Darkest Night

by Will Hill

  As a result, he was bracing himself for anger or – at the very least – disappointment, neither of which he would be able to blame her for. He took a deep breath, and walked out in front of the now redundant UV barrier that formed the front wall of his mother’s cell.

  “Hi, Mum,” he said.

  She looked up from her seat on the sofa and smiled so widely at him that he thought for a brief moment that he was going to burst into tears.

  “Hello, love,” she said. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever been down here and I didn’t hear you coming. Come in, come in.”

  He smiled, and pressed his ID card against the panel on the wall. He was pretty sure he could move through the purple light fast enough to avoid being hurt, but this was not the day to try and discover he was wrong. The UV wall disappeared and he walked into the cell; his mother met him in the middle of the square room and wrapped him in a one-armed hug that squeezed the air out of him, even though her supernatural strength was now a thing of the past.

  “Hey,” he whispered. “It’s all right, Mum. It’s all right.”

  She released him and stepped back. Her left arm was still wrapped in plaster, her eyes were bruised black and brimming with tears, but her smile was wide and full of happiness. “Tea?” she asked.

  He grinned. “Sure. Thanks, Mum.”

  His mother nodded, and set about filling the kettle and putting teabags into mugs. He watched her work through a task so familiar it was almost second nature, even with only one working arm, feeling his heart throb in his chest.

  How could you leave her down here on her own? How could you not even take five minutes to come and see her? What the hell is wrong with you?

  “I’m sorry, Mum,” he said, his voice low. “For not coming till now. I’m really sorry. It’s just that—”

  She looked at him, and shook her head sharply. “Don’t, Jamie,” she said. “Valentin told me what’s happening upstairs. I understand.”

  “Still,” he said. “That’s no excuse. I just—”

  “Please, Jamie,” she said. “It’s all right. I know you tried to see me when I was in the infirmary. I know you were worried about me, and I knew you cared. It’s all right, honestly it is.”

  She handed him a mug of tea. He took it from her, scarcely able to believe that that was it, that the anger he had been expecting, that part of him had almost been looking forward to, was nowhere to be found, but she was either telling him the truth or had somehow become a far better and more convincing liar than he had ever known her to be.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “My arm hurts,” said his mother, settling back on to the sofa and raising her cast towards him. “And my nose is never going to be quite the same shape again. But it’s strange. I’d got used to being a vampire. I mean, I never got used to it, but I got used to the power that came with it, and now it’s gone. The second day I was in the infirmary, I got a cold. Nothing serious, just a sore throat and a blocked nose, but I’d forgotten what it felt like to be ill, and I got really angry about it. I hated feeling weak and tired. But it passed, and I felt better. I feel better. I feel like myself again.”

  “You were the first vampire ever to be cured,” he said. “I read the report. It sounded like it was rough.”

  “I think it was,” she said, and sipped her tea. “I can’t remember it, to be honest with you. I remember lying on a stretcher and the doctor telling me they were going to sedate me, then the next thing I knew I was awake and my arm was broken and my nose hurt. But I knew, straight away. I knew it was gone the second I woke up.”

  Jamie grimaced. “I did something stupid,” he said. “After they cured you.”

  His mother frowned. “What did you do?”

  “I attacked Matt,” he said, his stomach churning at the memory. “The morning after. I found out you were gone, and I thought they’d used you as a test subject, and I went up to the Lazarus Project lab and I lost it.”

  “Did you hurt him?”

  “No,” he said. “Not really. But I scared him, Mum. I didn’t mean to, but I was so angry, I just lost control.”

  Her frown deepened as her eyes narrowed. “You listen to me, Jamie,” she said. “Taking the cure was my choice, and mine alone. Is that clear? I volunteered. If anything, Matt and Paul Turner tried to talk me out of it.”

  “I know,” he said. “Paul told me once I’d calmed down. I’m sorry, Mum.”

  “You should be,” she said. “I’ll never be able to explain to Matt and his colleagues exactly how grateful I am for what they did. They gave me the chance to undo the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

  “I didn’t mean sorry for that,” he said. “I mean, I am sorry for what I did to Matt, but we sorted it out. I’m sorry for never really getting how much you hated being a vampire.”

  She smiled, ever so slightly. “I told you often enough, Jamie.”

  He nodded. “I know you did,” he said. “I just didn’t listen. I understand that you couldn’t wait once the cure existed, that you had to take it, even if it was risky. I get it now.”

  “Thank you,” she said, her smile widening, and finished her tea. She got up and poured herself a second mug. “How are you, love? Are you OK?”

  “I’m all right,” he said. “What did Valentin tell you?”

  “About Carcassonne,” said his mother. “And about the planes, and the subways, and the hostages. About Dracula.”

  Jamie nodded. The ancient vampire shouldn’t have told her anything – she was a civilian, and everything related to Dracula was Zero Hour classified – but he found himself glad; even though he had no doubt that she would find the reality of the situation in France upsetting, he was also sure she would rather know than remain in the dark. He had debated how much he was going to tell her, but now he decided to follow Valentin’s lead.

  “We’re going to France this afternoon,” he said. “We go into Carcassonne at sunset. Everything will be settled tonight, one way or the other.”

  “Who’s going?” she asked.

  “Everyone,” said Jamie. “All of Blacklight, plus all the Departments around the world.”

  “Is Matt going?”

  “No, Mum,” he said. “We need him here.”

  “Kate?”

  Jamie winced. “Yes,” he lied. “Kate’s going.”

  “Valentin told me Larissa had come back,” said his mother. “Is that true?”

  “It’s true,” he said. “She came back to help us fight Dracula.”

  “Is that really why?”

  “Yes,” he said, firmly. “She’s going back to America as soon as this is over.”

  “Oh.”

  “It’s all right,” he said. “There are more important things right now.”

  “Do you have to go?” she asked.

  “To France?”

  “Yes.”

  He frowned. “Of course I do, Mum,” he said.

  She looked at him and said nothing.

  “The chances of killing Dracula are better with me there,” he continued, trying not to meet his mother’s gaze. “But even if they weren’t, I couldn’t just stand by while everyone else risked their lives. You know I couldn’t. Please don’t be angry with me.”

  Her face creased with pain, then lit up with a smile so full of love that he almost physically recoiled from it.

  “I’m not angry with you, Jamie,” she said. “Don’t think that, not ever. I’m so proud of you I could burst.”

  He blinked back sudden tears. “I love—”

  “Don’t,” she interrupted. “You can tell me tomorrow. When you’re home safely.”

  “OK,” he said, his voice suddenly thick. “I have to go, Mum.”

  She got up from the sofa and hugged him again, far more gently this time.

  “Be careful,” she whispered.

  He squeezed her tightly, taking care not to so much as brush against her broken arm, then let her go. They stared at each other, unti
l Jamie turned away and walked out of the cell; all that was left to say was goodbye, and he could not bring himself to form the word.

  OK, he thought, as he stepped into the airlock. Two down. One to go.

  Five minutes later, Jamie knocked on a door on Level B and waited.

  After a long moment, it opened to reveal a dishevelled Larissa Kinley. She was wearing a vest and shorts, her hair piled up loosely on her head, her eyes barely open, but Jamie felt his heart race; as far as he was concerned, she had never looked more beautiful.

  “Jamie,” she said, and rubbed her eyes. “Everything OK?”

  He nodded. “I think so. Can I come in?”

  The faintest hint of a frown crossed her face, but she stepped aside. He walked into the room and stood by the bed as she closed the door.

  “What’s up?” she said. “And don’t say nothing, Jamie. I know you too well.”

  “You used to,” he said, and instantly regretted it.

  Larissa narrowed her eyes. “That’s a cheap shot.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m really sorry. Frankenstein came to see me and it got me thinking about a lot of stuff.”

  Larissa sat down on the edge of her bed. “What stuff?”

  “My dad,” he said. “Me and him. Me and you.”

  “Jamie …”

  He shook his head. “I don’t mean me and you like me and you. I mean before you left, before I screwed everything up. Frankenstein thinks I pushed you both away because it was easier for me to be on my own after what happened with my dad. After both things that happened, me thinking he was dead and him turning out to be alive. If I kept everyone at a distance, then nobody could let me down, and I couldn’t get hurt. Do you think he’s right?”

  “Yes,” said Larissa, instantly.

  “Was I that transparent?”

  “Sometimes,” she said. “There were times you were so like a closed book that I wanted to scream and shake you until whatever was going on inside your head fell out so I could see it. But as far as this goes, yeah.”

  “Shit,” said Jamie, and rubbed his face with his hands. “I’m such a mess.”

  “Oh, please,” said Larissa. “Self-pity doesn’t suit you, Jamie. At all. What happened with your dad was incredibly traumatic, and it left you with some serious abandonment issues, but don’t start thinking you’re special. The circumstances might have been, but you’re not.”

  Jamie rolled his eyes. “Thanks,” he said. “That means a lot.”

  “You’re welcome,” said Larissa, clearly refusing to indulge him. “Look around you, Jamie. Look where you are. Everyone in this place has seen things they wish they could forget, and far too many of them have lost someone they care about. What matters is getting up every day and putting it all behind you and carrying on, which is what you’ve managed to do. Be proud of yourself for that.”

  “OK,” he said. “I’ll try.”

  Larissa nodded. “So did you and Frankenstein sort everything out?”

  “Sort of,” said Jamie. “He apologised for not telling me my dad was still alive, that he was torn between his loyalty to him and his loyalty to me and made the wrong decision. I can believe that. So we’re OK, I think.”

  “That’s good,” said Larissa. “I couldn’t believe it when Angela told me the two of you hadn’t spoken the whole time I was gone. I don’t know which of you is more stubborn.”

  Jamie smiled. “I’m so glad you’re back, Larissa,” he said. “There was a real shortage of people to insult me without you here.”

  “Get over it,” she said, and smiled at him. “So is that why you’re here? To tell me that you and Frankenstein are reconciled?”

  “Yes,” he said. “No. I don’t know.”

  “Spit it out, Jamie,” she said. “Whatever it is.”

  “Frankenstein came to see me because we might not make it back from France,” he said. “And he said he didn’t want anything left unsaid.”

  “OK,” said Larissa. “That makes sense.”

  “I thought so,” he said. “So I went straight down to see my mum, like I should have done three days ago.”

  “Good.”

  “It just made me think,” he said. “About all the things I haven’t said to people because there wasn’t a right time, or because I just assumed they knew. I don’t want to leave things like that with you.”

  She tilted her head to one side. “All right,” she said. “But if you’re—”

  “I loved you,” he said, interrupting her. “I really did. I’m sorry if I gave you reason to doubt that, and I’ll never be able to apologise enough for how it ended between us, but I want you to know that I really did love you.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, until a small, delicate smile appeared on her face. “I know that, stupid,” she said. “I loved you too. I still do. You mean the world to me.”

  Jamie felt his chest constrict. “You still love me?”

  She narrowed her eyes, but her smile remained in place. “Don’t get any ideas,” she said. “Things are different now. But yes, I still love you.”

  “Things are different now?” he asked. “Or they’re just different?”

  “I don’t know,” said Larissa. “Why don’t we just focus on trying to survive today and worry about that later?”

  “Fair enough,” he said, slightly more encouraged than he had expected to be as he planned the conversation in his head on his way up from the cellblock. “Do you think we’re going to make it? I don’t mean just us. Do you think anyone is coming back from France?”

  “I want to.”

  “But you don’t?”

  “No,” she said, her voice low. “I don’t think so. What about you?”

  “I think we’ll be dead before the end of the day,” he said, and forced a small smile. “I think we’ve left it too late.”

  “We might as well not go, then,” said Larissa. “Let’s just tell Paul we don’t think we should bother.”

  “Good idea,” said Jamie. “Let’s do it now. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Larissa made as if to get up, then shuffled back across the bed so her back was against the wall. Jamie laughed, and shook his head.

  “Coward,” he said.

  She grinned, and stuck her tongue out at him.

  “Charming,” he said.

  “I aim to please,” she said. “So let’s say we’re wrong. Let’s say everything goes to plan and we’re back here tomorrow morning with Dracula dead and everyone safe. What are you going to do then?”

  Jamie shrugged. “I have no idea,” he said. “You’ll go back to America, right?”

  “I will,” she said. “Maybe not tomorrow, but yeah. Haven is my home.”

  I could come with you, he thought. We could start again, away from everyone and everything. We could have a clean slate.

  “Tell me about it,” he said. “The place you made.”

  “Not now,” said Larissa. “Maybe later. If there is one.”

  Jamie nodded. “What about Kate and Matt? What do you think they’ll do?”

  “If we win?” said Larissa.

  “Yeah.”

  “And if Kate survives?”

  Jamie grimaced. “Yeah.”

  “I don’t know,” said Larissa. “Kate could do whatever she wants. Don’t you think so?”

  “Yes,” said Jamie, firmly. “I do.”

  “The same goes for Matt,” said Larissa. “He’s not built for this place, no matter how hard he worked to get here. The Lazarus Project, sure, but not the Department. Not in the long term. I’d have thought it’s only a matter of time until him and Natalia go to Oxford or Cambridge and work on black holes or cure cancer and have a bunch of genius kids.”

  “He wants to go to university,” said Jamie. “I know he does. Natalia has already been, crazily enough, but I know Matt was looking forward to it before all this happened. It was going to be his escape from a life he didn’t like.”

  “Then I hope he go
es,” said Larissa. “And given that he was instrumental in the biggest scientific breakthrough in living memory, I don’t think he’ll have a lot of trouble getting in wherever he wants.”

  Jamie smiled. “You don’t think he’s going to need the right predicted grades?”

  “I suspect not,” she said, and grinned at him.

  Jamie could see it clearly: Matt surrounded by eager students, teaching them something he would never understand in a million years before going home to Natalia and a house full of books and ideas and conversation. It was a happy vision, a future that seemed so essentially right that it would be a crime if it did not come to pass, and it filled Jamie with sudden, fervent determination.

  We won’t lose, he told himself. We won’t let it end today. Not if I have anything to do with it.

  “What time is it?” asked Larissa.

  Jamie cleared his mind and checked his watch. “Nine twenty-seven.”

  “Ninety-three minutes until we’re due in the hangar,” she said. “What are we going to do between now and then?”

  “I can think of something,” said Jamie.

  Larissa’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t make me punch you, Jamie.”

  “Breakfast,” he said, rolling his eyes and smiling at her. “I was talking about breakfast. You need to drag your mind out of the gutter.”

  She smiled at him. “Don’t make me punch you hard, Jamie.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Breakfast?”

  She hopped up off the bed. “Breakfast,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  The helicopters flew south-east like a swarm of hornets, rattling and buzzing and bristling with threat.

  There were eight of them, six big AgustaWestland Merlins and two super-heavy transports that had been built especially for Blacklight from prototypes that the RAF had decided not to put into production; inside their holds they carried the Department’s entire active roster, fifty technical and support staff, six jeeps, two armoured cars, and more than twenty crates of weaponry and equipment.

  Paul Turner sat in the cockpit of the lead helicopter, his face impassive as ever, his gaze fixed on the bright horizon. He had spoken to Bob Allen before he ordered his men and women to load up, and had been pleased to hear both that the Chinese had arrived overnight and the clear incredulity in the NS9 Director’s voice as he described the scene that was waiting for them outside Carcassonne.