Dark Season: The Complete Box Set (129 page)

"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 words; 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 thought you said he was in California?" I say.

"I lied. I had to make sure it was safe to tell you the truth first. He's nearby. I can take you right now."

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. 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."

Sophie

Dedston, 16 years ago.

“
What's her name?” I ask.

Patrick seems as if 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.

Shelley

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 everything," 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 him, 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. I'm doing this for Sophie. It's the only thing I can do for her now.

"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 that old familiar voice is burned into my soul.

"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, sounding a little worried. "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 as 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, and 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 have been 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 vampires. 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 always smiled 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. This is mine.

"Here," Abby says suddenly, stopping outside a large hotel in the center of town.

"
Here
?" I ask, totally shocked. Looking up, I realize that this is a grand, exclusive kind of place. I'm pretty sure you have to be a multimillionaire to even get through the door.

"Here," she says firmly. "I'll be outside for a while. Someone's in there waiting for you."

"Who?" I ask. "Todd?"

She pauses. "Just go inside. Go to the bar and wait."

"Don't you think that's kind of sad?" I reply. "I mean, a woman, waiting in a bar all alone... It's kind of desperate, isn't it?" I sigh. "Oh, who am I kidding? I've done it enough times over the years. Is Todd coming? Is that who I'm meeting?"

Abby stares at me for a moment. "Hurry," she says eventually. "You'll be late."

Sighing, I realize there's probably no chance I'll ever get a sensible answer out of her. She seems distracted, almost as if she's in pain. Looking closer, I see that the metal collar around her neck has a number of small jagged points sticking into her skin.

"Abby," I say slowly, "does that thing hurt?"

"Just go inside," she says firmly.

"Abby, take it off! If it hurts, you shouldn't wear it!"

"It doesn't hurt!" she insists. "It just... It's part of me. I need it."

"Is that what Benjamin told you?"

"It helps me to focus on what I really need to do," she replies. "It helps me remember who I am."

"This isn't you," I tell her.

"Go into the fucking building," she snaps, almost spitting the words at me. "Someone's waiting for you."

I want to reach over and pull that collar from her neck, but something tells me it wouldn't be a good move. Instead, I walk up the steps that lead into the hotel, and then I turn and look back at Abby. She seems almost scared, as if she knows what's going to happen and she doesn't like it. I'm starting to think that Todd probably isn't going to be in there; in fact, I'm starting to think that maybe Todd's out of the picture altogether. I wouldn't be surprised if Benjamin and his gang of thugs have started tying up 'loose ends' now that they've got hold of Abby, and in that case I'm probably next on their list. I should turn and run, but I wouldn't get far, not with Abby on my trail. The truth is: I have to go into the hotel and face my fears. Maybe what happens next is set in stone, like Patrick told me all those years ago, but I still have control over how it happens and - ultimately - over what it means. This is my destiny, and Patrick's words finally make total sense.