Dark Season: The Complete Box Set (62 page)

Bowie

Cassandra's body is carried out of the tent. Although we have been mortal for only a few decades, we have developed our own ritual for dealing with the dead. Perhaps this is how all societies develop: the members note the corpses of their comrades, and decide to honor their passing. However, it's different for us, because for so many centuries we lived without the fear that we might one day die. We watched others disappear into the void of nothingness, and we laughed at them. Now we are weak ourselves, and prone to dying. We do not laugh so much.

Our dead are carefully washed, and then their naked bodies are burned on a large funeral pyre. We wash them so they are clean, and then we burn them so that they can never become dirty again. We have burned a handful of our own in recent years, and now it's Cassandra's turn. I watch as one of the other women lays her body out under a nearby cover and begins to strip her naked, ready to be cleaned.

"What happened?" asks the Elder, approaching me.

"Pa -" I start to say.

"Don't lie to me, Bowie," he says, interrupting me. "I want to know how she died, and I want the truth."

I take a deep breath. Although I'm offended by his tone, I would prefer not to get into an argument with him. "Patrick killed her," I say, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on Cassandra's body, which is naked now and being washed. "She was checking his wounds, and suddenly he seemed to stir. Without a word, he just reached up and snapped her neck." I take a deep breath and turn to the Elder. "We can at least take comfort in the thought that her death was quick, and that she probably didn't have time to realize what was happening. I just wish I could have acted in time to save her."

The Elder looks back at the tent where Patrick's injured and wounded body remains on the bed. "He seems to be unconscious again," he says. "Are you
sure
he did this? Their history -"

"I was there," I say firmly. "I witnessed it."

The Elder sighs. "Cassandra and Patrick went back a long way. I never would have thought that he would hurt her. In fact, I was always sure that the only reason he allowed us to live on as humans was that he couldn't bring himself to kill her. He must have been fevered and insane; he must not have realized what he was doing."

"He realized," I say. "I saw his eyes. He wasn't crazed. He looked up, saw Cassandra and chose to kill her."

The Elder pauses. "So what do we do?"

"What I always said we should do," I reply. "He's dying. We might never have another opportunity to kill him. If we allow him to strengthen, he'll be able to stop us with ease. We wanted to kill him long ago, and we failed. This time we have an opportunity. Shouldn't we use it? Look what he did to Cassandra. Do you really believe that he'll spare the rest of us? It'd be foolish to nurse our executioner back to health."

The Elder shakes his head. "You're right," he says eventually. "He's dangerous, and he can't be permitted to remain among us. The only question is whether we slaughter him, or leave him out to die."

"Either approach will work," I say, "but if we choose to slaughter him, I volunteer to wield the ax. I'll cut him into chunks and scatter the pieces. There'll be no hope of resurrection. He'll be dead forever."

"You seem keen to end his life," the Elder replies. "Vengeance should not guide our actions."

"We'll have to consider it later," I say, looking past the Elder and seeing movement among the trees. "I believe we have visitors."

We watch as two soaked figures emerge from the darkness. The first of them is a man who has dark, piercing eyes and a confident air about him; the second is a girl who looks to have the weight of the world on her shoulders. The pair of them immediately spot us, and they walk toward us cautiously.

"Who are they?" I whisper to the Elder.

"Whoever they are," he replies, "they must surely be linked to our other unexpected guest."

"My name is Charles Nimrod," says the male as he reaches us. He looks around at the tents, and I notice the moment when his eyes fall upon Patrick's prone form. There's something about this Nimrod character that immediately sets me on edge, and he has a confident demeanor that makes me think he's hiding something.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

He turns to me. "I'm lost. Well,
we're
lost." He pauses. "Actually, we're looking for someone. We have reason to believe he might be among you."

"There's no-one among us who could be of interest to you," says the Elder. "We can provide you with shelter, and we can help you dry your clothes, but that's all we have to offer. You must leave swiftly and not come back, is that understood?"

The girl steps forward. "Is he here?" she asks. "Did you find Patrick?"

I lean behind the Elder and pull a cover over the entrance to the tent. I'm positive that Nimrod saw Patrick, but I'm not sure about the girl.

"This is Sophie," Nimrod says. "She has certain business to conclude with Patrick, as do I. We're merely seeking him for a short conversation about some delicate matters."

"He's not here," the Elder says, but there's a rise in his voice that gives away the lie.

Nimrod smiles. "Please," he snorts, "would you lie to a visitor?"

"I don't know who you are," the Elder says, "but -"

"He's here," I say, interrupting. The Elder casts me an annoyed glance, but I just smile. "We found him. We brought him back here to try to save him, and he repaid our generosity by attacking and killing one of our own. If you don't believe me, look in that tent." I indicate the tent in which Cassandra's body is being cleaned. "He's an animal. Nothing more, nothing less. A crazed, dangerous animal. What could either of you possibly want with him?"

"I have questions," Sophie says. "I need to know something."

"I wish for just a moment alone with him," Nimrod says. "Just a few seconds would be enough."

"We are still debating -" the Elder says.

"Patrick is set to die," I say, interrupting him again. "There's no way we can justify keeping him alive after he killed one of our women. If he were healthy, it would be difficult to find a way to kill him, but he's sick and wounded so we can just leave him out in the forest to die. It's a solution that seems to offer a great deal of opportunity, with minimal risk."

"You can't kill him," Sophie says. "I need to talk to him."

"He's a menace and a danger," I say. "He should have been killed long ago. We're merely doing what other people should have done. Cassandra was good to him, yet now she's being prepared for burning because Patrick couldn't recognize an honest person."

"Cassandra?" Nimrod asks. "Is she dead?"

"You know her?" I reply.

He nods. "I met her once, briefly. I know she was close to Patrick, a long time ago."

I smile. "Patrick has always had a habit of consorting with ladies. Some of them are impressive like Cassandra, and some of them..." I glance at Sophie. "Some of them are not," I add. I can't imagine why Patrick would ever have chosen to consort with this pathetic little human. She's plain and looks like a fool. What did he see in her?

"I can see that you're determined to have Patrick killed," Nimrod says. "I can also see that I have little hope of changing your mind. All I would ask, therefore, is that Sophie and I are allowed a little time alone with him. After all, we have known him for a long time, and we have come a long way. It seems only fair that you would allow us to take a moment with him to say goodbye. Other lives are in the balance."

The Elder turns to me. "I see no reason why they shouldn't," he says. "It'll take us time to prepare a fire to burn his body, and there's nothing they can do for him."

"Fine," I say. "You may go in and speak to him. He's not even conscious anyway, but be aware that as soon as the fire is ready, we'll come for him. We'll burn him alive. If he screams, he screams, but he
will
to die tonight."

"Thank you," Nimrod says. "Your generosity is much appreciated."

"Generosity?" Sophie asks.

"Yes!" Nimrod says, clearly trying to get her to be quiet. "Generosity! These fine gentlemen are being uncommonly generous, and we should be grateful. Now let's go in and see Patrick. I'm getting the feeling that we don't have much time."

They head into the tent, leaving me standing alone with the Elder. "There must be no second thoughts," I say. "No mercy. He killed Cassandra, and we must kill him. It's a simple law of the natural world."

"I know," the Elder says. "But remember to treat the occasion with a degree of solemnity, Bowie. This is a man, after all, and we're executing him. We should not be too celebratory. And first, we must bid farewell to Cassandra's body."

We walk over to the tent where Cassandra is laid out naked. She has the most wonderful body I've ever seen, and I regret very much that I was never able to take her to my bed. I also regret, very much, that I was forced to kill her, but had I not done so, I believe she would have found a way to persuade the others to let Patrick go, and that is something that I could never allow to happen. Cassandra had to die, in order to ensure Patrick's death. It's a high price, but one that I feel had to be paid.

Revenge is never easy, but it's always worth the trouble.

Sophie

Patrick's naked body has been laid out on a makeshift bed, with a small lamp nearby casting a dull glow over the room. He's completely still, except for the slow rising and falling of his chest as he breathes. His body seems to have been scrubbed clean but there are still several wounds, including a nasty chunk missing from his shoulder. He's got a fever, too, with sweat on his forehead. As I get closer, I see his eyes flickering as if he's dreaming. I've never seen him like this before. He looks weak and sick, as if all his strength is gone.

"I thought he couldn't die," I say quietly, keen not to disturb him.

"It takes a lot to kill a vampire," Nimrod replies, his voice also remaining quiet, "but it can be done. After he was turned to stone, Patrick eventually returned to life, but he was weak. When he got washed away by the river, he wasn't strong enough to withstand the battering he received. With the right treatment and some time, he'd certainly be able to recover, but given the circumstances..." He steps forward and puts a hand on Patrick's forehead. "He's burning up. He might not even last long enough for those people to execute him."

I walk around the bed, staring at Patrick's body. "They think he killed someone," I say.

Nimrod nods. "Cassandra. Did you ever meet her?"

I shake my head.

"She was a vampire, like Patrick. When he killed all the other vampires, he took pity on Cassandra and her associates and allowed them to relinquish their powers. That's when they became human, but while Cassandra never held this against Patrick, the others... They hate him, and they want him dead."

"You want him dead too," I say. "You said it yourself."

"True," Nimrod replies. "I always thought I'd have to sacrifice myself in the process. All I wanted to do was to stop Patrick causing pain to others. I thought there'd be a huge battle, but now it seems he's going out with a whimper rather than a bang. In some ways, it's quite tragic that such a magnificent specimen should die in such a pathetic manner. Still, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity to end his existence. It can't be ignored. You have no idea how much pain and suffering this creature has caused. Thousands of people have died in agony because of his actions, and he's not finished yet, not unless we end his life."

"Help me save him," I say, keeping my eyes on Patrick's face. "Please help me. I don't care what it costs, I'll give you anything. Just help me. He's the only one who knows where we can find Abigail."

Nimrod shakes his head. "I'm not sure he'll ever be strong enough to help you."

I lean over Patrick. "Wake up!" I urge him, shaking his arm. "Patrick, it's me! You have to get out of here! They're going to kill you!"

Nimrod laughs. "That's not going to work," he says. "Look at him. He's so weak, he can't even open his eyes. He might not even wake up before they execute him. It'd be a shame if he didn't get to see the faces of those who'll end his life, but beggars can't be chosers." He stares at me. "Listen to me, Sophie. We can find Abigail without Patrick. It might take a little longer, but she'll be so much safer, and whatever feelings you have for Patrick, remember what he did to you. Even if he loves you, he can't change. Either you let him die, or he lives and the prophecy will be fulfilled and one day he'll kill you. It's not like you have a choice, anyway. You can't stop these people from destroying his body. I admire you for wanting to try, but you'll fail and you might even find that they throw you on the pyre with him."

I stare down at Patrick. "Can I have a moment alone with him?" I ask. When Nimrod doesn't answer, I look over at him. "It's not like I can put him over my shoulder and carry him out of here. Can I just have one moment alone with him before he dies?"

Nimrod nods. "But not too long. I need to..." He doesn't finish the sentence, instead turning and walking out of the tent.

"So here we are," I say, sitting next to Patrick. I take a small towel from the side of the bed and try to mop the sweat from his brow. "Can you hear me?"

I wait for a reply.

Nothing.

"Where's Abigail?" I ask. "That's the only thing I need you to tell me now. I need you to tell me where she is. If you're gone, she's going to need me."

Nothing.

"Come on," I say, starting to get desperate. Patrick has always seemed so strong, so how come he's suddenly become so weak? I thought he could live forever. "Please, just talk to me." I pause. "Did you tell Shelley?" I ask. "Is that what you whispered in her ear?"

I wait for a response, but there's nothing. I don't think he can even hear me. I look up and see Nimrod shuffling around near the door. He'll be back in soon.

"Forget about me. Forget about everything except Abigail. She's all that matters now. She's out there somewhere, alone. She needs her parents, and if she can't have both of us, at least let her have me." I pause for a moment, trying to work out how to get through to him. "The daughter of the last vampire. She's not going to have an easy life, is she? There'll be...
things
coming after her, won't there? And what about this Nimrod guy? Can I trust him? Can't you just tell me something? You spoke to Shelley, why can't you speak to me?"

I wait.

Nothing.

Nimrod steps back into the tent. "There's not much time," he says. "They're burning Cassandra. Patrick's next."

I feel a sickening, cold sense of dread spreading through my body. The idea that these people could take Patrick out and burn him alive is shocking, but there's nothing I can do to stop them. Their hatred seems to have consumed them, turning them into a murderous mob. Perhaps from their point of view Patrick deserves to die, but I can't help thinking that they're not really considering the implications of their actions. He's the last of his species.

"Do they really hate him so much?" I ask. "Are they really prepared to murder him?"

"They see it as an execution," Nimrod replies. "For all the pain and misery he caused them when he forced them to become human."

"But that doesn't mean they have a right to kill him," I say.

"Maybe," Nimrod says, "or maybe not. But whether or not they have the right is immaterial. They have the power. They've lived for decades, consumed by rage, waiting and hoping for a chance to gain revenge. Now that such a chance has dropped into their laps, do you really think they're going to just turn away?"

"We have to save him," I say. "We have to find a way to stop this."

He shakes his head. "No," he says. "We really don't. He's caused enough damage and pain. The world will be a better place without him. Your daughter will have a better, safer life if he's dead."

"You don't know that," I say.

"I do," he replies. "I've seen what happens to children if Patrick is in their lives. It's not good. If you'd seen what became of Gwendoline, you'd understand."

I look down at Patrick's face. "Why won't he wake up?" I ask.

"He's too badly hurt," Nimrod replies. "His body's weak and he can't heal fast enough." He pauses. "I need a moment alone with him."

Although I want to argue with him, I stand up and leave the tent. As soon as I get outside, I see a large fire burning nearby, its light bright against the night sky. At the heart of the fire, there's a small platform on which the others have placed Cassandra's naked body. As I watch, the body crinkles and burns. It's almost hypnotic, watching as the flesh is burned away. For a moment, I can make out the profile of her face, but the skin burns away and soon there's nothing left but the profile of a skull. An acrid smell fills the air as her skin, hair and finally her bones are consumed by the fire.

Turning to look back into the tent, I see Nimrod leaning over Patrick, speaking to him excitedly. Patrick's still unconscious, but there's clearly some urgency to the things that Nimrod is saying. Looking at Nimrod's face, I see anger and hatred in his eyes. He's pursued Patrick for so long, and now he's close to the moment when he'll see his enemy finally killed. Is Nimrod right? Will the world be a better place if Patrick dies? Will
my
world be a better place? Will Abigail be safer, or will she be in even more danger?

I turn back to look at the fire. Cassandra's body is still just about visible through the flames. Can I really stand by and watch while the same thing happens to Patrick? The thought of watching his death fills me with fear, as if the idea of a world without Patrick's presence is suddenly a terrifying prospect. Even when Patrick was at his worst, I felt that he provided some kind of stabilizing force. If he's gone, it's as if I'll be cast adrift and lost, but there's no way to get him away from these people. I feel completely powerless.

I step back into the tent. "Time's up," I say.

Nimrod nods. "I've said everything I wanted to say."

"And what was that?" I ask.

He smiles. "Some things are best kept private, don't you think?"

"Are you really going to let them burn him?"

"I think it's the right thing to do. And even if I didn't, there's no way I can stop them. I'm not like Patrick; I can't take on hundreds of people. I'm just a man, more or less." He smiles. "That's part of the problem, really. I'm just a man, like all the other men. I have very few distinguishing characteristics. There's very little that makes me special." He gazes down at Patrick. "I could have been more, but it wasn't to be. Perhaps if Patrick had made different choices, I'd be able to help him."

"Do you promise me we can find Abigail?" I say. "Do you promise you'll help me?"

Nimrod nods again. "I promise," he says. "I've lived for the moment when Patrick dies, and I always thought I'd die at the same time. Now that the moment arrives, I have to find something else to occupy my time. So I'll help you. If Abigail can be found, we'll find her, even without Patrick. I promise you." He heads to the door and looks out at the fire. "It won't be long now."

I look out at the fire and see that Cassandra's body has vanished into the flames. The others are standing and watching, but soon they'll turn and come for Patrick. I look around, hoping one final time to spot some way I can stop them, but there's nothing. All I see are a group of tents. I step toward the fire, feeling the heat against my face, and I look over and see the smiling faces of the others. It's almost as if they're enjoying this ritual, as if they're looking forward to carrying Patrick's body out and watching him die.

I stare at them.

Maybe I can't stop them burning Patrick.

But I
can
make sure that they don't get to watch him die.

I hurry over to one of the tents and grab one of the oil lamps, and then I grab some wood from near the fire. Holding the wood in one of the smaller fires that illuminate the rest of the camp, it takes me a moment to get it burning. As soon as it's ready, I hurry back to the tent where Patrick is still unconscious.

"What are you doing?" Nimrod asks, though he seems more curious than alarmed.

"This," I say, throwing the oil lamp into the tent. It smashes on the ground, spilling oil everywhere. "And this," I add, throwing the burning wood inside. There's a huge roar as the flame hits the oil, and within seconds there's a massive fire in the center of the tent. The heat is so intense, it forces us to step back, and within seconds the flames are up to the canvas roof and are burning through to reach the night sky. At this rate, the entire tent will be destroyed in a matter of minutes.

"Goodbye," I say under my breath, barely able to see Patrick's body beyond the flames.

"What are you doing?" shouts a voice from nearby. The others run over to see what's happening, but it's already too late and the tent containing Patrick is burning fast.

"That was brave," Nimrod says to me. "Brave and foolish. I don't think I can protect you from them."

"At least they won't get to watch at him as he dies," I say, staring at the flames and imagining them starting to reach Patrick's body. "At least, when we find Abigail, I won't have to tell her that I allowed her father to be burned to death by a baying mob."

Bowie storms over to me. "Did you do this?" he shouts. There's anger in his eyes. He was clearly looking forward to watching Patrick's body burn, and now I've denied him that prize.

I nod. "If he -" I start to say, but Bowie grabs me by the collar and pulls me close to him. He leans into my face, almost snarling with anger. "He's going to die anyway," I say, looking up at him. "But at least this way, you don't get to watch."

"You're very loyal to him," Bowie says angrily, "and very stupid. But if I can't watch Patrick's body burn, at least I'll be able to watch yours." Grabbing my arm, he pulls me toward the burning tent and throws me into the flames. I try to hold myself back, but it's no use and all I can do is close my eyes as I feel the heat engulf me.