Read Dark Season: The Complete Third Series (All 8 books) Online
Authors: Amy Cross
Dark Season: The Complete Third Series (All 8 books)
Dark Season:
The Complete Third Series
(All 8 Books)
also includes:
Arrival
(Devil's Briar 1.1)
by Amy Cross
Kindle Edition
Copyright Amy Cross
All Rights Reserved
Published by Dark Season Books
First edition: January 2013
http://amycrossbooks.wordpress.com
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. If you enjoy it and wish to share it with others, please consider buying them their own copy. Feedback is always welcome. The author reserves all rights in respect of this work.
Table of Contents
Book 3: The Bureau of Lost Vampires
Bonus Book
Book 1:
Abigail
Prologue
She's gone.
I start to collapse, but Patrick catches me. He lowers me to the ground. I look up into his eyes and see an expression of anguish. It's as if the anger has gone now and he's presented with the true horror of what he's done to me.
The snow is several feet deep, but I have to keep moving. I have to get as far away from Dedston as possible, to get away from everything that I've done. Even up here in the mountains, I won't be safe from my own thoughts, but at least I can try. The image of Sophie's dead body haunts me, though her soul itself is long gone from this world.
I reach up, putting my hand on the side of his face. I try to speak, to say "Find her" and to let him know that she must be out there somewhere, to make sure he won't give up on Abigail, but no words come my mouth, only blood.
I knew this day would come. I fought against it; I did everything I could to keep from fulfilling the prophecy, and for a time I thought I had a chance. Was I wrong? Was this always destined to happen? Or was I simply too weak to find a way out for both of us? Whatever the truth, it's too late for me now. I've done what I had to do, and the only thing left is for me to wait sixteen years until Abigail is ready to take my place.
Everything's starting to go black now. I feel weak. I try to look down, to see my body, but I can't move my head at all. My heartbeat is still pounding in my ears as I slowly close my eyes. I can feel Patrick's arms holding me. The heartbeat keeps going in the dark, pounding away, and I try to imagine what it would have been like if I'd found the real Abigail, if Patrick and I had somehow managed to make things work.
I lost track long ago of how many people I have killed in my lifetime. Thousands and thousands, certainly. Death is inevitable for all creatures, even those of us who claim to be immortal. Nothing can truly live forever. I know this now, as the Age of Chaos draws close around me.
My heartbeat suddenly stops.
What if I had not killed her? What if I had stood firm and denied fate its prize? Would everything be okay now? Or would the forces of darkness have broken through? The spiders were already coming, and I have no doubt that they were just harbingers for a greater threat. Even now, I feel something approaching; something waking in the shadows. It feels almost as if... But that's not possible. They're dead, all of them. There is nothing in the world that could ever bring them back. They have been sealed into a death so deep, nothing can ever escape back into the land of the living.
All that's left is darkness, and then even that slips away to nothing.
Stopping in the snow, I look down at my fists.
I've kept them tightly closed ever since I left Dedston, but the time has come to open them. Slowly, I extend my fingers and see that it's even worse than I'd feared. There's dried blood all over my hands, covering the skin completely.
Her blood, spilled when I ripped her to pieces. No matter how hard I try, this blood will always be with me.
Sixteen years later.
Chapter One
Callerton, New Mexico.
"That's her!" calls out a distant voice.
Damn it, I was starting to think they wouldn't find me today. I know what's coming next. I can already hear the thunder of three, maybe four girls running across the park towards me. I don't know how they manage to find me every single day after school, but I never seem to be able to escape them. It's like they can sniff me out. I guess I've become their new hobby, and I don't really blame them; this town is so dull and boring, you have to work hard to get your kicks. Until they're old enough to drink, bugging me is probably the most exciting thing for these idiots to do.
"Hey Abby!" shouts the lead girl, Donna, as she shoulder-barges me to one side. She turns to face me, a big stupid grin on her face. "Watcha doing down here by the river?"
I stare at her, wishing I could just make her vanish into thin air. I hate having to deal with her stupidity ever single day. I just want to be left alone to get on with my own boring existence.
"What's wrong, Abby?" she continues, carefully stepping in my way no matter how I try to walk around her. "Cat got your tongue?"
"It's almost like she can't talk," says one of the other girls, Emma.
"That's right!" Donna says, pretending to be surprised. "I almost forgot! How are the braces going, Abby? Can I see them?"
I turn and try walking the other way, but Donna and her three friends quickly get in front of me, blocking my path. There's no point trying to get away from them. They won't leave me alone when they get bored, and fighting back will just keep them entertained for longer. I just have to wait this crap out.
"Come on," Donna continues, "show us your teeth!"
I take a deep breath, wondering how much more of this I have to take. Finally, I open my mouth so Donna and the other girls can see the thick metal braces I've been wearing on my teeth for the past few months. It's not like they haven't seen them before; in fact, this same ritual happens almost every day. I guess they're not smart enough to come up with new ways to taunt me, so they stick to the classics.
"Do they hurt?" Donna asks. For a moment, it's almost as if she cares, but I know better. She's a good actress, and this is all part of the game.
I nod.
"I'm sorry," she says, "I didn't hear that. I asked you a normal question. Do they hurt?"
I nod again.
She stares at me for a moment. "Why are you so fucking rude?" she says finally. "Everyone else talks. Why don't you? Do you think you're better than the rest of us?" She narrows her eyes for a moment, as if she really, truly hates me. "Do you just think we're a bunch of morons or something?" she asks, her voice filled with spite.
I shake my head.
"Then why don't you talk to us?" she asks, stepping closer. This happens every time. She starts off taunting me, and then she gets a little physical. "Just one word," she continues. "Just say 'yes' or 'no' to a simple question. Yeah? Can you do that? Show us some fucking respect".
I just stare at her. There's no point responding to anything she says or does. She already had this whole encounter planned out long before she called out my name. I've found out before, the hard way, that it's generally better to let her do and say what she wants. Eventually she gets tired and bored, and leads her little gang of pals away. It's not easy holding back from retaliating, but I know that I'll just get in more trouble if I lash out. I've always been strong, stronger than other girls, even though I look pretty weak and scrawny. By the time I turned sixteen, I'd discovered that I could hurt people if I really wanted to get back at them. I know I could make Donna scream and cry with very little effort, but it's not worth the hassle. I've got to be smart, rather than giving in to my emotions.
"Why are you so ugly?" Donna asks suddenly.
I raise my eyebrows. That's new. She's never tried this line of attack before.
"I mean, you're not
ugly
exactly," she continues, "but you're just so boring and frumpy. No offense, but you dress like one of the librarians at school". She stares at me. "If you bothered to sort yourself out a bit, and if you got your head out of your ass and started talking, you might even be able to hang out with us sometimes". She reaches a hand out to touch my hair, but I pull away. "Stand still, bitch!" she says. This time, when she reaches out, I don't resist.
"Pull her hair up," says Emma.
Donna pulls my hair from over my face. "There," she says, feigning satisfaction. "If you did your hair like this, you'd look a lot better, Abby. Are you, like, trying to look bad on purpose? Do you think it's cool?"
Frowning, I try to work out where she's going with this. She's never, ever commented on my appearance before, nor has she suggested that I could 'hang out' with them. Obviously I'd rather eat shit than spend time with people like Donna and her gang, but I'm still curious as to why she's offering what seems to be an olive branch.
"All you have to do right now," she continues, stepping back from me, "is say one fucking word. It can be anything. Door. Poodle. Table. Piss-flaps. Just one word, and we'll think you're cool". She smiles as she turns to the others. "Won't we?"
They nod eagerly. They're just a bunch of pathetic assholes who follow Donna about and agree with whatever she says.
"Just one word," she continues, walking around me and leaning in to whisper in my ear. "Just one fucking word. Can you manage that, bitch?" She waits for a moment, and then suddenly she spits straight into my ear. I pull away, feeling her hot, sticky spit has gone deep into the ear canal. I stick my finger inside, but I can't wipe it all out, no matter how hard I try.
"Never mind," she says, walking back over to her friends. "Better luck next time, bitch. Hope you don't mind that I gobbed in your ear. Later". With that, she turns and walks away, her little gaggle of girlfriends hurrying after her.
Sitting down by the river, I tilt my head in an attempt to get the spit to dribble out. It doesn't seem to be working, though, so I reach into my pocket and pull out a paper tissue; I twist the end into a point and then gently slide it into the ear canal, hoping to soak up as much of Donna's spit as possible. I'm pretty sure that this isn't going to work, and that it's going to take days before I feel like I've finally got my ear clean. Finally, as a last resort, I get up and walk right to the edge of the water, before kneeling down and dipping my whole head under the surface. After holding my breath for almost a minute, I sit back up, water pouring from my soaking wet hair. The shoulders of my t-shirt are soaked, but at least I feel like my ear's slightly cleaner. When I get home, I'll have to stand in the shower for a while and maybe wash my hair in an attempt to really fix this. I'll also use cotton buds to clean the eat canal. It's not ideal, but at least it means that by bedtime I should feel as if I've got my ear free of Donna's disgusting, slimy spit.
I sit for a while by the river. One of the problems with not being able to speak is that it's easy to drift into a kind of daze and forget that you're supposed to be communicating with the rest of the world. When the dentist proposed putting these braces on, to 'fix' my teeth and perhaps make it so I'd be able to talk, my first reaction was absolute blind terror. Eventually, though, I realized it was a long-shot anyway. There's really not much wrong with my teeth, other than that a couple near the front are kind of sharp and fang-like. I feel like the specialists have latched onto my odd dentistry and decided that it's
definitely
the reason for my refusal to speak. Before, the psychiatrists were convinced I had some kind of hidden trauma, possibly something I experienced as a baby before I was found abandoned in New York. My whole life, people have been coming up with theories and ideas to try to explain me. I kind of wish they'd just leave me alone.