Evolution (Demon's Grail Book 2) (10 page)

“You're hurt,” Absalom hisses, desperately running his hands over my blood-soaked body to check for more injuries. “How much of this blood is yours and how much is the spider's?”

“Is it dead?” I stammer, turning and watching as the last of the legs falls still. I remember from fighting Keller that the legs can sometimes remain dangerous even after the spider itself is dead, but the entire corpse now seems almost peaceful, bathed in moonlight and with blood soaking the ground.

“It's dead alright,” Absalom says after a moment, sounding a little breathless. “It's a miracle, but... We got it down.”

Stumbling forward, I clamber over the spider's head and drop down onto the ground. For a moment, I find myself staring straight into the beast's huge face, with eight large, round black eyes staring back at me. There's hair, too, matted and bloody, while venom continues to drip from the large fangs that now rest impotently against the ground. Too shocked to move, too horrified to even think, all I can manage is to look into the creature's eyes, and finally I'm disgusted to realize that part of me actually finds this thing beautiful.

Holding my sword up, I drive the blade straight through a couple of the eyes, hoping to cut into the spider's brain. If there's even a flicker of consciousness left in there, I want it to see my face as it dies.

“If it hadn't already been injured,” Absalom says after a moment as he climbs down to join me, “we'd never have stood a chance.”

“I don't care,” I mutter, twisting the sword before pulling it out. Dark fluid flows from the creature's damaged eyes. I'm still a little breathless and it's definitely going to take time for my injuries to heal, but pure adrenalin is pulsing through my body and I honestly don't know that I've ever felt so alive. “One less spider in the world is a good thing.” I turn to Absalom, and I can't help smiling. “I did it. I fixed the mistake I made.”

He stares at me, but I can tell that he's impressed.

“You didn't think I could do it, did you?” I ask.

“You were lucky.”

“Or maybe I'm good at this.”

My whole body is trembling with fear and shock as I turn and step over one of the legs. There's immense pain in my shoulder, but I know the wound will heal in time, while the venom on my neck shouldn't cause too much damage in the long-term. Glancing around, I look for some sign of Jonathan and Ash, but for a moment I can't see them anywhere. I turn, trying not to panic, before spotting a figure slumped on the ground, and another figure – or part of one – a little further along.

“Jonathan?” I call out, hurrying around the spider's corpse until I reach my brother and find, to my relief, that he's alive, leaning over Ash. “Are you okay? What -”

Stopping suddenly, I realize that there are tears in his eyes. When I look down at Ash, I'm struck by her calm expression, and a moment later I see what's wrong: she's been cut in half, straight across the waist, and her intestines have spilled out in a bloody mess across the rocky ground.

Jonathan

One summer's day many years ago, before this nightmare began and before I even knew that Abby and the vampires existed, back when I lived in the suburbs, I saw a girl get run over by a truck. And when I say
run over
, that's exactly what I mean. She fell off her bike right into the path of the wheels, and it drove right over her.

I heard her bones crunch.

I heard the desperate squeal of the brakes as the truck came to a halt.

And I swear I heard an almighty whooshing sound. Whatever
that
was, I've always felt it was all the air being forced out of her lungs as her chest was flattened.

I was only seven years old, and I recognized the girl from school, where she was one year below me. I didn't run to help, I didn't do anything at all; I just stood and watched as the truck driver climbed out and went to look, and as a couple of people from nearby gardens ran over. It took a long time before an ambulance showed up, and I remember the way everyone was panicking and crying out while the girl simply lay there, her face slowly turning red.

And she looked at me.

As she died, she looked across the street and we made eye contact. I didn't know what to do, so I just watched her, and I swear I saw the moment when the life faded from her eyes. I told my adoptive parents about it all later, and they said I should try to put it out of my mind. I kept replaying the girl's expression in my mind, however, trying to find some hint of meaning in her placid demeanor. No luck, though. I saw the face of death, and I never understood its meaning.

That was the first and only time I ever saw someone die. Until today.

***

“I tried to pull her out of the way,” I stammer, holding Ash's hand tight and squeezing to let her know that I'm still here. “I almost saved her. I was so close, but one of the legs swung at us and... It cut her in half.”

Staring down at Ash's face, I realize that her eyes are fixed on me. A moment later she blinks, and she squeezes my hand in return. There's no panic in her expression, no suggestion that she's about to scream; instead, she seems strangely calm, as if she's either accepted her fate or she doesn't know what's happened. She has that same calm stare that I remember from the girl who was hit by the truck all those years ago.

“Save her,” I say suddenly, turning to Abby and then to Absalom. “Do something!”

I wait for one of them to spring into action, but there's shock on their faces and for the first time they seem genuinely helpless. Almost like me, when I was seven years old and watching the girl die near my childhood house.

“Save her!” I shout, before feeling Ash squeezing my hand again. When I look down, I realize that there's a faint smile on her lips. “They're going to save you,” I tell her, hoping against hope that I'm right. “They're vampires, they can do things to help. I mean, they have to, it's what they do, they bring people back.”

“Jonathan,” Absalom says quietly, as if he doesn't want Ash to hear, “it's not as simple as that.”

“Do something!” I hiss at him.

“We can't!”

“Then what's the point of you?” I shout. “Can't you save one life? Right here and now, can't you help?”

I wait for a reply, but I can see the helplessness in his eyes. When I turn to Abby I see the same, along with something else.

Guilt.

Feeling something wet against my knee, I realize that the pool of blood beneath Ash's torso has spread even further. I glance down at her guts, glistening in the moonlight after they sloughed out from her body, and then I look over and see her hips and legs several feet away, where they landed after the spider's leg sliced through her. That moment of violence was over in a fraction of a second, but it caused so much damage.

Suddenly I hear a faint whispering sound, and when I turn back to Ash I realize that she's trying to say something.

“You'll be fine,” I tell her, leaning closer, “I promise...”

“Four...” she gasps, as if she can barely get the words out. “Four... one... one... Maple Crescent Drive... David and Rose Watson...”

“Who?” I ask. “I don't understand what you're trying to say.”

“Tell them...” She pauses for a moment, and I can feel her faint breath on the side of my face as I lean closer. “Tell them I would have found a way back...”

Turning to her, I realize there are tears in her eyes. She squeezes my hand tighter and I watch as the shadows seem to deepen slightly across her face. Her head tilts a little to one side, she lets out a sigh, and her grip on my hand weakens until I'm just holding her gently.

She's gone.

“Her parents,” Absalom says after a moment.

I turn to him.

“She must have been talking about her parents,” he continues. “David and Rose Watson? I suppose she meant she was always hoping to get home.”

“But she didn't,” I whisper, looking down at her dead eyes. Her cold hand is still in mine, and I don't want to let go, not yet. Finally, however, I set her hand against her chest and let it rest there, before turning to Abby and seeing the horror in her eyes. I know she's my sister, I know she's a good person deep down, but right now I want to hurt her, and the only way I can do that is with words. “This is your fault,” I tell her. “You know that, right? Are you happy now?”

She stares down at Ash's corpse for a moment, before meeting my gaze.

“You made her stay,” I continue, feeling a sense of cold rage burning through my chest, rising higher and higher as if it's trying to find a way out. “She was going to run, and you made me hold onto her because you were worried she was a spy.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but there are tears in her eyes and it's clear that she knows she can't make a difference.

“She was a human,” Absalom says after a moment. “It's a miracle she lasted more than five minutes in a place like this. In a way, her death was inevitable.”

“But it was
your
fault,” I tell Abby, getting to my feet and stepping toward her. My whole body is trembling with rage now, and it's getting harder to hold back from grabbing her throat. I swear to God, until this moment I never knew what it was like to be truly angry. “If you'd trusted her and let her go, she'd still be alive. Or if you hadn't caught the spider's attention and made it notice her, none of this would have happened in the first place.”

“Jonathan -” she stammers.

“If you hadn't been an idiot,” I shout, “she'd still be alive!”

“Jonathan, please -”

“Are you happy?” I shout again, stepping closer. “Did you get what you want out of this?”

She opens her mouth again, but her bottom lip is trembling and her eyes are still fixed on Ash's body.

“Let me guess,” I continue, unable to hide my anger a moment longer, “you thought you could prove yourself by taking on a spider and killing it. You thought there'd be some glory in it for you, you wanted to show the rest of us that you can be tough, that Abby Hart actually matters in this world.” Stepping closer, I wait for her to look at me, and finally I put a hand on her chin and tilt her face until our eyes meet. “She was just a kid. She was just a scared girl, lost in a deadly place far from home, and somehow she managed to survive until...” I pause, wanting to make her suffer, desperate to make her feel true pain. “Until she met
you
,” I add after a moment. “She's dead because of you.”

I wait for a reply, but she simply stares at me, as if she's too shocked to say a word.

“I know,” she whispers finally.

“You said once before that people always die around you,” I continue. “You acted like it wasn't your fault, like it was out of your control. I told you not to think like that, I tried to give you sympathy, but now I'm starting to realize you were right. Ash was looking after herself just fine until she ran into us!”

“I know,” she says again, with tears in her eyes.

“Still,” I add, “it doesn't matter, does it? I'm sure you'll have forgotten her name soon enough!”

She shakes her head.

“Do you remember them all?” I ask. “Do you remember the names of everyone you've killed? Of everyone who has died because of you?”

As she continues to stare at Ash's body, the tears seem to have left Abby's eyes now. I guess she's already getting over her sense of shock. It must be so easy for her.

“This isn't the right time to start arguing,” Absalom says firmly, clearly keen to make me calm down. “Jonathan, what happened to this girl was tragic but standing around blaming one another won't help. We need to get moving, there'll be more spiders along soon and I really don't think we should chance our luck a second time.”

“You know I'm right,” I tell Abby, before taking a step back and looking down at Ash's body. “We have to bury her before we leave.”

“There's no time for stupid rituals,” Absalom replies.

“Then you two go on ahead and I'll catch up,” I tell him, “because there's no way we can leave her corpse out here like this for wild animals to pick apart. She's a long way from home, but at least we can do the decent thing.”

“It's just a body,” he continues, sounding frustrated. “Her soul is long gone. Why do humans have to get so hung up on mortal remains?”

“I'm
not
human,” I point out, before glancing at Abby. “Apparently.”

“No,” Absalom replies with a sigh, “but you've spent far too long around them and evidently you've picked up some bad habits. It's going to take a while to undo all of that, but for now -”

“I'm not leaving her like this,” I say firmly, spotting some loose rocks nearby on the ground. “We're covering her body and marking her death.” I turn to Abby, but she still seems to shocked or ashamed to say or do anything. “She wasn't just some kid who can be tossed aside and forgotten, even if some of us would prefer that.”

“No,” she replies, finally meeting my gaze, “you're right, we can't leave her like this. It'd be disrespectful.”

“Besides,” I continue, pulling the collar of Ash's shirt aside and taking hold of the silver cross around her neck, “did either of you notice she was wearing this?” From the looks in their eyes, I can immediately tell that they didn't. “So I guess she'd appreciate being buried properly,” I add, “instead of just being tossed aside like a pile of meat.”

“You two are ridiculous,” Absalom mutters darkly. “Are you really saying we should risk our lives by sticking around and digging a grave? After everything that has happened tonight, do you honestly think that's a good idea?”

“We should,” Abby says, her voice broken and fragile. “It's the least we can do.”

“No,” Absalom continues. “I refuse to entertain this kind of superstition. We've moving on immediately!”

***

“It's not much,” I say finally, a short while later, as I step back and look at the finished grave, “but I suppose it'll have to do.”

Having dug a shallow pit, Abby and I have placed Ash to rest and covered her body with a small pile of rocks. Sure, it's not a proper, deep grave, but at least it shows that we cared. Or that
I
cared, at least. We're so far from the human world right now, and despite her tough exterior I feel certain that there was fear in Ash's eyes as she died, and that she was pretending to be brave all along when in truth she was lost and alone, far from home. I know that feeling all too well, and I can't help replaying that moment when Abby told me to hold Ash back and I agreed.

If I'd let her go, she'd have been able to run and now she'd been alive.

I should never have listened to my sister. Lesson learned.

“Do you want to say anything?” Absalom asks after a moment, as the three of us stand around the pile of stones. He sounds bored and disinterested, as if he thinks this burial was a waste of time.

“Like what?” I reply.

“I have no idea,” he mutters with a sigh, “but my understanding is that humans like to say some words when they bury one of their dead. Personally, I think the vampire way is better.”

“And what's the vampire way?” I ask bitterly.

“When the body is of no further use,” he replies, “it is simply cast aside. It's nothing but an empty husk.”

“Are you sure there was nothing you could have done to save her?” I ask. “Couldn't you have turned her into one of us?”

He shakes his head. “Not here, not after what happened. Humans are so incredibly fragile, sometimes saving their lives is like trying to save a gossamer web in a hurricane. Personally, I've always wondered how their species has managed to survive for so long and evolve. I suppose it's a matter of sheer numbers, really. After all, they breed like rabbits.”

I open my mouth to reply, but suddenly Abby turns and starts walking away. She said nothing at all during the burial, and now she apparently thinks we're done here.

“Don't you have any words?” I call after her. “Abby, where are you going?”

“We have to get moving,” she replies, not even looking back at us. “The sun will be up soon.”

“She's right,” Absalom tells me. “There'll be more spiders coming through this part of the ridge before too long, and they'll undoubtedly come to investigate when they realize one of their number has been killed. I'm sure Ash wouldn't want us to take any more crazy risks.”