Dark Season: The Complete Box Set (30 page)

Martin Keller

Through the pain, I see a face. The face of the vampire. At first, I consider the possibility that I might have lost my mind, that he is just a figment of my imagination, thrown up to taunt me. As he rips and tears at my flesh, however, I realize that he's all too real and all too dangerous. Benjamin and Nimrod were right; the moment is glorious.

When I first killed vampires, many years ago, I found it so difficult, but over time it became easy. I could kill a vampire in just a few minutes. Then I came up against this vampire, who has now become the last vampire, and I have never quite managed to finish him off. Twice, I've thought he was dead. Both times, he managed to find a way to survive. How can he have defeated me twice? How can he have tricked me? What is his secret? Sometimes I feel as if he's not just a vampire; I feel as if he's something else entirely.

Still, everything will be okay. I know how to kill him this time.

Sophie

Shelley tries to pull me down the stairs, but I refuse to budge. Patrick and Keller are locked in a fight of such power and anger that I honestly don't think I've ever seen anything so shocking. Patrick is on top of Keller, literally ripping chunks of flesh and metal away from his enemy's body, while Keller starts to roar as he reaches up, grabs Patrick's head and starts to squeeze. I can see Patrick grimace with pain as the pressure builds, as Keller's huge muscles start to ripple. With Shelley still pulling on my arm, I stand my ground, determined to watch. Watching Patrick and Keller as they grapple with one another, it's like watching two beasts fighting to the death.

"Get away!" shouts a voice from behind. I turn to see that Vincent has entered the house. "Get away!" he shouts again, "they're out of control."

I glance back at Patrick, and I see that he's slipped his head from Keller's grasp for a moment and is still ripping - with his hands, with his teeth - at the larger man's body. As I watch, Keller roars again and this time he throws Patrick across the corridor. The whole house shakes with the impact. Before Patrick can recover, Keller slams into him again.

"You said he was dead!" I shout, turning to Vincent. "You said you hid his body!"

"I had to lie!" Vincent shouts back. "The only way to make Keller believe Patrick was dead was to make sure
you
believed it too. There was no other way. I had to protect Patrick."

I run to Vincent and push him against the wall. I don't think I've ever felt so angry at anyone. "You lied!" I shout. "You made me think he was gone forever!"

"He needed time to heal," says Vincent. "He was so badly hurt after the first encounter with Keller. I'm sorry. Besides, the only way to force Keller make a mistake was to make him feel confident."

For a moment, I'm filled with a desire to hurt Vincent, to cause him the kind of pain that he caused me. I couldn't admit it at the time, not to myself, but the thought of Patrick's death had filled me with the most gigantic, gaping black hole of despair.
Hell, I'd even been prepared to come down here, to be killed by Keller, simply so that... what? It was like a kind of suicide. Still, I made a stand. I've shown myself that I'm not a coward.

"Holy crap!" says Shelley.

I turn and see what she's looking at. Keller has Patrick's head in his hands again, and is pressing with all his strength. Patrick, apparently powerless to resist, is squeezing his eyes closed in agony. I swear to God, it looks as if his head's going to burst any second. After everything that's happened, it's as Patrick's about to lose to Keller again.

So I do the only thing I can do.

I run straight at them and I push Keller with all the strength in my body. It's not much. In fact, it barely even jolts him. But it's enough. Just enough. It gives Patrick a fraction of a second in which to twist loose. I slam into a wall and fall back to the floor, looking up in time to see Patrick turn to Keller.

I expect Patrick to kill Keller there and then.

I expect him to finish the fight.

Instead, he leans in to Keller, opens his mouth wide, and bites him on the neck.

Keller's eyes open wide and he stands there, accepting the bite. It's as if he's frozen to the spot, unable to comprehend what's happening to him.

After a few seconds of this bizarre scene, during which Keller seems completely unable or unwilling to struggle, Patrick lets go. Slowly, Keller feels the two marks on his neck where Patrick's teeth entered his body.

"Why?" Keller asks, unable to hide the sense of shock in his voice. There are tears streaming down his face. He's always wanted to be a vampire, and now he's got his wish. "I can feel it coursing through my body. My blood is changing, but why now? Why have you given me the greatest gift of all?" He looks over at me and for a moment his eyes seem to have turned yellow, and when he opens his mouth I see the two syringes fall out. They've been replaced by two new teeth, perfect fangs that have risen to take their place. I have no idea why Patrick has done this, but it's as if he's given Keller everything he wanted.

"I feel it," Keller says. "The flood. The essence of a whole new strength. I'm no longer human." He holds his hands up to look at them. "I feel the most immense power, I feel... I feel eternity ahead of me. Eternal life. Darkness and light." He turns to Patrick. "Thank you," he says. "I can never repay you for this."

Patrick stares at him. At first, I can't make out the expression on his face. It seems to be a cross between shock and pity. Nothing makes sense: why did he give Keller the one thing that Keller should never have had? Why did he reward Keller by allowing him to become a vampire?

"Look at me," Keller says, holding up his hands and staring at them with a look of true wonder in his eyes. "After all these years, it's finally happened! I'm a vampire!"

Suddenly, I understand the look on Patrick's face.

Rage.

Boiling throughout his body, rage is consuming Patrick. I've never seen him like this before. I've always known that he's powerful and strong, but I've never really seen the rage overflow in him like this before. As I watch, he steps toward Keller and then launches himself at him, knocking him to the ground and ripping a huge chunk of flesh from his chest. Keller reaches up to try to stop him, but by this point Patrick has pulled apart Keller's entire torso and has started to pull his spine into pieces. I have to look away, even though I see that Shelley is staring open-mouthed at the whole thing.

Eventually I look back and see Patrick, covered in blood, standing where Keller used to be. All around, there are pools of blood and lumps of flesh and bone. Patrick has literally ripped Keller apart with his bare hands.

"What..." says Shelley. "What... what..."

"
Patrick needed rage," says Vincent. "There's only one thing Patrick hates enough to summon up that kind of power." He turns to me. "Other vampires."

"Why does he hate other vampires so much?" asks Shelley, but Vincent doesn't reply.

I understand now. Patrick needed all his anger in the fight against Keller, but the only way to summon that anger was if he was fighting something he hated more than anything else in the world. He needed to be fighting a real vampire, not some kind of tin soldier, and so Keller got what he wanted, for just a moment, before his death, before Patrick was finally able to summon up the rage he needed to finish the job. Finally faced with another vampire again, after all these years, Patrick flew into a fury that no-one could ever hope to withstand.

"How can one person rip another one apart like that?" Shelley asks.

"He hates vampires," I say quietly.

"But
he's
a vampire," she points out.

I take a deep breath. "I know."

"What
is
this place, anyway?" Shelley asks, looking at me. "How do you know about all this? I mean, seriously... vampires?"

"It's a long story," I say. "I'll tell you later." It's true; I will. I'll tell her how I met Patrick, I'll tell her all about the werewolves and the Tenderling creature, and about everything that's happened. But there's still a problem. I turn to Vincent. "Are you still -"

He nods. "Let me handle this," he says.

I glance at Patrick. "Does he know?" I ask Vincent.

Vincent takes a deep breath. "Not yet," he says. "I must speak to him alone. This will not be easy."

"How long do you have?" I ask.

"Hours," says Vincent. "No more than that."

"You said Patrick was dead," I say. "Why should I believe you now?"

Vincent steps toward me. "I had to let you think Patrick was dead," he says. "However, I would give anything in the world to be able to tell you that I'm going to live. I'm just a human, like you. This day was always going to come."

I look over at Patrick. Still covered in Keller's blood, he stares at us. It's as if he knows that something's wrong, but at the same time it's clear from his eyes that he's still filled with the rage that he used in order to kill Keller. In fact, I don't dare go anywhere near him, because he seems to be... not himself. As I look at his rage-filled eyes, I'm not sure if he'll ever be the same again.

"Leave us," Vincent says, walking across the room. "Patrick and I must talk." He puts a hand on Patrick's shoulder. "You did well," he says, as if he's trying to calm him down. "You did very well."

Martin Keller

Many years ago

"Martin!"

I ignore it. It's just one more distraction. I really need to get a lock for the basement door.

"Martin!"

There's no point answering. I move around the table, checking for anything that might be out of place. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of gears and switches and systems are laid out before me. It's so complicated, so intricate, and so perfect.

"Martin!"

The door to the basement opens. I hate when she does this. She stomps down the wooden steps and storms over to me.

"Are you deaf?" she yells. "Seriously, Martin. Are you deaf?"

I shake my head.

"Didn't you hear me calling you?"

I nod. "I heard you, dear," I say. "I called back, but you didn't seem to hear me." I smile. "Perhaps
you're
the one who's deaf?"

She instantly jabs me in the ribs. It hurts, but I stay upright.

"I thought we had an agreement," she says. "Remember? You promised to stop playing with this rubbish and start being a real husband. Yes?"

I nod. I do, indeed, remember the agreement. However, I entered into it under duress, so I don't consider it to be binding. Besides, one only enters into - and adheres to - an agreement if one stands to benefit from doing so. Otherwise, what point is there?

"You don't care, do you?" she asks. "You're so wrapped up in your own little world, you don't care about anyone but yourself and this... thing!" She looks at the little community marked out on the table. There are little roads and houses, rivers and bridges, and winding between them is the most perfect little train line. It took me years to get the arrangement right. Years and years...

"I'm busy," I say.

"Oh, you're never busy!" she shouts. "You're always occupied with some waste of time, but you're never
busy.
Not like real men. You're never actually doing anything that's got anything to do with anything except this stupid train-set."

I consider the possibility that she might be right. After all, I
do
spend a lot of time down here. But that's not because I like train-sets. To be honest, I find them rather boring. It's just that they offer a certain distraction from... other concerns.

"This is going," she says firmly.

I pick up one of the train engines. Seven inches long, gleaming green paint, it's a perfect replica of a 1911 Henderson Gauge steam engine from the old Mississippi line.

"Do you hear me, Martin?" she says. "I've had enough. Tomorrow morning, this is all going."

I don't reply.

"Martin!"

I turn, pull her close to me and, finally, I ram the Henderson Gauge straight down her throat. She struggles, but she can't get away. I push the train further and further, and I don't stop, not even when blood starts splattering up from the depths of her mouth.

Finally, I let her go and she falls to the ground.

I don't know what killed her. Perhaps it was the Henderson Gauge blocking her airway. Perhaps it was loss of blood. Perhaps it was shock. But she's dead now, and it's an amazing feeling to fantasize about doing something for so long and then to finally do it.

"You're right," I say. "I'll pack it all up tomorrow."

I head over to the stairs. It's time to go up, have a glass of beer and decide what to do next. Still, I have time to think. It's ironic, in a way, that my loud wife is unlikely to be missed at all by anyone at all.

Sophie

I walk Shelley home, partly so I can talk to her and explain everything, and partly because I feel I need to give Patrick and Vincent some time alone. When we get to Shelley's house, I promise her that I'll explain everything when I get a chance. I tell her that it's complicated, but that it's important, and I make her promise she won't tell anyone what she saw, not even Rob. She agrees.

"No-one else knows about this?" she asks.

"Just you."

She smiles. "You could've told me sooner."

"I guess so," I say. "Thanks for following me. I'm pretty sure you saved my life."

She nods. "All in a day's work. Come and find me when you're ready to talk about it, yeah?"

"I promise."

Once I've left Shelley behind, I decide that I have to go back to the cavern. When I get down there, it seems at first that there's no-one about. When I was told Patrick was dead, a part of me still held out hope that it wasn’t true. Now that Patrick is back but Vincent is dying, I can't help wondering if maybe there can be another miracle.

The problem is, I've only ever known Patrick when Vincent is around. I've always seen Vincent as a force that stabilizes Patrick and keeps him from become whatever kind of monster lurks within. The truth is, I'm scared of the thought of Patrick living without Vincent, because I'm terrified that Patrick will finally be free of the only influence that keeps him under control.

I can hear movement in Vincent's room. At first, I loiter outside. I don't know whether I'm supposed to go in, whether I'd be welcome or whether I'd be intruding. Eventually I decide to enter, to see what's happening and to find out if I can help. Even if there’s nothing I can do, I want to be there when Vincent passes away. As I enter the room, I see that he's sleeping now, with Patrick sitting watching him. I come close to them, and I put my hand on Patrick’s shoulder.

“
Is it true?” I ask. “Is he really dying?”

Patrick stares at me for a moment, and then - finally - he nods. It
’s one of the few times he’s ever really responded to anything I’ve said to him. After a moment, he turns, reaches out a hand and brushes the old, gray hair from across Vincent’s face.

"Leave us for a moment," Vincent says suddenly, barely able to speak.

I turn to go, but Patrick puts a hand on my shoulder, as if he wants me to stay. As he heads out of the room, I realize that he was the one Vincent was asking to leave the room.

"Come closer," Vincent whispers. Once I'm sitting next to him, he manages a smile. "I got this all wrong," he says. "I thought I'd have time to help you, but I won't."

"You don't have to help me," I say.

"You must go to Gothos," he replies. "You and Patrick, and you must take The Lock with you. You'll understand when you get there. There will be people waiting to receive you. You have to help Patrick play his final role in the history of the vampires."

"Okay," I say, nodding but not really understanding any of this. "I thought all the other vampires were dead."

"They are," Vincent says, "but there are ghosts to be taken care of. They're all around, in the forest, in the city, everywhere. They're waiting to be released. After Gothos, the old vampires will be dead forever, in every form." He coughs. "The prophecy has asserted itself once again. The Book of Gothos won't allow any deviation, not for long."

I nod. I still don't really get it, but I guess I'll figure it out when we get to this Gothos place.

"You can't die," I say. "You told me that there's always a way. You said that no matter how bad things get, there's always a way out if you're smart enough to find it. So come on, Vincent. Find the way out. If Martin Keller bit you and poisoned you, find a way to defeat the poison." I stare at him, and I can see he's fading away. "Do something," I urge him.

"Sometimes," he says, "the only thing to do is to make sure your death save the lives of others."

I think about his death. "Will we ever see you again?" I ask.

"Death is death," he says. "I don't know what happens next, but I don't think I'll be coming back this way again." He tries to laugh, but just ends up coughing.

"And the prophecy?" I ask. "You said there was a prophecy. You told me that Patrick's going to kill me one day."

Vincent smiles. "Prophecy is prophecy," he says. "You can't change what is to come."

There's silence for a couple of minutes, and Vincent's breathing is getting slower.

"I'll get Patrick," I say. I go to move, but Vincent takes my hand.

"When I was young," he says, his voice weak. "I learned that my father didn't need a son." He breathes slowly, carefully. "I learned that my father needed a father."

My heart turns heavy as I realize the truth.

"Patrick isn't my father by blood," Vincent whispers, "but he raised me. As I got older, I realized that he needed a father figure, so that's what I became. Over the years, I aged while he seemed to stay the same. He's strong and powerful, but he's still so confused."

Hearing a noise over by the door, I turn to see that Patrick has come back into the room.

"
I'm sorry," I say.

He
keeps his gaze fixed on Vincent, but I swear that for a moment I see a hint of tears in his eyes.

“
He’s not dead yet,” I say. It’s all I can think to say to try to make Patrick feel better. “He can still fight this, maybe you’ll find a way...” I stop talking. Somehow, everything I say feels empty and useless.

I look at Vincent
’s eyes, which are staring up at me, and I realize something. He’s already dead. It happened while I was looking at Patrick.

I gently slip my hand from his.

Slowly, I lean my head against Patrick’s shoulder. We sit there, the two of us, with Vincent's dead body laid out in front of us. I have so many questions, but I guess this isn't the moment. Now is the time to grieve, to remember Vincent, and to consider how we’re going to go on without him. I keep expecting Patrick to push me away, to turn and storm angrily out of the room, but he doesn't. Instead, he stays where he is, letting me keep my head on his shoulder.