air on my arm, and I turn to my left. In the distance there's a speck of light, and I realize that this is probably the only chance we have to get out of here.

  Chapter Five

  Wyoming, Today.

  "So where are we going?" I ask as we walk through an unfamiliar part of town. I'm still not entirely certain that I can trust Abby, and I can't stop thinking about the words Patrick spoke to me all those years ago. It's almost as if, even back then, he could look ahead and see this moment. But if that's true, why didn't he try to change things? Why would he allow Abby to end up in such a terrible way: with a metal collar around her neck, indebted to Benjamin's dubious schemes. I thought parents were supposed to protect their children, but Patrick seems to have accepted the bad things that will happen to Abby. Damn it, he makes my crappy parents seem pretty decent.

  "I can't tell you," Abby replies, glancing back over her shoulder. She seems nervous and edgy, as if she thinks we're being followed. Either that, or she's a good actress. "Benjamin has contacts everywhere," she continues. "We can't be sure we're not being overheard".

  I smile. Abby still seems to be clinging to the idea that Benjamin isn't tracking our every move. I can't decide whether it's cute that she's so naive, or terrifying. After all, if she's so easily fooled, I don't see how she's ever going to break free. Suddenly I stop, feeling a cold shiver run through my body.

  "What's wrong?" Abby asks, stopping a few paces ahead of me.

  "Nothing," I say, but the truth is: I suddenly realized what's going to happen today, and what I'm walking into. Can I really do this? I never signed up to be part of Patrick's insane scheme. I mean, Sophie loved the bastard, so that explains why she made some pretty dumb decisions. Why am I here, though? I could just walk away, or at least try to escape. Instead, I seem to have been sucked into this mess slowly until, finally, I realize there's no going back. Taking a deep breath, I try to calm down. "I just..." I pause, the words catching in the back of my throat.

  "Do you want to know how you'll end up, Shelley?" a familiar voice asks in the back of my mind. It's a voice I haven't heard for many, many years, and one that I'd always hoped to never hear again. "You'll end up as some diseased pus-bag tramp, dying on the streets somewhere with a needle poking out of your arm". All these years later, I can still hear the glee with which she spits out each vicious, hateful word. "You're going to have a miserable, pointless life and then you're going to die a horrible, meaningless, agonizing death. People will walk past your body, and they'll be glad that they're nothing like you. You'll be buried in an unmarked grave, and no-one will come to your funeral because no-one will like you. Maybe they won't even bother to bury you; they might just burn your body and toss your ashes into the trash. And then you'll go to Hell, where you belong, and you'll suffer for all of eternity"

  "Shelley?" Abby asks, staring at me.

  I sigh. There's no point dwelling on that old bitch's words. It's been years since that day at school, and in some strange way I've been waiting for everything she said to come true. Right now, I feel I'm on the edge of slipping into the kind of darkness that old Mrs. Hard-Ass predicted.

  "I need to use a phone," I say suddenly, almost surprising myself with the request. "I need to call someone. Is that okay?"

  "Sure," Abby says, looking a little puzzled.

  "I don't have anything with me," I say. "I need a payphone".

  It doesn't take us long to find a battered old payphone on a street corner. While Abby waits cautiously outside, I head into the booth and slip some money into the slot. I dial the number for directory services, and wait until someone picks up.

  "Directory Services," a woman says suddenly.

  "Hi," I say, stumbling for the right words. "I need the number for a woman named Katherine Hardstone. She lives in Dedston".

  There's a pause on the other end of the line. "I have one result," the woman says eventually. "I can put you straight through for a two dollar rate".

  "Sure," I say. "Do it".

  There's a ringing sound. Moments later, someone picks up the phone. "Hello?" asks the voice of an old woman. It's strange, but even though she sounds ancient and creaky, I can still tell it's her. I haven't heard Mrs. Hard-Ass speak for a couple of decades, and she must be pushing close to eighty, but it's definitely that old familiar voice.

  "Hi," I say, feeling my throat starting to dry up. I've always fantasized about confronting the old bitch, but suddenly I'm not sure what I should say. I guess I thought I'd rip into her and tell her how much I hate her, but wouldn't that just make me as bad as her?

  "Who is this?" she asks, sounding impatient.

  I open my mouth to reply, but no words come out. I've been carrying this rage around for decades, and suddenly - just as I have a chance to express it - I feel strangely calm and peaceful. "Is this the same Katherine Hardstone who used to teach at Dedston Junior School?" I ask.

  "It is," she replies. "May I ask to whom I'm speaking?"

  "You won't remember me," I say, "but I remember you". I take a deep breath. "You once told me that I'd end up dying alone and sad and forgotten. You told me I was a worthless piece of trash. I just thought maybe I'd let you know that you were wrong. I'm about to do something that terrifies me, something that I might not even survive... but I'm doing it because I owe it to my best friend, even though she'd dead, and..." I pause a
s a sudden thought strikes me. All these years I've hated Mrs. Hardstone, and now I realize I owe her so much. "I just wanted to thank you," I say. "If it wasn't for you, I might never have met my best friend. I might never have met Sophie, and then I'd never have been given a chance to do what I'm about to do".

  "I have no idea what you're talking about," she replies.

  "Of course you don't," I say, tears in my eyes. "That's okay. You don't need to. I just wanted to say the words". Without waiting for her to reply, I put the phone down. It was so strange talking to her again, but now I can't help thinking about that day when she made me go to the 'naughty corner'. If she hadn't done that, I might never have met Sophie. What would my life be like? I guess I'd be doing normal stuff, and I'd probably have wasted the past few decades. I certainly wouldn't know anything about Patrick and Abby. Turning, I look over at Abby. She looks so lost, and there's a sense of sickness about her; suddenly I realize that I have to make sure she's okay, and that I have to do whatever it takes to ensure she breaks free from Benjamin. For the first time in my life, I realize that I'm part of something that's much bigger than me, and I understand that I have an important role to play.

  "Let's go," I say, stepping out of the booth. We walk on in silence, as I contemplate what's going to happen. When Sophie used to talk about a prophecy, I used to smile politely while thinking that she was insane. I thought she was crazy to even consider the possibility that parts of her life were pre-ordained or were out of her control. Now, though, I can see that it's all true. Sometimes, bigger things are happening, and you have to accept your role.