Gothos (Dark Season VI)

by Amy Cross

  I turn to look at Patrick, and I'm shocked to see that he too is gnawing on a bone. Further up the table, The Lock is doing the same thing.

  “Not hungry?” asks Astley, nudging my arm.

  I turn to him, and I'm just about ready to tell him to fuck off.

  “Me neither,” he says, and I see that he doesn't have a bone on his plate. He smiles. “I hate this part of the meal,” he continues. “The grinding of all those teeth, it's like crickets chirping, except... not”.

  I laugh. I actually God-damn laugh. For the first time, I'm actually slightly glad Astley is here, as he seems to be as disturbed by the whole scene as I am.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” announces a man at the far end of the table, who has got to his feet. “The main course will be served shortly, but first I would like to invite everyone through to the portrait room to share a glass of port and usher in the new year”.

  Everyone starts getting up and hurrying off, and soon Astley and I are the only ones left behind.

  “New year?” I ask, confused.

  “It's always new year here,” he replies. “And Christmas. And Easter. It's always every day at Gothos”. He sighs. “Birthdays aren't special”.

  I stand up. “We should go and join them,” I say.

  He stands up, but he grabs my arm. “No we shouldn't,” he says. “Come on”. He starts walking away, trying to pull me by the arm. “Come on!” he insists as I stand my ground. “What would you rather be doing? Standing in a room with all those stuffy old farts, or exploring the house with me?”

  Reluctantly, I follow him through to the entrance hall, where we find a girl sitting on the steps, crying. She's wearing a maid's uniform, and when she sees us she immediately gets to her feet.

  “What are you doing there?” Astley asks her.

  “Nothing, sir,” she says, turning to hurry away.

  “Wait!” says Astley, stopping her in her tracks. “Tell us what you're doing. Why are you crying?”

  She turns to us. She's young and pretty, but like everyone else here she's very pale and looks ill. “Miss Diana sent for me,” she says, her voice trembling. “She wants me to go down the bottom of the garden”.

  Astley stares at her. “And?”

  She sniffs. “Well... Sir, no-one who's ever been down the bottom of the garden has ever come back, have they?”

  Astley smiles. “What's your name, girl?”

  “Jessica,” she says softly.

  “Well, Jessica,” says Astley, walking over and putting an arm around her. “Do you really suppose that Miss Diana would send anyone to do anything dangerous?”

  Jessica sniffs again. “No,” she says, not sounding entirely convinced.

  “Then you have nothing to worry about,” Astley says. “If the other girls didn't come back from the bottom of the garden, it must be because they found something that they liked so much, they decided to stay. Doesn't that make sense?”

  Jessica nods.

  “And wouldn't you like to know what they've found?”

  She nods again. “There are lights at the bottom of the garden,” she says. “What are they?”

  “I have no idea,” says Astley. “You must find out”.

  “You don't have to do anything you don't want to do,” I say.

  Astley looks up at me, seemingly annoyed.

  “She doesn't!” I say. “If you don't want to go down to the bottom of the garden, don't go. Quit, you don't need to be sitting around this crumbling old place”.

  “It's my job,” she says weakly.

  “Find another job,” I say.

  She shakes her head. “If Miss Diana tells me to go to the bottom of the garden, I'll have to go”.

  “Forget Miss Diana,” says Astley. “I'm telling you to go to the bottom of the garden”. He pats her hard on the back. “Face your fears. Confront them. You'll soon find out that there's nothing to worry about”.

  “Jessica!” says a voice behind me. I turn to see Diana standing in the doorway. She has a rocky old face, and she looks extremely unimpressed. “What are you doing?”

  “I'm sorry, Miss Diana,” Jessica says, quickly wiping her eyes and rushing over to her mistress.

  “So you should be,” Diana says, “interrupting Mr. Astley and his friend. Now come with me, I've got a job for you”.

  Diana disappears back into the dining room. Jessica glances at me, her face unable to disguise her sheer terror, and she slowly follows Diana.

  “What's at the bottom of the garden?” I ask Astley.

  “I don't know,” he says. “Radishes? Carrots?”

  I walk over to one of the large windows. In the distance, maybe a couple of hundred metres away, I can see three bright lights. They seem to be a few feet off the ground. “What are they really?” I ask.

  “Oh, look, I don't know,” says Astley, sounding a little impatient. “Does it matter? You can go and take a look in the morning, when it's safer. I'm sure it's just something or nothing...”

  I turn to him. “Safer? So it is dangerous?”

  “That's not what I meant,” he says. “Look, it's just some old superstition, that's all. There's nothing to worry about. All that's down the bottom of the garden is... more garden. And some lights. The maids who go down there probably just get bored and run off”.

  As he speaks, I spot someone outside. It's Jessica, the maid from just now. It's hard to make her out in the moonlight, but I can just about tell it's her, shuffling forwards reluctantly. She glances over at the window and we make eye contact for a moment, then she seems to make up her mind to get on with things so she starts walking quickly into the darkness. Soon she's completely vanished from sight, and all I can see are the lights towards which she was walking.

  “You don't find that odd?” I ask Astley.

  He laughs. “Do you think I have time to give serious consideration to everything in this house that I find odd? I'd go crazy, there's not enough time in the day”. He pauses. “Then again, time is one of those commodities that we have here at Gothos in abundance”.

  I stare at the lights. “I want to ask her tomorrow. You know, how it went down there”.

  “Sure,” says Astley. “Anyway, don't you want the grand tour of Gothos?”

  I look back at the dining room. “Shouldn't we stay with the others?” I ask.

  “Come on, you've seen what they're like,” Astley says. “There's a whole house to explore, aren't you interested? Hundreds of rooms. Hell, there are parts of this house even I've never been to before. Some people even say Gothos is haunted, you know”.

  I look at him, starting to feel a little uneasy. “I can believe that,” I say. But what am I supposed to do? Hang out down here with Patrick, who seems to be deliberately ignoring me, or go and explore with Astley?

  “I promise I won't bite,” says Astley, in a somewhat disarming manner. He shows me his teeth. “See? Not a vampire”.

  I smile. Okay, so Astley's annoying and he talks way too much, but at least I won't be as bored with him as I would be in the dining room with all those guests. Without saying anything, I follow Astley as we head up the stairs.

  8.

  Mother is in my head again, screeching. She has no concept of personal space. All she wants to do is shout at me and tell me what I should be doing. No matter that she herself is a wreck, tossed on life's rocks and waiting only to die. No, she seems to see fit to tell me what to do, to pass judgement on my every move. The shrill old harpy really has no self-awareness.

  Fortunately, I can block her when necessary. As Sophie and I climb the steps to the first floor, I concentrate on making sure that my mother's awful voice is as far from my mind as possible.

  “The house was built in the eighteenth century,” I say as we reach the first floor balcony. “For three hundred years, it was the home of the vampire elite. It was here that the three species would come to meet, when matters arose that required their attention”.

  “Three species?” she asks.

/>   I smile. I knew this would all be new to her. Well, it's not as if dear Patrick is likely to have been filling her in on all the details, is it?

  “Vampires,” I say carefully. “And werewolves. And... the others”.

  “Who are the others?” she asks.

  “The three species,” I say again, somewhat vaguely. “Vampires, werewolves and gods. It's all quite simple. Come on, I'll show you all the rooms”. I turn to walk away, but I realise she isn't following. “Is something wrong?” I ask.

  She seems hesitant and uncertain. “I'm not sure if we should be up here,” she says. “I think I'll go back down”.

  “Let me guess,” I say. “He told you not to go wandering off, didn't he?”

  I can see from the look on her face that I'm right. Of course, it was The Lock who actually spoke the words to her, but Patrick's desires lay behind it all.

  “He doesn't love you, you know,” I say bluntly.

  She seems taken aback. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean he doesn't love you,” I say again. “Patrick. He needs you. He tolerates you. He uses you. But he doesn't love you. He's a vampire. He can't love you, like all vampires he detests humans deep down”. I pause. “I'm sorry, I feel rotten being the one to break this to you, but the truth is, a vampire can never love a human”.

  “I should go downstairs,” she says, and I can tell that she's hurt by what I've said. She turns and starts walking down the stairs.

  I hurry after her. “Please don't shoot the messenger,” I say, keeping pace with her. “It's just, I've seen him before, he always has some human girl in tow, and they always think he loves them. There have been so many. Rose, Alice, Deck, Cassandra...”

  We get to the bottom of the stairs, and she turns to me. “I'm not in love with Patrick,” she says firmly, with a look on her face that says the exact opposite. “And I don't want him to be in love with me. That's not why I'm here”.

  I think about this for a moment. “The other vampires always teased Patrick,” I say. This, at least, is true. “They found his weakness for young human girls to be touching, though also a sign of weakness. No matter how hard he tries, his loathing for humans will always win the day”.

  She stares at me. “You don't know what you're talking about,” she says. “I don't even know who you are”.

  “Just because he thinks you're part of the prophecy, doesn't mean you're any more to him than a convenient tool. I'm sorry to be so honest”.

  She steps towards me. “There's no such thing as a prophecy,” she says.

  “I think he's wrong,” I say. “I think the girl in the prophecy is someone else. Not you. You're just a distraction”. This is a lie, of course. Sophie Hart is most certainly the girl in the prophecy, and her fate will be as it was written. Everyone here at Gothos knows that this is true. But to say these words to her means that her spirit is being broken. Soon, perhaps, I will be able to take her away. After all, prophecies can be broken sometimes, if you're willing to use violence.

  “There's no prophecy,” she says again. “Now leave me alone. I'm going back in to dinner”.

  “Suit yourself,” I say as she turns and walks away. She's a tough one, but I have no doubt that I'll win. I'll have her bones ripped from her flesh by sunrise.

  9.

  “I'm going to bed,” I say to The Lock, cornering him by a bookcase as the guests mingle. “I'm tired”.

  “Bed?” The Lock says, clearly surprised. “Why would you -” Something catches him eyes. I look over my shoulder to see Astley watching us from the other side of the room. “You don't want to pay any attention to Astley,” says The Lock. “Can't you see what a fool he is?”

  “I just want to go to bed,” I say.

  “You can't,” he replies. “The whole plan depends upon you being awake all night”.

  “Plan?” I stare at him. “What plan?”

  He laughs. “You think we just came to Gothos for a party? We're here for a reason. A very good reason. And Patrick has a plan, but it requires your to be awake and it requires me to... play my part”.

  I think about this for a moment, then I shake my head. “Sorry, I'm really tired”.

  I turn to walk away, but The Lock grabs my shoulder and turns me back to face him. “If you go to bed now,” he says firmly. “You'll die”.

  “What?” I ask, and I see that he's looking over at Astley again. “Okay, you have to tell me what this place is, and you have to tell me now”.

  “I can't,” says The Lock. “You just have to trust me. Don't go to sleep, and don't let yourself be cornered alone by anyone. There are only two people here that you can trust: me and Patrick. Do you understand that?”

  “I know I can trust Patrick,” I say. “But I don't know a damn thing about you”.

  “You're asking all the wrong questions,” says The Lock, becoming a little annoyed.

  “If you're so trustworthy,” I say, “why did Patrick have you locked up in a dungeon?”

  He looks away. “Some people make mistakes,” he says. “Vincent drove Patrick to do some terrible things. That's why I'm so glad that Vincent is dead now. It means Patrick will be free to follow his instincts, free to kill and fight without that old fool holding him back”.

  “Is everything okay?” asks Diana, who has snuck up behind us.

  “Everything is wonderful,” says The Lock, immediately becoming friendly and personable. “We were just talking about the wonderful evening you have laid on for us”.

  “Always a pleasure to serve,” says Diana, giving me a strange look. “My dear, you look so tired. Perhaps you should have an early night”.

  I shake my head. “I'm fine, thanks. I'd just like to -”

  We all turn as there's the sound of something smashing in the next room, followed by a crunch, a scream and what sounds like some kind of animal snarling. Moments later, an old man – who was at the dinner table earlier – comes flying through the doorway and lands on the dining table. He is swiftly followed by Patrick, who storms through, grabs him and hauls him up.

  “Oh dear,” says Diana.

  I step forwards, but The Lock holds me back. “This is not your business,” he says. “Don't interfere”.

  Patrick growls at the man, then throws him across the room. The man slams into the wall and falls to the ground, and Patrick walks over to him.

  “Have you ever seen him like this?” The Lock asks.

  I stare at the other guests, who aren't even paying attention to what Patrick is doing. He's just beating one of them to a pulp, and no-one is even bothering to watch.

  “Not quite,” I say. “But what's wrong?”

  “Who knows?” says The Lock. “When I heard that Vincent had died, I realised Patrick would become less stable. I think we're starting to see that”.

  Patrick has the old man by the neck and seems to be squeezing the life-force from his body.

  “He's like an animal,” I say, watching as Patrick bears his sharp fangs and hisses at the old man. He then heaves the old man up and throws him against a wall. The old man makes a kind of splatting sound and falls to the ground, but there's blood on the wall from the impact.

  “Impressive,” says Diana. “I see the time away from Gothos hasn't tamed his spirits, he's as much of a beast as ever”.

  Patrick is out of breath, but finally he sees that we're watching him.

  “I love a good fight,” says Astley, who has come over to stand with us. We watch as Patrick walks back through to the next room, and maids come to collect the man's bloodied corpse.

  “Why did he do that?” I ask The Lock. “Who was that man?”

  The Lock smiles. “Ask him,” he says, indicating Astley before walking off to join Patrick.

  “I can't explain,” says Astley. Then he grins. “But if you come upstairs with me, I can show you the truth about Patrick. Everything you've ever wanted to know”.

  10.

  I watch as Astley leads Sophie away. He'll be getting what he wants
now, which should at least calm him down. I shall have to keep the maids on standby so that they are ready to deal with Sophie's dead body, though for now they're busy dealing with the remains of the vampire's latest victim.

  As I pass through into the next room, The Lock is waiting for me.

  “Fine party, Diana,” he says to me. “Good food, good fighting, always what I like to see”.

  I stare at him. “Aren't you dead yet?” I ask.

  He looks at his watch. “Not for a few more hours,” he says.

  “If you want to hurry things up,” I say, “you can always take a walk to the bottom of the garden”.

  “Oh, I wouldn't want to spoil a prophecy,” he replies. “You know how important they are”. And with that he turns and walks off into the crowd.

  I go to the window. In the darkness, down at the bottom of the garden, the three lights are shining as bright as ever. And as I watch, I become aware of a figure standing just on the other side of the window. It's one of the maids I sent down to the bottom of the garden a few weeks ago. She's standing, staring at me, and she looks very pale. Slowly she steps towards the window, holds up a hand and slides her fingernails down the glass.

  “Let me in,” she says in a dispassionate voice, her dark, heavy eyes staring at me.

  Why can't I hear her thoughts?

  “Let me in,” she says again. I look beyond her, and I see in the darkness the outline of two or three more figures. Presumably these are other maids that I have sent down to the bottom of the garden. I put a hand on the door-handle, but then I decide it would be wrong to let them run amok while the party is going so well. Far better, I think, to have them as back-up in case they are required later.

  “Let me in,” the maid says again.

  “Oh, do stop it,” I say, turning and walking away from the window. Heading into the lounge, I find the guests mingling enjoyably, with the notable exception of Patrick, who sits brooding in the corner. I wander over to him.

  “A fine spectacle you made of yourself,” I say.