Read Dark Season: The Complete Box Set Online
Authors: Amy Cross
Prologue
"She's not there."
I stare down into the well. Twomoney's right. Sophie's gone. This isn't how it was supposed to be. The plan was that I'd put her down there, and she'd stay until I came back for her. I needed her out of the way. I wanted to keep her safe.
"Did you hear me?" Twomoney says, coming closer. "She's not there. Someone came and took her." She lingers on the other side of the well. "Are you surprised to see me?" she asks eventually. "They were very kind. They took my bones out so that my ghost wouldn't be trapped down there in the dark. My skeleton's over there, by that tree." She laughs. "It feels so good to be free, out in the open. You left me down there a long time, Patrick. I died, and my bones were left to rot in the dark. Rats chewed at me and grew fat on my flesh." She pauses. "I didn't deserve that," she says slowly, sadly. "Maybe I didn't deserve a full, happy life, but I certainly didn't deserve to be dropped down a well and left to die. And then you tried to do the same thing to Sophie, but someone came and saved her. Lucky her."
I look over at her, and she stops speaking. She might be a ghost now, but there are still things I can do to Twomoney that would cause her immeasurable pain. I've had enough of being tormented by ghosts, and I don't have the patience to deal with her pathetic whines. Wisely, she backs off, apparently deciding that it would be better not to test my patience. She knows me of old, and she seems to recognize that no matter what she does, she can never, ever defeat me.
"I wish someone had come to save
me
," she says forlornly, looking down into the depths of the well. "Can you imagine how it felt to starve to death down there, in the dark? The rats started to eat my corpse even before I was fully dead. I just didn't have the strength to stop them anymore."
I have no sympathy for Twomoney. The things she did in life were heinous, and she certainly
did
deserve to die a slow, painful and lonely death. Sophie, though, is a different matter. I was only going to leave Sophie down there for a short time, for her own protection. Perhaps I should have found some way to explain that to her, but still she should have trusted me. I feel as if, for the first time in many centuries, I'm losing control. Perhaps this is my punishment for trying to ignore the prophecy for so long. Still, I can set events back on course. No-one can defeat me. I fought and killed the entire vampire race. I'm unstoppable.
"You look worried," Twomoney says. "I've only seen you look worried once before, and that was -" She stops and giggles for a moment. "That was when you finally realized what a monster I'd become."
She's right. She
is
a monster, and she's a complication I don't want to have to deal with at the moment.
"His name was Charles Nimrod," Twomoney says suddenly. She sounds scared now, as if she's offering this information in an attempt to placate me. She understands that I rarely show mercy, and she's currying favor "He said he'd been looking for her. She seemed cautious at first, as if she didn't entirely trust him, but by saving her life he gained her respect. If you're looking for her, you'd do well to look first for him."
Nimrod. Ever since he arrived in Dedston, I've been concerned about his plans. Nobody else could have helped Sophie get out of the well; nobody else would have even thought to look for her here, but if Nimrod has her, that means he's working on a plan to get hold of Abigail. I knew he'd try something, but I hadn't realized he was so far advanced. I've spared that fool's life plenty of times, but this time I have no choice but to kill him.
"Why didn't you come back for me?" Twomoney asks.
I turn to her, irritated by the interruption.
"I understand that you needed to punish me," she continues, with tears in her eyes, "but I was sure you'd come back for me eventually. I thought you'd just make sure you taught me a lesson first. Instead, you let me die."
I start to walk away. I don't have time to deal with her stupid problems.
"Do you really think you'll find Abigail?" Twomoney calls after me.
I stop dead in my tracks.
"Surprised that I know about Abigail?" she asks, her voice light with a kind of sing-song inflection that suggests she's enjoying taunting me.
Slowly, I turn back to her.
"You forget that I've read parts of the Book of Gothos" she says. "I could see into your mind once, remember? I know about the child. Abigail's her name, isn't it? I know that she..." She pauses, as if she's trying to remember. "I know that the child can't be separated from her parents unless one of those parents willingly gives the child to someone else. But no parent would do that, would they? You wouldn't, and I've met Sophie and I can tell she wouldn't, not unless... Not unless she feared for the child's life. But what could scare a mother so much that she'd be willing to give up her child to save its life?"
I wait for her to finish.
She starts to smile. "This Nimrod man has really outsmarted you, hasn't he?" she says eventually. Her grin is infuriating. I'd rip it from her face if she were more than a ghost. "He's a clever one, and you... Well, you're a lot of things, Patrick. You're strong. You're persuasive. You're powerful. But this time, you needed to be smart. You needed to out-think Nimrod and be prepared for his plans. And you failed, didn't you?"
I take a deep breath, trying to hold back from ripping Twomoney apart.
"I admire you, Patrick," she continues, "but sometimes you need to learn to think with your head instead of your heart. Sometimes you -"
I step forward and reach out to grab her, but of course she's a ghost so my hand goes straight through her. It's a moment of powerlessness that strikes a cold shiver through my body. I've never felt powerless before, but with Twomoney there's nothing to grab hold of, nothing to bite or destroy. She's just an apparition, a collection of thoughts held together by personality and persistence. She's a ghost now, and I can't kill her. Not again.
She laughs. "Always the same, aren't you? Always using violence to strike out at things that displease you. Can you be smart, Patrick, or will your childish impetuosity cause problems again?" She steps closer. "I know you," she continues, almost whispering as she leans toward me. "I remember what you used to be like, and I can tell from your eyes that you haven't changed. You use force to get what you want." She pauses. "Isn't that why you acquired Vincent and pretended he was your father? You're smart, Patrick, but you're impatient. Why take time to do things properly, when you could just smash your way through life and take everything you want? You hoped Vincent would guide you and teach you better ways. But now you're alone, and you have to come up with your own ideas. You're lost, aren't you?"
I turn to stare at her, and she steps back a little. She's nervous, but clearly not scared.
"You're immature," she continues, "but you can be helped. You just need a little guidance. I can do that for you. I'm smart, I've got the brains and the patience you need." She pauses. "Not that you're not intelligent, Patrick. You are, but your judgment is so easily clouded by passion and anger. Maybe I can help. I wouldn't ask for much. Just..." She reaches out and touches my arm. "I might be a ghost, but can't you set me free? Is it beyond your power to help me find a new body?"
For a moment, I consider taking her up on her offer. She's right that I need to temper my rash decisions. I need to be more patient, to wait and try to out-think my opponents. I could go and find Nimrod right now and rip him to shreds, but would that solve anything? Perhaps this is the one area where Nimrod has an advantage: he plans ahead, whereas I storm in and try to just grab whatever I need. My way is often successful, but sometimes I need to try a different approach. Twomoney could -
No.
I mustn't allow myself to think like that.
Twomoney's just a distraction. I trusted her once before, many years ago, and it was a mistake I don't intend to repeat. I have no reason to believe that her ideas are good enough to help me in this situation. She's wrong, anyway: I
am
smart enough to sort this out without help, and I
can
use brute force. There is no problem that cannot be resolved with the judicious use of power and strength, applied in the right places. Nimrod might be smart and patient, and he might play a good game, but his neck can still be snapped and suddenly his plans won't do him much good.
I turn and walk away from Twomoney, stopping as I reach the overhang beneath which her bones have been placed. They look pathetic, like the remains of some unremarkable person. Reaching down, I start to gather the bones in my arms.
"What are you doing?" she asks.
I continue gathering the bones until I have them all, and then I carry them back over to the well.
"What are you doing?" she asks again, with a hint of fear in her voice this time.
I reach the well and stare down into the dark depths. Sophie might have been able to get away from me, but Twomoney can rot in darkness for the rest of her life.
"No!" she shouts. "You can't put me back down there!" She runs at me, scratching and clawing at my body to try to get me to stop, but she has no chance, and I drop the bones down into the darkness. As they land with a clatter at the bottom, the scratching and clawing suddenly stop. For a moment there's silence all around me, but finally I hear her voice calling up from the bottom of the well. "Please!" she shouts, her voice pathetic and desperate. "Don't leave me in the dark again."
I slide the covering back over the well. She deserved no better.
Nimrod
Today.
"Soon," I say, checking my watch again.
Sophie stares at me with a harsh, disbelieving look on her face. It's as if she's running out of patience with me, but I understand: she's waited so long to finally hold Abigail, and now the moment is almost here.
"I promise," I add.
We're standing in a clearing in the forest. Patrick will be far, far away right now. I have left a series of clues dotted about town, and it will take him many hours to understand that he is being manipulated and distracted. I need him out of the way right now, but I also need to know that when the time comes, I can call him to us. This is a delicate game that I'm playing, almost like a game of chess. Sophie, Patrick, Abigail and the others are all pieces on the board, and I must make sure that they're each in the right position when the trap finally snaps shut. Like all good chess players, I have to ensure that my opponents focus on the smaller battles and don't notice the bigger picture until it's too late. So far, everything is going according to plan. Just a few more moves are needed before everything is ready and the trap can snap shut on all of us.
"I swear to you," Sophie says, her voice almost trembling, "if this doesn't happen, I'll..." Her voice trails off.
"I wouldn't bring you here if I wasn't sure that -"
"I'm serious," she says, interrupting. "I don't like being caught up in someone else's game."
"This isn't a game," I say.
She sighs.
"You've held her before, you know," I say, trying to calm her a little. "You don't remember, but you held her briefly after she was born."
She nods. "So I've heard," she says, "but... if I don't remember, it doesn't count."
"It might not count for you," I reply, "but for Abigail it certainly counts."
"Were you there when she was born?" Sophie asks.
I shake my head. "No, but others were, and I've heard stories. Believe me, when they heard that Patrick had finally obtained a child of his own, all the ghosts went to watch. Abigail was born in the snow. Patrick let you hold her for a moment before he snatched her away. You barely had time to even look at her face."
"Did I choose her name?" she asks.
"You did," I say, "but you were guided by the prophecy. She was always going to be named Abigail."
"Guided by the prophecy?" she says. "So it got into my head and made me choose that name?"
"Partly," I say. "The prophecy looked into the future, saw that you would name the child Abigail, and ensured that things wouldn't change."
"That's crazy," Sophie says. "I could have named her anything I wanted. I wasn't being controlled by some stupid prophecy."
"I know," I say, "but these things work in dark and mysterious ways."
"Prophecies are just witchcraft dreamed up by people who should know better," she replies. "Nobody's forced to do anything. Do you really believe in stuff like that?"
"Basically, yes," I say. "And -" I pause, hearing a noise nearby. Turning, I see that we are finally being joined by the Flesh Weaver who has been taking care of the child. Stepping slowly through the forest, the creature is twice as tall as a man, and most of its body is covered in a shawl. In its arms, it's carrying a small bundle, and in the bundle there is a sleeping child.
"Is that her?" Sophie asks. She moves to rush forward, but I hold her back.
"Wait!" I say. "Don't make any sudden movements. Flesh Weavers like to take things slow."
"Let go!" Sophie says, trying to squirm out of my grip.
"Wait!" I say again. "You've waited this long, just be patient for a few more seconds. The Flesh Weaver has carried Abigail a great distance."
"That creature has been looking after Abigail?" Sophie asks. She sounds shocked and horrified, as if she can't imagine that such a beast could ever show tenderness or care to a child. I can understand her concern: Flesh Weavers can look rather hideous, terrifying even, although they are actually quite gentle creatures in many ways. They do, though, have a habit of stripping the flesh from their victims, but they're not monsters. They just have different customs and traditions.
"He has done a very good job," I say. "Don't always judge on appearances, Sophie. Flesh Weavers can be the kindest and gentlest creatures in the world."
As the Flesh Weaver finally reaches us, it leans down and holds Abigail out. Tentatively, carefully, Sophie takes the child and holds her in her arms. Once, not long ago, she thought she was holding Abigail, only for the child to dissolve into a bundle of worms. This time, mother and child are finally reunited. It's a beautiful moment, but one that is tinged with sadness because of what must happen soon.