Dark Season: The Complete Box Set (68 page)

Twomoney

Many years ago.

"No!" I scream, wrestling with Patrick as I try to get away from him. He's holding me firmly, but I kick and punch and eventually I manage to loosen his grip a little. I twist and try to get away, but he pulls me back and clamps a hand over my mouth to stifle my voice.

I try to calm down. I try to take long, deep breaths so that I can come up with a plan. Looking straight ahead, I see the dead bodies of all the men I killed, including my father. They're cut up and hacked to pieces in the most horrific manners possible, yet I was justified in my actions because
they
were attacking
me
. When they came for me, I hadn't killed anyone. They attacked me because I've become different, and because they were scared of me. That's what humans do, isn't it? They kill things that are different.

I manage to slip my head away from Patrick's mouth. The fight has gone out of me, at least for now, and I feel ill. Small quantities of black blood keep erupting into the back of my throat, and it feels like my veins are on fire. Something's wrong, and I'm sure this isn't how most vampires feel. Perhaps it's part of the process of changing, although part of me is certain that there's more to it. It's as if my body is rejecting the change.

"You can let me go now," I say, still a little out of breath. "I won't run. I won't do anything." I gasp as a striking pain rips across my gut. "What's wrong with me?" I ask.

Patrick loosens his hold on me and I fall forward, landing roughly on the ground. I roll onto my back and look up at him, and a trail of black blood dribbles from my nose. He just stares down at me, looking completely distant and uncaring.

"Am I dying?" I ask him, my voice sounding weak. "Is that what this is? What's wrong with me? I thought I was going to be strong, like you?"

He says nothing, as usual. He just continues to stare down at me, as if he's surveying the remains of an experiment that went horribly wrong. I can't help believing that he planned for me to become a vampire, just like him, but that I let him down. For whatever reason, my body couldn't handle the transformation, and it's collapsing as a result. I feel weak and scared. Fighting those men took a lot of energy out of me, and I can see from my hands that my skin is becoming pale, perhaps even a little gray.

"I'm sorry," I say to him, staring at his eyes and hoping to find some humanity in him. "If I'm really such a failure, you should kill me. I won't blame you. We're animals, it's what animals do. The strong survive and the weak die. I don't blame you for whatever's gone wrong with me. My body just wasn't strong enough."

As I continue to stare at his eyes, I see a change. It's subtle, but I'm sure it's real: I see sorrow. It's as if he's looking down at me and pitying me. What kind of desperate, unhinged, pathetic creature must I have become in order for Patrick to look at me like this?

I close my eyes. "I don't want to see the way you're looking at me," I say as more black blood pours from my nose. "Just kill me. Do it quickly, and be gentle, but kill me. I don't want to live like this. I could handle being human, or being a vampire, but this mess of in-between is too painful." I open my eyes, but he's staring at me in exactly the same way as before. "Please, Patrick..." I say, reduced to begging. "Kill me."

He pauses, and then he leans down and picks me up, before putting me over his shoulder. The pain is indescribable, but I feel a curious kind of joy at the thought that he might be taking mercy on me. As he starts to carry me through the forest, more black blood runs from my nose and mouth, but I feel immense relief that this nightmare might soon be over. I really don't blame Patrick for what's happened; it's obvious that I was the weak one here. My body should have been able to handle the transformation, but it couldn't and now I must pay the price. This is how things should be. I'm weak. I should perish. I can only thank God that Patrick cares enough to end my suffering.

Eventually Patrick sets me down gently on the forest floor. I see that we've reached what looks like a stone well in the middle of a small clearing. Patrick goes over to the well and, with a great deal of effort, forces the covering away. He turns to look at me, and I see more sadness in his eyes, and suddenly I realize what he's planning to do.

"No..." I say, as fear and panic grip me. "I want you to kill me, not lock me away."

He steps toward me and leans down, hauling me up into his arms. I'm powerless to resist, my whole body breaking down and dying.

"Kill me now," I say. "You can dump my body in there if you like, but you have to kill me now. Don't make me suffer any longer." Tears stream from my eyes. The thought of this agony lasting even a second longer is too much to bear. "Kill me..." I whisper.

He stares at me.

"Please," I whimper. "I know it'd be easy to lock me away, but I want you to kill me." I stare into his deep, pained eyes and I try to find some glimmer of compassion. "You're my father now," I say quietly. "I don't blame you for any of this, but I'm begging you to help me. If you care for me at all, if you have any pity in your soul, you have to kill me. Please, father. End my pain."

Sophie

I wake up with a jolt. I'm still in pitch darkness, still stuck down at the bottom of the well. I sigh. I was dreaming about my old life, about hanging out with Shelley before I'd even met Patrick. If I'm really going to be stuck down here for the rest of my life, I need to find a way to stop having those dreams. It's too painful to think of my old life.

"Twomoney," I say.

Silence. I guess she's asleep. I hear a squeaking sound nearby and for the first time, the idea of eating a rat doesn't seem so bad. Twomoney was right: now that I'm really hungry, my perceptions have changed a little. I listen to the squeak as it comes closer, and I prepare to pounce. In my old life, the thought of eating a rat would have made me feel sick. But now, having not eaten for so long, all I can think about is the food. Up until now, I kind of thought there was a chance I'd get out of here, but now I guess I have to get used to this life, at least for a while.

As the squeak gets closer, I leap forward and try to grab the rat. I feel its furry body darting between my arms, and I try to grab it but it gets away. I'm left on the wet floor of the well, feeling pretty stupid.

"Twomoney," I say. "Are you awake?"

No answer. Great. Just when I need her to help me catch some food, she's asleep. I get to my feet, and I realize I have nothing to do. I can't see anything, I can't talk to anyone; all I can do is stand here in the darkness. Is this how my life's going to end?

Suddenly there's a noise from above. I look up. I can't see anything, but I swear I heard something. I stand in silence, hoping to hear it again. At first, there's nothing, but then I hear the same noise: it sounds like someone scraping something.

"Twomoney?" I say, but there's still no reply. Suddenly it occurs to me that maybe she's climbed back up to the top and is trying to open the covering. "Twomoney!" I shout.

As I look up, I see a tiny glint of light. It's small, just a thin line, but it's definitely there. I stare in wonder, completely shocked to see even this tiny window of hope, and as I watch, the light becomes larger, and there's a grinding sound that I suddenly realize means someone is pushing the covering away. For a moment, I assume it's Twomoney and that she's found some way to get us out of here, but then I see that someone else is up there, pushing the covering open from outside.

"He came back," I say. "He actually came back. I knew he wouldn't leave me down here forever!"

I watch as the covering is pushed until it's halfway open, and then a face appears, looking down at us. It takes me a moment to get used to the light again, after being down here for a couple of days, but finally I make out the features on the face and...

It's not Patrick.

It's Nimrod.

"Sophie!" he shouts. "Are you down there?"

"Yes!" I shout back, shocked and unsure of what to do.

"Hang on!" he shouts, and a moment later he throws a rope down.

"What is it?" asks a voice behind me. I realize it's Twomoney. She's woken up. I turn, but it's still too dark down here to see her.

"It's a friend of mine," I say, although I'm not really sure whether that's true. Is Nimrod a friend? "He's come to get us out. Climb up after me. Can you do that?"

"Is it Patrick?" Twomoney asks.

"No," I say. "It's Nimrod. I'll introduce you to him when we get up there. Come on." I turn and grab hold of the rope. It takes me a while to make my way up, but eventually I reach the top and Nimrod reaches out and pulls me over the edge. I land on the forest floor, and I roll over to look up at the blue sky.

"Are you okay?" Nimrod asks.

"Don't let go of the rope!" I shout. "Twomoney's coming up!"

"What?" he says, a look of confusion in his eyes.

"There's someone else down there," I say. "She's right behind me."

Nimrod turns and looks down into the well. "There's no-one," he says.

I get to my feet and go to look. Peering into the darkness, I see that the rope is slack, with no-one else climbing up. "Twomoney!" I shout. "Come up!" There's no answer, and I turn to Nimrod. "She must be too weak to climb."

Nimrod pulls a torch from his belt and shines it down into the well. "I don't see anyone," he says.

"She's down there," I say. "Twomoney!" I shout. "Don't be scared! Hold onto the rope and we'll pull you up!"

I wait. Nothing.

Nimrod grabs the end of the rope and ties it to a hook on the edge of the well. "I'll go down," he says, climbing over the edge. He slowly makes his way down to the bottom of the well, and I see him searching about down there with the torch.

"Do you see her?" I shout.

"There's no-one here!" he calls back up. "There's -" He suddenly stops speaking.

I wait.

"What?" I shout. "Have you found her?"

"I think so," he says.

"Bring her up!" I shout.

There's a pause. "I can't," he calls back up.

I climb over the edge and make my way back down the rope, eventually joining Nimrod at the bottom of the well. Now that there's a torch, it's strange to see the walls and the floor, to see this place lit up, but there's no sign of Twomoney, except...

"What the hell?" I say under my breath as I see the skeleton in the corner.

Nimrod shines the torch over the bones. As he does so, I see that there's a rat crawling through the inside of the skull, chewing on a few remaining pieces of meat.

"She was alive," I say. "She talked to me. I saw her face. I..." I fall silent, staring at the bones.

"These bones are old," Nimrod says. "She's been dead for years, picked clean by rats." He turns to me. "Are you sure she was talking to you?"

"I'm sure," I say. "She was here. She said her name was Twomoney."

"I've heard of her," Nimrod says. "She was one of the first humans that Patrick tried to convert to become a vampire. Something went wrong and he got rid of her. I guess he put her down here so he could forget about her."

"But she talked to me," I say. "She was moving around. I saw her face, she was alive."

A sad smile crosses Nimrod's lips. "Ghosts can be like that," he says. "Sometimes they seem to be more alive than any of us." He leans closer to the body. "Do you see the hole in her ribs? It's almost as if someone ripped her heart out before she fell down here."

I stare at the bones. Is it possible? Was I talking to a ghost all that time? A shiver runs up my spine. "Let's get out of here," I say, turning and starting to climb back up the rope. When we're both at the top, I turn and take one last look back down at the bones. "We should come back and move her," I say. "We should bury her properly."

And that's exactly what we do.

We fetch some cloth sacks, and later that day we climb back down and gather up Twomoney's bones before carrying them back to the surface. At first, we plan to bury her, but then I realize that the last thing she'd want would be to return to the darkness, so we find a spot in the forest where the bones can be laid out with little chance of them being discovered. Finally we leave her with the sun's warmth on her.

"What'll happen to her ghost now?" I ask.

"She'll be free to roam," Nimrod says, "though I doubt she'll go far from here. Ghosts tend to stick close to their bones."

We turn and walk away. Glancing back, I can't help wondering whether Twomoney's somewhere in the forest now, finally back out in the open and no longer shut away down at the bottom of the pit. Patrick might have forgotten her, but I'll always remember.

Epilogue
 

The moon hangs low over Dedston. I stand at the window of Nimrod's apartment, looking out at the darkness. After spending so long down in the well, enveloped in total darkness and with no light at all, I'm starting to appreciate the moon more, and the street lamps. It's good to know that tomorrow morning the sun will come up and there'll be light everywhere. I just wish Twomoney could have been saved before she died.

I turn and find Nimrod standing in the doorway.

"Sorry," he says. "You looked so contemplative, I didn't want to disturb you."

"It's fine," I say. "I was just thinking about... everything."

He smiles as he walks into the room. "You're wondering how long Patrick would have left you in that well, aren't you?"

I nod. "Twomoney didn't deserve to die down there," I say. "No matter who she was or what she did, no-one deserves to be dumped down into a well and forgotten about."

"She's not forgotten now," Nimrod says. "You remember her, and you always will."

"I know," I say. "But would Patrick really have let the same thing happen to me?"

Nimrod sighs. "I'd like to say that he wouldn't. I'd like to say that Patrick has compassion for others, and that he would have come to help you eventually. But the truth is, Patrick thinks only of himself. He wants Abigail, and he knows that you want to stop him, so he decided to get you out of the way. I don't see that he would have ever changed his mind. You'd have rotted and died down there, just like Twomoney. He's a monster. He didn't care about her, and I'm afraid he doesn't care about you either."

"But what about you?" I ask. "Why didn't he put you down there as well?"

Nimrod smiles. "He knows there are better ways to try to contain my threat. He also knows that he needs me. He's still looking for Abigail. He knows you don't have her, but he thinks I do."

I stare at him. "Do you?"

He shakes his head. "Of course not. If I had her, don't you think I'd have taken you to her by now?"

"Sorry," I say. "I guess I'm just desperate. I feel like there's no way to ever get free of Patrick. What's to stop him hauling me back to that well and throwing me down again?"

"He knows that I'll protect you," Nimrod replies. "Before, he didn't realize that I had... a strong attachment to you. Now he understands that just as I'll protect Abigail from him, I'll also protect you."

"I don't need protecting," I say, bristling at the idea that he's trying to portray me as some kind of damsel in distress.

"I know," he replies, "but you're dealing with a powerful creature and you don't understand how his mind works. It's only natural. You're human, and he's not. Fortunately, I have a little more experience with him and I can help you. Just as you can help me, because there are some things about being human that I've forgotten, and I need you to remind me."

I smile. "Thanks," I say. I take a deep breath. "So how did you find me?" I ask.

"It took a while," he replies. "I knew Patrick would try to confine you, so I searched everywhere I could think to look. I was about ready to give up when I stumbled across the well." He smiles. "I'm glad I found you."

"Me too," I say.

"We can stop Patrick," he says. "I know it seems like an impossible task right now, but I promise you, I've had a long time to prepare for this struggle and I've laid some plans. I understand Patrick. I know how he works, how his mind works. I know his strengths and his weaknesses. I know what he can do, and I know what he can't do. I know him better than anyone else has ever known him. Better than Vincent or Cassandra or any of them. I have a few contacts who can help. It won't be easy, but we can stop him. We just need to work together. We need to be strong, do you understand?"

I nod. "I just want to get Abigail and get away from him. When we found him at that camp, I thought maybe there was a chance to break through to him, to make him see things from another point of view."

"There's no chance of that," Nimrod says. "I'm sorry. But I've tried, and it won't work. I know you think you understand Patrick, but there's something you need to remember. Something you need to keep in your mind at all times." He pauses for a moment. "Patrick's a monster. He doesn't care about anyone else. He's always been this way. He'll use you for his own purposes, and then he'll toss you aside. You saw what he did to Twomoney. No compassion. No care. To him, she was just an experiment."

"I won't let him do the same thing to Abigail," I say firmly.

"Of course not," Nimrod replies. "We'll find a way to get her away from him. His reign of terror is coming to an end."