by Amy Cross
He clearly isn't convinced, but what can he say? It's hardly a good time to press me on details. "Yeah," he says. "I guess."
When we get into bed, I can tell things are weird between us, so I make an extra effort to be nice and to remind him that I can be a good girlfriend. Adam and I still haven't gone all the way, but tonight, wrapped up together in bed, I feel as if I can't hold back entirely, so we fool around a little. Nothing too heavy, just a little touching, until finally I go down on him. It's not even something I want to do, but I figure I need a distraction. By the time he's done, I feel kind of embarrassed, and it takes me a while to convince him that I don't want anything in return. Eventually he falls asleep with his arms around me, and I stare over at the window. Is Adam keeping Patrick away?
Patrick
Finally, my father agrees. He has no choice.
Sophie
I open my eyes and it's morning. As usual, I feel completely drained. I swear, it's as if I get up while I'm asleep and run a marathon. No matter how tired I feel when I go to bed, it's worse when I wake up. I don't know what's going on while I sleep, but I'm seriously starting to wonder whether I sleepwalk or something like that. Could that be what's happening? Am I getting up in the dead of night and wandering around the house? There has to be some explanation for why I'm exhausted every single morning.
"What the fuck," says Adam behind me.
I turn to look at him, and it takes me a moment to recognize what's happened. He's naked next to me, but something's horribly wrong. From head to toe, he's covered in tiny scratches.
"What did you do?" he asks, looking shocked as he stares down at his body.
"I didn't do that," I stammer.
Clambering out of bed, he gets dressed quickly. Very quickly, as if he's desperate to get away from me. It's shocking to watch him, with his body so completely covered in small scratches; it looks like a bunch of cats danced all over him in the night. None of the scratches are deep, they're just little red lines, as if something spent the whole night scraping away at him. How could he not feel that? How could I not feel that? I look down at my hands. My nails aren't even long enough to cause scratches like that, but if I didn't do it, who did?
I look over at the window. Is this Patrick's way of sending me a message?
"Fuck this," says Adam.
I turn to look at him. He's almost dressed. Naturally, he's not exactly pleased about the whole situation.
"Don't take this the wrong way," he continues, "and I know you're going through a tough time, but there's something wrong with you." He puts his coat on. "Even before your dad died, there was something weird, something I couldn't understand." The scratches are all over his hands and face; there's not a spot on his body that hasn't been affected. "I mean, fucking hell, Sophie, look at me! What the fuck have you been doing?"
I stare at him, and I can't deny that something's very wrong. But did I do this to him? Is that why I'm so tired? Did I sit up all night, scratching at his skin? And if I did, why didn't he wake up, and why don't I remember? Sure, I've been under a lot of stress lately, and then there's the shock of finding out about my father's death. But surely there's a limit to how far I could go?
"I'm sorry," I say. "I don't know what happened." I stare at him. It's impossible to believe this is happening. "I didn't do this to you!" I shout.
He clearly doesn't believe me. "So, what, your mom came in and did this?" He stares at me. "Or your little brother? Whatever you did, Sophie, it stinks. Fuck it, look at me! What am I supposed to do? Sit in my room for a week while this heals up?"
"It won't take that long," I say.
"For fuck's sake, Sophie," he continues. There's a moment's silence between us. "What is this?" he asks. "Is this some kind of subconscious hatred of me? Is this 'cause of what we did last night? Do you have some kind of problem with sex? Do you just want to rip me apart and force me out of here? 'Cause if that's what you want, just say it. Just tell me honestly, instead of doing something like this!"
"I don't know," I say. I step toward him. "I honestly don't know, okay? I have no idea what happened to you last night. I swear I didn't do it, but I don't remember anything I've been doing lately and you're right, something's wrong with me." With tears in my eyes, I open the door and start pushing him out of my room. "Just go home."
He backs out and shakes his head. "Whatever's going on, let me know if I can help," he says. "Otherwise, just... Just take some time to figure it out."
"So we're breaking up," I say. "Right?"
He stares at me, unable to give me a straight answer.
"See you around," I reply, pushing the door shut.
Half an hour later, I'm out of the house and making my way to the forest, where I quickly locate the entrance to Patrick and Vincent's home. It's weird, but whereas I used to have trouble finding the entrance, these days I'm able to get there without any kind of problem. I run along the underground corridor and down the steps until I reach the huge cavern in which their little old house sits. Rushing over, I go straight to Vincent's study, but he's not there. As I stand there, I realize there's not a sound in the whole place. I listen, convinced that any moment I'll hear footsteps and one of them - probably Vincent, knowing my luck - will come strolling in.
"Patrick!" I call out. "Vincent!"
But there's nothing.
They're out.
Both of them.
For the first time ever, I'm alone down here!
I've waited for this moment, for my chance to explore, but now that it's here, I have no idea what to do. I'm like a rabbit caught in the headlights. I have this perfect opportunity to snoop around, and I have to make it count, but should I? Isn't that immoral? Yes, I suppose it is. Will that stop me? Probably not.
It's kind of liberating to realize that I have total freedom to explore. In the past, when I've been down here I've always been with Vincent or Patrick, and they've always kept me in a couple of rooms. Thinking about it, isn't it kind of odd that they've never let me see the rest of the house? Vincent says Patrick has no room of his own, but I know there's an upstairs floor and I'm pretty sure they must use it for something. Now's my chance! I take a deep breath and get ready. Now I can explore at my leisure. I can look around the house.
"Vincent!" I call out one final time, to make sure that there's no-one around.
No answer.
"Patrick?"
Again, no answer.
Heading out into the hallway, I look at the stairs. The thought of going up to the top floor of the house fills me with excitement. I guess what I'm interested in is seeing the mundane aspects of Vincent and Patrick's lives. Sure, they're mysterious and strange, and Patrick - at least - is a vampire. But what do they do when they're just sitting around at home? Surely they can't be 'on' all the time? As my mind fills with all these questions, I'm aware that this is my way of shutting out my other problems. I just want to think about something other than the death of my father, which still feels so unreal.
I carefully start walking up the stairs, constantly worried that at any moment Patrick or Vincent will appear. I'm soon up on the top floor, from which three doors lead off into different rooms. It's something of an anti-climax, given that I'd been waiting so long to finally take a look around. I pick a door at random and slowly turn the handle, half-expecting to be interrupted, but no-one comes, so I push the door all the way open. To my surprise, I find an empty space with just one object inside: a baby's crib in the center of the room. It's totally empty, but it looks to have been made up recently with fresh sheets. It's old, as if it was hand-made many years ago, with a few toys left nearby on the floor. There's something creepy about finding it in here, though: just a crib in the middle of the room, with no real efforts to make the rest of the room nice.
Stepping over to the crib, I see that there's a name painted on the side, but it seems to have been scratched away. Peering down, I can only make out that the first letter was an 'A', which I guess means that this isn't Patric
k's crib. Feeling a cold shiver run through my body, I back out of the room, pulling the door shut as I go.
In the second room, I find a fairly normal-looking old bed, and piles of books on the floor. I'm pretty sure this is Vincent's room. It looks pretty ordinary, like the room of any old man you might meet, and it feels somewhat wrong to be in here, so I go back out and look at the final door, which must be Patrick's room.
Do I have the right to do this? Can I just march into Patrick's room and start looking around? What's he got in there, anyway? What kind of bedroom would a vampire have? Does Patrick have stuff? Am I going to walk in and find posters on the walls and shelves full of DVDs? Or does he just live in a bare space with a hook that he can hang from at night when he sleeps? There's a part of me that's scared to go inside, but I figure that he happily enters my bedroom without asking first, so why shouldn't I do the same?
Taking a deep breath, I reach down and slowly start to turn the handle, and then I slowly push the door open. At first, all I can see are the light blue walls and bare wooden floorboards. I push the door open a little more -
Suddenly there's a shuffling sound from inside the room, and for a moment I see the side of a woman's arm before the door is slammed shut in my face. I step back. That arm couldn't have been Patrick or Vincent: it was unmistakeably a woman's arm. I stay completely still, not knowing what to do.
"Hello?" I say, my voice wavering a little.
There's no reply.
"I didn't mean to disturb you," I say.
All sorts of ideas flash through my mind. Who is this woman? Patrick's mother? His sister? Or maybe she's some distant relative, or someone who knows Vincent? Or could she be one of Patrick's old girlfriends, like Rose Tisser. Patrick does seem to have a habit of tossing women aside when he's done with them. I kind of understand. After all, if he's really hundreds of years old, he can't ever find someone he'll be with forever, can he? Take me, for example. I could spend the rest of my life with Patrick, but he can't spend the rest of his life with me.
"Hello?" I call out again. I'd assumed that Patrick and Vincent lived here alone, but I never actually asked them.
I reach out to the door handle again and slowly, very slowly, I turn it.
"I'm coming in," I say. "I hope that's okay."
I push the door open, expecting that at any moment it'll be slammed in my face. Slowly, however, it swings all the way, and I'm faced with an empty room with bare wooden floorboards and pale blue walls. I step inside and look around, but there's really nothing to see. Nothing, and no-one. I look behind the door, but there's no-one there. I walk to the window, which is shut but unlocked. Could someone have climbed out? Or did I imagine the woman's arm? First I saw my father in my bedroom, and now I've seen a woman's arm here; am I going crazy?
Walking to the window, I look out at the cavern. There's something irresistibly strange about this whole place, and in my determination to avoid thinking about my father, I find myself focusing on all the questions I have about Patrick and Vincent. Unfortunately, everything keeps coming back to the same question that struck me last night: is there any chance that Patrick was involved in my father's death?
After a moment, I realize that there's a sound somewhere else in the room. It's a kind of scratching, stumbling sound, getting closer and closer.
I turn around and find myself face to face with a woman. At least, I think it's a woman. She's wearing what appears to be a white wedding dress, with a veil covering most of her face. Her arms are bare, and she's reaching out to me.
I take a deep breath.
"Hi," I say, hoping desperately to get the conversation into normal territory so that I don't have to think about what else could happen. My heart's racing and I'm fighting the urge to run. "My name's Sophie."
The woman doesn't move. She just stands there, breathing. As I look at her, however, I see something dark appear on the white fabric over her stomach. It's blood. A small patch of blood, steadily getting larger. It's as if she's slowly bleeding from a wound on her belly.
I step to the side, planning to walk around her and out of the room. She turns to watch me, but she makes no effort to stop me. She's still just staring at me, and the patch of blood on the front of her dress is getting bigger and bigger. The strange thing is, I'm not scared. I should be, but I'm not. For some reason, I'm filled with this overwhelming feeling that the woman isn't a threat. In fact, I can't help wondering if I should try to help her.
"Are you okay?" I ask, turning back to her. "How do you know Patrick and Vincent?"
No answer.
It's at this point that I decide to do something that I know I shouldn't do. I step forward, and I reach a hand up toward the veil that covers her face. I know I shouldn't get anywhere near her, but the truth is, I don't feel like she's dangerous. After all, if she's living with Patrick and Vincent, she must be okay, right? Why would they let someone bad live with them? What if she's a victim? What if all my worst fears about Patrick are true, and he's been keeping this woman here against her will?
"Don't worry," I say. "I'm a friend of theirs too."
I put my hand against the veil, ready to brush it aside.
"I just want to say hi," I say.
I gently part the veil to reveal her face. The first thing I notice is how pale she is, and the second thing I notice is that she looks awful, with dark, sunken eyes as if she's close to death. It's a pretty shocking sight, but as I stare at her some more, I realize there's something else. Something about the way she stares at me. I look at her and from somewhere deep inside I start to feel this horrible feeling of dread.
I look down as the blood from her stomach wound starts to drip onto the wooden floor.
I look back up at her face. She still has her eyes fixed on me.
I step back. I can't be in this room. I turn and run out, straight down the stairs and out the front door of the house, into the cavern. I run to the tunnel that leads out of here, and it's only now that I stop and turn to look back at the house. There's no sign of the woman. She didn't follow me out. That's good, but my heart is racing and I don't know what to do, because when I looked under the veil, I recognized the woman.
It was me.
Patrick
I can tell that my father is concerned about the task ahead. He says very little as we walk, focusing all his thoughts on where we are going. And as we start our descent down the stone steps, he seems hesitant, as if he's starting to have second thoughts about the whole thing, but he can't back out now. This is the final act of a game that he himself set in motion many years ago. He always knew this day was coming.
There is so much I could say to him. For the first time in many years, I'm forced to contemplate the possibility of life without him. It's by no means certain that he will be able to leave the chamber once he has entered. The price he is willing to pay to discover the solution to Sophie's problem is beyond all imagination. I know he thinks this is a foolish move, and I know that he is only doing it for me, and for Sophie. I am grateful. This is not part of the prophecy. This is his choice.
I don't know how far I should go with him, but when we get to the entrance to the final chamber, he turns to me and I realize that he has to go on ahead. I wait as he enters, and immediately I hear the taunts start. My father has met his only enemy, the enemy he thought he had vanquished many years ago. These two men were never meant to see one another again, and yet here we are, and although this enemy is chained, he can still cause terrible damage simply by virtue of the words he chooses. He has known my father for many years, and he understands how to inflict maximum damage.
I listen. My father stays silent as the taunts continue. Although the Lock says the harshest, most evil things, my father does not rise to the bait. Instead, he says nothing.
The Lock starts by talking about me. He says that I'm a failure, that I am responsible for the deaths of all the other vampires. He says I committed genocide. And he's right. I did. He should know. He was there. In fact,
this wretched, pitiful prisoner was the one who put Cassandra's heart into my hands and told me what to do. So he isn't entirely blameless in all of this, even if it's true that ultimately I was the one who carried the heart to the dungeons of Gothos and showed it to the children. As the Lock warms to his theme, he taunts my father about the moment when Cassandra, Bowie and the others became human. He talks about how Diana was abandoned at Gothos with the wretched children, and he warns that Benjamin and the Watchers are still out there, waiting for their moment to strike.
Next, the Lock starts taunting my father about his own mother, about how she was a whore who was butchered in an alley. Again, this is true. The Lock is not saying anything that is false. But my father knows that his mother, although she might have been a whore, was a good woman. And he knows that it was not her fault that she was attacked and killed. He knows these things because I told him. I lied, but he has no way of knowing that.
The Lock starts talking about Sophie. He asks whether my father can truly condone what's going to happen to her. She is, after all, an innocent girl. We could let her walk away, and she could live a full life, never knowing the true horrors of Gothos. But he knows, as we know, that the prophecy will find a way to reassert itself. Sophie has a role to play, and there's no way to spare her from the horrors ahead. The prophecy is a living, breathing thing. If it is crossed, it will become angry. It will lash out. It will release the spiders, and it will take its revenge.
And now the Lock is on to other subjects. He's trying every possible subject, trying desperately to make my father angry. He talks about Cassandra, and how she let the Alpha Wolf rip out her heart before their wedding. He talks about the night that the Castle of Eyes fell apart, and about the moment that I opened my hand to show the children how The Promise could set us all free from the chains of war. Finally, he warns my father that Benjamin's spies are everywhere, and that soon one of them will come to seek vengeance.
