Dark Season: The Complete Box Set (13 page)

Rose Tisser

1959

There's a loud smashing sound from the other side of the door, followed by a scream. It sounds like Jess screaming, but I don't dare move. I have no idea what's happening, and the voices in my mind are getting louder, telling me to let Jess in. It's as if my head has been invaded by a thousand different minds, and they're all screaming the same thing at me.

"Help us!" I hear Jess shout, followed by what sounds like a snarl and then more smashing sounds.

I step back from the door but there are more voices in my mind now. They keep shouting at me, telling me to open the door, and my own voice, my own mind, seems to be being flooded by these others.

Slowly, almost against my will, I walk to the door and pull the table away. The sounds in the room outside have stopped and there's just calm out there now. I open the door and I'm greeted by the most horrific sight imaginable.

Patrick is kneeling in the middle of the room. He's covered in blood, and all around him there are pieces of a human body, lumps of tattered flesh left all over the floor. Most of the pieces are unrecognizable, but one of them is clearly part of an arm, and another seems to be a chunk from a torso. As soon as I look at Patrick's eyes, I realize the horror he feels is the horror of having just taken a life, but at the same time he looks... natural. When he's in town, or just hanging out, he seems so awkward. But here, covered in blood, having just killed someone, it's as if this is the real him. And that sadness in his eyes seems to make sense now. Did he know all along that this would happen?

The voices in my mind shriek in unison: He has killed our brothers!

Ignoring the voices, I step towards Patrick, walking through pools of blood, stepping over a lump of ragged flesh and bone that was once part of Jess's body. I want to scream, to run, to cry, but my own mind is submerged by all these other voices.

"What did you do?" I manage to ask eventually.

Patrick stands up, with blood dripping from his hands. For the first time, I see his teeth, with the two sharp little tell-tale signs of his true nature.

"They're inside me as well," I say, my voice trembling. "They're telling me to do things." I look at the blood and body parts spread across the room. "Please," I say. "Please don't do this to me too."

Patrick just stares at me with a sad look in his eyes.

The voices tell me: He won't kill you. He can't kill you. He can't commit genocide again. As long as we are the only body, he'll let us live.

"Is it true?" I ask. "You kill me as long as I have these voices inside me?"

As if he can't look me in the eye, Patrick looks over at the bloody mess he's made out of Jess's poor corpse.

"They died when you killed her," I say. "The only ones left are inside me." It's getting harder to speak, as if the voices are crowding my mind. They're starting to take control of my body and push me to one side. "I don't want them to take my body," I say. "I don't want to end up like her."

Patrick looks at me helplessly.

"The vampire knows he's powerless," I say, except it's
not
me. The other voices have found a way to control my mouth, to make me say things. There are thousands of them in my mind.

Patrick steps toward me.

"Help me," I manage to say. "Patrick, you have to get them out of me. They got in, so there must be a way to make them leave." I pause, feeling my mind getting weaker and weaker. Suddenly, I realize what I have to do. Before these things take control of my body completely, I have to end this nightmare, or I'll be trapped forever. From the look on Patrick's face, I know he won't - he can't - bring himself to kill me. I'm going to have to do it myself.

"Okay," I say, struggling to maintain control over my body. I turn and I run to the set of steps leading up the inside of the lighthouse. I'm soon more than ten meters off the ground, but that might not be enough. I turn and see Patrick coming after me. "You can't stop me," I say, and I run some more. I stop and look down. From here, surely...

"If you can't do it," I say, turning to Patrick. "I will."

Before he can reach me and stop me, I let myself fall.

The voices in my mind scream out for me to stop.

One voice - my voice - my real voice - tells me I've made the right choice.

I'm falling.

The voices are screaming.

As I hit the concrete floor, I scream, but everything goes black before the scream has left my mouth.

Sophie

Today

St Winifred's Nursing Home is on the other side of town, so I quickly make my excuses at the funeral and set off. I don't tell Adam where I'm going, or what Henry told me. I don't know why, but I feel this is something I need to sort out for myself. I need to be able to ask about Patrick, and I can't do that properly if Adam's with me. Sure, Henry says Rose has been pretty much comatose since she was admitted to the home shortly after Jess was killed, but I can't help thinking that there's a chance I can get through to her. After all, I bet no-one has talked to her about Patrick for a long, long time. It's got to be worth a try.

"I'm here to see Rose Tisser," I say when I get to the reception desk at the care home.

The nurse looks at a list. "I don't think we have anyone by that name," she says.

"Sorry," I say, "I mean Janet Smith."

"Well that's different," says the nurse. "She's in room 301, in the red wing. Are you a relative?"

"Kind of," I say. "Is it okay if I go straight through?"

"Sure," says the nurse. She grabs a pile of magazines from a little table. "Take these. She's not exactly a chatterbox."

I take the magazines, with no intention of reading them. As I head toward the corridor marked 'Red Wing', the nurse calls out to me. "If you need better light in there," she says, "don't be afraid to open the curtain!"

I knock on the door, but of course there's no answer. I reach down and turn the handle, pushing the door open into a dark room that smells pretty foul. In the gloom, I can barely make out the shape of a bed against the far wall. Shutting the door behind me, I walk toward her. The only sound is the huffing and puffing of a mechanical respirator that's keeping her alive.

"Hi Rose," I say. There's no reply. "My name's Sophie, do you mind if I sit with you?" I can barely see her face in the darkness. "Do you mind if I open the curtains?"

I take her lack of response to be an agreement, so I pull the curtains open. Strangely, although it's bright outside, little light seems to enter the room. It's as if the room itself is intentionally staying dark. I look down at Rose; she's such an old woman, it's hard to believe she's still alive. Rigged up to the machine, she's apparently been in a coma for more than half a century. Her only company during all this time was her brother John, who Henry says would visit her twice a week, every week. But now I'm here. A stranger.

"I came to see you because I want to ask you about Patrick," I say. I half expect his name alone to bring her out of the coma, but there's no response. She seems so peaceful. "The thing is," I continue, "I know him too. Except it's different now, he's older and... I came because I want to find out what happened to you and Jessica at the lighthouse. I need to know if Patrick killed your friend."

No reply from Rose, just the continuing sound of the respirator. Sighing, I realize this is crazy. I'm so desperate to get some answers about Patrick, I've resorted to bugging a comatose old woman.

"Patrick," I say, standing next to her bed. "The vampire." I guess I'm hoping that the words will be enough to get a response.

No reply.

"I went to the lighthouse the other day," I say. "Your nephew took me. Adam. I guess you don't know him. I was at John's funeral with him today." I suddenly wonder if I should have said that. "Did you know he died?" I ask. "Do you know anything about anything?" I look at her calm, passive face. Is there anyone in there?

I walk over to a chest in the corner and pull out the first drawer. Okay, I shouldn't be doing this, but these are strange times and I doubt Rose is going to mind too much. The drawer is almost empty, with just a hairbrush and some boxes of matches. I push it shut and open the next drawer, which is filled to the top with old newspapers. It's a load of copies of the Dedston Gazette. I take a look at some of the covers, half-remembering old local stories. I notice the by-line on one of them: Dexter Logan. Was he here once, chasing up the story of vampires in Dedston?

I push the drawer shut and pull open the third. It's almost empty, except for a ring that has been left rattling around in the bottom. I pick it up and take a look. It's old, large and chunky with a brown paste stone. Ugly, and probably exactly the kind of thing that was in fashion back in the 50s.

I drop the ring as a hand touches my shoulder. Expecting Patrick, I turn to find Rose Tisser standing directly behind me, her milky eyes looking straight into mine and her mouth hanging open.

"Hi," I say, trying not to let her see that I'm scared, but Rose just continues to stare at me. "My name's Sophie, I was a friend of your brother's." No response. Not even a flicker. She doesn't even blink. "I shouldn't really be here," I say finally, as if that isn't obvious. Still no reply. "Sorry," I say feebly, "did I wake you up?"

With no response, I carefully step to one side. Rose doesn't seem to notice. She's just staring at where I used to be, her hand still reaching out as it was when it was on my shoulder.

"Do you need help getting back to bed?" I ask.

Slowly - really,
really
slowly - she turns her head to look at me. I swear I can hear bones clicking and creaking in her neck.

"You've been in bed a long time," I say. "I guess it feels good to get up and have a stretch."

She turns the whole of her body to face me, and she puts her hand on my shoulder again.

I decide to see if I can get through to her. "Would you like a drink?" I ask. I go over to the sink in the corner of her room, and pour some water into a glass. When I turn back to her, I find that she's followed me over and she's staring at me again. I hold the glass out, but she ignores it. And that's when I notice something really strange: while the rest of the room is pretty dark still, the part where Rose is standing is noticeably darker, as if she's absorbing more of the light in her immediate vicinity. She reaches out and touches my shoulder again, as if she's desperately keen to touch me.

"How long have you been asleep?" I ask, starting to get a very odd feeling about all of this.

Slowly, Rose opens her mouth. Her lips are dry and chapped, with stringy bits of skin showing that it's been a long time since she spoke.

"Are you trying to say something?" I ask, still torn between two feelings: terror and concern.

"You..." she says, and then she pauses as if she's surprised by something. After a moment, she tries again. "You..." but she still can't get any further.

"My name's Sophie Hart," I say. "I'm a friend of your brother, John, and his grandson Adam. And your friend, Henry. And... and I know Patrick."

"You..." she says.

I wait. There seems to be no more.

"Okay," I say. I'm starting to think I should call it a day and get out of here, perhaps come back another day with reinforcements. "I just want to talk to you about Patrick."

"You... would..." she says. It seems like it's an immense effort for her to speak. "You... would... have..."

I wait for more. "I would have what?" I ask eventually.

"You... would... have... been... okay... if... only... you... had... left... before... I... got... out... of... bed."

Suddenly her cold stare, and her hand on my shoulder, seem a lot more menacing. I slip my shoulder away from her hand and step back.

"It's okay," I say. "I can see I've come at a bad time. I'll come back tomorrow, or next week, or some other time. The year 2500, maybe." I go to the door and turn the handle, but it seems to be stuck. I immediately turn and find that Rose has followed me over. She's pretty fast when I'm not looking, but now she's standing next to a lamp on a chest, and I can see that the light from the lamp seems to be dying when it gets near to Rose's body. I reach out and pick up the lamp. When I pass it close to her, all the light from the bulb seems to just disappear, as if it's being drawn into her.

"Don't worry," I say, "I can go out the window."

I run across the room but, of course, the window's stuck shut. I turn to find that Rose has already followed me all the way over.

"You're fast," I say, really starting to feel like something's wrong here. "And I bet you're not as frail as you look, are you?"

"You... would... have... been..." Rose starts, then pauses.

"I know Patrick," I say, deciding my only option is to level with her. "
Patrick
. Do you remember that name? And I know what happened at the lighthouse. Sort of. I know Jess died, and I know you managed to escape and you've been here in a coma ever since. I know you knew Patrick."

"Poor... Rose..." she says.

"Poor Rose," I repeat. "What about poor Rose?"

"She... is... still in here... somewhere... we... keep her around... for amusement..."

I stare at her for a moment. Her voice seems to be getting a little stronger every time she speaks. "Who are
we
?" I ask.

"We... keep her... around... in here because... it amuses us to... hear her... screaming..."

I swallow hard. "Well it sounds like that's..." Pausing, I realize she must have lost her mind during all those comatose years. "Who am I speaking to?" I ask eventually.

"We... are taking... turns... Some of us are stronger than the others."

"Other what?"

Rose, or Rose's body at least, starts turning her head a little, with more cracking sounds coming from her bones. "This body is old... It can barely speak... It is... making us sound weaker than we are... We will... have to take... yours."

I back right away. "My body?" I ask. "I think we should discuss all this first." I reach out to try the door handle again, but it seems completely stuck. Rose is shuffling towards me, and I'm starting to think it'd be a really good idea to get out of here. After all, over the past few days I've discovered that vampires are real, which means there could still be a few surprises waiting for me.

"Please..." Rose says. "It would be... inconvenient... to have to... struggle with you."

"Sorry," I say, and then I launch myself at her, with the intention of pushing her over. However, she just grabs me and holds me tight. So tight, I can't get free.

At that moment, there's the sound of breaking glass. Rose and I both look over just in time to see Patrick stepping through the broken window.

"You're... early," says Rose.