Dark Season: The Complete Box Set

by Amy Cross

  "Hey, bitch," I say, as a tide of anger rises through my body. For the first time ever, I like the sound of my own voice.

  Book 3

  The Bureau of Lost Vampires

  Prologue

  Dedston - Sixteen years ago.

  "What if she's not dead?" I ask, looking up at my mother as we stand in front of Sophie's coffin. It's a cold day, and the sky above us looks as if it might start raining at any minute.

  "Of course she's dead," she replies.

  "Yeah, but what if she's not?" I continue. "What if they got it wrong? What if we bury her and then she wakes up?" I pause for a moment. "Maybe you should put a mobile phone in, so she can call if she -"

  "Shut up," my mother says, still staring at the coffin.

  "Yeah, but -"

  "Shut up!" she says firmly, looking down at me. "Todd, seriously. She's dead. They did an autopsy. Do you know what that means? Do you know what an autopsy is?"

  I shake my head.

  "Exactly. You don't know shit, so don't ask stupid questions." She turns and walks away, heading over to my aunt, who's helping to arrange the chairs. We're out at the cemetery, waiting for the priest to arrive so Sophie can be buried. It's hard to believe that her body is really in the coffin, and that we're going to put her in the ground and leave her down there forever. I keep thinking about all the worms that are going to start eating her. What if she wakes up, and there's worms eating her, and she can't get out?

  "I'll come and visit you every day," I say, staring at the coffin. "I'll bang on the ground to let you know I'm here, and then you can shout if you're awake, and I can get help. Okay?"

  "That's a very sensible precaution," says a voice next to me. I turn to find that an old guy has come over to join me. He looks like he's fifty or even sixty years old, and he's dressed in an expensive-looking suit. "In the Middle Ages," he continues, "in Europe, it was common to place a bell by the grave, with a string going all the way down into the coffin. Can you guess why?"

  I stare at him. "So that dead people could let living people know if they'd been buried by mistake?"

  "Exactly," he replies with a smile. "Of course, that sort of thing happened a lot more often back then. Do you know why?"

  I think about it for a moment. "Because the doctors weren't as good."

  "Excellent," he says. "You're very clever. Of course, the problem was that when it was windy, all the little bells would ring anyway. Can you imagine how spooky that must have been?"

  A shiver runs through me as I think about being in a cemetery at night, and hearing a bell ring.

  "Doctors are a lot better today," he continues. "That's very good, because it means they can help cure us when we get sick. But it also means that mistakes are rarer."

  I look at the coffin. "But there's still a chance, isn't there?" I ask. "She might just be fast asleep."

  "Come and sit down," the old man says, gesturing to the first row of chairs. "You're Todd, aren't you? You're Sophie's brother?" I watch as he goes to sit down. He has a cane, and he seems to be limping on his right leg. He smiles as he takes a seat. "It's okay," he says, "I won't bite."

  I look over at my mother and see that she's busy talking to other people. Sophie always told me not to talk to strangers, but I guess that this man wouldn't be at Sophie's funeral if he was a stranger. There are loads of people here who I don't know, but most of them are members of my family. This guy is probably just a long-lost cousin or something.

  "I used to live next door, when you were very young," says the man as I take a seat next to him. "I guess you were still a baby when I moved away, though, so you wouldn't..." He smiles. "Sorry, none of this is important. I just wanted to tell you that I'm very impressed by how strong you're being today. Your sister would have been proud of you. You're a very intelligent and mature young man."

  "Did you know her?" I ask.

  "Yes," he says, nodding, "I knew Sophie. Not very well, and certainly not as well as you know her, but I saw her playing in the yard a few times. She seemed like a very nice girl. You remind me of her a lot. You have the same look in your eyes. The same intelligence."

  "She's dead," I say.

  "I know," he replies, "and I'm so sorry about that. It breaks my heart when young people pass on before their time. It's not right when people such as your sister die, while old men like me keep going on. We must just trust in God and accept that he has a plan for all of us."

  I look over my shoulder and see that my mother is still talking to other people. The funeral service is going to start any minute.

  "I was at your father's funeral as well," the man continues. "I'm so sorry you've suffered two tragedies in such a short space of time."

  I turn back to him. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," I say.

  He smiles. "That's very good, Todd," he says. "Very wise. I'm not really a stranger, of course, but I guess you really don't remember me." He reaches out a hand. "My name is Benjamin," he says. "It's a pleasure to meet you and see what a fine young man you're growing up to be."

  Although I don't really want to touch him, I shake his hand. Something about this man feels a little creepy. "I have to go and find my Mom," I say, standing up and turning to walk away.

  "When did you meet Patrick?" Benjamin says suddenly.

  I stop in my tracks. I didn't think anyone else knew about Patrick. Turning slowly back to face Benjamin, I feel the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

  "It's not a trick question," he continues. "It's just that so few people have ever met him, and I was wondering about the circumstances that led you to his presence. You'll have to forgive me for asking, I know it's none of my business but..." He pauses. "Very few people know that Patrick exists, and even those who do know are usually unable to find him. I knew a man by the name of Dexter Logan who spent years and years trying to find him, but he could never quite do it. Not until the end, anyway. So I'm just curious about how you managed to go straight to Patrick when you needed to ask him about Sophie."

  I stare at him, not sure what to say.

  "You wanted to ask him about your sister, didn't you?" Benjamin says. "You wanted to know if he could find her for you, but he couldn't. It was very brave of you, going down into Patrick's world and looking for him. You must have been scared."

  "Not really," I reply.

  "It's okay," he continues. "You can tell me. You don't have to, but I'm interested. Patrick's someone who interests me a great deal. I've studied him, over the years, but I've never really got close to him." He reaches down and rolls up his trouser leg, showing me where a chunk of muscle has been torn away. He has a big, nasty scar. "That's as close as I managed to get. As you can see, Patrick wasn't very pleased to see me."

  "I was looking for Sophie," I say. "I wasn't doing anything wrong."

  "Of course you weren't," Benjamin replies, rolling his trouser leg back down. "No-one was suggesting that you shouldn't have gone to find your sister. It was very brave of you. The only reason I'm asking is that, for most people, finding Patrick is rather difficult, yet you seem to have managed it with surprising ease. That's a skill that I find fascinating, and potentially rather useful."

  I stare at him. Something about Benjamin really unsettles me.

  "Perhaps I've said too much," he says. "You're a very brave young man, Todd. Very remarkable. Perhaps when you're a little older, we should talk again. I work for some people who might be able to use your talents."

  "I have to go to my Mom now," I say, turning and walking away before Benjamin has a chance to stop me. When I reach my mother, I stand and listen to her talking to one of her friends for a moment, and then I slowly look back over to see if Benjamin is watching me. To my surprise, there's no sign of him. I look around, but he's nowhere to be seen, until finally I spot him walking away in the distance. It seems weird that he'd come to the funeral, but wouldn't actually stay for the part where we put the coffin in the ground.

  "Mom," I say, grabbing my mother's arm, "who
was that guy?"

  "Not now," she says, not even bothering to look at me. "I'm busy."

  I stare at Benjamin, watching him walk away until finally he's just a dot in the distance; moments later, he's gone from my view completely, disappearing into the trees that line the far end of the cemetery. I'm glad he's not here any more, but I can't shake the feeling that he's still watching from afar. Spotting the priest getting ready, I walk back over to the coffin, and then I turn and look down into the deep, dark grave. Soon Sophie will be down there forever, trapped in a big box. I wish I had a bell to give her, just in case she needs it.

  Abigail

  Callerton, New Mexico - Today.

  I put my lips close to her ear. All around us, the dark forest is silent. It's as if the whole world is waiting for me to speak, but I prefer to take my time. I've waited so long; I can wait a moment longer.

  "Wake up," I whisper eventually.

  She doesn't respond. Typical: the blow must have really knocked her out cold. I need to be more careful in future. As my strength increases, I might find that I accidentally cause more damage than I intend. It's as if, every day now, I find myself changing more and more. It feels good to be getting so powerful, but at the same time I can't help wondering where it's going to end. I guess it all comes back down to that one, inevitable question: what am I?

  "Wake up," I whisper again, my lips almost touching her ear. "Donna, wake up."

  Still nothing. Is it possible that I caused some serious damage? I know she's not dead: it's strange, but I can sense her heartbeat, even without touching her. That's something else that has changed recently. It's almost as if I can peer straight into people and understand them a little better. I can't read their thoughts, or anything like that; it's more that I can sense their pulse, which tells me a lot about their state of mind. Right now, Donna's pulse is slow but strong. She's not dead; she's not dying; she's not going anywhere. She's mine.

  I lean a fraction of a millimeter closer. "Donna," I say. "Wake -"

  Suddenly she lunges toward me, knocking me flat on the ground. Before I know what's happening, I hear her scrambling to her feet and running across the forest floor. I stand up, feeling a little sore from the push, and angry at myself for letting her surprise me so easily. Looking around, I see that she's already got quite far from me, running for her life. I stand for a moment and watch her go, knowing full well that I can catch up to her whenever I'm ready. Finally, with a smile, I start the chase.

  I have several advantages, of course. For one thing, I seem to have the ability to move faster than a normal person; for another, I can see much better in the dark. I can see everything ahead of me with perfect clarity, whereas Donna is smashing and tripping her way through the dark undergrowth. Already, after just a few seconds, I've almost caught up to her. This is really too easy, but it's fun to think that - for just a moment - she thought she could get away from me. I like the idea that she started to believe she could escape. Reaching out, I grab her shoulder and pull her down, landing on top of her as she tumbles into a pile of soggy, wet leaves.

  "Where do you think you're going?" I ask, still smiling.

  "Get the fuck off me!" she shouts breathlessly, pushing against me with all her strength. It's not enough: she can't move me.

  "What's wrong?" I continue, leaning down close to her face. "Don't you like me?"

  She doesn't say anything. She just keeps trying to push me away, battering me with her full fury. It's not enough, and I find I can hold her down with ease. It's amusing to watch her flailing around beneath me, and I can't help but smile.

  "I get it," she says, still out of breath. "I was a bitch to you. I totally get it, and I'm sorry, okay? I was a bully. I was an asshole. Whatever you want me to admit to, I'll do it. I was mean and cruel and I did horrible things to you, but please..." She starts sobbing, tears streaming down her face as she gulps back the fear. "Please don't hurt me," she begs. "I'll do anything you want! Anything! Just please don't hurt me!"

  I stare at her, shocked at how easily her mask has slipped. It's kind of pathetic, really. "Anything?" I ask eventually, my mind immediately filled with a million cruel and horrible possibilities.

  "Anything!" she weeps. "Anything you want! You name it, I'll do it. Just don't hurt me. Please..."

  I reach up to scratch the side of my neck.

  "Not my face!" she screams, as if she thought I was about to poke her eyes out.

  I stare at her. To be honest, I hadn't expected her to break so easily. I thought she'd put up more of a fight, and maybe pretend not to be scared. Instead, she panicked almost as soon as she saw me, and now she's begging for her life as if she thinks I might kill her. To be fair, she's got a point. I could kill her, and I still might, but nothing has been decided yet. A lot rests on whether I think her apology is genuine, and whether I can fight the blood-lust that seems to be growing deep inside my soul. The bad news for Donna is that with each passing day, I become more and more consumed by the desire to kill. It doesn't matter what, or who... I just need to kill, to have blood on my hands. Right now, Donna's the best target. After all, she deserves to feel real pain.

  "Please, Abby," she says, still sobbing, "you know I never meant it to get out of hand. I'm sorry I spat in your ear, and I'm sorry I threatened to pull your braces out, and I'm sorry about everything else. I'll never do it again. Just please, please don't hurt me."

  "Words are cheap," I point out. "Actions take more guts." I reach down and place a hand against her belly. "You've got guts, haven't you, Donna?" I continue. "Slippery guts in your belly, sloshing around. Have you ever imagined what it would be like to have them slopping out of your body? Have you ever -" Suddenly I'm struck by an image: I see my mother, Sophie, dropping to her knees; her belly has been torn open and her guts are falling out, and she's desperately trying to gather them up and push them back inside. My father, Patrick, is standing and watching her, with blood dripping from his fingers.

  "Don't hurt me!" Donna screams.

  "What?" I reply, as the image of Sophie and Patrick fades. "What did you say?"

  "I said please don't hurt me," she continues. "Please, Abby." She gulps back some more air. "Please!" she screams at the top of her voice. "Please please please please -"

  "Shut up!" I hiss, putting my hand across her mouth. "What's wrong with you? Do you want someone to come and find us?"

  She stares up at me, her wide, terrified eyes filled with abject fear. She looks like someone who knows that they're in the presence of real, mortal danger. Again, she's right: there's a strong possibility that I'm not going to let her out of this place alive. After all, she bullied me for years and years, back when I was completely unable to defend myself, and the only reason she claims to be sorry now is that she's scared for her life. That's not genuine remorse: that's just someone who'll do or say anything to avoid pain and suffering. She knows I mean business. She's terrified of me, and that feels good.

  "How do I decide what to do to you?" I ask, staring into her eyes. "How do I make such a difficult decision?" I pause for a moment. There are so many options. "Maybe I should start by seeing if I can trust you," I continue. "Don't shout. Don't scream. Consider this to be a test." I slowly move my hand from across her mouth.

  "Let me go," she whimpers quietly, rushing her words. "Please, God, let me go and I'll never, ever do anything bad again. Not to you, not to anyone. I swear!"

  "You're not very good at keeping quiet, are you?" I say with a smile.

  "Please," she says. "I don't want to get hurt!"

  "Will you become a nun?" I ask.

  She stares at me. "What?"

  "Will you become a nun? If I let you go, I want to know that you'll go and join a holy order. You'll devote your life to being a nun. It feels like the only place where I can be sure you won't hurt anyone else. No men. No fun. Just you and God, for the rest of your life. Will you promise me that?"

  "Yes," she says immediately, wide-eyed with terror. "Anything!"
>
  I stare at her. "You'd look good in a nun's habit," I say. "Remember, God's everywhere. He sees everything. He even knows what you're thinking. So if you lie to me, he'll know."

  "I swear," she stammers, "I'll do anything. I'll be a nun!"

  I start laughing. "Somehow -" I start to say, but suddenly she bites my hand, sinking her teeth deep into my flesh until she draws blood. It's not exactly painful: the feeling is uncomfortable, especially as I feel her teeth scraping against my bones. Strangely, though, there's no real pain. I stare down at her face as she keeps her jaws clamped around my hand, and finally a series of streams of bright red blood start to trickle from the wound. "What are you doing?" I ask calmly.

  She doesn't reply. She just bites down even harder, her whole body trembling with the effort.

  "What are you, a vampire?" I ask, enjoying the irony. "What do you expect to achieve with that, other than just making me even more pissed off than I was before?"

  She bites as hard as she can, the strain showing on her face so much that there's a vein on her forehead that looks like it might pop at any moment.

  "Seriously, Donna," I say, "you're not achieving anything, so just give it up. You just look weird." I wait for her to stop, but finally I realize she's determined to hurt me, so I forcefully rip my hand out from her jaws. Several large chunks of flesh remain stuck between her teeth, and when I look at my hand I see that there's a lot of muscle and bone showing. My index finger has been entirely stripped of skin, and the dark red meat glistens in the moonlight. When I clench my fist, I see the exposed tendons moving. "Beautiful, isn't it?" I say, looking back down at Donna. "Did it taste nice?"

  She spits pieces of my flesh onto the ground, with blood smeared all over her teeth and lips. Still breathless, she stares back up at me. I look at my hand and see that the damage is already being repaired. Deciding not to let Donna see this, I get off her and take a step back, determined to keep my hand hidden. "What now?" I ask. "What's your plan? Are you just gonna keep biting me until I decide to let you go?"