Dark Season: The Complete Box Set

by Amy Cross

  "No," I say, shuddering at the memory of Shelley's blood flowing into my mouth. There's a part of me that never, ever wants to drink blood again; at the same time, there's another part of me that is already counting the seconds until I can sink my teeth into another human neck. Blood revolts me on an emotional level, but on a physical level I feel compelled to seek out more and more sources, as if my body demands to be satisfied and filled. The first person I killed was Donna, and I barely enjoyed her blood because I was so shocked by the whole experience; then there was Todd, but I killed him because he needed to die, rather than because I wanted to feast; finally there was Shelley, whose blood I drank freely and gladly until her entire body was pale and empty. Of the three, it was Shelley who really opened my eyes to the power of human blood, but what if I need blood in order to survive? What if, all my life, I'm going to have to kill humans in order to satisfy some kind of primal need?

  "You must let me know if anything feels wrong," Benjamin continues, "even if you don't think it's important. Let me be the one who makes that determination, okay?" He pauses for a moment. "Abigail? Are you listening to me?"

  "Yes," I say. While he's a brilliant man, Benjamin sometimes talks way too much. He's a scientist, and sometimes this makes him a little cautious. "Can we just get on with it?" I ask, determined to get the pain back. When the pain comes, my mind always empties and I find I no longer think about Shelley or about my fears. I want the pain to flood into my body again. Pain is the only way to live.

  "Abigail," says a voice nearby.

  "What?" I ask after a moment, before I realize that the voice isn't Benjamin. It's someone else; it's a deeper, darker voice.

  "Did you say something?" Benjamin asks over the speaker.

  I feel my blood start to run cold. I've only heard Patrick's voice once, in my head, and that was when we were in the same room together. The thought of hearing him again, when he's far away and perhaps even dead, fills me with horror. He sounded calm and authoritative, as if it was trying to get my attention, but I have to block him out. Every time I hear his voice, it's a sign of weakness, and I'm not weak. I'll never be weak again.

  "Are you okay?" Benjamin asks. "Did something happen?"

  "No," I say firmly, "nothing happened. Just get on with it."

  "We're ready," he replies, but he sounds cautious and a little suspicious. "Abigail, you must promise me that you'll tell me if anything strange happens. If you see anything, or hear anything. It's not a sign of weakness to admit these things, and it'll help with my work."

  I pause. "There's nothing," I say after a moment, deciding I'd rather just pretend that none of the other stuff is happening. "I'm fine," I continue. "I just want to get on with the experiment."

  "Okay," Benjamin says, not sounding convinced. "Are you ready to see if you can get to a 4.8?"

  "I'm ready," I say, bracing for the pain. Slowly, I hear the machine starting up again. Looking down at the floor far below me, I see the ghosts still watching. I don't know whether they enjoy seeing me go through this agony, but I guess I don't mind giving the freaks a show. I take a deep breath as the pain starts to build. For the first few seconds, it'll be totally manageable, but then it'll become agonizing. Still, it's better than remembering the things I've done. All I want is for the pain to continue forever, so that it blocks out my memories. Finally, I feel the sharp agony ripping through my body again. I can't scream, though. Not yet. When I scream, Benjamin turns the machine off, and I don't want him to do that, not ever. I just want the pain to build and build, so that I never have to be myself again. And now the pain is increasing, becoming unbearable. I squeeze my eyes tight shut and focus on making sure I don't scream. After a few seconds, the pain becomes so strong, it overcomes my entire body. Fighting the urge to scream, I focus on staying strong, and I find my mind emptying of all my doubts and worries. This is how I want to be forever. This is me.

  Patrick

  There are so many ghosts tonight, burning brighter than ever, but one is missing. Ever since she died, Sophie's ghost has been conspicuously absent from the group that follows me wherever I go. I understand why she might be reluctant to see me again, given the terrible things that happened in her final moments. She would be a fool to forgive me for killing her, yet now that I'm in my final moments I find that the only thing I can think of is her face. There is nothing I wouldn't do, if it meant I could see her one last time before I, too, am drawn into death.

  Then again, what would she say to me if she came? That she hates me? That she despises me and wishes she had never met me? Those would be understandable feelings, and it would hurt to listen to her say such things. I have already had to endure the venom Abigail directed toward me; I do not need to hear similar sentiments from Sophie's mouth. Yet still, despite all the odds, there's a part of me that holds on to the hope that somehow, in some way, Sophie might find a way to forgive me for all the things I did to her. Perhaps, if she sees the big picture, she might understand that my mistakes - although numerous and great - were made in pursuit of a noble cause.

  These are foolish hopes. I will die here, alone, and Sophie will not come to me. Wherever her ghost walks, she has clearly chosen to keep far away. She appeared to me briefly in the snow near Gothos, but I have come to realize that in this instance she was merely a hallucination of my dying mind. Her real form, her true ghost, has no interest in me. After everything that has happened, she undoubtedly believes that I am undeserving of her love. And that, ultimately, is what I want from her. At first, she was just a vessel for the prophecy, but since her death something strange has happened. I find myself thinking of her more and more, and wishing that I could see her again. I'm a vampire, and I can't love a human. Why, then, does Sophie remain in my thoughts?

  Abigail

  Every time I close my eyes, even for a moment, I see her face again; I see her one remaining eye staring up at me as her life ebbs away; I taste her blood, rich in my mouth; I feel her body go limp in my arms as she stops fighting and accepts death. She haunts me not as a ghost, but as a memory, and every time I think of her I feel ashamed... Ashamed that I killed her, and ashamed that I caused her such pain in her final moments. I liked Shelley. She didn't deserve to die.

  Sitting on the edge of my bed, half an hour after the experiment ended for the day, I try not to let these thoughts overcome me, but the flood is too strong. A real vampire should revel in such moments, and should look back on each kill as a glorious feast; the fact that I'm haunted by what happened is a sign that there's something very wrong with me. Is Patrick haunted by memories of all the people he has killed? Of course not. I need to be stronger, and I need to feel the blood-lust that is the mark of a true vampire. Until then, I can't let myself sleep, no matter how tired I get. I've only allowed myself to rest once since I killed Shelley, and I won't be doing it again until I can be certain I won't be haunted by the past. My nightmares are bad enough when I'm awake; if I sleep, they'll become unbearable.

  When Benjamin found me in the hotel basement, covered in Shelley's blood and with her dead, drained body in my arms, he told me I'd done the right thing. He had a broad, proud smile on his face, and I felt a momentary burst of happiness at the thought that I'd pleased my new father. I also wanted to shower, to get rid of the blood that was caked on my skin, but Benjamin told me I should enjoy the moment. For two days, at his behest, I let Shelley's blood remain dried on my chin, and on my hands. Occasionally I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror, and I saw that I looked truly terrifying. Finally, I couldn't handle the blood any longer and I cleaned myself, and later that day I saw the disappointment in Benjamin's eyes. I'm not as strong as he wants me to be, not yet. But I'll get there in the end. I'll make him proud of me, and I'll stop feeling so ashamed. One day, I'll look back on Shelley's death and I'll feel nothing but pride.

  This is who I am.

  Getting up from the bed, I walk over to the door and look out into the corridor. It's late at night, and the facility is mostly q
uiet except for the faint hum of the air-conditioning system. It has been five days since I slept, and I find the best way to stay awake is to keep walking. Wandering along the corridor, I figure I might as well go to the main control room, but I find that the only person on duty is a technician who seems focused on various screens. Heading over to Benjamin's desk, I pick up the folders that contain his reports from the day's work, but I can't really make sense of all the numbers and comments. He's a brilliant man, and I'll probably never be able to follow his work properly. As he told me once, the best thing is simply to let him get on with what he's doing, and wait for him to tell me the things I need to know.

  Reaching up, I scratch an itch at the edge of the metal collar I'm wearing around my neck. Night and day, this collar monitors my body and helps suppress certain hormones that might put me in danger. At first, it felt strange and uncomfortable to wear the damn thing, but Benjamin explained that it's for my own protection. Benjamin cares so deeply for me, he went to the trouble of creating this device purely so that I could be free to go about in the world without fear of being attacked. There are still creatures that want to hunt me down, and the collar makes it much harder for them. There's also Patrick... if he's still alive, he'll undoubtedly be looking for me, and I want to stay hidden. After everything that happened at Gothos, I don't ever want to see my real father again. The best thing is to just wait until he dies, which should be any day now. Then I'll be free.

  "Abigail," says a voice in my head. It's Patrick's voice, but I refuse to listen. Turning and hurrying out of the control room, I decide to go to the library and read up on the history of the vampire race. As I walk along the corridor, I see something moving ahead of me; it's just a blur, probably one of the ghosts I keep seeing lately, so I decide to keep going. Finally, realizing I'm lost in the facility's labyrinthine walkways, I come to a halt next to one of the external doors. Looking out through the small glass window, I see the forest bathed in moonlight. I don't know why, but something about the forest seems to call to me, especially at night. I feel as if I belong out there, although Benjamin has warned me repeatedly that I have to be careful. There are things hiding in the shadows, things that want to hurt me. Still, it looks so calm and peaceful...

  Reaching down, I unlock the door and turn the handle. The cool night air of the forest hits my face, and it's a welcome antidote to the sterile, air-conditioned air in the facility. I breathe deep, savoring this moment of connection with the world outside. Right now, all I want is to go walking between the trees, and to leave the world of the facility far behind. I trust Benjamin and I would never abandon him, but I wish he'd let me have just a little more time outside now and then. Checking that no-one has followed me, I cautiously step through the door, feeling the soft, cold leaves under my bare feet. Instantly, everything feels right: it's as if this is where I'm supposed to be, not cooped up inside the facility. I've told Benjamin about these feelings, and he says they'll pass, but I'm starting to wonder if maybe - just maybe - he might be wrong. Out here, I feel free.

  Although I know I should go back into the facility, I decide to spend some time out in the fresh night air. I walk a few paces from the door, enjoying the feeling of the leaves against my feet. It'd be so wonderful to live out here, in the real world, in the natural world. Then again, perhaps in the long-term I wouldn't be able to survive such a lifestyle. After all, there's nothing natural about me. I'm a hybrid, born of a human mother and a vampire father. My longing for the natural world is probably due to the fact that I'm unnatural myself. As Benjamin says, I'll never truly be at home anywhere, because I'm the only member of my species and I can never find anyone who understands me. Apart from Benjamin, obviously. He understands me more and more every day, as he continues his experiments.

  Turning to look back at the facility, I see a blurry figure standing by the door. It's one of the ghosts, and although I can't make out its face, I'm quite sure that it's watching me. Shimmering light blue in the moonlight, the figure seems unafraid, but also un-threatening. I wish I knew what the ghosts wanted, especially since they seem to be particularly interested in me. I feel as if there's something I have that they want, or something they need me to do, but beyond that I can't understand why they follow me so intently.

  "Can you talk?" I ask, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. I've never tried talking to one of the ghosts before, so I figure it's worth a try. Just as I'm about to try again, I see movement nearby; I glance over and see half a dozen other ghosts standing between the trees. I suddenly feel an overwhelming sense of being watched, and as I peer into the darkness I realize that there are hundreds of these figures all around me. They still seem to be waiting for something, but I can't imagine what I could possibly do to help them. I'm not scared of them, but I'd do anything to be able to understand where they came from and what they want. Finally, as I turn to find more of them behind me, I realize that they've formed around me in two rows, forming a kind of corridor through the forest. It's as if they want me to walk between them.

  I should go back inside and tell Benjamin. I should, but I don't. Instead, cautiously, I wander across the forest floor. My heart is pounding, but I feel as if maybe I'm supposed to be out here. I also feel as if something is calling to me from nearby; not Patrick, but something else, something familiar. As I keep walking, I find that the ghosts have lined up all through the forest, framing a path that eventually leads me to a small clearing. Ahead, there seems to be some kind of rocky hill, with an entrance in the side. Realizing that the ghosts seem to want me to go into the entrance, I pause for a moment. Benjamin would undoubtedly want me to go back and tell him about this, but I feel as if maybe this is my chance to prove to him that I can be useful. If I discover what the ghosts want, I can go back and tell him, and he'll finally realize that I can handle things on my own.

  Determined not to back away, I step forward and find myself walking down a long, dark tunnel. At first, I don't understand where I'm supposed to be going, but eventually I come to a step of steps that go down in a spiral. I look back, and realize that the ghosts haven't followed me in here. Taking a deep breath, I head down the steps and finally reach the bottom.

  It's only now that I realize I've been here before. I was shown this place not long after I came to Dedston, but we came in through a different entrance. It's a large cavern with a rough, rocky floor. In the center, there are some pieces of charred wood that mark the spot where a house used to stand. This place is linked to Patrick. I can sense his presence, and there's another feeling too, as if someone else I know was once here. It takes a moment before I realize that my mother was here many years ago; it's strange, but I can sense her in the air, almost as if I can feel where she walked and what she was doing. As I walk closer to the house, I even feel as if I can sense that Shelley was here in the past, although I'm not sure whether that can be true. Finally, I reach the house and walk through the ruins. It's hard to imagine what Patrick and my mother used to do down here, in the near darkness, but the air feels still, as if it hasn't been disturbed for a long time. These are the ruins of a time that has long since passed.

  Suddenly I spot something over on the other side of the cavern. It takes a moment before I realize it's a person, collapsed on the ground. For a split-second, I try to imagine who could possibly be down here, before the truth hits me in the gut: it can only be Patrick. I take a deep breath, trying to decide whether to go over to him, or whether to turn and leave. I don't feel like I have any reason to go near him, and there's definitely nothing I want to say to him. Nevertheless, it would feel wrong to just leave, and I find myself walking cautiously toward him. If he's dead, I have to see the body for myself so that I can be certain; and if he's about to die, I want to witness the moment so that I never again have to fear he'll suddenly creep up behind me.

  As I get closer, I see that he has aged horribly. His face is weathered and battered, with sores opening up in his flesh. His eyes are barely open, and although I can sense his li
fe force, there's clearly very little of him left. It's hard to believe he's still alive, and it's quite clear that before long he'll be gone forever. This is it. This is the end of his life. My father is about to die, and I'm damn well going to watch it happen so I can be sure he never, ever comes back.

  Patrick

  She's here.

  Standing over me, looking down at my ruined body, Abigail watches me with incomprehension and doubt. I'm sure she sees a monster; she sees someone who killed her mother, and who then killed others around her. Perhaps one day she'll see the bigger picture, and she'll understand why I did what I did.

  My great regret at this moment is that she will never know her mother. She will never know what Sophie was like, nor will she understand why either of us did the things we did. She'll probably believe that I used Sophie to carry a child, and then callously threw her aside. I would very much like to make Abigail understand that I truly loved her mother, and that I recognize my own mistakes. More than that, I hope that once I'm dead, Sophie's ghost might come and visit Abigail, and tell her about her own life. This, more than anything, is what Abigail needs. Instead, she has fallen into the clutches of a man who will cause her nothing but pain.

  I used to have little doubt that Abigail would eventually see through Benjamin's vanity and evil. I was certain that she would one day realize that he is a terrible man, and that she would act accordingly. I had hoped that this moment would come while I was still alive, so that in my dying moments I would witness her standing free and proud. Instead, she wears that collar around her neck, and she has a look of fear and confusion in her eyes. She's entering the darkest period in her short life, and she's ill-equipped to deal with the mind games that Benjamin will play. It's a terrible thing to admit, but I think perhaps I'm starting to wonder if I'm wrong; perhaps she has been permanently seduced into Benjamin's way of thinking, in which case I've made a terrible mistake. As the final hour of my life continues to run down, I look up at Abigail and I realize that she is lost forever.