Dark Season: The Complete Box Set (130 page)

Sophie

Dedston, 16 years ago.

I stumble toward the light, looking around for Shelley and Patrick. The floor starts to give way, and I have to jump to one side as the stones I was standing on crumble into darkness. Finally I spot Shelley and Patrick on the other side of the chamber, with Patrick covered in blood as he continues to devour what's left of Dexter.

“
This way!” I shout to them.

Shelley grabs Patrick and tries to pull him away. Patrick lets go of Dexter's destroyed body, which falls into the dark hole that's opened up in the floor.

“Come on!” I hear Shelley shouting as she tries to tug Patrick towards me. But Patrick seems hesitant, as if there's something he still needs to do.

In my heart, I get this sinking feeling. I know that Patrick could just come with us, but I also realize that nothing he does is ever simple. From the look on his face, I can tell he has something else planned. As he stands looking at me across the burning chamber, his bare torso still ripped and torn from Dexter's punishment, blood still around his mouth and on his hands, there's a strange expression in his eyes. I've often tried to read his expression, and I've rarely been successful, but this time I feel as if I understand what he's saying: he's saying goodbye.

“Come with me!” I shout at him.

He stares at me, not responding.

“Patrick!” I shout. “If you don't leave, I won't leave and we'll both die here!”

He looks so sad as he turns toward the fire, and then he stops, looks at me again, and goes back to Shelley. And then, as I watch, Patrick leans in to Shelley's ear and he whispers something to her, and as she listens, her face goes white with shock.

Shelley

Wyoming, Today.

"May I take your coat, Madam?" asks the doorman as I step into the hotel foyer.

Shaking my head, I walk across the marble floor. This is by far the poshest place I've ever been; for me, a hotel is usually a dodgy little place where rooms can be rented by the hour. For a small-town girl who grew up in Dedston, this is the pinnacle of social climbing. Everything about the whole damn place reeks of money: the foyer is large and tall, with a reception desk over at one side; rich-looking people are going about their business, probably cutting multimillion dollar deals, and they're all exuding class from every orifice. Damn it, there are paintings on the walls, and they're not even screwed in place!

Spotting a sign leading to the bar, I wander past the reception desk. There's a lady nearby, old and fat and very well-dressed, and she gives me a brief, snarky look that makes it clear she thinks I don't belong here. I catch a glimpse of myself in a nearby mirror, and I guess I can see the old bag's point: the cheap clothes don't do me any favors, but what really gives me away is the look of fear in my eyes. I'm clearly out of place and out of my depth. Hell, if I saw someone like me in a place like this, I'd assume that I'm a hooker heading up to a room where I can service a client. I guess some people are just born with the kind of face that 'fits' in high society, and some people are born looking like me. Then again, if I have to put my life on the line today, I guess doing it in a fancy hotel isn't too bad.

"Can I help you?" asks a girl standing at the entrance to the bar. She's well-dressed and polite, and - here's the kick to the gut - she's younger than me.
Much
younger than me. She smiles at me with courtesy, but I can see in her eyes that she thinks I shouldn't be here.

"I'm meeting someone," I tell her, glancing into the bar. I don't see anyone else in there, other than a couple of older guys and a girl in a dress. Definitely no-one who'd be waiting for me.

"Very good," the girl says. "If I can assist you in any way, please don't hesitate to let me know."

"Sure thing," I reply, glancing at her name badge. "Thanks, Debra."

"My pleasure."

Walking toward the bar, I'm very aware that the other patrons have noticed me. I've been in a lot of bars in my life, but they've all had jukeboxes and pool tables and sticky floors. This place, on the other hand, is the height of sophistication. Soft, mellow lift music is playing in the background, and there's an extremely hot barman smiling at me.

"Hi," I say, suddenly realizing I probably can't afford anything here. I reach into my pocket to count my change. A glass of tap water might just about be in my price range.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting," says a voice behind me.

I pause, immediately recognizing the voice. It's the person I was expecting and, to be honest, it's the only person it could ever have been. Turning slowly, I find Benjamin smiling at me. He's wearing a smart suit, and he looks as if he's dressed for a business meeting, or perhaps a funeral. Either way, he has a slightly sad look in his eyes.

"I hope you're not intimidated by the surroundings," he says. "Please, won't you join me over at my table?" He leads me to a table in the corner of the bar, far away from the other patrons. "I felt we should talk face to face, Shelley. A lot has happened since the last time I saw you, and not all of it has been good. I'm sure you've seen Abby -"

"Why are you doing this to her?" I ask, interrupting him. I sit down, feeling an intense anger start to rise through my body now that I'm confronted with Benjamin's smug, calculating face. "She's just a teenager, and you've fucked with her head and put a metal collar on her neck. Why are you trying to destroy her?"

"I'm not trying to destroy her," he replies calmly. "I'm trying to save her. Do you really think she'd still be alive without my help?" He smiles. "In an ideal world, her father would have looked after her. He would have taken care of her and taught her how to deal with her abilities. Unfortunately, as I'm sure you're aware, we don't live in an ideal world. We live in a world where parents abandon their children, and that's what Patrick did with Abigail. I don't know why, especially after all the agonies of her birth, but clearly he was willing to let her die." The barman places a couple of whiskey glasses on the table for us. "I wasn't willing to let the girl die, though," Benjamin continues. "I see potential in her. Her father is the last vampire, but Abigail can be the first of a new breed."

"And you want to control her," I point out, not convinced for a moment by his words.

"I want to guide her," he replies. "I want to give her the support she needs while she works out who she really is. I'm quite certain that, in return, she will show gratitude, and I'm sure that over time we'll help one another. But I certainly don't intend to control her. She'll be free to make her own choices."

"Only after you've messed with her head so much, she doesn't know what's real any more," I say. "That collar isn't setting her free. It's reminding her every second that she's your property. She's in agony."

"Pain is under-estimated," he replies. "Most people spend their whole lives trying to avoid pain, but ultimately pain is something that comes to us all. I doubt there's ever been a single person on this planet who has lived a life completely free of pain." He takes a sip from his whiskey. "I'm sure you've felt pain in your life, Shelley. I'm sure it hasn't all been a bed of roses."

"Is this why you wanted to meet me?" I ask. "So you could deliver a lecture on the value of pain?"

"I wanted to meet you because I think we can still help one another," he says. "I know we got off on the wrong foot, repeatedly, but I still think we can work together if we take a moment to recognize our mutual needs."

"Where's Todd?" I ask, determined to cut through Benjamin's bullshit.

"He's dead," he replies. "He was badly injured in a confrontation with Patrick, and I'm afraid his injuries were too severe for him to survive. In the end, Abby chose to end his life in order to save him from more suffering."

"Abby killed him?" I ask, shocked.

He nods. "It was entirely her decision. Personally, I think she was a little harsh, but I wanted to give her the freedom to make her own choice." He smiles. "Or do you think I should have told her what to do? Surely you want her to have these freedoms, don't you? After all, one of the greatest freedoms is the freedom to make mistakes." He smiles. "You want her to be free, yet you want me to stop her from doing things. I'd respectfully suggest, Shelley, that you should make your mind up."

"There's no way Abby would have killed Todd unless you..." I pause, taking a deep breath. If Abby killed her uncle, I guess that explains the haunted look in her eyes. "He was the only family she had left," I point out. "She's not a monster."

"I'm her family now," Benjamin replies. "You can be, too, if you decide to help her. Everything is about Abby. She must be supported, and I recognize that I can't do it alone. I can be a substitute father, but she needs a mother." He smiles. "It's a role I've reserved for you, if you're interested."

"She has a mother," I point out.

"A dead mother," he replies. "What use is that? She needs someone to take the role of a mother and give her the things only a mother can give her. Blood ties aren't important. What matters is -"

"What matters is that she
has
a mother," I say firmly. "Her name is Sophie Hart. She's dead, but she's still her mother. And Patrick's still her father, no matter what you say."

"I can see I'm not getting through to you," Benjamin says. "I was rather hoping you'd be able to get past this melodramatic sentiment and see what's best for Abigail, but apparently I had too high an estimation of your emotional intelligence." He pauses. "Let's try this from another angle, Shelley. I know that Patrick whispered something to you many, many years ago. I also know that you've never told another living soul the truth about what he said. Maybe you told Sophie or someone else a part of the message, or maybe you didn't. But you certainly didn't tell anyone the whole thing." He smiles. "It's time to say the words. Tell me what Patrick said to you."

"Or what?" I ask.

"Or nothing," he replies. "I simply think it's time for the truth to come out."

"Not quite," I say. "There's still a little further to go."

"Time's running out," he says.

I shake my head.

"Don't you think Abigail deserves to hear her father's words?"

"Maybe I'll tell Abby some time," I reply. "I'll never tell you."

"You're stubborn," he says. "You should reconsider your attitude, Shelley. It might get you into a lot of trouble."

"Are we done here?" I ask, standing up.

"You haven't finished your whiskey."

"It's a little bitter," I reply, pushing the glass over to him. "I've tasted better."

"I doubt it," he says with a laugh. "I know the kind of flophouses where you used to sell your body to drunks. You're nothing more than a pathetic whore. I hope you realize that you're making a terrible mistake, Shelley. You've chosen the wrong person to trust. Patrick is a monster."

"There's only one monster here," I say, "and it's not Patrick."

"You trust him to have Abigail's best interests at heart?" Benjamin asks. "Are you sure it wouldn't be better to help me, so that I can help her?"

I pause for a moment. "I know what I have to do," I say finally. "I've known ever since Patrick whispered it to me. For years and years, I didn't understand. I was scared. Now I know what he meant, and I'm going to do it. Not for you, not for me, not for Patrick, not even for Sophie. I'm going to do it for Abby."

"You're scared," Benjamin replies. "I can see it in your eyes. You're terrified. There's no need to do this. Let me help you. You can't fool me, Shelley. I can see the fear written all over your face."

I take a deep breath. "I never said I wasn't scared," I say, before turning and walking out of the bar. No matter how terrified I might be, it's time to do what Patrick told me I'd have to do long ago. I only hope Abby will repay his faith. If she doesn't, I'm walking straight to my death.

Sophie

Dedston, 16 years ago.

“
What did he say?” I scream. I grab Shelley and pull her toward me. “What did he say to you?” I shout into her face. “I'm not going to ask you again, what did he say?”

She shakes her head, her eyes almost glazed over with shock. “I can't tell you,” she says. “Please don't ask me”.

“Tell me,” I say, searching her eyes for some sign. “Tell me what he said. You're my friend. You have to tell me”.

“
I can't,” she says, breaking free from my grip. “Don't ask me, because I can't. I can't ever tell you”.

Shelley

Wyoming, Today.

Hurrying across the hotel lobby, I spot movement out in the street. I came to a halt as I see three Watchers coming up the steps, and I immediately realize that they're here for me. Benjamin wasn't joking when he told me that time's running out, and it looks like he's determined to get his way. I don't believe for one second that Abby killed Todd; it's far more likely that Benjamin's armed goons ambushed him and put a bullet in his brain, and they're probably coming to do the same thing to me. Turning, I run across the foyer and head down a corridor that runs by the side of the elevators. I stop by a small door marked 'Private', and I glance back to see the Watchers heading toward me. I guess this is it, except I know that they can't stop me. There's only one person who can kill me today.

Pushing the door open, I step into a small kitchen. I shut the door and hurry across the room, heading quickly down some steps. Soon I find myself in what seems to be some kind of basement store-room. It's brightly lit at one end, although the far end is mostly in darkness.

"Hey, Shelley," says a voice nearby.

I freeze, my blood running cold through my body. This is it. This is the moment Patrick told me would happen. The only question is: was he right about what Abby will do next? All those years ago, Patrick said that one day I'd have to sacrifice my life in order to save Abby. Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that she's not a monster; she's Sophie's daughter, and despite everything that Benjamin has taught her, she's still got a good heart.

"Relax," she continues, stepping out of the shadows. "No-one's going to disturb us. Not Patrick. Not Benjamin. Not the Watchers. No-one. I've made sure of that."

"I bet you have," I reply, trying not to let her see that I'm scared. Although she looks human, it's becoming increasingly clear that Abby is basically some kind of wild animal. She has senses I can't even begin to understand, and she looks at the world very differently. She has Patrick's calmness and sense of menace, and - although she's less than twenty years old - she has the same look of ancient anger in her eyes. On the other hand, she still looks like Sophie in so many ways. No wonder she's so conflicted: she seems to take after both of them, which means she has human and vampires sides battling for control in her heart. But I still have faith in her. I still know that she's not a monster.

"Did you talk to Benjamin?" she asks, taking another step toward me.

I nod.

"What did he say?"

"A lot of things," I reply. "He told me you killed Todd, for one thing, but I know -"

"It's true," she says.

I stare at her. My heart is pounding so fast, I feel it could burst out of my chest. "Why?" I ask eventually. I can feel my faith in Abby starting to fall apart.

"It was the right thing to do," she says. "He'd turned against us. He'd turned against Benjamin. Everyone has a time they're supposed to die, and he'd reached the end of his life."

"How did you do it?" I ask.

A faint smile crosses her lips, before she opens her mouth to reveal her two large fangs. As she takes another step toward me, she lets out a faint hissing sound, like a snake. "How do you think?" she asks after a moment. "It was the first human blood I'd tasted properly. It was so warm and rich. I've killed a couple of other people since then, but I guess the first time is always the best, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't know," I say, taking a step back. "It's not something I've ever tried."

"Really?" she says, still walking slowly toward me. "I'd have thought you'd have at least tried some kinky stuff with blood. After all, you've got a bit of a reputation around Dedston. People think you're a little dark. Didn't you ever play with knives?"

"Sorry," I say, backing up until I'm right up against the wall. "Knives were never my thing."

"Not even when you were alone?" she asks, stopping when she gets a few paces away from me. "Back in the facility at Dedston, I saw your upper arms. You've got a lot of scars, Shelley. Let me guess... When you were a kid, you sat alone in your bedroom and..." She smiles, baring her fangs again. "All those times you cut yourself... Didn't you even once taste your own blood?"

"Maybe," I say, "but I don't think that means I know what it's like to do what you do." I stare at her fangs, imagining them ripping into Todd's neck.

"I suppose," she replies. "The truth is, I don't think you could ever guess what it's like to be me. I know we look the same, but there's this fire burning in my soul." She laughs. "God, listen to me. A fire burning in my soul. You know what, Shelley? Those words don't even come close to explaining how I feel. A few months ago, I was just an awkward teenage girl, and now I feel like I'm walking through eternity. I feel as if I'm stronger than everything around me. I feel as if I've finally finished growing up."

"Then take that collar off," I say. "If you're so powerful now, why are you letting Benjamin keep you like a dog?"

She pauses, and I can see a flicker of doubt in her eyes. "Benjamin's my father now," she says after a moment. "He's more of a father than Patrick could ever be. Patrick's nothing to me. Benjamin cares. He wants the best for me. He's going to make sure I'm safe, and he's going to teach me to realize my potential. After all, he's only human. He'll die eventually, and then I'll be on my own."

"Happens to all of us," I say, realizing I'm going to have to find a way out of here. So far, everything is happening the way Patrick told me it would when he whispered in my ear all those years ago, but I'm not sure I share his faith in Abby's human side. When he told me I'd have to trust her, I didn't realize how difficult it was going to be when the moment finally arrived.

"Why do you hate my father so much?" Abby asks, staring at me darkly.

"I don't hate Patrick," I reply. "I just -"

"Not
him
!" she spits at me. "My father! Benjamin! He's my father now." She pauses. "Don't ever refer to Patrick as my father again. And don't mention Sophie, either. She and Patrick aren't my parents, not really. He's a soulless monster, and she's a bitch who abandoned me. That time I saw her in the wilderness outside Gothos, she didn't even bother to try talking to me. She can go to hell."

"You don't mean any of this," I say.

"I do," she replies. "I really do. Stop pretending you understand how I feel." She takes another step toward me, and now she's just a couple of feet away. "I'm nothing like you. Look at me. You see little Abigail Hart, the girl you helped rescue from Callerton. But I'm not like her. Not now. She might as well be dead."

"I see a girl wearing a collar," I reply, with my heart racing. "I see a girl who's so scared, she's willingly given up her freedom in order to feel safe."

She smiles. "If that's what you see, there's something wrong with your eyes. Maybe you'd see better if you were blind."

I take a deep breath, determined to keep my faith. When Patrick whispered in my ear, he told me that one day I'd have to face Abby, but he promised me that she wouldn't kill me, not if I had true and total faith in her. He told me that if I could make Abby see that I believed in her, she'd let me live. At the time, I didn't realize how hard it would be; now, staring into her eyes, I realize that I
don't
have faith in her. She killed Todd. She murdered him in cold blood. No matter how hard I try, all I see when I look at her now is a murderous vampire.

"I'm going to go now," I say firmly, trying to stay calm. "I'm going to walk out of here. If you ever change your mind and decide that you want to talk about your mother -"

"She's not my mother!" Abby shouts.

"If you ever decide you want to talk to
me
," I say, unable to stop my voice from wavering, "come and find me, and I'll tell you everything you want to know."

She stares at me, her face filled with hatred. "You don't trust me, do you?" she asks.

I nod, desperately trying to ignore the doubts in my mind.

"You think I'm evil."

"No," I say, but my voice sounds so hollow and false.

"You do," she says. "You think I'm a monster. I can see it in your eyes. You hate me."

"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. Not if I had faith in her. I don't have faith, though. I'm trying, but it's impossible.

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

Trembling as waves of pain throb through my body, I try to crawl away.

"Why won't you listen to me?" Abby 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. I failed to have faith in Abby, and now I'm going to pay the price.

"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. "Look..." I pause, finding it hard to breathe. I want to tell Abby to turn and see Sophie, but I can't get the words out of my mouth.

"Tell me!" she screams.

I stare at her for a moment, and finally everything seems so clear. Perhaps everyone achieves this state of simplicity when they're about to die. "He told me..." I pause. "He told me that, just before you kill me, I have to tell you something important." I stare at her, unable to miss the venom and hatred in her eyes. "He told me to tell you... that he can see you. Right now, even though he's not in the room, Patrick can see you."

"You're lying," she sneers.

"I swear to God," I continue, with tears in my eyes, "that's what he told me. That's what he wanted me to tell you. He can always see you."

With no warning, Abby 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 put up a struggle.

"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. There's no point fighting. I just want the pain to be over.