Dark Season: The Complete Third Series (All 8 books) (3 page)

I pause for a moment. "How long?"

"Five months. Maybe six. It's not an exact science. Vampire physiology is a subject area that requires a lot more study". He takes a deep breath. "But it's definitely started. According to Benjamin, the first signs were detected a couple of days ago. Also, Patrick has begun to come down from the mountain. It's pretty obvious that the moment is here. Added to that, there's the fact that Abigail turned sixteen last week. Everything's starting to come together and it all adds up. The Age of Chaos is getting closer and closer".

"Fine," I reply. "Well... good luck with it. Let me know how it works out".

"You know it's not that simple," he says.

"I don't want to come," I tell him.

"Are you scared?"

I nod. "Aren't you?"

"No," he replies. "I'm not remotely scared. I'm ready for this. I've been training for over a decade".

"Yeah, well," I say, before having a small coughing fit. "I haven't been training," I tell him after a moment.

He smiles. "That's pretty obvious".

"Thanks". I stub the cigarette out in the ashtray. "I smoke about twenty a day," I continue. "My lungs are probably fucked beyond all belief. Do you really think I'd be any use to you at all?"

"You were Sophie's best friend," he replies. "You owe it to her".

"She's dead," I say bluntly.

"I know". He pauses for a moment.

I stare at him. "It must be easy for you," I say. "She was my best friend. To you, she's just a name".

"Maybe," he replies. "Maybe not. But this isn't about Sophie any more. She's gone. This is about her daughter".

"So you've come here to play the blackmail card," I say. I knew this was coming, but there was a part of me that had hoped perhaps he wouldn't be so cruel. He must know that I've always blamed myself for what happened to Sophie. I should have been in Dedston when she needed me; instead, I was here in New York, starting a new life for myself. I swear to God, not a day has gone by in the past sixteen years when I haven't relived - over and over again - the moment I heard that Sophie's body had been discovered.

"I'll say anything I need to say to get you to come with me," he replies. "Benjamin and I both know that we can't do this without you. Neither of us knows Patrick very well". He pauses for a moment. "There's also the matter of what he told you".

I stare at him. "What he told me?"

"The Watchers have spies everywhere," he continues. "We know that Patrick whispered something to you. Now, you have two choices. You can either come with me, or you can just tell me what Patrick said".

I take a deep breath. "I've told you what he -"

"Not all of it," he replies. "You're holding back".

"Tell me one thing," I say, trying to change the subject. "Tell me why we have to do any of this. 'Cause it seems to me that if we just sit back and don't do anything, there's no problem. Patrick's dying? Fine. Great. Abigail doesn't have to know who she is, or where she came from. She's probably doing just fine. So instead of interfering, why don't we just wait it out? Let Patrick go, and let Abigail have a normal life".

"It's not that simple," he says. "Abigail's as much vampire as she is human. Do you seriously think there aren't creatures out there that can sniff her out? She's in danger. Now she's getting older, she'll be getting easier and easier to find. We can't take the risk any longer. We have to go get her, take her somewhere safe, and help her prepare for the moment when she takes her rightful place".

"And Patrick?" I ask. "Where's he in all of this? Shouldn't he be looking out for her?"

"Patrick's not in a position to help Abigail at the present time," he replies.

"What does that mean?"

"It means what it means," he says. "It means a lot has happened while you've been drinking yourself into oblivion here in New York. Some of us had to keep watch, and it wasn't easy". He pauses for a moment. "What do you think would have happened if we'd all reacted the way you reacted? What if we'd all drowned our sorrows in drink and drugs? You took the easy way out, Shelley".

"You call this easy?" I reply, angry at his assumptions.

"You didn't even go to her funeral," he says. "Everyone was asking about you, but you didn't show up. Have you even been back to Dedston? Have you even bothered to go to her grave?"

"Why would I?" I reply, lighting up another cigarette. My hands fumble a little with the lighter. "It's just a patch of ground with a dead body in it. It doesn't mean anything".

"It would have been a sign of respect," he says.

"No," I say, taking a drag on the cigarette. "Saving her life would have been a sign of respect. Going to her grave would just have been a sign of pity".

"You can't blame yourself," he says.

"I don't," I reply. "Not much, anyway. I blame you, or rather the people you work for. If your lot were always watching what happened, why didn't any of them step in and do something about it?"

"We're Watchers," he says. "We observe. We don't interfere".

"Until now".

He nods. "Until now. Times have changed. When I joined the Watchers a few years ago, the first thing they told me was that the Age of Chaos is coming and that we'd have to get more involved. They also told me that when the time came, I'd have to come and get you".

"And that's why you're here?" I ask.

"That's why I'm here".

I take another drag. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

He shakes his head.

"Promise me one thing," I say. "Promise me that, no matter what happens, we won't try to save Patrick. He's a killer. He's a fucking monster. We have to let him die".

"None of us have any interest in saving Patrick," he says. "It's not even possible. The process has already begun, and it's irreversible. The focus here is Abigail".

"I'll pack a bag," I say, realizing that there's no point fighting. I walk over to the wardrobe and pull out an old rucksack. As I sort out some clothes, I glance over at Todd. "So you've really got nothing better to do than stand and watch me pack?"

He shrugs. "Maybe you'll do a runner as soon as I'm out of the room".

"So you're gonna stare at me all the time?"

"Maybe," he replies.

Zipping up the bag, I turn to him. "Ready".

"That was quick," he says.

"I don't plan to be away for long," I reply. "Don't forget, I'm not one of you. I'm not a Watcher. I'll help Abigail, but then I'm coming back to New York". I haul my bag over my shoulder. "I'm really not planning to be away for long".

"It might take a while," he says.

"Do you even know where she is?"

"Abigail?" He smiles. "We've been watching her for years".

"How is she?" I ask as we walk to the door.

He pauses for a moment. "It's complicated".

"Alright, whatever-your-name-is, let's go," I say.

He stops. "You don't recognize me, do you?"

I sigh. "Have we met before? Have you been peering in my bedroom window every night, 'watching' me?"

He smiles. "Not quite. I suppose I should have introduced myself properly at the start". He reaches out a hand for me to shake. "It's me. Todd. Sophie's brother. Long time no see".

Chapter Three

"So how was school?" asks Evan, my foster father, as we sit eating dinner. He does this every evening: in order to keep us from talking about anything important, he fills the silence with banal, trivial questions. I guess it's his way of trying to keep up the pretense that there's nothing unusual about me, even though he knows the truth. I can see from the way he and his wife Ruth look at me that they know I'm not right. I guess they wanted to foster a nice, normal girl who'd grow up to be a credit to their fine parenting skills. Instead, I'm going bad, I'm going wrong. It's not their fault, but they must be disappointed.

"I saw you had some friends with you when you came home," Ruth says, forcing an awkward smile. "Are you finally starting to fit in a little better?"

Unable to speak because of the braces in my mouth, I shrug. I'm distracted by the feeling of Donna's spit in my ear. I want to run to the bathroom and clean it out, but she told me I have to wait until midnight. I know there's no way she'd find out if I did it sooner, but then again... you never know. Best not to take a risk.

"I told you it'd be okay," Evan adds. "Trust me, I remember what it was like to be your age, and the whole world seemed to be against me. But things have a way of working out. You'll see".

I smile. It's not that I
want
to disappoint Evan and Ruth. I've grown to like them over the years, and I've tried to 'fit in' at school. I wish I could magically replace myself with some perfect, perky teenage girl who's make them proud. Instead, I just spend day after day making them wonder what they did wrong when they raised me. There's something deeply, deeply wrong with me, and I have no idea how to deal with it. Some of the symptoms, like my strange teeth, are visible, but most are in my head. I just feel totally, completely different to these people, almost as if I'm not from the same species. Trying to fit in, to conform to what my foster parents want, almost drove me crazy. I've had to just accept that this is how things are going to be for now.

And then there are the ghosts.

The ghosts started coming a few weeks ago. Just a couple of first, loitering in the street outside the house. Then I noticed more and more of them, and now they're everywhere. They don't come until late at night, and they seem to be unable to come inside. They just stand at the window, watching me. They're too fuzzy to make out properly, so all I can see are shimmering white outlines. I know they're definitely looking at me, though, and it's as if they're waiting for me to do something, or say something, or... I wish someone else could see them, because then I'd know that they're not inside my head. To be honest, I think I'm starting to lose my mind.

"Just three more weeks," Ruth says. "Are you looking forward to having your braces out?"

"Let's not get carried away," Evan adds, smiling at me. "Abby, you understand that you might need the braces for a little longer, don't you?"

I nod. I can still feel those two strange teeth; if anything, they've become more pronounced since the braces were fitted. It's kind of pathetic how desperately Evan and Ruth are clinging to the idea that somehow everything's going to become more normal once these braces are off. I guess this is their last, best hope to 'fix' me. They ignore all my emotional and psychological problems and focus on these weird teeth; they get metal bars fitted in my mouth, hoping to force the anomaly straight. It won't work, but at least they're trying. I just wonder what they'll do when they have to accept it hasn't worked.

"So we were thinking," Evan says eventually, "maybe when your braces are done, we could all take a little family holiday somewhere nice? Just a small road trip. How do you fancy California for a week?"

I look over at him. I have no particular interest in California, and I know a 'road trip' wouldn't solve anything, but I want to make him happy so I smile and nod.

"See?" he says to Ruth. "We can all go as a family".

"I might have to stay behind for work," she says, smiling falsely at me. "We'll see. But you two should definitely go".

"Well, yeah," Evan replies, clearly a little disappointed. I get the feeling that they've been talking about this between themselves for a while now.

"Don't forget Dedston," Ruth says to him suddenly.

"No," Evan replies, looking down at his food.

Dedston? Is that a place? I wait for one of them to say something, but it seems as if Ruth's comment has killed the conversation completely.

Finishing my food, I set my knife and fork down and sit in silence. Evan and Ruth start talking about their days, discussing their 'normal' lives. It's almost as if I'm not here. I feel sorry for them. They spent so many years trying to have their own child before they had to accept that Ruth was incapable of getting pregnant. Then they went to a foster agency and they were allowed to take me in, and look what I've grown up to become. I can see the sadness in their eyes, especially Ruth's. Lately, she's started to drink a few glasses of wine each night, to 'settle' her nerves. She's started the long slide into alcoholism, and there's nothing I can do to stop her.

"You can be excused," Evan says to me, "if you wish".

I stand up, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. After carrying my plate to the kitchen and putting it into the dishwasher, I go through to my bedroom. I keep the lights off and walk over to the window. Outside, the ghosts are gathering for their nightly vigil. To be honest, if I knew what they wanted, I'd just give it to them. I don't have the energy to fight. I'd happily disappear forever, except I know that it'd hurt Evan and Ruth too much. No matter how bad things are, they cling to the hope that in some way they'll eventually get it right. They hope that one day they'll wake up and I'll suddenly be the perfect girl they always hoped I'd be. I'd willingly sacrifice myself in order to give them what they want.

Sitting on my bed, I open my mouth and stick a finger inside to feel my teeth. It was about a year ago that I first noticed something was wrong. Two of the upper teeth near the front of my mouth seemed to be being pushed aside. When they fell out, I felt new, sharper teeth coming through from my gums. It was painful and sore at first, and eventually Evan and Ruth noticed that I was reluctant to eat. They took one look at the teeth and marched me straight to the dentists' office, where I was told that I needed braces. The dentist said he'd never seen anything quite like this before, and I felt as if he just attached the braces because he felt he had to do
something
. I didn't really mind, though, since the braces are so bulky that they prevent me from talking. At least I don't have to worry about thinking of something to say when I'm around people. Frankly, I'd happily keep them for the rest of my life.