Dark Season: The Complete Box Set (95 page)

Sophie

Today.

"Patrick?" I ask again, stepping toward him. "What's wrong?"

He doesn't respond. He's just standing there, holding Abigail, staring at her with an expression of pure rage. A cold shiver runs up my spine as I start to fear that he might do something to her.

"Let me take her," I say.

Abigail isn't crying. She's just staring back at her father, as if she's mesmerized by him. That, in itself, is kind of disturbing. Wouldn't most babies, in the company of someone like Patrick, scream their lungs out? Yet she's just accepting his stare as if there's nothing to worry about. She looks different, somehow.

"Let me take her," I say again.

Patrick doesn't respond. His eyes are fixed on Abigail, as if he hasn't even noticed that I'm here. He seems to be studying her, almost as if he can see things in her that I can't. I've always felt that Patrick is able to see inside a person, to understand how their soul works, and now it feels like he's doing the same thing to Abigail. The only difference is that somehow she seems to be feeling it. I guess that makes sense: she's his daughter, and she has his blood inside her as well as mine. There's some kind of link between them, maybe, that binds them together and gives them some kind of mutual understanding. If that's the case, it's a link I can never hope to understand, or to share.

Suddenly Patrick puts Abigail down in her crib and walks out. I take a close look at her face, checking to make sure she's okay. She seems fine, although she's obviously a little disturbed by what just happened. She stares at me with a kind of intelligence and thoughtfulness that I've never seen in a baby before.

"He's your father," I say, trying to make everything okay. I know she doesn't understand me, but I feel like I have to try to talk to her. "He's a bit weird," I add. "You'll get used to it."

I turn to look over at the door. My hands are shaking. I was so scared of Patrick before, and then there was that brief moment when we made love just now, when I felt like everything was going to be okay. Now, suddenly, something's clearly wrong and I'm worried that Abigail and I will have to run again. Then again, I shouldn't be too cautious. I have to go and speak to Patrick, to find out what's happening.

"Wait here," I say to Abigail. "I promise everything's going to be okay."

I kiss her on the forehead and then I head back out to the main room. Patrick is over by the desk, frantically leafing through the pages of the book. He seems desperate, as if something's terribly wrong. As I walk over to join him, I find that there are now even more spiders up on the ceiling, and more of them have fallen to the floor. There's something ominous about seeing them up there, as if they're gathering for a reason.

"What's wrong?" I ask as I reach Patrick. Part of me wants to grab Abigail and run, but I know that would never work. I have to find another way out of this situation. I need Patrick's help. Reaching up to my neck, I touch the wound from where Patrick bit me. I still feel... normal. I'm pretty sure he didn't do anything to change me. "Patrick," I say, "you have to give me some kind of clue here."

I reach out and touch his arm, but he continues to ignore me. Looking over his shoulder, I look down at the pages of the book. Before, the writing seemed impossible to read, but now it's clearer and I can make it out. "On the final day," I read aloud slowly, "the truth shall be revealed twice." I pause. "What does that mean? How can the truth be revealed twice?" I look at Patrick. "If the truth is revealed once, how can it be revealed again, unless..." I try to understand what the book means. "Unless the first truth wasn't the truth after all," I say eventually. "Patrick, what's going on?"

He still doesn't respond, so I grab his arm and force him to turn and face me.

"What's happening?" I ask, staring up into his eyes. "I can help, but you have to let me in."

He stares at me for a moment, and then he pushes me away with such force that I trip and fall back, landing against a pile of bones. Getting to my feet, I find myself covered in dust from the bones, some of which were so old that they shattered when I hit them. I brush myself down and watch as Patrick stalks determinedly away across the room, heading to the entrance we used when we emerged from the tunnels.

I turn to look at the book again. Not much of it makes sense, but when I turn to the final page I see one passage that ends with a single phrase repeated over and over again. "When all is settled," I read aloud, "it shall be known. It is not her." I pause, looking over at Patrick and watching as he disappears back into the tunnels. "It is not her," I say, glancing back over at the door to the room where Abigail's waiting.

Starting to panic, I rush over after Patrick and follow him into the tunnels. He's moving fast, and it's a struggle to keep up, but eventually we emerge back in the sewers. I run to keep up with Patrick, and eventually he stops as he reaches Nimrod's dead body.

"Patrick, you have to talk to me!" I say. "What does it mean?"

Patrick reaches down and picks up Nimrod's head. It's a gory sight, the bloodied head separated from the rest of the body, with blood still dripping from the wound. Nimrod's eyes are wide open and there's still that curious smile on his face. I can't help but look at his lips and wonder why he would have been smiling while he died. I know he was kind of insane, but the agony must have been intense. How could anyone find pleasure in their own death, unless... unless they knew that something was going to happen later that would give them some kind of victory?

"He's dead," I say to Patrick. "He can't tell you anything."

Patrick, though, seems determined to find some clue in the severed head. He stares deep into Nimrod's eyes, and Nimrod's dead eyes stare back at him. For a moment, I start to wonder if Patrick might be able to gain something from this, even to reawaken Nimrod and somehow get an answer. Finally, though, Patrick seems to reach a point at which his anger can no longer be contained; he turns and throws the head against the wall with such force that it shatters, the skull breaking open and Nimrod's brain falling out. The broken head hits the floor as Patrick picks up Nimrod's torso and rips it apart.

I step back a little, shocked by the intensity of Patrick's rage. He's literally tearing Nimrod's corpse up into tiny pieces, pulling him apart piece by piece until, after a few minutes, there's nothing left but a huge pile of blood and bone and muscle. I've seen Patrick lose control before, but never to this extent. Even now that the body is destroyed, Patrick continues to try to tear it apart. Covered in blood, he seems to be building to a crescendo of anger until, finally, he looks up and lets out a bone-shattering snarl of frustration, his two fangs visible in the low light of the tunnel.

Without saying a word, I turn and run. My plans abandoned, I'm filled with an instinctive drive to simply get hold of Abigail and run. I feel like the time for planning is over. I have to get us as far away from Patrick as possible. For a while back there, I thought I might be able to tame him, to get him to change, but now I see that the anger and fury remain just as much a part of him as ever. As I get to the hole in the wall that leads back to Abigail, I turn and look back. Patrick isn't following me. I can hear him, though, still destroying Nimrod's body and still snarling. It's as if the rage has overtaken him completely, and he's become some kind of wild animal.

I hurry back through to the large chamber, and I head straight over to the room where Abigail is still resting in her crib. She still looks calm, as if that moment with Patrick has had some kind of permanent effect.

"We have to go," I say, gathering her up into my arms. My only hope right now is that Patrick, now he has lost control, won't remember to come after us until it's too late.

Suddenly Abigail opens her mouth and lets out a hiss. I freeze, staring at her, trying to work out what the hell just happened. She's staring at me with a strange look of determination in her eyes.

"Abigail," I say slowly, "are you okay?"

She stares at me. It's as if she's thinking. And then, slowly, she smiles. "It's not me," she says in a quiet, happy voice. "It's not me. It's not me. It's not me. It's not me. It's not -"

I drop her back into the crib. She looks back up at me. "It's not me," she says again. "It's not me. It's not me."

I want to run, to leave her here and just run. "What did he do to you?" I ask.

"It's not me," she repeats. "It's not me." She gets to her feet, tottering to the edge of the crib and trying to climb out. "It's not me," she keeps saying over and over again.

I step toward her. No matter what's happening, I can't believe that Abigail - my child - could ever do anything to hurt me. "It's going to be okay," I say, kneeling in front of her as she climbs up to get out of the crib. "I'm going to make sure everything's okay." My voice is trembling. Something is deeply, deeply wrong here. I feel like I should turn and run, but this is my daughter. I can't abandon her.

"It's not me," she says, fixing me with a smiling stare. "It's not me. It's not me. It's not me."

"What's not you?" I shout at her. "Are you -" I pause, trying to understand, trying not to acknowledge the dark fear that's rising through my body. "You're not Abigail," I say finally. "You're not her, are you?" I try to remember what Nimrod said when Abigail was returned to me. Suddenly I realize why Patrick showed such fury when he ripped Nimrod's body apart. He must have realized that Nimrod tricked us both. The baby he gave me wasn't Abigail, which means the real Abigail is somewhere else, somewhere hidden. And now that Nimrod's dead, how are we ever going to find her?

"I'm so sorry," I say, staring at the baby as it reaches the top of the crib. There are tears in my eyes now. "I thought you were..." I look into her eyes. How could I ever have been tricked like this? How could I be fooled into thinking that this was
my
baby? What kind of mother can't even tell when someone gives her the wrong baby? Surely I should have sensed it? Surely I should have known somehow, instinctively, that this wasn't Abigail?

"It's not me," the baby says again. "It's not me, it's not me, it's not me."

"I know it's not you!" I shout at her.

"It's not -" the baby starts to repeat, but then it turns and looks over at the door.

I turn and see that Patrick is here. Covered in Nimrod's blood, he's breathing hard and deep. I've never seen Patrick out of breath before, and it's a terrifying sight. There's so much power coiled up in his body, so much rage and anger and fury.

"I didn't know," I say, staring at him. "I swear I thought this was her."

Patrick walks toward the crib.

"She's far away," the baby says, grinning at me with big, dark eyes. "You'll never find her, not until it's too late. The real Abigail will never again feel her mother's touch."

"What are you going to do?" I ask as Patrick gets closer. I look down at the baby, which is still grinning at me. "You can't kill her," I say. "She's not Abigail, but she's still a real -"

At that moment, I see that the baby's skin is starting to turn black. Within seconds, pieces of black skin are starting to fall away like paper. Soon, her entire body collapses into a heap of black ash.

"I thought it was her," I say quietly. I can't believe that Nimrod was able to fool me. Was I so desperate to be with Abigail that I ignored all the warning signs, or was the deception so complete that I never had a chance? "Where is she?" I ask, looking up at Patrick. "Where's the real Abigail?"

He looks down at me and I see rage in his eyes. The same rage he had when he was destroying Nimrod's body. Instinctively, I turn and run across the room, heading out the door and back into the main chamber. I feel something crunch under my foot, and I see that there are more and more spiders. I rush over to the book and try desperately to read the final page. "The real child shall be hidden," I read out loud, "and the Age of Chaos shall begin." And that's it. That's the end of the book, although it seems there's one final page that has been torn away.

Suddenly I feel something warm and wet in the corner of my eye. Checking with my finger, I find a spot of blood, and there's more coming from my nose.

"This is my fault," I whisper. "I believed Nimrod. I let him trick us, and now..." I try to imagine where he would have hidden Abigail, but it's a hopeless task. She could be anywhere, with anyone. She could be fine and happy, or she could be locked in a dungeon. There's just no way of knowing. And -

Suddenly I remember something. Something from a long time ago. Something that Vincent told me. Back when I first met Patrick, Vincent told me that the prophecy would happen and that I would be to blame.

"Patrick knows that it's his destiny," he told me, "to one day kill you."

I remember shaking my head, unable to believe it. "That's impossible", I insisted.

"It's what will happen," Vincent said quietly, kindly but firmly. "One day, Patrick will kill you."

I couldn't understand at the time. "Some kind of accident?" I asked, trying to make sense of it.

"Not an accident," Vincent said. "He will kill you on purpose, and with great anger. He will be filled with rage. And..." He paused. I remember the look in his eyes, as if he felt he couldn't say the final words.

"And what?" I asked, determined to make him tell me.