by Amy Cross
"There's nothing I can do," Hamish says. "Do you really think he listens to me? Fuck, no. He's here to take what he wants, and he's gonna get it."
Tears flood into my eyes. "Please," I say. "Don't make her pay for my stupidity."
"It wasn't stupidity," he replies. "Her life will be different, but it won't be worse. In some ways, it'll be many times better. She'll... see things, and do things, that no human would normally ever get to experience."
"I don't want her to be raised by a demon," I say.
"He's not a demon," Hamish says. "He's a -" He stops talking.
"A what?" I ask.
"It doesn't matter," he says, looking troubled.
"Tell me!" I shout, my frail voice sounding weak and thin.
"He's a vampire," Hamish says. "He's the last vampire. The only one that's left. And -"
"No," I say. "Don't..." I think back to the miracle of how the burnt man healed. "He can't be..." I turn and try to grab my wheelchair, but it slides away and I fall to the ground. I try to crawl out of the room and into the corridor, but it's so hard. My body is wrecked and ruined, and I can feel my heart straining as I try to crawl after Patrick. Sixty years after I crawled along the floor of the hospital at Passchendaele, here I am, doing it again.
"Come on, man," says Hamish, walking alongside me. "Do you really think this is going to work? By the time you get to the room, Patrick'll be long gone."
I hear footsteps approaching. It sounds like a nurse. I roll onto my back and look up, just in time to see a girl arriving to stand next to Hamish.
"What the fuck's going on here, darling?" she says.
"Plan's gone a bit wrong," he says.
"I can see that," she says. "Is this him?"
"Aye," Hamish says. "Joe Hart, meet my good friend Darla. Darla, meet Joe Hart."
"So," Darla says. "Your plan this evening was to make a crippled old man crawl along a hospital corridor, was it? Nice work, both of you."
"This wasn't the plan," Hamish says.
"Help me!" I say, looking at Darla. "Stop them!"
She looks down at me with an expression of pity. "This isn't right," she says. "What the fuck does Patrick need the kid for right now anyway?"
"He wants to train her, or something," Hamish says.
"Bullshit," Darla replies. "He could just as easily wait until she's older."
"Try telling him that," Hamish says, his voice sounding weary.
"He won't listen to me," she says, "but he might listen to you."
Hamish lets out a big sigh. "I fucking knew you were going to say that."
"Speak of the devil," Darla says.
I look along the corridor, and see Patrick walking toward us, with Sophie in his arms.
"No!" I shout, reaching out a hand to try to stop him. It's useless, though, and he just steps straight over me.
"Wait!" Hamish says.
Patrick stops and turns back to face us. I look at the little child in his arms.
"Wait," Hamish continues. "Do you need to do this, Patrick? Why not wait until she's older? Do you really think you can look after a baby?" There's no reply from Patrick. "Think about it," Hamish continues. "She's not gonna be ready for, what, twenty years. Do you really need to hang onto her for all that time? I mean, no offense, but with you as her only parent, she's gonna be pretty fucked up."
"He's right," Darla says.
"Listen to me," Hamish says. "Leave the kid with her family. Let them raise her. It doesn't make any difference. You can still keep an eye on her, make sure she's safe. And then when the time comes, you can still... do what you need to do."
"Listen to them, Patrick," says another voice. An older man has approached us. "You'll cause more damage if you do this. Let the girl be raised by her natural parents, and she'll be perfectly prepared to take her role when the time comes."
"Vincent's right," Hamish says. "Don't be fucking stubborn, man. Focus on the long game. Remember what this is all about."
As Patrick stares back at Hamish, Sophie starts to cry. Patrick looks down at her, and then slowly he hands her to Hamish, before finally he turns and walks quickly away.
"You made the right choice," Hamish calls after him. "Come back for her when she's older."
Patrick doesn't respond. Instead, he just storms out the door, heading off into the night.
"Is this him?" asks the man whose named seems to be Vincent. Older than the others, he seems to have a kinder, more human face.
"Aye," says Hamish. "This is him."
"You made the right choices," Vincent says to me. "The child will come to no harm; I'll make sure of that. And when the time comes, Patrick will look after her. He's not a monster or a beast. He only wants to protect her from those who would use her for other reasons. He'll keep an eye on her, and when the time comes he'll guide her to her destiny. Until then, she'll grow up like a normal child."
"She..." I struggle to get the words out. "She is a normal child," I say.
"She certainly is," says Vincent. "For now."
"I never..." I struggle to get the words out, my voice wheezing and groaning. "I never should have shaken his hand."
Vincent smiles kindly. "Shaking Patrick's hand was not a mistake. But you shook someone else's hand, didn't you? Years later. Someone far more dangerous than Patrick. But we'll deal with that when the time comes." He turns to Hamish. "You should go after Patrick. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. He's likely to be very angry right now, and you know what he's like when he's angry."
Hamish nods, then he kneels and puts baby Sophie into my arms. "Nice seeing you again," he says to me, and then he looks down at Sophie. "And I'll see you around, little girl." He smiles, and then he gets to his feet and runs after Patrick.
"Let's go," Darla says to Vincent. "This whole situation is fucked up."
Vincent smiles. "See you again some day, Sophie. When you're older." And with that, he and Darla head away along the corridor.
Still on the floor, with Sophie in my arms, I look at her little face. She's stopped crying now, and she's sleeping. She looks so calm and peaceful. "I'm so sorry," I whisper to her. "For whatever happens to you when you get older, for anything that they do that scares or hurts you, I'm so sorry, and I'll always be sorry. Your grand-father was a stupid old man who made deals with dangerous people. Just stay strong, and..." I stop talking. There's nothing else to say. She's barely an hour old, and already her life has this huge shadow hanging over it. Have I doomed my grand-daughter from birth? I saw the look on Patrick's face. He'll be back for her, and when he comes again, I have no doubt that he'll take what he wants.
"Jesus!" shouts a voice from nearby. Anthony comes running along the corridor. He kneels next to me. "Joe, are you okay?"
I nod. He takes Sophie from me, although I try with my frail hands to keep hold of her. I guess she won't remember me when she's older, but at least we had this brief moment together.
"I just went in to check on Sophie in her crib and she wasn't there," Anthony says. "I thought..." There's an air of panic in his voice. Like all new parents, he's focused on the safety of his new child. He sighs. "I guess it's all okay. Joe, did you fall? What happened?"
I stare up at him. He has a kind face. He'll be a good father to my grand-daughter, certainly a better father than I was to my own children. Sophie will be safe with him, at least until she grows up and Patrick returns, I open my mouth to warn my son-in-law about Patrick, but the words won't come out. Something feels strange in my heart. A kind of tightening, as if... as if my heart is slowly shutting down. I always knew it would be like this. I always knew I'd get to experience my death properly, with time to take it all in.
I reach up and take Sophie back, and Anthony doesn't try to stop me. I can feel the child's warmth, her heartbeat against my chest. Holding her tight, I close my eyes, and then I feel something change. It's as if my body becomes separate from my mind. All I can feel is the warmth and closeness of Sophie, sensations that slowly overpower me. Time stands still,
and then I find that I can't open my eyes anymore, and I can't move. I take a deep breath and hold the air in my lungs for a moment before letting it out slowly. And then, with my grand-daughter softly nestled in my arms, I let myself drift away from the world forever... into the darkness of nothingness that awaits us all, and from which Sophie has just emerged.
Epilogue
New Year's Eve, 2011
Dedston, USA
It starts to snow. Just for a second, and then it stops again. Just long enough for a few flakes to drift down, briefly illuminated by the glowing neon sign of the all-night store before disappearing as they hit the pavement.
"This is gonna be the best party ever," Shelley says, shivering as we huddle in the shop doorway.
"That's what you said about the last one," I remind her.
"Soph, come on. Don't be so negative."
I smile. This is typical Shelley. The next party is always going to be the best one. I'm pretty sure that when she's a hundred years old, she'll still be convinced that the best party is right around the corner.
"Are you sure they're gonna pick us up?" I ask dubiously, scanning the deserted streets of uptown Dedston. Not a single car has driven past for almost twenty minutes.
"Yeah, Soph, of course," Shelley says. "Trust me, it's all arranged."
As we wait even longer, however, I just start getting colder and colder. It's crazy, but despite tonight being New Year's Eve, I have this feeling that I just want to go home and get to bed. I'm really not in the mood for a party.
"Would you hate me if I just went home?" I ask.
She lightly punches my arm. "Yes!"
"I figured you'd say that," I say with a sigh. The thought of being tucked up in bed is so appealing right now. I mean, sure, a good party would be okay. But this is Dedston. And Shelley. Call me pessimistic if you want, but I really don't think there are any good parties within a hundred mile radius of this dead-end place. "This is because of that guy, isn't it?" I say. "What's his name? Rich? Rob? Ray?"
"Rich," says Shelley, sounding insulted. There's a pause. "No, wait. Rich is the guy from the shop. I meant Rob. And no, it's not about him, but he might be there."
"Who?" I ask. "Rich or Rob?"
"You know what I'm talking about," Shelley says.
I reach into my pocket and pull out an old fob watch I've been carrying around. I check the time and sigh. "They're late," I say.
Shelley grabs the fob watch. "What's this?"
"It's a watch," I say, grabbing it back.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously," I say. "It was my grand-father's. It's something like a hundred years old."
Shelley watches as I put the watch back in my pocket. "It's cool," she says. "You should look after it."
A car appears at the junction, then turns into the parking lot and heads over to us.
"Finally," Shelley says.
As the car pulls up, I see the friendly face of Mike Dufresne smiling at us, with Shelley's friend Alice peering out from the back seat. That's a relief. Mike's a good guy. Honest and kind, not a drinker, and a good driver. I feel kind of okay about sending Shelley off with him. Mike's not gonna do anything stupid, especially not with Alice around as well.
"I'm going home," I say as Shelley opens the car door.
"No you're not," she says.
"Yes I am," I say.
She turns to me. "Soph, please..."
"Sorry," I say. "But you don't need me at this party. Not if Rob's there. Or Rich. Either way, I'd have a horrible time. Please don't hate me; I just want to get home."
She stares at me, and I realize she's going to let me go even if she doesn't like it. "You're rubbish," she says, breaking into a smile. "See you tomorrow?"
"I doubt it," I say, as we hug. "Won't you just be sleeping for the next few days?"
"Dunno," she says, getting into the car. "I'll definitely be in bed, but whether I'll be sleeping is another matter. Depends how things go with Rob."
"Drive safe," I say to Mike.
"I'll give you a lift home," he says.
"No," I say. "Thanks. It's not far, and look at this place. It's deserted."
"Exactly," says Mike. "Get in."
I shake my head. "I'll get a taxi from the bus station. It's just around the corner."
"Still -" Mike says.
"Seriously," I say. "I'll be fine. I'll go get a taxi from the bus station. It's a five minute walk."
"She's says she's fine," Alice calls through from the back seat. "Can we just get going? I'm freezing!"
Mike stares at me. "Okay," he says. "But you'd better. You got money?"
I nod. "For once," I say. I stand back and wave as they drive off, and then I turn and start the long walk home. I'm not getting a taxi, obviously. I don't have the money at all, and if I did, I sure wouldn't waste it on a taxi. It's only about forty-five minutes to my house, and I'm pretty sure I'll make it without being attacked and murdered. I walk straight past the bus station, ignoring the single taxi parked out front. Hell, the most dangerous thing around here right now is probably a taxi driver.
After half an hour or so, I'm getting pretty close to home. The creepy thing is, I keep feeling like someone's following me. Not on the ground, though... It's like someone's up on the rooftops, keeping track of me, keeping an eye on me. I shake the feeling off and then, as I walk along the side of the old bank, I hear a sound nearby. I look over my shoulder, but there's no-one there. I carry on walking, and then suddenly a man steps out in front of me.
"Happy new year," he says, and then he knees me hard in the stomach. I drop to the ground, and then the man hauls me to my feet and pushes me against the wall. Another man comes over and joins him.
"This her?" the second man asks.
The first man peers at me. "Reckon so," he says.
The second man shrugs. "Okay," he says, and then he grabs me and throws me into the other wall, before grabbing the back of my head and dragging me over to an ATM. I struggle, but I can't fight them off. Damn it, I should've just gone with Shelley. I'm such an idiot. Why the hell did I walk home alone so late at night. If this is how I'm going to die, it's pathetic.
Book One
Nimrod
Prologue
My ghosts follow me through the forest. They're hungry, ripping and tearing at the air. They keep their distance, though, because they worry about our destination. Despite my reassurances, they fear that Patrick might still be a threat. After all, his reputation is fierce, and ghosts burn easily. They remember his fury, and they have learned to be careful, so they let me go ahead. They are happy for me to take the risk.
But there is no risk. Not really. I have planned this moment for so many years, I have run through the possibilities so many times, running countless simulations, and there is no chance that I will be wrong-footed. I have studied Patrick, I have worked hard to understand how his mind works. I discovered, long ago, how I could lead him to this moment, and I understood not only what he would do, but also why he would do it. I know everything. I can see into his soul. He's strong, but despite everything he's seen, he's still so immature.
It takes us some time to reach the clearing, but finally I stop walking and the ghosts stop behind me. The time has arrived, and I can hear them holding their breath. In many ways, they are pathetic creatures, drained of the great power they wielded when they were alive. All they can do is watch and wait and listen, and hope to be reborn.
From the cave, I hear the sound of destruction. My little puppet has performed his task admirably. Poor Dexter Logan, a man who caught a glimpse of a vampire and felt the spark of curiosity. I took that spark and turned it into an inferno, and I made sure it burnt bright and strong enough to consume him entirely. I sent him to battle Patrick, to push Patrick and his allies to the edge, but I made sure that - ultimately - Dexter would lose. He had to lose, to die, because Patrick has to reach the brink of victory before I invoke the curse. After all these years, finally there has to be a moment
of hope in Patrick's heart. It's that moment of hope that I will use against him.
I consume the hope and youth and dreams of others. That's how I live. It's my curse.
I wait, and finally Patrick rushes out into the clearing. He's carrying a young girl, and he puts her on the ground. As he does so, he glances up and he sees me. A look of shock crosses his face, and he takes a few steps toward me, but then a curious smile reaches his lips. Love does terrible things to vampires, and Patrick understands the price he must pay. He knows that he has been weak. He has allowed himself to fall in love, and love is the strongest form of hope. He opens his mouth as if he is about to say something, and then he turns to face a second young girl, who has emerged from the cave. I recognize this girl. I have seen her in my dreams. She is the one I came here to find. She is the one for whom Patrick is willing to die.
And then it happens, exactly as I planned: I watch as Patrick begins to turn to stone. Not only his skin, but also his bones and his blood and his heart. He tries to step toward the girl named Sophie, but his body becomes stone and the transformation is complete. Sophie rushes over to him, but it's too late. She hasn't seen me, and she stares with shock at Patrick's new form before finally turning to the other girl.
"What did he say to you?" she shouts at her friend. "I saw him whispering to you, what did he say?"
Behind me, the whispers of the ghosts become louder and more confident. They are pleased. They, too, have hope, but their hope is useless to me. I consume the hope of living creatures.
"What did he say?" the girl screams at her friend, but the other girl backs away.
I watch as they argue. Eventually Sophie grabs the statue, hoping to stir Patrick, but she succeeds only in knocking him to the ground, causing one of his arms to break away. It's a truly sad and pathetic sight, and her face is filled with shock. She knows about the child, of course, and she believes that only Patrick can help her. She's wrong.
I can't help smiling, but fortunately the two girls don't notice me. They're too busy arguing amongst themselves, and eventually one of the girls runs away into the forest, leaving Sophie holding the stone arm. Staring down at the limb, she finally lets it fall to the forest floor, where it shatters.
