Dark Season: The Complete Box Set (74 page)

Chapter Eight

Patrick steps toward us. He looks exactly as he always did in my dreams: tall, wearing dark clothes, with dark hair and the deepest, darkest eyes. He seems strangely calm, though, whereas in my dreams he was always chasing Sophie from room to room. This time he seems unnaturally focused on me, and he has an expression on his face that seems edged with compassion. Although I have long feared him, I find now that his arrival makes me feel strangely happy.

"You!" Edward says, his voice filled with shock. "What have you to do with this nightmare?"

"Is this the poacher?" I ask.

"It most certainly is," Edward says, "and he's picked a bad day to boldly enter my house in such a manner."

Ignoring us, Patrick walks over to the wall and starts to climb up toward the Tenderling, somehow managing to find grip where it appears that there is none. The Tenderling scurries away and then stops, watching Patrick, clearly concerned. By this point, Patrick has reached the ceiling and, like the Tenderling, seems able to still move while upside down. Without warning, Patrick leaps at the creature, grabbing it and pulling it down. They crash together onto the floor, and Patrick already has his hands around the Tenderling's neck. The poor creature shrieks as Patrick drags it toward the middle of the room, and then - as Edward, Dunstable and I watch in horror - Patrick opens his mouth to reveal two sharp fangs, which he sinks into the Tenderling's face.

For a moment, the Tenderling struggles and screams. The sound it makes is quite piercing, as if some kind of wild animal is in the final throes of agony, but it quickly falls limp, and Patrick lets it drop to the ground.

"Is it dead?" Dunstable asks. He steps toward the creature, looking down at it. "Is this infernal thing truly, finally dead?" There are tears in his eyes. He turns to Patrick. "Do you still want the same thing you wanted last time you were here?"

Slowly, Patrick nods.

Dunstable smiles. "Then take it, man. It's yours."

Patrick glances at me, and then he walks determinedly out of the room.

"You know him?" I ask, staring at Dunstable, my heart beating so fast that I fear it might leap from my chest.

"We've met before," he replies. "He's an interesting fellow. Doesn't say much, but..." He pauses. "There's no time for this. We must all hurry out of the house. It won't be safe to remain for much longer."

I look over at the Tenderling's dead body. While it was alive, it was a hideous creature, one that filled me with fear, but now that it is dead, it looks strangely pitiful. How could such a monstrosity exist without mankind knowing more about it?

"We must leave!" Dunstable insists, turning and shuffling toward the door.

"This is my house," Edward says, his face filled with anger. "My wife and I will remain, but everyone else is to depart at once."

Dunstable turns to us. "If you stay, that is your choice, but you will burn along with Gabriel Hall."

"Burn?" Edward asks as thunder rumbles outside.

Dunstable smiles again. "Yes," he says. "Burn." As he says the words, there's the sound of a terrible explosion somewhere else in the house. Rushing over to the doorway, I see that the next room along is now engulfed in flames.

"Is the house to be destroyed?" I ask. In truth, the prospect of Gabriel Hall being reduced to rubble is one that fills me with joy. How I would love to know that I never have to set foot in here again.

"It's what Patrick wants," Dunstable says, staring at the flames. "From the research I've carried out, it seems there's something beneath the house that Patrick wants to get his hands on." He turns to me. "I think we owe him the chance to get what he wants, don't we? He saved us from that thing. We owe him a great debt of gratitude."

Edward walks toward the burning room as the flames spread to the hallway. "This is my house," he says, as if he's hypnotized by the sight of destruction. "I will not lose it!" With no warning, he runs straight into the room.

"Edward!" I call out, but it's no use. He has disappeared into the flames.

"We must leave," Dunstable says, shuffling toward the door. "Others might die, but we must live."

"I'm not leaving without my husband," I say, heading toward the flames with tears in my eyes. "I shall share his fate. It is only right and proper."

A hand grabs my arm and pulls me back. I turn to find that Lively has got to his feet and, though wounded, seems determined to stop me following Edward into the flames.

"Madame," Lively says, "we must leave."

"Not without my husband," I say, trying to pull away from him.

"He would not want you to throw your life away," Lively insists. "There has been enough death in this place today."

"You're right," I say, "but still I cannot leave." I pull my arm free from his grip and run toward the flames, but at the last moment he manages to grab me and pull me back. Although I struggle, Lively is able to drag me across the hallway and out to the steps. Rain is pouring down and seems to be having no effect on the roaring inferno that is swiftly consuming the entire house.

"Let go of me!" I shout, unable to comprehend the thought of my poor, dear Edward in that conflagration.

"It's not safe here, Madame," Lively says. "We must get further away."

"Edward..." I say, transfixed by the flames. As I stare at the house, the entire east wing collapses. "Oh my poor dear Edward."

Finally, as we reach the lawn, Lively loosens his grip on me a little and I stand staring at the burning building. Dunstable has followed us out and he, too, turns to witness the sight. Overhead, a flash of lightning briefly illuminates the scene.

"Such a sad end," Dunstable says.

Suddenly I see a figure emerging from the inferno. It's Patrick, and he's carrying someone. Walking over to us, he sets the body on the grass and I see that it's Edward. I rush over and, to my astonishment, I find that he is still breathing, and barely burnt.

"Edward!" I shout over the sound of the rain and the thunder. "Can you hear me?"

He opens his eyes, staring up at me.

"Thank you," Dunstable says.

Patrick turns and starts walking back toward the house.

"Wait!" I shout. "Where did you come from? Why were you in my dreams?"

Patrick stops and turns to me, but he says nothing.

"You must tell me!" I shout at him. "Who is Sophie?"

Patrick frowns.

"She has been in my dreams," I say, "along with you. Who is she? Why are you chasing her? Why did you come here?"

Patrick stares at me. He looks, for the first time, a little confused, as if he's not entirely sure of the answer. After a moment, he resumes his walk back up to the house, just as the rest of the building collapses.

I turn to Dunstable. "What does he want?" I ask. "Why did he have to burn the house down?"

Dunstable stares at the inferno, watching as Patrick walks into the flames. "I don't know," he says, "but I'm going to find out." He shuffles after Patrick. I look down at Edward and see that he will be fine. "Lively," I say, "attend to your master." As Lively kneels to check on Edward's health, I rush after Dunstable.

"It's too dangerous for you," Dunstable says.

"I will see it with my own eyes," I reply, rushing forward.

As Dunstable and I reach the edge of the inferno, we are greeted with the most astonishing sight. Where the house used to stand, there is now nothing but a huge, burning pit that seems to have no bottom. Down and down and down, with its sides burning, the pit looks like the entrance to Hell itself. Even the pouring rain cannot douse its flames.

"All this time," I say, stunned, "the house was built over this... this... what
is
this?"

"What does it look like?" Dunstable asks, clearly as stunned by the sight as I am.

"It looks like the door to Hell," I say.

"Then perhaps that's exactly what it is," Dunstable replies.

"But what does he want with it?" I ask, looking over at Patrick. He has walked to the very edge of the pit, and is staring down into its flames. Before Dunstable can answer, Patrick turns to us and looks me straight in the eye. For a moment, a smile crosses his lips, and then he leans forward and falls directly into the burning pit. I watch in horror as his body plummets into the darkness and disappears.

Above, there's a huge flash of lightning, followed by the loudest thunder I've ever heard. I look up into the pouring rain.

"Whatever this is," Dunstable says, grabbing me and pulling me back from the edge, "I am quite sure it is beyond our understanding. I fear we have witnessed a moment in a much greater narrative, one that does not concern us. Wherever Patrick came from, and wherever he is going, we shall never know the truth. We should just be thankful, or rueful, that we were witness to all of this, and that we survived."

"This is all quite unfathomable," I say quietly, as rain runs down my face.

"One thing I have learnt," Dunstable says, "is that there are things going on, of which we know nothing. A great battle, a conflict, that makes any conflict riven by man seem shallow and pale."

"Like a war?" I ask, turning to him. "Are you saying that there's a war raging on this planet, of which mortal men are not aware?"

I turn and look over at Edward. Tended by Lively, he is starting to sit up. He stares in disbelief at the pit that burns where Gabriel Hall once stood. My poor, brave soldier; my poor, brave Edward.

"I shall stay here for now," Dunstable says, starting to pick stones from his skin. "It will take me quite some time to become presentable again." As he pulls more stones away, I see that his skin is soaked in blood. "Perhaps I shall never recover," he continues, "but you and Edward must leave and never come back, and I would advise you never to tell anyone what you saw. People will only think you mad, and you might end up in an asylum, like your mother."

"What do you know of my mother?" I ask him, shocked to find that he has any knowledge of my family at all.

He smiles. "Just enough to know that you and she are very different."

I look back at the flames. It seems almost impossible that the inferno will ever stop burning, but Dunstable is right about one thing: if I return to civilized society and start talking about vampires and Tenderlings and the like, I shall be considered mad. I refuse to be seen to have inherited my mother's insanity. My husband will recover, and we will find a new home.

I walk over to Edward, who is struggling to get to his feet. Lively is trying to help him, but he has his own injuries.

"Here," I say, trying to help Edward.

"I'm fine," he says.

"No," I reply, "you're not. Lean on me."

Reluctantly, Edward allows me to support him. Together, the three of us limp away from the fire as the rain continues to fall. I glance back and see Dunstable standing by the remains of the house, but Edward stumbles and I have to help lift him back up. Glancing back again, I see that Dunstable has now disappeared. Did he leap into the pit after Patrick? I doubt it. Wherever he is, I hope he succeeds in removing all the stones from his body, and I hope Patrick, wherever he is, found what he was looking for at the bottom of that burning pit. Perhaps I shall see him again one day, and perhaps now - finally - all my nightmares are over.

Epilogue

I open my eyes slowly.

It's morning, and the alarm on my phone is ringing. I reach out and switch it off, and then I sit up in bed, look around and see that I'm alone. I have the strangest feeling that I was having a nightmare, but I can't remember the details at all. My mind feels foggy, as if I've lost the ability to remember any of my dreams. I take a deep breath and let my surroundings sink in. I'm still not entirely used to sleeping at Nimrod's apartment. For one thing, he's obviously not short of money and so everything is new and modern; for another, I've always lived at home with my mother and brother, and suddenly I'm sharing an apartment with a guy I don't really know very well. But it has to be this way. My mother and brother can't protect me from Patrick. Nimrod can.

Getting out of bed, I throw on some clothes and head through to the front room, where I find Nimrod reading something from his laptop.

"Good morning," he says, in that slightly-overly-polite way of his. "Did you sleep well?"

"Uh-huh," I say.

"Good," he replies. "You need to sleep. You need all the strength you can get after all the stress you've been under."

"Yep," I say, loitering by the doorway. "What are you up to?"

"Just reading," he says, closing the lid of his laptop. "I have to go out and attend to some business. Will you be okay here until I get back?"

I nod. "Do I have a choice?" I ask, but then I instantly realize how ungrateful I sound. "Sorry," I add, "I didn't mean that to come out like I'm a spoiled brat or something."

"It's fine," Nimrod says, standing and walking over to me. "It must be very difficult being cooped up in here, but it's really the only way to make sure Patrick can't get at you."

I nod again. I know he's right. Last time Patrick found me, he knocked me out and threw me down a well. If I'm going to find Abigail and get us both away from Dedston, I need to accept Nimrod's help, at least for now.

"I'll be back before lunch," Nimrod says, checking his watch. "Don't leave the apartment. You're safe as long as you're here, but if you set foot out the door, Patrick might be waiting." He stares at me. "Do you promise?"

I nod. "I'll be right here," I say. I don't necessarily trust Nimrod completely, but I'm downright terrified of Patrick. I'm happy to stay here for now. I need time to think, and to work out how I'm going to track down Abigail.

Once Nimrod has left the apartment, I go to the window and watch him walk away down the street. Grabbing my phone, I try once again to call Shelley, but she doesn't pick up. I leave yet another voice-mail message, and then I grab Nimrod's laptop and open the lid. Fortunately, I don't need a password to see what he's been doing. I check his browser history and find what appears to be a page about a woman: Evangeline LaCroix. The name seems strangely familiar, although I can't place it. The listing is short:

Evangeline LaCroix (1856 - 1886) was an English aristocrat who, from 1876 to her death, was married to Lord Edward LaCroix of Gabriel Hall. She died during childbirth in 1886. Her son Thomas LaCroix survived her.

I click through to the page about Gabriel Hall, and find that there's a little more information:

Gabriel Hall was an English country mansion in the county of Berkshire. Built between 1820 and 1825, the house initially served as the county seat of the LaCroix family. Ownership passed through successive generations of the family until a great fire in 1885 completely destroyed the building. The cause of the fire remains unclear but the heat was so great that not even the foundations survived. There is no record of the appearance or layout of the house. No attempt was made at rebuilding Gabriel Hall, and the site is today farmland.

I click back to the entry for Evangeline, and this time I check the page for her husband Edward. It's a longer entry, covering his years in government and his work as a political figure, but one passage stands out:

In 1886, following the death of his wife Evangeline, Edward LaCroix retired from public life and lived off his investments. Two years later, he traveled with his manservant Christopher Lively to Eastern Europe, ostensibly to conduct research into the mythology of the region. He was never heard from again and, despite the absence of a body, he is assumed to have died. The body of Christopher Lively was discovered in 1975 during excavation work for a housing project in Warsaw, Poland; Lively appeared to have been stabbed in the chest, and a brick had been placed in his mouth, a tradition that is strongly linked to Eastern European superstitions related to the vampire myth.

"The vampire myth, huh?" I mutter under my breath, smiling. This whole thing seems to be too much of a coincidence. Why is Nimrod looking up the details of some nineteenth century woman who died in childbirth when she was thirty, and who was married to an undistinguished British politician whose main claim to fame seems to have been a hunt for vampires in Eastern Europe? I guess Nimrod has a fascination with vampires, given his history with Patrick, but still...

That name, Evangeline LaCroix, is stuck in my mind. It's as if I remember her, yet I can't remember why, and the other details seem strangely familiar as well; I feel as if I've been to Gabriel Hall, or at least read about it before. But the place is in England, and I've never even left the US. It's almost as if I've been there in a dream; one of those dreams where you can remember a few snatches of detail but overall there's nothing substantial.

I close the laptop again. There's still so much about Nimrod that I don't know. When I first met him, he seemed dangerous, but then he saved my life. I still don't know exactly what happened between him and Patrick, either, but he's the only one who can help me right now, so I have to accept that help and stay close to him. I also have to be wary, because I have a feeling that there's going to come a time when I have to cut my ties to Nimrod. I can't let my guard down for a second. I have to find Abigail, and then I have to run.