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

by Amy Cross

  "It's too dusty in here," I say, heading to the door. "I need to go outside and get some air".

  "I'll keep looking around," he replies. "I'll try to find us a nice big room for the night".

  Sighing, I head out and walk carefully down the rickety stairs. Once I'm back down in the lobby, I'm about to go to the exit when I suddenly hear a muffled bump from one of the nearby rooms. Looking past the reception desk, I see a door marked 'Bar'. My first instinct is to call for Bill, but I figure that as a rational, evidence-based scientist I should dismiss all thoughts of ghosts and ghouls. Heading through the door, I find myself in a long saloon, with tables set along the side and a large, ornate bar directly opposite. I head over to the bar and run my hand through the thick layer of dust, before noticing that there are a number of old glasses a little further along. Noticing something over in the corner, I walk across the room and find what appears to be an old walking cane leaning against the wall; I pick it up and try to imagine the person who must have once owned it. When the -

  Suddenly there's the sound of glass smashing behind me. I spin around and see the one of the glasses has fallen from the bar, shattering on the floor. The glasses were all well away from the edge, so I don't see how one of them could have just toppled off by itself. Maybe I accidentally bumped the bar, or maybe the air pressure changed and... I sigh, realizing I'm fumbling for explanations. My pulse is racing and I'm having to fight my instinct to turn and run. Then again, just because I don't see the rational explanation, that doesn't mean there isn't one. A broken glass just isn't going to be enough to get me to believe in ghosts. I'm too smart to be easily tricked by my own fear. Anyway, what kind of ghost goes around knocking glasses over?

  Chapter Six

  1925.

  "This is a dark day," I say, leaning my walking cane against the wall as I sit next to the bar. "Give me a whiskey".

  Saying nothing, Henry unscrews the lid of a bottle and pours me a small shot. Henry's always been the kind of man who'll happily pour you a drink and take your money, but he'll give you a dirty look while he's doing it. I've known Henry since we were both children, and he hasn't changed. He was an ass then, and he's an ass now.

  "Fill the damn glass," I say, downing the drink as soon as he's pushed it over to me. "Another," I say, looking over at the window. The street outside seems mostly empty, with just a few people strolling past. I imagine word of Adelaide's death has well and truly spread by now, which means there'll be more hysteria about Lawrence. This is the last thing I needed; perhaps it's time to rein Lawrence in a little, though I have no idea whether the people of Devil's Briar are capable of addressing the situation in a mature and rational manner. Perhaps their panic will never end.

  "That's three women dead," Henry says, passing another whiskey to me. "Three seems like a nice, round number. Maybe it'd be better to stop there".

  "You don't know what you're talking about," I spit back at him, downing the shot before slamming the glass down onto the counter. "Another".

  "I know people are getting nervous," he replies. "You keep saying you have the situation under control, but..." He fills up the glass and sends it back my way. "Don't take this the wrong way, Albert, but folks are gonna start questioning whether they can trust what you say".

  "No-one's questioning me!" I reply, filled with loathing for Henry's petty, low sniping. If he has something to say, he should come right out and say it, instead of constantly peppering me with these snide little remarks. "Not one person in this whole town has said a word against me!" I pause, staring at Henry's sly smile. "Name them!" I say after a moment. "If anyone has spoken out against me, name the bastard and I'll go straight to him! He can say things to my face, and then we'll see whether he's brave!"

  "It was just a friendly warning," Henry says. "No need to get all hot under the collar". At that moment, the bell in the reception area rings. "Excuse me," Henry adds, before setting the whiskey bottle next to me. "Help yourself to free refills," he says. "On the house".

  Taking another shot, I glance over my shoulder as he heads through the door. For a moment, I get a glimpse of the divine Victoria Paternoster standing by the reception desk. That young woman's figure is so fine, I just want to strip her naked and show her what a real man can do. My moment will surely come, just as soon as I've negotiated a betrothal arrangement with her uncle. The thought of fucking that young whore fills me with a sense of true vitality. Getting to my feet, I stumble over to the door, peering through the crack just in time to see her bending to pick up a small bag from the floor; her fine, ripe rump is there for the taking, and I surely will take it. As Mayor of this town, I always get my way.

  Suddenly I hear something smash behind me. Turning, I see that one of the glasses has dropped to the floor and shattered. Standing by the bar, grinning at me, is Lawrence Evans.

  "What are you doing here?" I hiss, looking back through to the reception area and seeing that Henry is still busy talking to Victoria.

  "Sorry about the broken glass," Lawrence says in that rough, common voice of his. "I figured it'd be a good way to get your attention".

  "You can't be seen in here!" I insist. "There are people hunting you down, boy. We agreed that you'd lay low in-between incidents. I need you in one piece, not hanging from the nearest lamp-post!"

  "I can take care of myself," he replies, filled with the confidence of youth. Lawrence has long been the kind of young man who believes he can get away with anything, and perhaps in my dealings with him I have encouraged such a view. "I'm more worried about you, old man," he continues. "People are talking. Loose tongues and all that. There are even some who wonder whether you'll still be in office this time next year. I must say, I'm starting to wonder whether I'm in business with the right man".

  "I didn't have you down as a man who listens to the gossip of housewives," I say, smiling.

  "Don't underestimate a housewife," he replies. "A housewife has the ear of her husband, and she knows which way the wind blows. I fuck a lot of housewives around here, old man, and I can promise you they're chattering away about you. Your sheen is starting to wear thin".

  Without my walking cane, I limp across the bar until I'm face to face with the little upstart. I reach into my pocket and pull out some notes, thrusting them into his hands. "Here's your money," I say. "Now listen to me. I will not -"

  "You stink of whiskey," he says with a laugh, conspicuously counting the money before putting it in his shirt pocket.

  "Listen to me!" I hiss, making sure to keep my voice as low as possible. "We have an arrangement, and it's one that suits both of us. If you want to break that arrangement, you're free to do so, but be in no doubt that ultimately you're the one who will suffer. After all, you're the one who has blood on his hands".

  "Who's the nice young lady in the blue dress?" he asks suddenly. "I saw the way you looked at her. I need to learn her name, maybe I can -"

  "You leave her alone!" I say firmly.

  "Or what? You're just a fat old man, Albert. If I want to stick my dick in that pleasant young lady, I'll do so. I'd prefer it if she'd let me in willingly, but we both know I'm happy to force my way if necessary. She's got such a nice, firm-looking body. The thought of running my hands over her peachy little tits, and burying my head in her bushy -"

  "Shut your dirty mouth!" I say. "She's a lady! She's a good Christian lady!"

  "Is she?" he asks. "Seems to me, you don't know her at all. Why, she might be a dreadful little slut. She might be a devil in the bedroom. I guess there's only one way to find out. Perhaps I'll pay a visit to her one night, and see what she's made of". He grins. "Don't worry. I'll let you know what I find out".

  "If you touch her," I warn him, "our arrangement will be over and you'll be at the mercy of the people of this town. I won't save you, and I'll deny having ever dealt with you. I'm sure you can imagine that people would accept my word over yours any day. After all, I'm an upstanding member of the community, and you're a pathetic little murderer".


  He pauses for a moment, with a hint of real violence behind his eyes. "I guess I'll have to be a little more careful, then, won't I?" he says. "Maybe I'll start off slow. How old is the girl in the blue dress, anyway? Twenty-two? Twenty-three? Perhaps I'll drill a hole in her bedroom wall and try to catch sight of her naked. Then again, I'm sure you'll be right next to me, hustling to get a look with one hand on your dick".

  "Wash your mouth out," I say, fuming at his youthful arrogance.

  "What's her name, fat boy? At least tell me her name".

  "I'm warning you," I say firmly. "Keep well away from her".

  "Or what?" He steps past me and peers through the crack in the door. Following him, I see that Victoria is still talking to Henry at the reception desk. "She sure is fine," Lawrence whispers. "Such soft, pale skin. I can't wait to run my hands over her tits and make her moan like a whore". He turns to me. "You know I could do that, right? You know she'd fall into my arms without much pressure. You, on the other hand... you're a fat old gasket. Maybe you'd be able to give her enough money to get her into your bed, but even then I doubt she could stand to look at you". He grins as he pats me on the back. "Relax, old man. If I fuck her, I'll only do it once or twice, and then she's all yours. Just don't get too pissed if after a month or two there's a little bump in her belly".

  "She wouldn't fall for your charms," I say, unable to hide the disgust in my voice. "Victoria's a lady of -"

  "Victoria, eh?" he says, smiling. "Nice name. I'll be sure to remember it as I'm sticking my tongue in her pussy".

  Turning and walking back over to the bar, I pour myself another whiskey. This business with Lawrence has clearly run its course. There was a time when I thought he could be molded and shaped, turned into something useful; later, I realized he could be a potent weapon; now, finally, I realize he's a liability. Reaching slowly into my inside jacket pocket, I feel the cold handle of my pistol. If I were to be seen to corner the rascal and shoot him dead, everyone would hail me as a hero. Perhaps Victoria would fall for me, and I'd be set for life.

  "Don't even think about it," Lawrence says suddenly from close behind me, his breath feeling hot against the back of my neck. "Trust me, I'm smart enough to have left a little insurance policy set up. You kill me, you'll regret it. I strongly advise you to take your hand off the butt of that gun you've inevitably got stashed away in your coat pocket, Mr. Caster".

  Keeping my hand on the pistol, I drink a shot of whiskey. Lawrence is a lot of things, but he's never been smart. I don't see that he could outwit me, and it's not as if the young man has any friends or family in Devil's Briar. I believe I'm capable of ascertaining when I'm being hoodwinked, and this is one such moment. Lawrence is all about the pose, but beneath his cocky veneer he has no substance. He's only a man. He can be killed.

  "You love her, don't you?" he whispers. "You're a fat old man, and you've laid eyes on a beautiful young lady and you've managed to fall in love with her". He laughs; again, I feel his hot breath on my neck. "I tell you what, fatso. I'll make you a deal. When I fuck her, which might be tonight if I can be bothered, I'll try really hard to resist the urge to wring her neck when I'm done. I'll leave her alive, bleeding a little, all tingly and covered in -"

  "You will not!" I say, turning to him, raising the gun to his face and pulling the trigger. The bang is so loud, I'm knocked back into the bar; at the same time, the side of Lawrence's head explodes with such force that I feel my face sprayed by a fine mist of blood. I stare as he staggers back and finally his body slumps to the floor. Startled, I barely have time to compose myself before the door opens and Henry rushes through, followed by Victoria.

  "What the hell's going on in here?" Henry shouts, before stopping as he sees Lawrence's body. Turning around, Henry immediately grabs Victoria and ushers her out of the bar, but I see the look of shock in her eyes as she lays eyes upon the hideous mess of Lawrence's bloodied head. Dear Lord, forgive me that I caused such an innocent creature to witness such hideousness; Heavenly Father, keep her purity safe.

  Still holding the pistol, I step over to Lawrence's body and peer at what's left of his face. The bullet has blown away much of the left side of his head, and has pushed his left eye to the spot above his nose, making him look somewhat like a cyclops. Blood is pouring from the hole on his temple, and pieces of white brain matter are sprayed across the floor along with small fragments of bone. His remaining good eye stares straight at me, but there can be absolutely no doubt that the man is dead. Feeling my heart pounding in my chest, I take a deep breath and manage to get calm my nerves a little. I walk over to fetch my cane from the corner, but I make the mistake of glancing back down at Lawrence's body; he's still looking directly at me, his eye having moved to follow me across the room. I hurry back over to him, raise the pistol and fire once more into his head. Finally, the bastard is dead.

  Leaving my walking cane behind, I struggle through to the reception area and find Victoria sobbing on the couch, with Henry comforting her. Seeing the tears rolling down her face, I'm shocked by the thought that I'm partially responsible for her pain. Then again, her anguish would have been all the greater if Lawrence had been allowed to live, and if he'd been able to get his wicked way with her. It's better this way. She'll recover from the shock, and soon she'll be in a position to consider a marriage proposal from a great man such as myself. As horrific as things might seem at this particular moment, I'm quite certain that Victoria will recover and all will eventually be well with the world.

  "Dear God," Henry says angrily, looking up at me, "will you not go and clean yourself up?"

  Victoria glances up at me, and gasps in horror before burying her face in Henry's shoulder. Looking down, I see that my shirt is covered in blood; I reach a hand up to my face and find that I'm caked in Lawrence's earthly remains. Uncertain as to what I should say, I stumble to the exit, not even taking the time to go back and fetch my walking cane. I must get to my house, clean myself up and prepare to tell my people that I have saved them from the monster.

  Chapter Seven

  Today.

  "Are you still saying this isn't creepy?" I ask Bill, as we sit on the steps outside the hotel. It's getting late now; the sun has dipped behind the trees, and dusk has fallen across the empty town. The huge crucifix looms in the darkness, and above us there's a blanket of beautiful stars. All around us, there are the empty buildings of a place that was forgotten for so long. Fortunately, I fetched a couple of flashlights from the truck when I went back to get Bill's rucksack, so at least we'll be able to see during the night.

  "It's calm," Bill replies. "And peaceful. Not creepy". He takes a drag on his cigarette. "It feels good to be away from the city. Think about it, Paula. There's no-one around for a hundred miles in any direction. We're all alone here. How many people can say that they get a whole damn town to themselves?" He turns to me. "Thanks for agreeing to stay".

  "It's just for one night," I tell him. "We can work tomorrow during the day, but I want to head home in the evening. Got it?"

  He nods. "I'll get a proper team together so we can come back next week. This could be the biggest find for decades. We're going to dig through the history of this town and find out exactly what happened. I want to know everything. Who lived here. What they did. What they ate. What they wore".

  "Where they went?"

  "Where they went," he agrees. "A town doesn't just stop existing like this. The people of Devil's Briar didn't just disappear into thin air. This isn't another Roanoke". He sighs. "There's a story here, Paula. I can feel it in my gut. Something happened in Devil's Briar. Something extraordinary".

  "Careful," I say, "you're starting to sound like you believe in impossible things".

  "Something extraordinary and rational," he replies, correcting himself. "I don't believe in that supernatural crap any more than you do. Whatever happened here, it clearly killed the town stone dead. The people obviously left en masse, and I want to know why. I also want to know why word o
f Devil's Briar never spread. This place should be in the history books".

  Smiling, I reach over and take his hand in mine. "Thanks to you, it'll get there eventually".

  He leans over and kisses me on the cheek. "Thank you," he says.

  "You don't need to keep saying that," I tell him. "It's kind of fun poking around up here".

  "I don't mean just for this," he replies. "I mean for everything. The past year would've been impossible to deal with if you hadn't... I don't know if I'd still be here".

  "Don't talk like that," I say.

  "I mean it". He squeezes my hand for a moment. "You saved my life, and I'm going to repay you. As soon as I've finished fucking about in the dust up here, I'm gonna take you on that holiday you've always wanted. We'll go to the Maldives and we'll spend two whole weeks doing nothing but swimming and walking along the beach -"

  "You really don't have to," I say.

  "I want to," he replies. "You deserve it".

  "We'll see," I say. To be honest, the last thing I want to hear right now is a load of promises that he won't be able to keep. There's no chance he'll follow through; his work will take over again, and things will more or less go back to normal. It's weird, but I've spent so much time lately hoping that we'll get our 'normal' lives back, I forgot that I was never that happy in the first place. Before the accident, I was thinking about leaving Bill; if things go back to 'normal', I'll be in the same situation. This isn't the kind of life I want. Maybe I should just make sure Bill's happy in his work, and then think about getting a divorce.

  "You want to see our room?" he asks suddenly, stubbing his cigarette out on the ground. He grabs his rucksack.

  "Our room?" I turn to him, before looking up at the imposing edifice of the hotel. "Right. Sure".