Dark Season: The Complete Box Set (75 page)

Book
Five

Shelley

Prologue 1

"Hey!" shouts a voice from behind me. "Where do you think you're going?"

I limp to a halt. Damn it, why do I have to get interrupted tonight of all nights? Sighing, I turn slowly to see the security guard marching toward me. He looks so full of himself, so pumped up on petty authority. I can't put into words the extent of my anger; to think that a thick-headed idiot like this has the right to stop me going about my business.

"This is private property," he says as he reaches me. He looks down uneasily at the can in my hand. "What's in there?" he asks.

"Nothing," I say. "I'm sorry, I thought this was a public park." It's not a bad excuse. Most of this area is open to the public, but this corner is closed off. There's an old factory, long since abandoned but still owned by the Watcher Corporation.

"Didn't you see the signs?" the guard asks.

"Signs?" I reply, trying to seem innocent. "I'm sorry, no."

He stares at me. I can tell he's not entirely buying my story. "What's in the can?" he asks again.

"Nothing," I say.

"Show me," he insists.

"I'll leave," I say. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding." I turn to walk away, but he puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Show me what's in the can," he says firmly.

I pause. "It's just paint," I say. "You really don't want to -"

"Let's get one thing straight," he replies, interrupting. "You're going to show me what's in the can, or I'm going to take you down to the station and have you charged with trespassing, okay?"

I turn to him. "Fine," I say. I hold the can out. "Take it. Open it."

He shakes his head. "I'm asking
you
to open it, Sir," he says.

Sighing, I put the can on the ground. Pulling a small knife from my pocket, I use the blade to pop the lid. Once the can is open, I stand back so that the security guard can see it properly.

"What the hell is that?" he asks, obviously sickened by the sight.

"It's a human liver," I reply. "Well, 80% of one, and that's more than enough. It's soaking in human blood. I don't have much time, it needs to be refrigerated in the next ten minutes or there could be irreparable damage. There's -" I stop speaking as the guard steps back and draws his gun, aiming it at me.

"Don't fucking move," he says.

"Is something wrong?" I ask. No answer. He just stares at me, holding the gun up toward my face. "I know what you're thinking," I say. "You're thinking that if you'd just let me get on my way, none of this would have had to have happened. Am I right?"

"Where are you taking that?" he asks.

"To my lab," I reply. There's no point trying to hide anything now. I've already accepted that I'm going to have to kill this idiot, so I might as well let him know the truth before he dies.

"Where's your lab?" he barks.

I notice his finger resting on the trigger of the gun. One slight squeeze, and I'd take a bullet to the face at close range. I wouldn't survive. "Over here," I say. "In the factory."

"Show me," he says.

"Show you?" I ask. "Why?"

"Show me," he says. "Walk toward it."

I shrug and turn, walking toward the abandoned factory.

"What's your name?" the guard asks.

"John Smith," I say. "What's yours?"

He doesn't reply. As we continue to walk, I don't look back, but I'm fully aware that he's right behind me, with the gun aimed at me. Eventually we reach the small iron door in the side of the building.

"Is this the way in?" he asks.

"It is," I say. "Do you want to see inside?"

"Open the door," he says.

I do as he instructs, and then I turn to him. There's a determined look in his face, but it's all an act. He's trying desperately hard to seem authoritative and strong, but the truth is that he should have called for back-up already. He's trying to impress his bosses by handling this himself. He's a fool, and his bravado will get him killed.

"In," he says.

I head into the factory. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I hear the guard follow me inside.

"Where's your lab?" he asks.

"On the next level," I say. "There's nothing down here, just -" For a moment, I hear something moving in the distance, something scuttling among the debris. I smile. "Everything you want to see is up there," I say, pointing to some wooden stairs in the corner.

"You go first," he says.

Sighing, I head over to the stairs and start walking up to the next level. Again, I briefly hear the sound of something moving far off in the building. The creature wasn't supposed to encounter strangers for a few more weeks, but I suppose this will be a good early test of its abilities. If it shies away from the guard, I'll have to find a way to instil it with a greater sense of aggression. Conversely, if it attacks too soon, I'll have to temper its passion and show it the virtue of patience. Sculpting this creature's mind, turning it into the beast that I desire, is a long process and one that requires careful, incremental steps, but this is a challenge for which I have been preparing many years, and I am quite certain that soon the creature will be ready for the next stage of its development. This security guard's arrival, though certainly unexpected, could turn out to be a welcome blessing if it helps to hone the creature's taste for blood.

"It's okay," I say, "he won't hurt you."

"Who won't hurt me?" the guard asks.

I turn to him and smile. "I wasn't talking to you."

He suddenly spins around as he hears a noise off in the distance. There's nothing to see, though, and he turns back to me. I can see the fear in his eyes, but he's not about to show me that he's terrified. "You go up first," he says.

At gunpoint, I carefully walk up the wooden stairs until we both reach the next level, where the satisfying hum of my laboratory fills the air. There are various computers and machines working away on desktops, and some pipes leading to and from the main vat. It doesn't actually look too suspicious, even though its existence in this supposedly abandoned warehouse might raise some questions.

"What's all this shit for?" the guard asks.

I turn to him. "This
shit
is for my experiments," I say. "I figured that since this building is abandoned, no-one would mind me using the space." I glance at the gun, which is still pointed at me. "I see that I was wrong."

"What kind of experiments?" he asks.

"Symbio-genetic deviation," I reply, knowing full well that this ignorant fool won't have a clue what I'm talking about. "Replication, stratification, that sort of thing." I smile. "None of these things are particularly ground-breaking when taken alone, but when you put them together in the right way -"

"This isn't legal," the guard says. "You need permits for this kind of thing."

"Probably," I say. "I never bothered to ask. Benjamin said it would be okay."

He turns to me. "I'm calling in back-up," he says, pulling a phone from his pocket.

"That's fine," I say. "I'll wait right here." I turn and wander over to the window. Outside, the park looks so dark and foreboding. It's good to be home.

"This is Officer Logan," says the guard behind me. "Requesting full police assistance at -" Suddenly his voice cuts off and I hear the phone fall to the floor. A fraction of a second later, there's a horrific scream. I turn to see that my creature has, as expected, sensed that it's time to attack the intruder. It's a magnificent sight, seeing the beast as it bites into the guard's head and chews on his face. The guard is still alive, desperately clawing at the creature, trying to get it to fall back. But it's no use. The creature is far too strong and far too hungry, and soon it has started to chew on the guard's skull. Within a few minutes, the guard has stopped fighting back and falls limp while the creature crushes his head with its jaws. Blood and brain matter flow from the cracks, and eventually the creature's long tongue reaches into the skull cavity and extracts the brain, dropping the rest of the body so that it can chew on the real prize.

"You're doing very well," I say, grinning with paternal pride. The creature might not be my child biologically, but in every other way I am most certainly its father. I created it, I raised it, and I am training it. I walk over to the mobile phone. A voice is repeatedly asking the guard if he's okay. I pick up the phone and disconnect the call. The police will soon be able to trace the location of the phone, so the creature and I will have to leave this place. A shame, but perhaps I should take the move as a good thing. It's time for the creature and I to head out into the real world. We have a place to wait; somewhere we can be safe while the creature learns to be a more efficient killer.

I pull my own phone from my pocket and dial the only number listed in the address book.

"How are things going?" asks Nimrod as soon as he answers.

"You'll rejoice to hear," I say, "that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of the enterprise."

"Is it ready?" he asks.

"We need a little longer," I reply. "We're going to move to the other location, for security reasons. The original laboratory is being abandoned. It's not a problem, though." I glance over at the creature and see that it has started to pull out the spinal column from the guard's body. "I think you'll be very pleased with how things are going. Is there any sign of our mutual friend?"

"Patrick's being kept busy," Nimrod says, "and Sophie's in my apartment. Benjamin is a little impatient, but I've told him to wait. The Watchers will get what they want, but not yet."

"Sounds like everything's going just fine," I say. "I'll let you know when we're in position, but rest assured that everything is running according to plan. The creature is gaining strength every day. We might even be ahead of schedule."

"Good," Nimrod replies. "I was starting to wonder if you'd let me down, but now I'm rather confident. Don't be a stranger." And with that, he disconnects the call.

I look over at the creature. More than half of the guard's body has now been consumed. Although time is tight, I'll allow the creature to finish its meal before we get going. I want it to enjoy the taste of blood, and to understand the value of a corpse. The project might be a long way from being completed, but the signs so far are good. We have created an entirely new life-form, bred for a specific purpose. We have created a killer, and now we're almost ready to send it after its target. It was difficult to get the job done without obtaining a sample of Patrick's blood, but we found ways to work around the main problems. When we're done, the last vampire on Earth will be consumed by such agony that he will never be able to trouble any of us again.

I look over at the jars by the window. Each one contains a small fetus; each of them is a failure. It took me so many years to get everything right. My notebooks are filled with accounts of failure after failure, but finally I created the ultimate killing machine. Its body is a little unstable, but it will serve its purpose. Born and bred to slaughter, it will find its target and it will be unable to think of anything but hatred.

Suddenly there's a blinding pain in my shoulder. I turn to find that the creature has bitten me. For a moment, I feel I should try to fight, but then I realize there's no point. Realization dawns and I understand that I've taught him well. Too well. He has recognized that he is stronger than me. He knows that he doesn't need me anymore, and like all good sons, he is going to throw off his father in the most violent way possible. I could try to fight, but somehow that would seem wrong. This is the final test. He has to kill his own father.

He slowly releases my shoulder from his jaws. He stares at me. I can't imagine what's going through his mind. Is he even capable of compassion? Or have I succeeded in creating something that's full of nothing but pure rage and evil?

"Good boy," I say, determined not to scream or to show fear. "Very, very good boy."

He opens his jaws and takes my head into his mouth. Everything goes black, I hear a loud snap, and the world - for me, at least - comes to an end.

Prologue 2

Twenty years later.

There she is again, tottering along the street in high heels, stumbling and almost falling over, clutching a half-drunk bottle of wine and looking for all the world like a common whore.

But she's not a common whore.

She's the girl I love.

Her name is Shelley.

It's 4am. Staying in the shadows on the other side of the road, I watch her from a distance. I don't dare approach her. The thought of actually getting close to her, much less speaking to her, fills me with such absolute panic that I think I'd pass out if it ever happened. All I can do is watch from over here, and hope she manages to make her way home. I guess I'll spend the rest of the night sitting outside her window again, watching as the sun comes up.

"Hey!" shouts a guy down at the other end of the street.

My heart almost leaps into my mouth. He's a big, burly guy, clearly a little drunk himself, and he's hurrying after Shelley.

"Hey!" he shouts again. "Where you going?"

She glances back but doesn't stop. Instead, she stumbles along.

"Hey, Princess!" the guy shouts, reaching her and grabbing her shoulder. He spins her around to face him. "What's the hurry?"

"Gotta get home," she says, slurring her words as she tries to pull away from him. He keeps a tight hold on her.

"Yeah," he says, "but what's the fucking hurry? You not got time to play?"

"Gotta get home," she says again, barely able to focus on the guy. She's so drunk, she probably won't remember any of this in the morning.

"Yeah, I heard you," the guy says, "but don't you wanna suck a little cock along the way?"

"No," she says. "No thanks."

"Yeah you do," he insists, suddenly pushing her to the ground. "I can hear it in your voice."

I feel my heart racing. Every night, I watch her going home and I pray that nothing untoward will happen. Since I started following her six months ago, I've had a policy of non-interference. I observe her life, but I don't get involved. What do I do now, though? Do I maintain my policy of non-interference, or do I go and help her?

"Suck it," the guy says, pulling down his trousers to expose a wrinkly, semi-hard little cock with a large silver ring through the tip. "Come on, what's it to you?"

She tries to get to her feet, but she can't stand. She's too drunk. The only good part of this is that no matter what happens, she probably won't remember it in the morning.

"What are you waiting for?" the guy asks, grabbing her and pulling her head toward his crotch. Almost instinctively, she takes his cock in her mouth and starts to blow him. It's horrifying to watch, as if in her drunkenness she's gone on auto-pilot. I know she's pretty sexually free, and she's probably done this to hundreds of guys, but there's something pathetic about seeing her forced into something like this.

It only takes about a minute for the guy to reach orgasm. He pulls his cock from her mouth, grabs her face and holds her mouth shut. "Swallow it!" he says, and she does. "Fucking perfect," he continues, pushing her away so that she falls to the ground. I can see that her knees are all cut up from kneeling on the rough sidewalk.

"Have a nice night," the guy says, pulling his trousers up and walking away. He's got a bit of a swagger now. Obviously feeling pleased with himself, he heads off into the darkness. I look over at Shelley and see that she seems to be going to sleep on the sidewalk. My first instinct is to go and help her, but I can't interfere. Instead, I turn and follow the guy into the shadows.

"Hey," I shout after him. He doesn't seem to hear me. "Hey!" I shout again.

He stops and turns to me. "You talking to me?"

"Yeah," I say, approaching him. "I was just wondering if she gave good head."

The guy laughs. "You watching, were you?"

I smile. "Couldn't help it. You were kind of just... right there. So was she good?"

He shrugs. "Not bad."

"Cool," I say. "So do you want to suck my cock?"

He stares at me. "Fuck off," he says with a nervous laugh.

"It's okay," I say. "I wasn't being serious. I was being facetious. Do you know what the word 'facetious' means?"

The guy narrows his eyes. "Are you a fucking idiot?" he asks. He steps toward me. "Are you asking to get your fucking head kicked in? I'd be happy to do it for you. Just say the word, and I'll have bits of your skull spread out all over the floor."

"Sounds painful," I say. "I guess I should stop insulting you."

The guy steps right up to me. He's taller than me, and better built. He looks like he could beat me to a pulp, but looks can be deceptive. "You're one step away from a beating," he says, staring at me, "and two steps from being dead. Do you understand me?"

"I understand," I say. "You're a fucking asshole, and you've got a tiny cock." I smile. "I know it's small. I saw it when you were putting it in that girl's mouth. Your tiny little -"

Without letting me finish, the guy headbutts me. I feel my nose crunch as I fall to the ground, and blood gushes down my face. As I try to get up, he kicks me in the ribs and I crash back down, and then he reaches down, grabs my head, lifts it up for a second and finally slams it against the ground. I feel my jaw break. My entire face is bloodied and ruined, and when I try to open my eyes I find there's too much blood for me to be able to see.

"I guess you're sorry now, huh?" I hear him say. He sounds pretty confident. He thinks he's proved his point.

I get to my feet. My nose is already mending, as is my jaw. After a moment, I turn to him and smile. My injuries are completely healed. "Not really," I say.

He stares at me, with a look of blank incomprehension spread across his face.

"I heal pretty fast," I say. "Do you?"

He turns to walk away, but I grab his shoulder, spin him back around and bite into his face. As he struggles, I rip part of the flesh away to expose his skull. I spit the flesh onto the ground and bite into his neck, ripping out more and more flesh as I slip my tongue through his torn muscle. His jugular bursts and blood erupts from the wound, covering my face and shoulders. He's still fighting back, trying to stop me from hurting him, but it's too late. His injuries are too severe, and all this needless flapping is just instinctive. He knows he's dying.

"Fuck you," I say quietly.

I let go of the guy and he drops to his knees. The front of his face is gone, revealing the skull with two round white eyes staring out. He's in shock: technically he's still alive, but blood is pouring from his neck and he probably has ten, twenty seconds left at most. I put a hand on each side of his head, and then I squeeze and squeeze and squeeze until his skull caves in and brain matter spews out. Finally I let his dead body fall to the ground.

It's a shame not to consume him, but I'm not hungry and I have somewhere else to be.

I turn and go back to the street where I left Shelley. She's fast asleep on the sidewalk. I head over to her and look down at her sleeping face. She's so beautiful, I'd do anything to protect her. Anything. It seems unfair that in order for such beauty to survive, there must be violence in other places, but at least she won't remember any of tonight. She'll wake up in a few hours, stumble home, fall asleep and wake up with a massive hangover.

I head back over the road, back into the shadows. I'll wait here, keeping an eye on her so that no-one else tries to hurt her. That's how I show my love for her, night after night. One day, I'll summon up the courage to go and talk to her. But not tonight. I'm too scared.