Dark Season: The Complete Box Set (65 page)

Sophie

I want to argue with her. I want to tell her that she's wrong, that Patrick wouldn't do something like this. But I can't. I know, deep down, that Patrick
would
do something like this. The last thing I remember is being carried from the tents, so I guess it was Patrick who was taking me away. He must have recovered from his injuries, but why would he decide to lock me up like this? Is this his way of making sure that I don't find a way to get to Abigail?

"Patrick!" I shout, looking up. Maybe he's still there, but the top of the well is covered, so he's probably long gone. "Let me out of here!" I bang on the stone walls, but all I manage to do is hurt my hands. "You can't do this!"

"Forget Patrick," Twomoney says, her voice echoing in the depths of the dark well. "He's going to forget us, so we should do the same to him."

"Why did he put me down here?" I ask, turning to the direction from which her voice is coming.

"Who knows?" she replies.

I pause. "Wait," I say. "Why did he put you down here?"

"Me?" she asks. "I don't know. The same reason he put you down here, maybe?"

"You had a child?" I ask.

"A child?" she says. "What child?"

"There's a baby," I say. "Her name's Abigail. He... We... He wants her. I think he's put me down here so that I can't stop him from getting to her."

Silence fills the darkness for a moment. "A baby?" Twomoney says slowly, her voice filled with wonder. "A real baby?"

"What do you know about Patrick?" I ask. "How did you meet him?"

"It was a long time ago," she says. "I don't know why, but he seemed interested in me."

"Me too," I say. "It was as if he'd been waiting for me."

"I was so young back then," she says. "I was convinced I was going to run away from my village one day and go somewhere like New York, and become a huge star. I thought I'd have all the money in the world, and all the love. I was pretty back then, you know. I really was. I could have been a movie star. But I've been down here a long time now, and the rats keep biting. I'd hate to see myself in a mirror these days."

"How many rats are there?" I ask.

"Just one or two at a time," she says. "They come from somewhere. Sometimes there aren't any for a few days, but then one always arrives." She pauses. "They're juicy. Sometimes I think Patrick makes sure they're here, so I can eat."

"Great," I say. "How considerate of him."

"I was terrified when I first met him," Twomoney says. "I thought he wanted to kill me. Then my fear subsided, and for a while I wasn't sure what to think. And then..."

"Then what?" I ask.

"And then it turned out I'd been right to fear him all along," she says. "Look at what he's done to us. Look at where we are. I became inconvenient to him, but instead of killing me he locked me down here so he could forget about me. And now he's done the same thing to you. Who knows? If we're really lucky, maybe one day he'll throw someone else down too? Then we can have a real party."

"I'm not staying down here," I say. "There's no way. I'm going to find a way out."

"I've tried," she says. "There's nothing. You can't do it. The only way we're getting out of here is if Patrick decides it's time. But after all these years, I'm pretty sure that'll never happen."

I pause, trying to think of some way out. "He didn't put us down here to forget about us," I say eventually. "He put us down here to protect us. To keep us safe from something..."

Twomoney laughs. "Tell yourself that if you wish," she says, "but that way lies madness. You have to be careful and focus on retaining your sanity, otherwise you'll become quite mad. Believe me, it's been a struggle. I can help you. After a while, you'll find that life down here is bearable."

I open my mouth to argue, but I hear a squeak followed by a rustling sound, and then a crunch that sounds like someone eating something.

"Rat?" Twomoney asks, sounding like her mouth is full.

"What?" I ask.

"Are you hungry?" she says. "I'll share a rat with you."

I step back. "No. Thanks."

"It doesn't taste bad," she insists. "Here, try some."

"Keep it away from me!" I say, holding out my hands in case she comes too close.

"Suit yourself," she says. "But if you won't eat rat, you'll starve." I hear the sound of her continuing to eat, as she rips flesh and bone from the rat's body. "You'll change your mind soon," she says, her mouth full again. "You'll have to. As soon as you get hungry enough."

"No way," I say. "I'm going to find a way out of here somehow."

"Good luck," Twomoney says, but I can tell from the tone of her voice that she doesn't really mean it. She's been down here so long, she's given up. But there has to be a way out, and I'm going to find it and then I'm going to find Patrick, and then... well, I don't know what I'll do, but I'll do something.

"The end is coming," Twomoney says softly.

"What?" I ask.

"The end is coming," she says again. "Sooner than you think. The prophecy doesn't lie." There's a pause, and then she speaks again, her voice much, much closer to my ear this time. "You can't get out of here. Not ever."

Twomoney

Many years ago.

The wooden walls of the house creak as wind buffets from all directions. There's a small storm building in the darkness and, as I stare at the bolted window, I can't help but wonder what's happening out there. It must be close to midnight, and everyone else is either asleep or trying to get some rest. But it's so noisy: there's the sound of the creaking walls, and the sound of things being blown around outside, and the sound of the tall grass rustling in the distance. To be honest, with all this noise, an elephant could probably sneak up on me right now, so what chance do I have of listening out for a vampire?

I have no idea how vampires attack, anyway. Would he come to the window, or would he try the door? Would he come from above, or from below? Would he use intelligence and cunning to slowly pick at the lock, or would he smash down the walls? Or would he be patient, preferring to wait for another night when perhaps someone forgets to slide a bolt across? I'm dealing with a creature of which I know nothing, although I have strong suspicions about one thing: I'm absolutely certain that he's interested in me, and I feel certain that he's watching the house tonight. With a sudden moment of fright, it occurs to me that perhaps the storm is his creation; what better way would there be to hide my dying screams, than to have the whole village enveloped in the sound of a noisy storm?

There's a part of me that wants to get this over with, to just go outside and offer myself to him. After all, if he's really as powerful as I fear, then I have no hope of ever escaping him. I should just accept the inevitable and let him do whatever he wants. I'm fifteen, and I've lived a fairly good life. Instead of spending my final days running in fear, perhaps I should just surrender to the vampire's embrace. Perhaps he wouldn't even kill me. Perhaps he'd turn me into a vampire, and then I'd be better than everyone else in the village. Reaching a hand up to touch the side of my neck, I imagine what it would be like to be bitten. One moment of pain, in return for eternal life and absolute power...

Hearing a sudden noise in the room, I look over toward the door but see that it's still shut. I listen some more. I'm sure I heard a noise close to the bed. With only the light of the moon by which to see, I keep scanning the shadows, but I'm confident that there's no-one else in here. And then I realize that there's one final place that I haven't checked: under the bed. I swallow hard and roll over to the side. Taking a deep breath and deciding that there's no point delaying, I lean down and take a look. At first, I'm relieved when I see that there's nothing under the bed at all.

But then I see him.

Just his feet.

He's standing on the other side of the bed. I see a pair of dark boots, and I know - I just know - that it's him. I sit up slowly in the bed, not daring to look round at him. But I can feel his eyes on me.

"I know you're there," I say, feeling the skin on the back of my neck tingle. "I saw your boots."

No reply. Why doesn't he speak?

"I saw you earlier today. What do you want with me? If you want to turn me into a vampire, you must know that I'm not entirely against the idea but I'd like to set some ground rules first."

Still no reply. Is he mute?

"I..." I start to say, but I pause. Time passes. "I can't stop you," I say eventually. "You can do anything you like to me, and I can't save myself. You have all the power, and I have none. Do you realize that?"

Still nothing. If only he'd say something. But I know he's there.

"My name is Twomoney," I say. "I don't have a second name. Just Twomoney."

I wait a little longer, but still he says nothing. Finally, determined to find out whether he's really there or not, I turn to look.

He's there.

Staring down at me with those same dark eyes, his inscrutable impression is impossible to read. Does he hate me? Does he like me? Does he want to kill me, or to help me? There's no way to tell. I just stare up at him and I feel utterly helpless. Screaming wouldn't work; I'm absolutely certain that by the time help arrived, either I'd be dead or he'd be gone. I feel as if he's in total control, and I must just wait and see what he wants to do.

"Are you going to hurt me?" I ask.

He shakes his head. Finally, some kind of response.

"Not even a little?" I ask.

He narrows his eyes.

"Whatever you want," I say, "you might as well take it. I can't stop you, and I won't prolong the agony by fighting you. So just do it. Whatever you want from me, or whatever you want to give me, or however you want to change me, just do it, okay?"

No response. Great. For a moment, he seemed to be opening up.

"Can't you talk?" I ask. I stare at him, waiting for an answer. "Why can't you talk?" I ask eventually. "Is it because you can't, or because you won't?" Feeling a little braver than before, I look deep into his eyes. "I think you think you're not allowed to talk," I say eventually. "You don't look stupid to me, so I'm certain that you could talk if you wanted to talk. So you're choosing not to, because you think you mustn't." I pause. "What do you think would happen if you talked?"

He stares at me.

"Something bad?" I ask. "That's stupid, that's -" I stop talking, suddenly realizing that I'm babbling. Fear's fueling me, and I don't really understand anything about the vampire's world. For all I know, he might be right and talking would be a terrible thing.

I wait for a moment. Time passes.

"Do it," I say quietly. "Whatever you want to do, please do it. Even if you mean to kill me." I stare at him and, when he doesn't respond, I simply close my eyes and wait. It has to happen, doesn't it? He didn't come all this way just to stare at me. With my eyes closed, I listen out for any sound that might indicate movement, but there's nothing. It's as if he's still just standing there, watching me.

"I can't promise not to struggle," I say. "If what you do hurts me, I might not be able to help myself. But I'm sure you'll be able to overpower me anyway."

I wait. Time passes. I open my eyes. He's not there anymore. I stare at the space where he used to be. Did I scare him away? Did I bore him? Having feared his arrival all evening, now I find myself feeling sad that he's gone. And I -

I pause.

A whole new rush of fear hits me, turning my blood cold and making my skin shiver.

He's not gone.

He's just moved. He's behind me.

I turn my head to the left and see that he's leaning right down toward me, his fangs bared and his eyes focused on my bare neck. There's a part of me that wants to run or scream, but I just stay where I am as he move closer and closer, and finally I feel the sharp tips of his fangs start to press against my bare skin.

Sophie

After a few minutes of climbing, I finally manage to get a few feet up the wall. I've never really climbed anything before in my life, but the large stones are rough and have small gaps into which I can fit my fingers, so I figure I have a chance. I've taken off my shoes and socks so that I can try to get a better grip with my toes, but it's slow and tiring work. I've no idea how deep the well is, but at this rate it's going to take me hours and hours to get to the top, and even then I have to find some way to remove the covering. But I have to keep trying. What's the alternative? Sit and -

Suddenly my foot slips. I try to hold tight, but it's too late and I fall back down to the bottom, slamming hard into the stone floor. "Fuck!" I shout.

"Told you so," says Twomoney from a distance.

I slowly get to my feet.

"You have no idea how many times I tried to climb out," Twomoney continues. "I spent maybe two years just trying and trying. Every time - every single time - I fell. Even the time I got all the way to the top. There's a heavy covering over the top of the well. How do you expect to move that while you're hanging desperately to the wall by your fingertips?"

"Then what do I do?" I ask. "Give up?"

"Perhaps," she says, her voice getting closer, "or you could do what I did."

"What's that?" I ask.

"Wait for something to change." I hear her voice moving around me, as if she's circling me. "Wait for some kind of opportunity to arise, and be ready to use it when it comes."

"What kind of opportunity?" I ask.

There's a pause. "You," she says eventually.

"Me?"

"Yes," she says, still moving around me, but getting closer. "After all these years, suddenly you've arrived. I have to wonder what it means."

"It means Patrick decided to get rid of me, the same way he decided to get rid of you," I say.

"I know," she continues, "but Patrick's not a fool. He didn't forget that I'm down here, and I'm sure he suspected that I'm still alive. Yet he knowingly put the two of us together like this. For what purpose?"

"I have no idea," I say, turning and going over to the wall again. I'm going to try climbing one more time. I was doing so well last time, if I hadn't made that one little mistake I might have made it to the top. Taking a deep breath, I reach up and dig my fingertips in between the stones, before trying to find some kind of grip with my toes.

"It won't work," Twomoney says. "You're wasting so much precious energy. At least have a rat before you try again."

"No thanks," I say, hauling myself a couple of feet up the wall.

"Please," Twomoney says, "for my sake. It pains me so much to see you suffering like this."

"When I make it," I say, "I'll find a rope and rescue you too."

"That's very nice of you," Twomoney continues, her voice sounding a little deflated, "but I won't hold my breath."

"No, I -" I start to say, but I lose my footing and fall once again, landing hard on my shoulder. "Fuck!" I shout again. I scrabble around to get up, and as I do so I feel something small and plastic against my hand. I try to pick it up, but I accidentally knock it away.

"What was that?" Twomoney asks, with a sense of curiosity in her voice. "I heard something on the floor, what was it?"

I pause. "I think it was my phone," I say.

"Phone?" Twomoney asks.

I get on my hands on knees and start feeling around for the phone. "My mobile phone," I tell her, desperately searching for it. "Maybe I can call help."

"What's a mobile phone?" Twomoney asks.

"It's a small phone. It's got plenty of battery, so I might be able to use it to call someone to get us out of here. I thought I'd lost it, but it must have fallen out of my pocket when I fell down here." No matter how I try to find it, though, it's nowhere.

"Is this is?" Twomoney asks, and I hear her picking something up.

"Give it to me," I say.

"Not so fast," she replies. "How do I know you'll call for help for both of us?"

"If they come and rescue me," I say, trying not to lose my patience, "they'll rescue you at the same time. Give me the phone."

"I'll use it," she says. "Tell me how it works."

"I can't," I say. "Just give it to me. What do you think I'm going to do, get rescued and then seal you down here again?"

"Maybe," she replies. "Maybe Patrick won't let you rescue me."

"Patrick's not in charge," I say. "Give me the damn phone. We can be out of here in an hour."

"An hour?" Twomoney asks. "Here," she says.

I reach out, and it takes me a while to find anything, but suddenly my hand brushes against the phone. I grab hold of it, and for a moment I feel Twomoney's skin against my own as our hands make contact.

"Can I watch how it works?" Twomoney asks.

"Knock yourself out," I say, switching the phone on. Miraculously, the screen comes on as the phone powers up. I wait for the screen to come on properly, and finally I see the welcome photo of me and Shelley. It takes another moment before the phone's properly working, but to my dismay I see that I don't have any signal.

"Damn it!" I say. It must be the stone walls of the well. I look up. Maybe if I can get to the top, I can get a signal.

"Is it working?" Twomoney asks. "Did you call for help yet?"

"No," I say. "I need to get higher; I can't get a signal down here."

"You need to get to the top?" she asks.

"Yeah," I say. "Or as close as I can."

"Come over here," Twomoney says, and I hear her shuffling away from me. Following carefully, I reach out a hand to make sure I don't walk straight into the wall. "Here," she continues. "This side is better for climbing. That side you were on before isn't any good."

"Thanks," I say. "You could have told me that before."

"Maybe I should climb," she says. "I'm better than you, and faster."

"You don't know how to work a phone," I say, putting the phone in my pocket and starting to climb. Twomoney was right: it's easier to climb on this side, with more places to get a grip. After a few minutes, I must be a good six feet up from the ground, and I feel much more confident, but I decide to take things extra slow. After all, I don't want to mess up and fall again. Slowly and surely, inch by inch, I find myself making my way up to the top of the well until, finally, I feel my head start to brush against the heavy covering.

"I'm at the top!" I shout.

"Have you called for help yet?" Twomoney shouts up. As her voice echoes from down below, I momentarily feel kind of dizzy. I didn't realize I was scared of heights.

"Hang on!" I shout, reaching out to try to push against the covering. It's heavy and firm, and I can tell there's no way to move it. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the mobile phone and take a look at the screen. Still no signal. I wave it around a bit, but still nothing. After a couple of minutes, I feel this deadening weight inside my chest, telling me that this isn't going to work. The covering must be blocking the signal. "It's not working!" I shout back.

"Keep trying!" Twomoney replies.

"No," I say, more to myself than to her. The truth is, the plan has failed miserably. There's no way to move the covering, and there's no way to get the phone to work. "I'm coming down!" I shout, starting to try to get a foothold so I can begin the long climb back to the bottom. But as I do, my foot slips and although I try to hold on, it's useless. Falling back, I find myself tumbling through the darkness. And as I fall and fall, I realize this is going to hurt.