Dark Season: The Complete Box Set

by Amy Cross

  "Yes," he replies, "but -"

  "Then I'll do it," I say. The thought of Martin Keller getting hold of Patrick's body and cutting it up is too horrifying. "I'll see you back here tomorrow," I add, and then I turn and walk out of the diner before Vincent has a chance to stop me. I have no idea where I’m going, or what I’m going to do, but I know this: I’m not going to just sit around and wait to get killed. I'm not ready to die, and I'm not ready to let my family get killed either, and I'm not going to let Keller get hold of Patrick's body. I have to come up with a plan.

  Martin Keller

  She walks out of the cafe, wrapped up in her own fear. She doesn’t even notice me watching from the shadows. I consider following her, but then I realize that I’m getting distracted. She’s not important. She’s a waste of time. Sure, it’ll be fun to kill her, but the real prize is Patrick’s body, and the other prize is Vincent. This Sophie girl is just an annoyance. I’ll kill her when it’s more convenient.

  Vincent, though, is another matter. I watch him sitting alone in the cafe. Looking at his old face, with sad, sagging eyes, I remember how young he looked when I first met him. It must have been decades ago now, when I first encountered him with Patrick. He told me he was Patrick’s father and I was puzzled at first. It made no sense, how this man could suddenly appear and claim to have sired Patrick, but eventually I came to understand, and I laughed at the foolishness of their relationship.

  Even today, I have to stifle a laugh as I look at poor, foolish old Vincent sitting in the cafe. His life is a failure. I could kill him right now. It wouldn’t take much. Hell, he’s an old man; I could probably just tap on the window and scare him to death. Failing that, I could walk into the cafe and rip his head off. Both of those options would be fun, and I’m certainly in the mood for some real violence tonight. It has been almost a day since I tasted blood. However, I promised I would give him twenty-four hours to provide Patrick’s body. Even though I know he’ll never give it to me, I feel I have to let him have these final hours before I kill him. It’s a kind of honor that I must uphold. I’ve waited all these years. I can wait a few more hours.

  I walk across the street and enter a bar. It’s packed with humans, all of them drinking and socializing. I remember a time when I would enjoy such a place, but these days, I come to bars simply to observe humans. It has been many, many years since I considered myself to be human, and I do not miss the feeling of being so weak and unenlightened. Nevertheless, I sometimes enjoy mixing in human company, with the aim of reminding myself why I chose to pursue the vampire life.

  I order a drink and sit at the bar. Tonight is November 15th, the 80th anniversary of the night I first saw a vampire. Back then, I was an average American working in a small office. I was dull, gray and boring, and becoming duller, more gray and more boring every second. I was so pathetic, I regularly worked until nearly midnight, way beyond overtime, simply because I had nothing else to do. Heading home late one night, I took a wrong turn and found myself in an alley, face to face with a scene that seemed, at first, to be horrific: a dead body was on the ground, with a vampire kneeling on its chest, feeding on the flesh of its neck. I don’t just mean sucking blood from two neat holes: this vampire was chewing and gnawing on the muscles.

  As I stared, the vampire looked over at me. I made eye contact with it and for a moment I felt sure it was going to kill me, but just as I was ready to die, the vampire simply ran off in the opposite direction.

  I went to look at the dead body. I had never seen a corpse before, but instead of being repulsed, I found it fascinating. Kneeling, I looked at the gaping hole in the neck and the fresh blood flowing from the injury. As I stared, I realized something shocking: the man was still alive. His eyes were flickering open and shut, but he was clearly focused on me.

  He probably thought he’d struck lucky, and that I was going to rescue him.

  Instead, I leaned down and licked blood from the side of his neck. It tasted warm and rich. I licked more, and more. My whole body was tingling. I knew this was wrong, that it was contrary to my whole life of careful, safe boringness, but I had never felt a thrill like this. Finally, after licking up as much of the blood from the side of the man’s neck as possible, I moved my mouth to the wound and began to lick it. After a while, my tongue began to lick inside the wound, slipping through the tight wet hole, and soon I was sucking out blood. With the blood came small pieces of flesh, which I swallowed anyway. Finally, I began to suck on the wound, feasting in much the same way as the vampire had been feasting moments ago.

  And it felt good.

  Suddenly there was a sound from nearby, and I looked up. A human had come down the alley, just as I had a few moments earlier, and now he was staring at me. It was exactly what had happened just minutes before, except this time I was in the role of the vampire and this new fool was in my old position.

  But instead of running, as the vampire had done, I stood slowly and started walking toward the man.

  To my surprise, he seemed frozen to the spot, unable to flee. For a moment, I wondered if perhaps he would join me in feasting on the dead body, but I finally realized that he was simply horrified by what he saw, by the blood around my mouth. To him, I must have seemed to be a monster, and it was at that moment that I disconnected from humanity. In this man’s face, I saw the ‘normal’ human reaction: horror, fear, disgust. These were the emotions I should have felt, but didn’t.

  As I reached the man, I knew what I had to do. If I delayed, I would fail. I grabbed him and, as he finally started to try to pull away, I bit as hard as I could on his neck. I wasn’t sure what would happen, but even with my pathetic human teeth I was able to cut deep into his flesh. I felt chunks of meat crush in my mouth, and I felt hot blood spurt against my tongue. It was all welcome. In just a few minutes, I had become a creature that craved such sensations. So I forced the man against a wall, held my body against his, and chewed on his neck.

  He struggled a little, but for the most part it was much easier that I could ever have expected. Within minutes he was dead and I was holding him, chewing on his neck just as I had chewed on the neck of the other guy. The difference here, however, was that this time I had performed the kill. And as I chewed on his flesh and held my body against his, I knew that I wanted to do this again and again.

  I let his body fall to the ground, and then I decided to embrace my new existence. I took off all my clothes and I knelt on this dead man and I chewed at his neck. I smeared my hands in his blood and wiped it all over my body. Soon, I was covered in blood and I had eaten almost all of his neck, my teeth grinding against bone, and as I pushed my body against his, I felt a rush of excitement and finally, unexpectedly, I reached orgasm. My blood-covered penis spat hot semen into his wounds as I held on tight to his body. When I was done, I rolled off and lay on my back, staring up into the night sky. I looked down at my penis, and saw sperm dribbling down the side and mixing with blood; it was bigger and harder than I had ever seen it.

  This is when I became a vampire. Almost, anyway.

  Later, there would be operations and injections, hormones and transplants. I would go on to become stronger and more powerful than any human. I eventually attracted the attention of a shadowy group known as the Watchers, and a man named Benjamin offered me a deal. He said he'd finance the most ambitious operation ever conducted on a human, if I would agree to let him transform me into a creature far more powerful than any human. I agreed. I had no other option. I craved a new life.

  That all happened so long ago. Tonight, I’m sitting in a bar in Dedston, contemplating the fact that my long plan is about to come to fruition. The last vampire is dead, and all I have to do is find his body so that I can extract its secrets. I also have to kill Vincent, the ‘father’ who is not a father at all, and the girl who knows too much about the vampires and their ways.

  I finish my drink and go to the bathroom. There’s a guy in there, an old and scruffy guy who has clearly wasted his life. He'
s standing at a urinal; I walk up behind him, grab his head in my hands and squeeze with all my power. Within seconds, his skull cracks and caves in, and I keep squeezing. He struggles, but he cannot shout out. I keep squeezing, and plates of bones slip away, leaving his brain between my hands. As I squeeze still more, his brain splits into two pieces. And still I squeeze my hands together, letting the rest of his head fall away until my hands close together as a double-fist. Finally, with the head completely destroyed, his body drops to the ground.

  There was no need for that kill.

  It was needless and opportunistic.

  But it was necessary.

  I leave the bathroom and make my way out of the bar, heading along the street and looking once again at the diner. Vincent is still there, lost in thought. He looks like a man who knows that the end is coming, like a man who knows that he will be defeated. I smile and walk away, into the night. I must find the most painful and humiliating way to kill him when the time comes.

  Sophie

  I tap on the window, careful not to make so much noise that Shelley’s parents might wake up in the next room. After a few more taps, the curtains are parted and a face stares out. Unfortunately it’s not Shelley at all, it’s her wannabe-vampire boyfriend Rob. He peers at me, apparently not even recognizing me at first, and from his bare chest I can only assume he's naked.

  “Open the window,” I hiss.

  “Why?” he asks.

  The curtain opens further and Shelley appears. She immediately opens the window when she sees that it’s me. “Party?” she asks.

  “I need something,” I say.

  “Anything."

  I look at Rob, waiting for him to get the hint and go away. He just stares.

  “Rob, go back to bed,” says Shelley.

  “Maybe I can help,” he says, before being shoulder-barged away from the window by Shelley.

  “Shoot,” she says.

  “Funny you should say that,” I reply. “I need your thing”.

  “My what?”

  “Your gun,” I say. “I need the gun you bought a while back. The one we argued about. The one you promised you'd thrown away. And I need bullets”.

  She stares wide-eyed at me.

  “Can I have it?”

  “I’d give it to you in a flash,” she says, “but I haven’t got it anymore. I sold it”.

  My heart sinks. Grabbing a gun was pretty much my only idea, and it looks like I’m back where I started, except now I’ve only got about 18 hours before Keller goes through on his promise to get revenge on both Vincent and me.

  “What’s wrong?” Shelley asks.

  “Nothing,” I say, already concentrating on coming up with another idea.

  “You need a gun this late at night and nothing’s wrong?” she asks. “Seriously?”

  “I have to go,” I say, turning.

  “Hang on,” Shelley says. “I’ve got an idea”. I wait while she vanishes into her room for a moment. She returns a moment later, thrusting what appears to be a full-length sword into my arms.

  "What the hell is this?" I ask.

  "Don't ask stupid questions," she replies. "Let's just say that without it, I'm going to have some unexpectedly boring sex tonight." She pauses for a moment. "So what's going on?"

  I look at the sword. It's insanely big, but I guess it's better than nothing. “Don’t worry,” I say. “Thanks”. I turn and start walking away.

  “Hey!” Shelley calls after me. “I’m gonna need that back when you're done with it, okay?”

  I don’t look back. Instead, I make my way across town, keeping the sword hidden under my jacket. I still don't have much of a plan, but I figure I have to do something. Running isn't an option, and neither is hiding; either way, I get the feeling that Martin Keller would catch me easily. I can’t help noting that just a year ago, I’d never thought about vampires and the most danger I’d ever been in was when I went to parties in a bad neighborhood. Now look at me: heading into the forest with a sword in my hand, preparing to make a stand against a lunatic who claims to have killed the last vampire.

  I look down at my hands and realize that they’re shaking again. I could die here. I could square up to this Martin Keller guy and end up dead. In fact, it's hard to see that I could possibly survive. I’ve come close to death before, but never like this. I’ve never had the choice to run away. Now I can... I can just turn and leave. I can grab my things and leave town, or I can just leave the whole thing alone and hope that Keller decides it’s not worth the bother to kill me. I know he could track me down, but maybe he wouldn't get around to it. After all, Patrick’s dead, Vincent’s almost dead, and it must be obvious to him that I don't know where to find Patrick's body. So what am I fighting for?

  Then again, where would I go if I left? What would I do? It's not like I've got any money, or any qualifications, or any real work experience. I've got nothing. Hell, without Patrick and Vincent I'd just be another girl hanging around Dedston. That's the problem: there's nothing special or unique about me. I'm just me. I'm just Sophie Hart, and I have no skills. I'm not particularly smart; I'm not particularly attractive; I'm not particularly interesting to talk to; I'm not even remotely athletic or good at physical work. Plus, if Vincent doesn't reveal the location of Patrick's body, I get the feeling that Martin Keller will still come looking for me. I just have to hope that Vincent was right when he said that there's always a way out of any situation.

  When I get to the forest, I head straight to the entrance the leads down to Patrick and Vincent’s home. I’m assuming that Keller is down there, waiting. He probably expects me to show up. In fact, this is probably some kind of trap, but in the back of my mind I'm starting to think that maybe I can reason with Keller. After all, he's not insane, and if I can just make him realize that I can't help him, maybe he'll leave me alone. Every inch of my body is telling me to turn and run, but I figure I have to keep going.

  The walk down the tunnel is long and dark, but eventually I reach the large cavern with the house in the middle. So far, so good. The whole place seems to be deserted. It feels strange to be so scared down here, when I’d got used to seeing this place as a place of refuge. There was always something so comforting about coming here and finding Vincent in his study, going over his books, but now, as I step across the rubble toward the house, I’m filled with dread and fear, and with a feeling that this place will never be the same again.

  I get to the house, and I’m not sure what to do next. Damn it, what am I here for? I look down at the sword in my hand. Martin Keller killed Patrick, a vampire with centuries’ of strength and experience. Am I really supposed to somehow defeat him with, what, just a single sword? I should just turn and leave this place right now. I should run away. That's what a normal person would do; they'd run and run and run, and they'd never stop. It's so tempting, but I know it wouldn't work. Besides, I'd just be putting my family in danger.

  Taking a deep breath, I step into the house.

  Martin Keller

  She's here. I admire her bravery, but this little charade has gone on long enough. It's time to kill them all.

  Sophie

  The whole house feels empty, as if no-one has been here for so long. I go straight through to Vincent’s study, where I find his books and papers have been thrown across the room. Martin Keller has clearly been searching for something, trashing the room in a rage. Did he find what he was looking for? I hope not. I can imagine Vincent knows some pretty huge secrets, and I can only hope he kept them under lock and key.

  Now that I’m here, I don’t know what to do. I have the sword, and I have a vague idea that I’m ready to take on Martin Keller, but I also know that I can hardly just launch myself at him. Slowly, realization dawns on me: I’m completely alone down here, about to come face to face with the man who had the strength to kill Patrick. What the hell do I think I can do? I keep telling myself that as long as I'm alive, I can come up with some kind of plan, but time is clearly running out
. I should have waited. I should have come up with a better plan. There was no need to come straight down here. I should have taken my time and worked out how to take on this asshole. Maybe I could have made contact with Hamish and the werewolves. Now that I'm down here and there's no sign of Martin Keller, I start wondering whether I should go back up to the forest and come up with a better approach. There's still time -

  “I’m surprised you came,” says a voice behind me.

  I turn to see Martin Keller standing in the doorway, smiling confidently.

  “I assume,” he continues, “that you believe you have a plan. Probably involving that sword in your hands. The truth is: you don’t have a plan. You can fight if you wish, but do you really think you'd stand a chance. I killed Patrick, and I didn't need an army to do it. If I could kill him, what the hell do you think's stopping me from killing you?"

  "Then why haven't you?" I ask, adjusting my grip on the sword.

  He smiles. "Let me make you an offer. I’m a harsh man, but I’m true to my word. I’ll kill you quickly and painlessly. You don’t know where the vampire’s body is. I can see that now. Plus, your bravery in coming to confront me is commendable. It’s Vincent I want, and you can’t save him. He’s already dead; he’s just waiting for the final moment once the poison has overcome his body. I won't torture you or play with you. I'll just kill you instantly”. He pauses. "It pleases a vampire's soul to be lenient now and again."

  “You’re not a vampire,” I say. As the words leave my mouth, I realize I probably shouldn't make him angry.

  He bares his teeth, letting me see the needles he has had surgically implanted as his own version of vampire fangs.

  “Still not a vampire,” I say. “You’ve still got the heart of a human”.

  He smiles and pulls up a shirt sleeve, revealing a half-flesh, half-metal arm.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I say. “You can have all the surgery you want, you still won’t have the heart of a real vampire”.