Dark Season: The Complete Third Series (All 8 books) (50 page)

She stares at me, her face filled with hatred.

"Goodbye, Abby," I say, turning to walk past her. I've barely taken a single step, however, before she lunges at me, throwing me to the ground. As I land, I feel a sharp pain in the center of my face and I let out a sharp scream. Putting my hands up to protect myself, I feel warm blood flowing down my cheek. Finally I look down and see that my hands are covered in blood, and something else is wrong: I can only see out of my right eye.

"Does it hurt?" Abby asks.

Struggling against the pain, I look up and see that she's holding my left eyeball. The optic nerve is dangling between her fingers, and blood is splattered across the floor. The pain is getting worse and worse by the second, and I put my fingers on my face and feel the gaping hole where the eye used to be.

"All that blood," Abby continues. "Such a waste to see it flow out so easily".

I try to get to my feet, but the pain in my eye socket is intense and I can't stand. Falling down onto my hands and knees, I let out a cry of pain. The agony is so powerful, I can barely even think properly. Trying to crawl away from Abby, my hand slips through the pool of blood on the floor.

"Where are you going?" Abby asks, and I feel her foot slam against my back. I collapse onto my chest, my face smeared in my own blood. "I asked you a question earlier," she says, holding me down as her foot presses against my spine. "What did Patrick say to you? What did he whisper in your ear?"

I let out a whimper of pain.

"Don't be pathetic," she continues. "It's too late now. Tell me what he said".

I shake my head. All I can think of right now is that I have to get away from here. Patrick told me that no matter how bad things got, Abby wouldn't actually kill me. I never thought she'd cause me such pain, but my only hope is to assume that Patrick was right.

"Stop struggling," Abby says. "I won't warn you again".

Barely even able to come up with a plan, I try to crawl away.

"Why won't you listen to me?" she shouts, pushing down with her foot on the small of my back. I feel an intense pressure, before there's a cracking sound and a jolt of pain flashes through my body. I let out a scream, hearing my own voice echoing in the empty room. Trying to get away, I realize I can't feel my legs. I guess Abby broke my spine, but I can still move my arms so I desperately try to crawl across the floor.

"Tell me what he said," Abby continues. "Tell me, and this can all be over. I'll let you die without feeling any more pain".

I feel her getting closer. Moments later, she grabs me and rolls me onto my back. With my remaining eye, I stare up at her face and see that she's smiling. My vision is a little blurry, but after a moment I realize there's someone standing behind her. It takes me a moment to recognize the person, and I have no idea whether she's really there or whether she's just a hallucination, but I find myself staring up at Sophie. She's standing behind Abby, and she's looking down at me with the kindest smile I've ever seen. That's when it hits me: she's here because I'm going to die. Patrick was wrong when he said Abby would let me live; he put too much faith in her, and he under-estimated how much damage Benjamin would cause.

"Tell me what he said," Abby sneers, "or I'll make your death long and slow and painful".

I look into her eyes. If only she'd turn around, maybe she'd see her mother behind her.

"Tell me!" she shouts.

"He..." I start to say, but I've lost a lot of blood and I feel weak. "He said this would happen..." I pause, finding it hard to breathe. "But he said you wouldn't kill me. He said your human side would keep you from doing it".

She stares at me for a moment. "He was wrong," she says quietly. With no warning, she suddenly leans down and bites my neck. I feel her sharp fangs slicing through my skin and into the muscle, and I feel my blood flowing into her mouth. For a few seconds, I feel completely weak, as if my life is slipping away, but then I'm filled with a sudden rush of anger and strength. I don't want to die. No matter how badly she's hurt me, I don't want to die yet. I'm not ready. Summoning up the last of my energy, I push Abby away and - to my surprise - she jerks backward. It's as if she wasn't expecting me to fight against her.

"Don't fight it!" Abby says firmly, grabbing me. My blood is smeared all over her face, with some of it dripping from her lips. I can feel more blood flowing freely from the wound in my neck, and when I try to speak I realize that my throat is also full of blood. Turning my head, I see that blood is spraying out of my neck and onto the wall. Moments later, Abby puts a hand on my neck and tilts my head back toward her. I stare up at her, and I see Sophie still standing behind her. I want to talk to Sophie. I want to ask her what comes next, but there's no time. Abby sinks her fangs back into my neck and continues to drink from me. I reach up to Sophie, but instead I end up wrapping my arms around Abby and holding her closer. Patrick was wrong about Abby. He played a dangerous game, and he lost. He tried, and I tried, and we failed.

Slowly, I feel Death claim my soul. The end is here.

Epilogue

Dedston, Many years ago.

"Sorry about earlier," says a voice behind me.

Stopping and turning, I find that Sophie Hart has followed me along the street. School ended a few minutes ago, and all I want to do is get home and lock myself in my room; the last thing I need is to have a god-damned conversation with someone, especially the girl who caused me to get into so much trouble. I don't even know why she'd want to hang out, anyway. She must have realized that I'm nothing but trouble.

"It's okay," I say cautiously. I wait a moment, expecting her to say something else, but finally I turn and carry on walking.

"I didn't mean to tell Mrs. Hardstone that you swore," she continues, hurrying after me. She seems kind of desperate to hang out.

"It's fine," I reply, staring straight ahead as I walk. "Do I look like I care?"

"I just thought you were upset," she says.

"I'm not upset. Do I look like I'm upset?"

"A little bit".

I stop again. "Well, I'm not," I say firmly. I can feel the tears starting to well up in my eyes again, but this time I'm determined to make sure I don't cry. It's weird, but after crying so much during the day, I feel different now. It's almost as if my old crying habit has dried up; as if all those tears have vanished and they won't be coming back. Honestly, I think I might never, ever cry again. Something's changed inside my head, and I'm stronger than I was before.

"Sorry," Sophie says.

"Stop saying that," I reply. There's an awkward pause. "Is that all you wanted to say? 'Cause if it is, you should probably go now. I'm not a good person to hang out with".

"Why not?" she asks.

"I don't know," I say. "I'm just not. I get people into trouble. I don't mean to do it, but it happens. It sucks. Don't you have any friends of your own?"

"Not really," she says.

"Not even
one
?" I ask, a little surprised. I mean, this Sophie girls seems a little plain and boring, but there's nothing particularly
wrong
with her. Everyone has friends, even if they don't like them. Hell, even I've managed to have a few friends over the years, even though they've always turned out to be losers in the end. If Sophie doesn't have any friends at all, there must be something wrong with her. That, at least, is kinda interesting. Everyone has to have at least one friend, don't they? Everyone except me.

She shrugs. "I guess I hang out with my little brother sometimes, but he's annoying. He's just a baby".

"You should make friends with someone," I tell her. "It's not hard. Just go hang out with new people until you find one who likes you. Find someone who likes the same kind of stuff you like".

She pauses. "I don't really like anything," she says.

"You must like something".

She stares at me. "Like what?"

"Playing?"

"Not really".

"Music".

"I don't know".

"Noting at all?"

She pauses for a moment. "Do you want to hang out?"

"Me?" I smile. "You're really bad at picking friends, aren't you?"

"Am I?" She raises her eyebrows, looking genuinely shocked.

I laugh. Damn it, there's something really naive about this Sophie girl. It's annoying, but it's also kinda interesting and it maybe -
maybe
- makes me like her a little bit. "I'm the worst person to choose for a friend," I tell her, figuring I should be upfront. "Didn't you hear what Mrs. Hard-Ass said to me today?"

She shakes her head.

"Well, it...." I pause. "It was pretty mean, but it was pretty true. If you're friends with me, you'll get into trouble. Lots of trouble. Do you want that?"

She shakes her head again.

"So beat it," I continue. "Go and play with someone else. I don't even have any cool stuff. I play in the yard, in the dirt. The only thing I ever get to play with is worms and snails and stuff like that".

"I've got some stuff," she says.

"Good for you".

"You can come to my house," she adds. "We have a yard. I've got some dolls. Not, like, many, but
some
".

"I hate dolls".

"Me too".

"Then why do you have them?" I ask.

"I don't know". She pauses. "My brother's got some trucks and stuff".

"I hate trucks and stuff," I say, although that's not totally true. Trucks are better than dolls, at least.

"Do you want to know my favorite game?" Sophie asks.

"Not really".

"I like to bury my dolls up to their necks, and then drive the little trucks at them at full speed, and try to knock their heads off".

I stare at her. "Seriously?"

She nods. "It's pretty hard to get enough speed to do a straight decapitation," she continues. "You usually have to kind of ram them a few times. It depends on the doll. Like, how their heads are stuck to their bodies. Some of them come off easier than others".

I smile. "You're pretty weird," I say eventually.

"No I'm not," she says, scowling.

"You don't think so?" I ask. "Cutting the heads off your dolls with trucks? That's not normal".

She shrugs. "I just thought you might want to come and watch or something," she says. "It's kind of fun. There's not much else to do".

I sniff. She's right: there's very little to do in this crappy little town. "I'm evil," I say eventually. "Are you sure you want to play with someone who's evil?"

She shrugs again.

"I don't know if I feel like playing today," I add.

"Okay," she says, looking a little disappointed. Without saying anything else, she turns and walks away, leaving me standing on the sidewalk. I watch her walk away, and I realize I have nothing else to do with the rest of the day. Sure, I could go home and sit around in the yard, playing in the mud and hoping my parents don't call me in any time soon. On the other hand, I could go and at least
try
hanging out with Sophie. She seems nice enough, and I guess it can't suck any more than being at home. Sighing, I start walking after her; after a moment, I start running.

"Wait!" I call out as I reach her.

She stops and turns to me.

"I could come to your place for a couple of hours," I say as we start walking again. "I don't wanna meet your parents, though. I just wanna see what you do with the dolls and trucks. That's all. We're not friends or anything like that. I just wanna make that totally clear, right from the start. Just 'cause I'm gonna hang out with you today, it doesn't mean I'll hang out with you again. I'm not the kind of person who has friends".

It's true. Friends are for losers. Friends get you into trouble.

Book 8:

The End

Prologue

Gothos, many years ago.

"Look at them," Cassandra says, standing before me in the great hall of Gothos and reaching out her bare, shaking hands. "Look at my hands, Patrick. Tell me what you see".

I turn away. After everything that has happened recently, the last thing I need is a lesson from her on the costs of this war. I know how our species has suffered; I know the sacrifices that have been made. To see a noble woman such as Cassandra, reduced to a trembling, fearful human, is more than I can bear.

"Look at them," she says again, "or I will always consider you to be a coward".

Taking a deep breath, I look down at her hands. Slowly, I reach out and touch them. They're soft and smooth, and they feel weak and fragile. It feels as if I could easily crush them, and the broken bones wouldn't heal. There's a part of me that
wants
to hurt her, to taste her blood, but I know I'd be filled with shame. Fortunately, I've learned over the years to calm my urges.

"These are human hands," Cassandra says, close to tears. "This is a human body. I even have a beating heart, to replace the one we gave to the children. This is the sacrifice I made, Patrick. All the power I possessed, all the strength... It's all gone. All that's left is my mind, and my memories of how things used to be. I remember being strong, I remember what it was like to above the world, but now I'm weak and pitiful. Have you seen my teeth?" She opens her mouth for a moment. "I'm not a vampire any more," she continues. "I thought I could handle the transition, but I can't. I can't live like this".