by Amy Cross
After a while, I jump down a small ridge in the forest floor and wait. If someone’s following me, I should see them come straight past on my trail. But after a good five minutes, there’s no sign of anyone. I start to relax. Although I clearly need to remain paranoid, it’s probably safe to carry on.
I reach the entrance to the tunnel, ready to head underground to Patrick and Vincent’s home. First, I take one last look around at the forest behind me. I’m checking for anything unusual, anything that hints someone might be watching. After all, I accidentally led Dexter Logan here a while back, and I don't want to make the same mistake again. Fortunately, there’s no sign of anyone nearby. If I really was being followed, I’m pretty sure they didn’t bother following me all the way into the forest. They'd probably figure this is the last place they’d catch me doing anything interesting.
They’d be wrong.
I head down the tunnel and eventually I reach the chamber where Patrick and Vincent’s house sits. The house literally fell from a street above, coming through a sink-hole and landing in the cavern. Clambering over the rocks, I get to the front door and head into the study, expecting to find Vincent waiting for me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I walk in. “I think someone -”
I stop dead in my tracks.
A man turns and smiles, but it’s not Vincent, and it’s not Patrick. Instead, it’s a tall, handsome man in his 30s, maybe a young-looking 40s, wearing a neat suit. He looks like some kind of government agent, except something about his smile tells me he’s no such thing. In his hands, he's holding one of Vincent's books.
“Sophie Hart,” the man says with a slightly harsh, gravelly voice. Putting the book down on Vincent's desk, he steps toward me. "What a coincidence. I've just been reading about you."
"Huh," I say, glancing over my shoulder to make sure that there aren't any more surprises creeping up behind me.
“I’m sorry,” he says, turning on the charm in an attempt to get me to relax. “I expect this is a surprise. Let me introduce myself properly. My name is Martin Keller, I’m a... Well, I’ve known Vincent and Patrick for many years”. He takes a deep breath, keeping his eyes fixed on me. “I must be honest; I’m almost offended at the thought that they never mentioned me”.
I nod slowly, already planning my escape. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong; this guy shouldn’t be down here. Now that he's closer, I can see that he's very stocky and it looks as if, beneath his business suit, he's got huge muscles.
“I’ll be straight with you,” he says. “I didn’t realize you were so... quiet. Don’t you have any questions?” He stares at me for a moment, with that curious smile still stretched across his face. “You know, if you don’t say something soon, you’ll really start reminding me of good old Patrick”.
“Got to go,” I say, turning to leave, but I feel his firm grip on my arm, holding me back.
“You’re completely free to leave,” he says, “but I must insist you answer one question first”. He tightens his grip a little. “Where are they?”
He’s leaning in close now.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say. It's the truth. I have no idea what's happening right now.
“Patrick,” Keller says. “The vampire who lost his tongue. And his father, or... the man who acts as if he’s his father. I know you're close to them”.
I try to pull free from his grip, but he's far too strong.
“You seem surprised,” says Keller. “Could it be that Patrick and Vincent haven’t been entirely honest with you?” He steps a little closer. “That must hurt. To find that you’ve been lied to all this time”.
Nice try, but I know what he’s trying to do. He’s trying to make me question my loyalty to Vincent and Patrick.
“Think about it,” says Keller, letting me go. “If you want to talk, I’ll be right here. Just come and find me any time, okay? And when you bump into your friends, let them know that I'd like a quick word. I think they'll already know what it's about”.
"I'll give them your message," I say, backing away.
"Excellent," he replies with a grin. "I expect we'll be seeing one another again very soon. I've heard a lot about you, Sophie Hart. It's so good to finally put a face to the name."
I open my mouth to reply, but what can I say? I back away a little further, and then I turn and hurry out of the house and toward the tunnel that leads back up to the ‘real’ world. This is all too weird. I have to find Vincent and Patrick. I have to find out who this Martin Keller guy is, and what he wants with me.
Martin Keller
It’s always fun to kill a human, and I could easily have killed Sophie before she even noticed me. Still, I need her alive for now. Without her, I can't get to the truth.
While the death of a human is usually an unremarkable event, the death of a vampire is always a great occasion. They live such long, fascinating lives that they sometimes seem to forget that they can be killed; consequently, they tend to scream and beg for their lives with great enthusiasm. While humans live in the constant shadow of their imminent death, vampires’ lives are one long party, safe in the knowledge that it is so hard to finish them off. So when you get hold of a vampire and prepare to end its miserable existence, you can look into their eyes and see a kind of true terror that cannot be found anywhere else.
Before the war, I killed many vampires. There were thousands of them, and I would hunt them down methodically. But when the war came, and the vampires began to kill one another, I found they could not be caught so easily. They retreated to the fields of Gothos, and I was forced to sit on the sidelines as they fought one another and died in great numbers. Humans had no idea that this war was happening all around them, but for me it was a great tragedy and a great missed opportunity.
When the war was over, I was initially fooled into believing that all the vampires were dead. For most of the 1940s and 1950s, I was a drunken wretch living on the streets of Paris. I wallowed in memories, drinking away my sorrows. Sometimes I became so drunk, I spewed out my story to fellow drunks. They laughed and dismissed me as a fool. I don’t blame them. I came close to death many times. Eventually I set off to kill a few werewolves, but it wasn't the same. A werewolf isn't much of a challenge, not when you've already mastered the art of killing a vampire.
Then, one day, I discovered the truth. A single vampire had survived the war, and was living in America. He was protected by two men: first, a creature known as The Lock, about which I still know virtually nothing; later, a human named Vincent took over, banishing The Lock and announcing himself as the vampire’s father. I subsequently discovered the truth about Vincent, and his real relationship to the last vampire, but that was largely immaterial. What mattered was the fact that a vampire still existed. Just one. I now had the chance to kill the very last vampire, to end the original lineage of that great species, and to begin my own line of creations.
The hunt was back on.
It took me many years to find this last vampire, but I finally tracked him down after I gained the assistance of the Watchers. Patrick and his father were living in Dedston, biding their time as they waited for signs of a prophecy to come true. They were hiding, like pathetic animals, reduced to the level of scurrying around and avoiding humans. Vampires are supposed to be a proud, powerful race. What went wrong? How did they end up like this? How did they let the Book of Gothos guide their lives with such slavish regularity?
Foolishly, I assumed that this last vampire would be weakened and easily killed. This was not the case. In the ensuing struggle, I came closer to death than any man should be able to survive. After what seemed like an eternal battle, the vampire left me for dead. But just as I had once under-estimated him, now he under-estimated me: I survived, and I grew stronger. I contacted the only person who could help me achieve what I needed. At first, Benjamin did not believe what I wanted. Then, he said he couldn’t do it. Then, he said that he could do it, but that he would not. Finall
y, he agreed, and I underwent the most amazing surgical transformation. Never before has a human emerged so strong, so powerful, and so dangerous.
And I understood, finally, how to kill the last vampire. I would have to think like him. To move like him. To kill like him. To be like him.
Sophie
I have no idea where to go. If someone was following me earlier, it seems pretty clear that it won’t be safe for me to go home. Instead, I head for the library and use a computer to try to look up this Martin Keller guy online, but all I can find is a reference to some guy with the same name who disappeared around here in the 40s. Giving up, I head over to a cafe to get a soda. I only have about $2 in my pocket, but I can make a cheap soda last all afternoon while I try to work out what to do. Still, as I head along the street, I realize the car that was following me earlier is back.
I head straight down an alley, figuring that there’s no way the car can follow me. Hurrying along, I come out on another street and glance around, just as the car comes round the corner. I turn and walk away quickly, wondering what to do. Ever since I found Martin Keller in Vincent and Patrick’s home, I’ve been feeling increasingly that there’s something very wrong. And why did I get that note, asking me to help, when the only thing I was going to find down in the house was Keller?
I turn down another alley, figuring I can try to lose the car again, perhaps by taking a backdoor into one of the buildings. But as I try to work out a route, I feel a hand on my shoulder and I turn.
“Relax,” says Vincent, who has snuck up behind me.
“What’s happening?” I blurt out, relieved to see him but worried by the serious expression on his face. He’s such an old man, clearly in his 70s or 80s, but he usually has young-looking eyes. Right now, however, he looks haunted and tired.
“We need to talk,” says Vincent, glancing over his shoulder. “Somewhere safe. Come with me”.
He starts walking past me, but I grab his arm. “I’m being followed,” I say.
“I know. Come on”. He starts heading down the alley and I follow, We soon reach a large iron door in the back of a building. Vincent reaches into his pocket and pulls out a long, thin key which he inserts into the lock. After a moment, there’s a click and he pushes the door open. We go inside.
“They won’t find us here,” he says. We’re in what appears to be a small storeroom of the Marrimont Hotel, one of the biggest and most upscale hotels in town. All around us, there are shelves full of toilet rolls, towels and other items.
“What’s going on?” I ask. “Where’s Patrick?”
“One thing at a time,” says Vincent, looking about as if he’s still worried that we’re being followed. “Have you been to the house today?”
I nod. “There was this guy -”
“Martin Keller,” says Vincent.
“Yeah. Who is he?”
Vincent seems preoccupied. “He’s a very dangerous man. You’re lucky to be alive. There must be a reason”.
“A reason I’m still alive?”
Vincent nods. “Martin Keller isn’t the kind of man to just let you walk away. Did he touch you?”
“No, I don’t think so”.
“So he probably hasn’t bugged you. Still, there’s something he wants and it’s something that requires you to still be alive. At least for now”.
"Why did you send me a message to go to the house?" I ask.
"I didn't," he replies. "You were tricked."
"Where's Patrick?" I ask.
There’s a clicking sound at the door. Vincent turns. “It’s okay,” he says after a moment, turning back to me. “It’s just an old building creaking”. He looks so concerned and confused, as if he’s desperately trying to think of a way to solve the problem.
“Where’s Patrick?” I ask again
"I..." He pauses, as if he can't answer the question.
“Vincent?” I say firmly, starting to get worried. “Where’s Patrick?”
He turns to me, seemingly not sure what to say. “He...” There’s a pause. “I buried him this morning”. He has tears in his eyes, but he’s holding them back. “I’ll take you there later, so you can see. Please, Sophie, don't ask too many questions right now. There isn't time”.
I try to understand what he’s saying. Patrick’s a vampire, he can’t die. There was a time, once, when Vincent said he was close to death, but he was saved. Vampires can be saved. There’s no need for them to die. “What do you mean, you buried him?” I ask. “He's not dead. He can't be”.
“I’m sorry,” he replies, "but some things are too traumatic, even for a vampire’s body. There wasn’t time to save him. Listen, we have to -”
“How did he die?” I ask. It still seems impossible to believe, yet looking at Vincent I can see that there’s no way he’d lie about something like this.
“Don’t ask,” Vincent says.
“Was it painful?” I have to know every detail. I have to work out what’s happening. After all, maybe there’s a way to put it right. Vincent isn’t answering; he’s just looking around, trying to figure out what has happened. I can understand why; Patrick was his son, and no-one should have to bury their son. And then, suddenly, a thought hits me. “He was the last one,” I say. “He was the last vampire. That means...”
Vincent nods. “They’re all dead now. There are no more. The line has stopped. The prophecy has been interrupted”.
"But how?" I ask, trying not to panic. "He can't be dead!"
“Martin Keller,” he says bitterly. “That's what happened. And we have to find a way to stop him, or no-one will be safe”. He hurries across to the door and glances along the corridor. He’s clearly extremely cautious, and extremely concerned that we’re being watched.
“What does he want?” I ask. “Why did he -” It’s hard to believe it could be true. “Why did he kill Patrick?” As I say those words, I feel this surge of emotion, as if I've lost someone who was hugely important to me. However, the emotion seems to hit a wall inside me, as if something is keeping it down. “How did he kill him?"
Vincent turns to me. “He’s a vampire hunter,” he says. “Or he was. The last hunter. I never thought... I thought he was gone. I thought he’d been defeated the last time, but he was just waiting, biding his time. He was much cleverer and much stronger than I ever believed. He must have had help”. He looks back down the corridor. “It was my fault. I under-estimated him, and that’s why Patrick is dead. Now come with me”.
He starts walking, and I follow. We’re soon in the hotel’s reception area, where people are milling about. It’s a decent-sized crowd, and we can probably hide in here for a while.
“Upstairs,” says Vincent, leading me to a small door that takes us to a flight of stairs, which we start climbing. “We have to get to the roof”.
It takes us a few minutes to get up to the top of the building and out onto the wide, flat roof overlooking the street below. It’s windy up here, but Vincent seems convinced that this is the best place for us to be.
“Wait,” I say, causing him to stop and turn. “What about my family? Are they safe?”
He nods. “If harming your family was part of Keller’s plan, he’d have harmed them long ago”. He steps over to me. “You have to understand something, Sophie. This man has spent years, decades setting all of this up. He’s thought of every possible move we could make. We can’t stop him by trying to break free from his plans. We can only stop him by giving him what he wants and hoping there’s some solution along the way. Remember... There’s always a way out”.
“What do you mean?”
“There’s always a way out. No matter how bad things seem, no matter how much you might think that you’re doomed, there’s always a way out. Even at the last minute, there’s always a way. You just have to be smart enough to spot it”.
I think about this for a moment. “There wasn’t a way out for Patrick, was there?”
He shakes his head. “That was my fault,” he says. “Don’t
ask how, but it was my fault. I’ll tell you everything later, but right now you have to come with me and you have to trust me”.
“Okay,” I say, “but there’s one thing you have to promise”. He takes a deep breath. I can’t believe I’m even saying these words. “Later, you have to tell me everything about how Patrick died. I need to know”.
Vincent nods. “I promise. But now we have to make sure he didn’t die in vain”.
There’s a sound in the distance. A kind of humming at first, but it’s clearly getting closer and closer. Vincent looks around, trying to work out where it’s coming from.
“Quick,” he says, leading me across the roof. We step up onto a new section, the roof of a different building, and we head over to a small door. The humming is getting louder, and it’s all around us.
“What is that?” I ask.
Before Vincent can answer, I feel the whole roof start to rumble. I turn and see a helicopter coming down toward us.
“You've got to be joking,” I say, but Vincent grabs my arm and pulls me through the door, slamming it shut and leaving us in complete darkness with the sound of the helicopter thumping outside, getting closer and closer.
Martin Keller
To come so close... To feel the heart of your victim, pierced and destroyed... And to then have victory snatched away from you... I cannot imagine a greater torture.
I searched all night for the vampire’s corpse. I ripped apart the forest. He cannot have got far, with his heart tattered and ruined. I have heard of this before: vampires summon up the last of their strength and, like dogs, they crawl away to die. But this one cannot be allowed to die in secret; I must have his body.
