Dark Season: The Complete Box Set (15 page)

Sophie

Today

The music's so loud, I can't hear a word Shelley's saying. So while she shouts in my ear, I keep my eyes fixed on the bar, where Adam and Rob are trying to get through the crowd to buy some drinks. This place is so crowded, it's unreal. No matter where you stand, you're surrounded by people pushing, shoving, dancing, shouting, kissing and, in a few cases, looking pretty ill. We're in this dark little club and it's so hot, there's sweat stains on my top, except I'm not even sure it's my own sweat.

I decide I have to get out of here, so I interrupt Shelley by nudging her in the arm and pointing at the fire escape door. She nods, understanding. I know she won't come out with me, because she loves this kind of club. She's in her element. Me? I can take it for a while, but no matter how much I drink, I always seem to hit this wall where I stop getting drunk and just start feeling icky. Shelley can drink all night, while her friend Alice is already passed out in the corner. Sighing, I battle my way through the crowd, up the steps and out onto the cool fire escape balcony where, surprisingly, there's only one other person.

"I knew you'd come out here eventually," he says with a soft, Scottish accent.

It's dark and I can't really see his face. The thumping music from the club is impossible to entirely ignore. I decide not to say anything, so I smile and go to the other side of the balcony. Just a couple of minutes is all I need, to cool off before I go back in for the second round.

"Terribly rude of me," says the Scottish guy. "Do you mind if I introduce myself?"

"It's okay, thanks," I say, trying to be polite but firm. I've already got enough guys in my life to deal with, without worrying about a third.

"No worries," says the guy, who's still kind of hidden in the shadows.

I glance at him. All I can see is a little red light burning in the darkness. Nice, a smoker. I turn and look down at the alley far below, full of abandoned boxes and trash cans. This town is a real dump sometimes.

Suddenly, a thought hits me. A bizarre and weird thought, but... I glance over at the guy, whose face is still hidden in the shadows. It couldn't be... I mean, I've never heard Patrick's voice, so... I get a little tingle in my spine. I know it's not him, it can't be! Still, I guess there's a chance, so I look at him again and I try to make out his features.

Suddenly he steps forward, and I see it's not Patrick at all. This guy's pretty good-looking, although he's not my type: he's kind of short-to-medium height, well-built with a close-shaved head and plenty of stubble. He looks friendly, though, with one of those faces that looks like it's always smiling.

"Hamish," he says. "From Scotland, in case you can't tell."

He holds out a hand and I, somewhat reluctantly, shake it.

"Sophie," I say.

"Aye, I know," he says.

I smile. That's a joke, right?

"I didn't mean to freak you out," he says. "I just came out here to get some air. It's fucking packed in there, man." Wow. I think that's the first time anyone's ever called me 'man' before. "Good club, though," he continues. "Good tunes."

I nod, agreeing, even though I don't actually agree at all. As far as I'm concerned, this club is a packed little furnace of sweaty people all hoping to go home with a stranger, and the constant backdrop of rubbish music doesn't help much.

"I'm new in town," Hamish says. "Not gonna be here that long, but I'm really hoping to get to know the place while I'm here. Is this the best club?"

I shrug. "I don't really know," I say. "I guess they're all kind of the same." This is small talk. I hate small talk. The truth is, it's gone midnight and I'm tired, and I only came to this club in the first place because Adam, Shelley and Rob were begging me. Sometimes I wish Adam hadn't hit it off with my friends so well. It's inconvenient to have my boyfriend and my only other friends working in a pack like this. Well, not that he's my boyfriend, exactly. It's complicated, but I'm definitely spending a lot of evenings with him lately, even if most of the time I can't get Patrick out of my thoughts.

"I'll leave you alone," Hamish says, dropping his cigarette and crushing it with his shoe. "Sorry to intrude upon your private moment." As he walks past me, he raises a hand and brushes my arm.

"It's fine," I say. "Thanks. Have a good night."

"Aye," he says. He goes to the door, then turns back to me. "Oh, and if you get a chance, say hi to Patrick for me, yeah?"

Before I've even realized what he said, he's opened the door and disappeared into the loud, busy throng of people inside the club.

"What?" I say, and then I rush in to try to find him. I've never met anyone else who knows Patrick. Not Adam, not Shelley, not Rob. No-one, apart from Vincent, and he doesn't really count since he and Patrick seem to come as a package. No, Patrick has been
my
secret so far, at least when I'm out and about in Dedston, and now suddenly some short Scottish guy's going on about him! I push through the crowd, desperately trying to spot Hamish, but it's impossible. With all these people, it'd be impossible even if the lights
weren't
so low. I squeeze, a little rudely, through the army of drunk dancers and suddenly I'm face to face with Adam.

"Hey," he shouts, trying to hug me, but I slip away and push on through the crowd. Soon I'm at the stairs, where there aren't so many people, and I race up, still looking for Hamish. I reach the foyer, but there's no sign of him, so I run to the door and out into the street. I look around but there's no sign of him. Damn. He must still be inside, so I turn to go back in, but a doorman stops me.

"Stamp," he says.

I show him my hand, but the ink has completely run off.

"Back of the line," he says, pointing at the small queue of people waiting patiently to get in.

"I was just in there," I say. "You saw me come out."

"No stamp, no re-entry," he says firmly.

"It -" I look at where the stamp was. "It's the sweat!" I say, somewhat forlornly, but I can tell from the doorman's expression that there's no way I can argue with him. I walk to the back of the line and take my place. If I had a mobile phone, I could call Adam and get him to help. I definitely need to get a job so I can afford stuff like that. But in the meantime, what I really need to do is find this Hamish guy again. As I queue, I keep an eye on the door, just in case he comes out.

Hamish

Ireland - 1512 AD

The first place I go to is Ireland, mainly 'cause I've heard the women are so welcoming. Well, okay, I'm actually here for two reasons: one is the women, and the other is that I've heard these crazy stories about some of the druids in the north. One in particular, named Azael, is said to be able to cure curses. Now, I'm not normally one for believing in fairytales like that. After all, whoever heard of a Druid who
truly
can cure curses? Then again, it's worth a shot, and it might be the only chance I've got when it comes to slipping away when my hundred years are up.

I travel to the town where Azael is said to live. The first thing I learn is that 'he' is in fact a 'she'. Great, two birds with one stone. I ask around and I'm told where I can find her. Turns out, she hangs around in this little pub by the river, so I sit in there for a few nights waiting for her to come in. All the while, I'm thinking about what would happen if it turns out that she really
can
lift the curse. I'd be mortal. I'd live a normal, mortal life. With a normal mortal lifespan, I'd probably live another thirty, maybe forty years. But it'd be a normal life. A real life. Perhaps with a woman. I could handle that, right?

I spend almost a week sitting in the pub night after night, convincing myself that I want mortality, when eventually I spot a woman who I instantly
must
be Azael. She's exactly as I'd imagined: long reddish hair, and the most beautiful brown eyes. I get up from my seat and walk over to where she's standing at the bar. We make eye contact, but I'm not quite sure how to start the conversation.

"What do you want?" she asks wearily.

"I was kind of hoping you could help me," I say, annoyed with myself for not thinking up a better way to start the conversation.

"Depends what you want," she says. She's not looking at me now. Instead, she's focusing on a mug of beer she's just bought.

"I have this problem," I say. "With... moonlight, if you get what I'm saying."

A smile crosses her lips. "I get what you're saying," she says, "but I don't see why it has to be a problem."

"It's a problem if you've got all the fucking werewolves in the world hunting you down," I say.

"Follow me," she says, taking her mug of beer and leading me out around the bar and through a door into a back room.

"I hope this isn't an inconvenience," I say.

"It kind of is," she says. "I don't want werewolves knocking on my door, thank you very much."

"No danger of that," I say. "I've got a hundred year head start."

"Interesting," she says. "You struck a bargain?"

I nod. "Something like that."

"There's only one reason the Alpha Wolf would strike a bargain like that," she says, "and that's if he knows that giving you a head start would be the only way to make the chase interesting. He can't have much of an opinion of you."

I shrug. "I've got time to learn. Unless you help me, in which case I wouldn't
need
to learn." I step toward her, but she steps back.

"Don't touch me," she says. "I don't want your scent on me. Listen, understand this... I can't help you. You're not cursed. If you're a werewolf, it's because you were born that way. There's no such thing as curses. What kind of simple, childish mind have you got?"

I was kind of afraid she'd say that. In my desperation, I hoped that my condition was the result of a curse, perhaps one given to me when I was born. Deep down, however, I think I've always known that there's no 'curse'. This is who I am. It's
what
I am, and I can only stop being a werewolf if - when - I die.

"Okay," I say. "Thanks anyway. I guess there's nothing you can do for me." I turn to leave.

"There's
one
thing I can do," she says.

I turn back to look at her.

"I can give you some advice," she says, coming closer. "Run. Get good at running. Because that's the only way you'll ever survive, do you understand? Even then, it's just a matter of time, because they'll always, always be on your trail." She leans in and kisses me on the cheek. "Good luck. And never come to me again. I don't want them following your scent to my door, you understand?"

I nod, and then I turn and leave, walking out through the pub and into the cold Irish night. I look at the stars, make some calculations and start making my way south. Azael was a nice enough woman, and her advice rang true. I need to run. I need to run for the rest of my life, because if I stop for even a moment, the other werewolves are going to catch up to me and rip my body to pieces.

Sophie

Adam walks me home. It's almost 2am and I know he wants to stay the night, but I have other plans. I need to go and find Patrick, but I can't really explain that to Adam so I have to come up with some kind of excuse. After all, Adam knows nothing about Patrick. To him, I'm just a bored, slightly boring Dedston girl who spends her days doing nothing in particular; he has no idea that I spend time thinking about vampires. If he knew, he'd probably think I'm crazy.

"I think I just want to go to sleep," I say as we get to my door.

"That's fine," he says. "That's all I want to do too."

"Yeah," I say. "But I have to be up early to go looking for jobs, so is it okay if you go home tonight instead?"

He stares at me for a moment. "Sure," he says. "See you around." He turns to walk away, then he stops and turns back. "You know, we have to try some time."

He's right. We've been together for three months now, and we've only tried to have sex once. I warned him from the start that I find it painful, and he said he understood, but it's hard for him. He thinks he can 'fix' me if he just gets it right.

"Another time," I say. "I'm just tired."

He nods, and then he walks away. I know I should go after him and tell him that everything's okay, but the truth is I know I can do that tomorrow or the day after, whereas I need to see Patrick
now
. Actually, maybe it's Vincent I really need to see. After all, I can talk to Patrick all night, but he can't say anything back to me. Can't or won't. Vincent doesn't mind answering my questions, though, so I guess I need to see both of them. Either way, Adam can wait until I have some free time.

As I hurry down the street, on my way to find Patrick and Vincent, I can't help worrying that I'm treating Adam like he's just a hobby. Then again, maybe that's all he is.

Unfortunately, once I get to the forest, I realize that once again I can't find the entrance to Patrick and Vincent's home. I've been here half a dozen times now, but finding the entrance to the tunnel that leads down there is always difficult. Instead, I end up stumbling about the woods on the edge of town, usually at night, usually for hours without having any luck. It's almost like the entrance isn't always there, like it's hidden from being recognized. Probably a good idea. I doubt they want any unexpected visitors.

Also, I think I'm being followed.

I stand still in the moonlight, listening. As I walked through town to get here, I felt as if someone was trailing me. Since I entered the woods, I've heard the occasional rustle far off behind me. I'm pretty sure that Adam is tailing me, which is a problem. How the hell am I supposed to explain the fact that I'm out here in the woods in the small hours when I told him I was tired?

I turn to face the dark trees. "Okay, Adam," I say, despite the fact that I can't see him. I know what I'm going to say when he confronts me. I'm going to tell him that I knew he was following me, and that I led him out here so we can make love. After all, it's a warm night. I'll tell him I was hoping it would relax me to be out here, and then we'll see what happens. He'll probably get frustrated when we have to stop, because there's no way I can hide the pain from him, it's too intense. Still, it's my only option. There's no way I can tell him about Patrick and Vincent.

There's a cracking sound in the undergrowth, like someone stepping on a twig.

"Adam," I say. "Come on, get out here where I can see you."

Silence. This is starting to get a little creepy. It's crossed my mind that maybe it's not Adam at all, maybe it's Patrick, but I have to be careful. There's also an outside chance it's neither of them, that it's some random ax murderer, but that's okay: I kind of feel as if Patrick's always watching me, ready to help if I get into any real danger. In a way, I feel safer than ever.

I open my mouth to call Adam again, but a figure steps out from behind a tree. I can instantly see that it's not Adam. It's not Patrick, either. I tense up a little and start glancing around, hoping Patrick's out there somewhere.

"I'm not alone," I say. "I know it looks like I am, but I'm not. You should go away right now."

The figure steps forward. The moon has gone behind a cloud so there's very little light, but I can just make out the guy's face. I've never seen him before. He's very thin, with long hair down to his shoulders. He's wearing dark clothes, with what looks like a tunic.

"I'll be off, then," I say. "Have a nice night." I turn to walk away, but I'm immediately aware that he's coming up behind me. I turn back just as he reaches me. He grabs me by the shoulders and leans in, sniffing me. I try to push him off but he's too strong, and he's holding me in place with no problem. After a moment, he looks straight into my eyes, and then past me. Finally he lets go of my shoulders.

"Are you looking after this one?" the stranger asks someone who I haven't seen yet. I turn and see Patrick standing close. I hadn't heard him arrive, but he's here and I don't think I've ever been more grateful to see him.

"Tell her to keep better company," the stranger says. He steps past me and makes his way over to Patrick. "Goes for you too. If you happen to bump into any undesirables around here, you should tell them they're very,
very
late paying their debts, if you know what I mean."

Patrick, as always, says nothing. He just stands his ground. I don't think he's actually looked at me yet, he's just staring at this strange man, as if he doesn't dare look away for a second.

"You know the terms," says the man. "A hundred years. It's been a lot longer than a hundred years and still he keeps running And the funny thing is, I can smell him here." He looks at me. "Met any strange men recently?"

I don't say a word. I feel like I'm in the middle of something that's completely above my head, and I don't want to say anything in case I make things worse for Patrick.

"Just be careful," says the stranger. He steps toward me, but as he does so he steps into the moonlight and his whole body seems to change slightly: he still looks human, but with wild, animal-like eyes that glow faintly yellow, and the way he stands seems different, as if he's more muscular and more compact. As soon as he passes through the patch of moonlight, he looks completely normal again, as if the moonlight changed how I saw him, just for a moment. He reaches out to touch my shoulder. "You don't want to -"

He's interrupted as Patrick lunges at him, pulling him away from me and onto the ground. The stranger struggles as Patrick holds him down, but it seems he can't get free. I take a step back.

"You know what I'd suggest," says the stranger, looking up into Patrick's face. "I'd suggest you keep out of this, and tell your young lady to do the same. Give us a day, we'll deal with him and we'll move on." At that point, he manages to push Patrick off. As he does so, the stranger makes a sound almost like he's growling. He rolls onto Patrick and snarls at him. "You've interfered before, vampire. Don't think you'll get away with it a second time."

Patrick pushes him off, and then he gets to his feet, grabs the stranger and throws him through the air into a nearby tree. The stranger slams against the tree and crashes to the ground, letting out a loud yelping sound as he does so.

"You haven't changed much," he snarls as he gets to his feet. "Don't say I didn't warn you. You know who's coming." With that, he turns and limps off into the forest.

Patrick starts walking away. I follow him, not saying anything, and within a couple of minutes we're at the tunnel entrance that leads down below. Without even acknowledging me, Patrick starts walking into the darkness. For a moment, I wonder whether I should just go home, but then I realize that if he didn't want me there, he wouldn't have led me to the entrance.

As soon as we reach the cavern where Patrick's house sits, something strange happens. Patrick stops, look at me for a moment, then turns and leaves. I consider following him back out, but it's pretty clear that he brought me down here and he wants me to stay. Why? To protect me? To give me a chance to speak to Vincent? It's always so hard to work out what Patrick means, but I'm fairly sure he didn't lead me down here just so we could walk back out. Obviously he's got something he needs to do, and it's almost as if he wants to keep my out of the way.

"Hey!" I call after him, but it's hopeless. He's already long gone.

There's something perpetually strange about this place. I'm in a large stone cavern hidden deep underground, with little in it other than a fairly old-looking house that - if Vincent is to be believed - simply dropped down through a hole in the ground. It certainly looks as if the house dropped down here: it's at an angle, and it looks damaged, and the roof of the cavern high above looks like it's healed after some kind of trauma.

Vincent is in his study, a large room with bookcases on every wall. I don't know much about Vincent; in fact, I know as little about him as I know about Patrick, but I trust him. Well, I trust both of them. Well, I think I do...

"Sophie," says Vincent, looking up from his work and taking off his reading glasses. "When did we last see you? It must have been months ago."

To my surprise, he gets up from his chair, walks over and immediately hugs me.

"Hi," I say. "Sorry, I've been so busy." That's kind of a lie. I've just been waiting for Patrick to find me, hoping he'd come to my window, and getting gradually more and more disappointed by his failure to appear. I feel as if, following the mix-up with Rose Tisser, Patrick has become a little less interested in me. It's almost as if I offended him, and now he wants to keep a safe distance.

"It's good to see you," Vincent says. "I must admit, I was wondering where you'd got to, nut I knew we'd see you sooner rather than later. Do you want some wine?"

He goes to a cabinet and pulls out a bottle of red wine, pouring us a glass each. I accept, even though I don't really want any right now.

"Patrick brought you down?" Vincent asks.

"Yes," I say. "He found me outside."

Vincent raises his glass and takes a sip. "You were looking for us?" he asks.

"Actually, I was being followed," I say.

Vincent nods. "Yes, I imagine you were. Don't be offended, but I can smell it on you. Well, not 'it'. More like... 'them'. Two of them, with quite distinct scents."

He sits behind his desk and I go to sit on a nearby leather sofa. "I met a man tonight," I tell him. "Two men, actually. The first one was at a club. He said he knows Patrick. The second one was in the woods just now; he seemed to know Patrick as well, and there was something strange about his eyes. I just... I didn't think so many people knew about you and Patrick."

"They don't," says Vincent. "We keep ourselves very much to ourselves, but there are people from the past, and occasionally they show up. Tell me about the first man you met. Scottish, was he?"

I nod.

Vincent seems disturbed by the news. "That's what I feared," he says. "I knew this would happen, but I hoped maybe there'd be some other way. Listen, the best thing is for both of us to keep out of it. We must let Patrick handle the whole sorry mess. He's more than capable. You'll have to stay down here until he's finished, but that's okay, we have plenty of food and it'll give us a chance to get to know one another."

"Stay down here?" I ask. "For how long?"

"Don't worry," he replies. "Patrick should have things tidied up by sunrise. He's a fast worker, and I don't think he'll have any trouble understanding what to do. He's not someone who ever makes the same mistake twice."

"Mistake?" I ask.

Vincent smiles awkwardly, as if he's said too much already. "The men you met tonight are dangerous," he says. "I'm sure you already realized that. And you have their scent on you, which means they could decide to involve you in their conflict. That's why you should stay down here, where you're safe." He looks at me, as if he's trying to understand me, almost as if he's trying to read my mind. "They're not human. You understand that, don't you?"

"But they can't be vampires," I say. "You said that Patrick's the last."

"There are three species on this planet," he continues. "Humans, vampires and... well, they call themselves lyca, but you probably know them as werewolves." He smiles. "That's not an entirely accurate description, but it does the job. They're not to be toyed with, just as you wouldn't toy with a vampire."

"Werewolves?" I say, with a sinking feeling. "Those men were werewolves?"

Vincent smiles.

Sighing, I realize I'm in way over my head. My natural curiosity has been put on the back-burner, and I'm starting to accept that I should probably just follow Vincent's advice.

"Is Patrick okay?" I ask. "If they're dangerous..."

"Patrick will be fine," Vincent says. "He'll deal with the situation before the other lyca arrive. He knows that's the best way to handle things."

"What's going on?" I ask. "What's the problem?"

"Don't worry," says Vincent. "Patrick is resolving everything as we speak. He'll be back in a few hours, and then it'll be safe for you to go back up. There are certain... tensions that have to be resolved, but as I said, Patrick is more than capable of making sure that everything works out well."

We both look up as we hear a noise somewhere else in the house. It sounds as if Patrick's back already. I look at Vincent, who seems a little concerned. We look over at the door as Patrick enters, carrying a man in his arms. The man is badly hurt, with blood pouring from wounds on his face and all over his body, and his clothes are torn to shreds, exposing more cuts and scratches all over his torso and legs. He looks as if he's been attacked and savaged by a pack of wild animals.