by Amy Cross
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to work out what to do. Any hope I might have had of persuading this creature that I'm some powerful ancient sorcerer is now over. It's just a matter of whether Patrick appears.
"I like the look of you, though," says the Alpha Wolf. I open my eyes. "I might keep you alive for a little while. I would like a human mate."
I shake my head.
"No?" he asks. "You don't think it would be a great honor to be a mate of the Alpha Wolf?"
"No thanks," I say.
He laughs again, but cuts the laugh short. "You have no choice," he says harshly. "I don't know if your species and mine can bear children together, but it will be amusing to find out."
"Half mage, half werewolf?" says Hamish. "That'd be a weird fucking mix."
"Shut him up," says the Alpha Wolf.
Hamish cries out in pain. I turn to see that Garvey has stepped forward and sliced Hamish's throat. Falling to his knees, Hamish clutches the wound as blood begins to seep from the wound. Garvey looks over at me, and I see a curious look in his eyes. Maybe I'm wrong, and maybe I'm imagining the whole thing, but I can't help wondering if maybe Garvey is on my side. After all, Hamish told me I could trust him.
"You might be many things, girl," the Alpha Wolf says, stepping behind me and sniffing my neck. "But you are not a mage. You forget, I am old enough to have seen mages in the dawn of time. I saw them born, and I saw them die. This fool has seen nothing, yet he believes he can trick me. A mage most certainly does not look like you. A mage is a mighty and powerful being, a terrifying thing to behold. Or was. They are all gone now, like so many of the old species. You are just a human. A pathetic, weak human. But don't worry. That won't stop me enjoying you, at least for a while."
"You son of a bitch," says Hamish. I turn in time to see the Alpha Wolf stamp his foot down into Hamish's face. I hear the sound of bones breaking in Hamish's face.
I make eye contact with Garvey. I expect to see pure hatred, but instead I see concern, and pity. I don't blame him. The strange thing, though, is that it feels as if he's waiting for something.
"I will kill this creature myself," the Alpha Wolf says, standing over Hamish. He looks at me. "Then I will take the human creature to my bed, and I will see how far I can push her before she breaks. If she survives, she will carry my children." He turns to Garvey. "Restrain her."
Garvey steps forward, reaches out to grab my arm, and then stops. He stares at me. I swear, it's almost as if he's waiting for me to do something.
"Restrain her," the Alpha Wolf says again, but Garvey remains rooted to the spot. And then he opens his mouth as if he's choking. Clutching his throat, he staggers backward, almost colliding with the Alpha Wolf as he falls to the forest floor and writhes around in pain.
I step back, not sure what's happening. But when I look up, I see that the Alpha Wolf has also stepped back, with a look of horror on his face. He looks at me.
"Not possible," he says, sounding shocked. "This is not possible."
"She's not just a pretty face, is she?" says Hamish, still clutching the wound on his neck.
Garvey gasps and starts panting. Whatever force overtook his body has now passed. I stare at the Alpha Wolf and for a moment I imagine what it would be like to be dragged away by him, thrown to the forest floor and forced to sleep with him. Even if I survived, I'd have to give birth to God knows what kind of creature. And then, eventually, I'd die anyway.
I look around. Still no sign of Patrick. He's waiting, but for what?
I turn to the Alpha Wolf. This is it. My last chance. "Release us both," I say, my voice surprisingly steady. I figure this is my last chance, and I'm filled with a strange kind of confidence. "Release this creature from his bonds and let him go free. And leave this place forever."
The Alpha Wolf stares at me. I can see in his eyes that he has no idea what to do or think, but then his face seems to settle into a determined look. "I will have you right now," he says. "Right here." He doesn't seem quite as impressive as before. It's almost as if he's not sure whether he's still dominant.
I can feel Patrick watching me. "No," I say firmly. "No, you won't." I wait for my words to settle. My heart's racing and I know this is futile, but I don't see that I've got any other chance. "Leave now, and take these wolves with you."
For what seems like the longest time, the Alpha Wolf simply stares at me. Finally, he steps closer and stops just short of touching me. "This is a cruel and evil world," he says, his voice softer than before. He stares into my eyes, as if he's trying to decide what to do next. He sniffs the air. "You are not a mage," he says eventually. "Of that, I am certain. But I'm not sure that you're entirely human, either. No mere human would have stood up to me in this way. You're something new. Something unique." He takes a step back. "I have read the Book of Gothos. I know what you are. If you wish to waste your time protecting this vermin, I shall make no further attempts to collect on the debt he owes to me."
He walks slowly over to Hamish. "You should be eternally grateful to those who choose to stand by your side," he sneers. He then walks over to Garvey and kicks him hard in the head, causing him to roll over and howl. "Weakling," the Alpha Wolf says, spitting on him before walking slowly away into the woods. Slowly, all the wolves start to follow him. I watch them go, the leaves on the forest floor rustling as they pass. After a few minutes, the last of them disappear into the distance, and I'm left alone with just Hamish and Garvey, both of whom are still on the ground.
Hamish gets to his feet. The wound on his neck is still bleeding, but not so heavily now. He helps Garvey to his feet.
"Good job," Hamish says, grinning from ear to ear. He puts his arms around me, almost squeezing me to death in a massive hug. "Fucking brilliant job."
"I cannot believe it," says Garvey, staring at me. "That a human would be so foolish... so naive, so... brave. I swear I never thought I would see the day."
"See?" says Hamish. "Told you old Garvey'd play along."
"You knew the plan?" I ask, still stunned.
"Not quite," Garvey replies. "When I realized what you were doing, I found it hard to understand how two people could be so monumentally stupid." He looks at me, than at Hamish, and he seems genuinely amazed. "I could not help being deeply impressed. By one of you, at least."
"So he really believed me?" I ask. "He really believed I was some ancient sorcerer?"
"Not for a fucking second," Hamish replies, "but you got his attention, and that was enough. You put enough doubt in his mind that he decided not to risk a fight. He thinks you're something new. Something a bit weird and unpredictable. Definitely tougher than the average human." He pauses for a moment. "He might be right."
"Something to do with this Book of Gothos?" I ask.
Hamish and Garvey exchange a brief, knowing glance. There's definitely something they're not telling me.
I take a deep breath. "Where's Patrick?" I ask, glancing about at the trees. "I need to talk to him."
"Ah," Hamish says, looking a little embarrassed.
"Where is he?" I ask firmly.
Hamish smiles awkwardly.
"You said he was here," I continue. "You said he was watching us the whole time."
"Well..." He pauses. "About that..."
Hamish
Dedston - 1990
The hospital is almost deserted this late at night. I climb the exterior wall, looking in every window, and eventually I find what I'm looking for.
It's a small room, with horrible yellow walls. A woman is screaming, and a couple of doctors are reaching between her legs. By the bed, a man is holding the woman's hand and watching with a concerned look on his face. After a few minutes, there's the sound of a child screaming, and one of the doctors lifts up a small, bloodied infant.
I can hear them through the window. There's a problem. The baby is premature by five weeks and has to be placed in intensive care. The mother is allowed to see her, just for a moment, and then the child is rushed away.
I stay where I am for a while, watching the mother as she falls asleep.
I move to another window, and I quickly find a way into a small, dark storage cupboard. From there, I emerge into a brightly-lit corridor. I wait for a while, and then I go to look at the intensive care ward.
She's in the unit closest to the door. The doctors are fussing around her, making sure she doesn't stop breathing. I watch. There's no need to get closer. I know she'll be okay, that's not why I'm here. I'm here to get her scent. I breathe deeply, and soon I know her better than anyone else here. It's definitely her; the girl from the Book of Gothos.
Anyone except one person.
I look at the large window closest to the baby. In the darkness outside, there's a shape. The humans can't see it, because it's so dark and they're focused on the baby, but I can see it. I smile and give a little wave.
The figure at the window looks at me briefly, but his focus is on the baby. Good old Patrick. I knew he'd be here.
I turn and walk away. I've got the scent now. I won't have to return for many years, at least seventeen or eighteen, maybe more. I can't come back to Dedston too soon, or the girl won't be able to help me; but if I come back too late, I might miss my window of opportunity. After all, once she meets Patrick, Sophie's days are most definitely numbered.
For now, though, I need to go where no-one can find me. Where no-one would even think of looking. I walk out of the hospital and head toward the bus station, where there's a bus waiting to take me to Vegas. That should be a good place to get lost for a decade or two. I mean, come on - I'm gonna fit right in. Garvey and Duncan and Darla and the rest can look for me all they like, but I'll be unfindable. And if I get hungry, no-one's gonna miss a few gangsters and gamblers in the city of sin, right?
Sophie
"You're still here," I say, standing in the cave and staring at Patrick. He's still in position, apparently waiting for the werewolves to attack. "You've been here all this time?"
He stares at me. Still, there's no response.
Sighing, I realize Hamish lied to me. Patrick didn't follow us after I was kidnapped. I guess Hamish just wanted to make me feel safer, and it worked. I'd never have been able to stand up to the Alpha Wolf if I hadn't believed that Patrick was nearby, ready to step in and help if necessary.
"I need to talk to Vincent," I say, stepping past him and heading toward the house. Pausing for a moment, I turn and glance back at him. "You don't need to stand there," I add. "That whole werewolf thing? I fixed it."
He turns to me.
I shrug, and head to the house.
"I was expecting you," Vincent says, looking up from his work as I enter his study. "I trust that everything worked out well?"
"No thanks to either of you two," I reply. "Don't worry, though. Hamish and Garvey are gone. They've headed off to San Francisco. Garvey promised to keep an eye on Hamish, but I'm not really sure if that's gonna work too well." I pause for a moment. There's something I want to ask Vincent, but I'm scared of the answer. "Apparently I'm in some kind of book," I say eventually. "The Book of Gothos?"
"I believe so," Vincent replies.
"So?" I wait for him to give me some more details. "What's the Book of Gothos, and why am I in it?"
"Patience," he says.
"Patience?"
He smiles. "Some things must not be rushed. You'll learn about Gothos when the time is right. One day, you will visit the great house and see it for yourself."
Walking over to the window, I look out and see that Patrick is no longer over by the entrance.
"Where's Patrick?" I ask.
Vincent smiles sadly. "I imagine he's gone to catch up with an old friend."
I stare at him for a moment. "Hamish?"
Vincent nods.
"Does he know where he is?"
"He'll find him."
"Does he know what happened?" I ask. "We made the wolves go away. Does Patrick know that?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Afraid so?" I walk over to Vincent's desk. "We stopped the wolves. We persuaded them to leave Hamish alone. No, I persuaded them." There's still no reply from Vincent. "That's a good thing, right? I helped save Hamish?"
"Yes, it's a good thing," says Vincent, but he seems tired. "Nevertheless, Patrick has to make sure it never happens again."
"What do you mean?"
Vincent sighs. "Do you realize how close you came to dying out there?"
"But I didn't. I stopped it all from happening."
"This time, yes," says Vincent. "But next time?"
"What next time?"
"Hamish is many things. But he doesn't learn from mistakes. He knows now that he can use you to ward off the Alpha Wolf. Or at least, he thinks he can. And when he needs you again, he will come back for you, of that I have no doubt. Patrick cannot allow you to be exposed to that constant threat."
"There's no threat," I say.
"You don't know Hamish," Vincent says firmly. "You don't know his past. You don't know what he has done to people. Good people. Loyal people. He's a dangerous creature. He puts people in danger and then he uses them to save himself. Apart from Garvey and Duncan, most of the other werewolves keep well clear of him. I know you saved him this time, but in a year or two he'll be in another mess and he'll need saving again. And Patrick knows that when this happens, he'll be back here to get you to help him. That can't be allowed to happen."
I think about this for a moment. "What's he going to do to him?"
Vincent opens his mouth to speak, but says nothing. It seems he doesn't want to answer.
"He can't kill him," I say. "They're friends."
"I honestly don't know," says Vincent. "Killing a wolf is not easy. I suspect Patrick will merely arrange things so that Hamish can't ever trouble us again. How he will do that, I have no idea. But I do not imagine he will fail. Hamish will not return."
I don't know what to say. Just when I thought everything was going to be okay, Patrick has to go and do things his own way. "Does it always have to end so violently?" I ask. "Whatever happens, does Patrick always have to use violence to solve everything? Why can't he just let Hamish go?"
"Because Hamish would be back. Again and again. And eventually you would die."
This is crazy. I can't talk to Vincent about this, but the one person I need to talk to is the one person who can't possibly talk to me. "When will he be back?" I ask quietly.
"A few days, I imagine."
I nod. "Tell him... Tell him he's wrong. I know he won't listen, but tell him anyway. And tell him that if he's killed Hamish, then I never want to see him again. Tell him that."
I turn and walk away. I don't wait to hear what Vincent has to say, because there's nothing he can say. Patrick can only speak through violence, but sometimes violence isn't what's needed. I know he's saved my life twice now, but I'm also pretty sure that I won't need my life saving again unless Patrick is around. As I walk up the tunnel toward the exit, I realize the irony: I've finally found how to get down here without help, and now I don't know if I'll ever want to come down again.
Outside, it's almost morning, but there's another surprise: Patrick is waiting for me. I stop as soon as I see him. He looks tired, and his eyes are loaded with sadness.
"Did you do it?" I ask. No answer. "Did you kill him?"
He stares at me for a moment, and then - finally - he slowly shakes his head.
"But he won't come back, will he?" I ask.
He shakes his head again.
As usual, I'm left standing here with so much to say, I can't say anything at all. It's hard to talk to someone who never replies.
I step toward Patrick. Without really thinking, I move closer to him and plant a kiss on his cheek. He doesn't respond, but he doesn't move away either. He just stands there and takes it. I keep my face close to his for a moment, and I breathe deep to try to catch his scent. That's all Hamish talks about: scents. So I should be able to pick up Patrick's scent, right? But there's nothing. I'm just huma
n, I guess, and there's some things we humans just can't do.
Then again, there are some things vampires can't do either.
I reach and take his hand in mine. I don't know why, it just feels like the thing to do. But as I turn his hand over, I see blood wiped on the skin. I take his other hand: it's the same.
"This isn't your blood, is it?" I ask.
He shakes his head.
I step back, and then without saying anything I walk away. I don't look back, not once, and I keep walking through the woods until I get to the edge of the city, to where the leaves of the forest floor give way to the concrete of the outer suburbs. Finally, I stop and look back.
Ever since I first met Patrick, I've felt his presence around me all the time. His eyes watching me, almost like he's reading my mind. But now, for the first time in months, there's nothing. For the first time since I met Patrick, I feel like he's not following me, not watching over me at all.
Hamish
Dedston - 2012
Fucking hell, nightclubs aren't what they used to be. The 19th century was the best time - Paris, Berlin, Prague, Vienna... the list is endless. Great artists and writers smoking opiates and gently going mad in one another's company. Absinthe was the big drink back then. God, I remember when I first drank absinthe - or, rather, I don't remember when I first drank absinthe. In fact, I don't remember anything from 1880 to 1885. That's five fucking years of my life when I haven't a clue what I was doing, where I was, who I was with, or anything. Given that I was being chased by a pack of hungry werewolves at the time, it's some achievement that I'm still here at all.
But this place? This is a nightclub in name only. I don't mind the music, and I don't mind the people, all of whom look pleasant enough. It's more the culture of the place. People in the toilets are injecting fuck knows what into their veins in a desperate attempt to feel something. By the bar, kids are passed out, others are kissing, others are arguing. All human life is here, but I can't say I'm very impressed. That's okay, though. I'm not here looking for just anyone. I'm here looking for the one person who can save my fucking life right now, and I can already smell her. I can pick up her scent, all these years after she was born.
