Dark Season: The Complete Box Set

by Amy Cross

  I force myself not to turn away. He is a hideous sight, covered in stones and blood.

  "But now that you're here," Dunstable continues, "the creature will focus on you and I can get some peace at least." He starts pulling stones from his body. "Perhaps I can get back to normal."

  "I'm sorry," I say, rushing toward the door, but Dunstable pushes me back to the bed.

  "I can't let you leave," he says, his voice suddenly sounding harsher and more firm. "If you leave, it'll be just me and the creature again. I can't let things go back to the way they were."

  "Release me immediately," I say, "or my husband will have your neck slit open for this outrage."

  "Death would be a happy release," he replies.

  There's another scream from elsewhere in the house, and it's enough to distract Dunstable and allow me to slip past him and out of the room. I run along the corridor and down the stairs, where I find Lively gravely wounded on the floor. He has deep scratches across his face, as if some kind of wild animal has got to him, and he's bleeding from several injuries.

  "Go," he says weakly, looking up at me. "You must hurry..."

  "Evangeline, get out!" Edward shouts from one of the rooms, followed by the sound of a rifle being fired.

  "Edward!" I shout, running through to find him in the ballroom, holding his rifle aloft. He is staring at something on the ceiling, and when I follow his gaze I am, at first, not able to see anything. The room is so dark, and the candles cast very little light, but as a flash of lightning strikes outside, I suddenly see the most hideous little red creature, scurrying quickly along the ceiling. It looks down at me and snarls, and I realize instantly that this must be the creature that was sitting on my back. It was this creature that Margaret saw and mistook for the Devil.

  Edward fires his rifle again, blowing a hole in the ceiling but missing the Tenderling, which scuttles across toward a nearby wall. It sits there, smiling and watching us as Edward hurries to reload his weapon. I look over at the window and see rain pouring down outside.

  "You must get out of here," Edward says, struggling with the rifle. "This place is not safe. The Devil himself is here." There's a rumble of thunder in the distance.

  "It's not the Devil," I say. "It's a Tenderling."

  Edward looks at me. "A what?" he asks. "How do you know its name?"

  "Your uncle told me," I reply. "He's read about them. He's been -

  "My uncle?" Edward asks, looking shocked. "Dunstable?"

  "Right here," says Dunstable, shuffling into the room, still with all the stones attached to his skin. In the candlelight of the ballroom, he looks even more hideous than before: like a large, dark, glistening wet monstrosity that has grown from the ruins of a man.

  Edward drops the rifle and steps back, a look of complete shock on his face. "What kind of madness is this?" he says, his voice quivering. "What kind of sorcery?"

  Dunstable looks up at the Tenderling, which remains high up on the wall like some kind of hideous spider. "Not sorcery," Dunstable says, his voice betraying great tiredness. "The Tenderling is a creature of flesh and blood, just like us, but it is not commonly recognized by society." We all watch as the Tenderling scurries across the ceiling again and then pauses to look down at us. "I have managed a little research," Dunstable continues, as more lightning flashes outside the window, followed by thunder so loud that it rattles the glass panes. "These creatures are usually shy and cautious, but I think perhaps this specimen has become a little deranged. Too long feasting on a single victim, perhaps. Too long with just him and me rattling around this old house. I dare say we've both become a little strange." Without warning, Dunstable takes a vase from the table and throws it at the Tenderling; the creature hisses and scurries out of the way as the vase smashes harmlessly against the wall.

  Edward hurries back to his gun, but his hands are shaking and he can't get it loaded. I watch as he fumbles with the mechanism several times.

  "Let me," I say, rushing over and loading some more pellets. Somehow I'm able to keep my hands steady. Once I'm done, I raise the rifle and fire at the creature, but yet again it is able to scurry out of the way in time. Looking at its savage grin, I can't help but feel that it enjoys playing with us like this, and watching us suffer.

  "You won't hit it," Dunstable says, watching as the Tenderling scurries around the ceiling. "Believe me, I've tried, but the damned creature seems remarkably quick."

  "We must leave," Edward says, grabbing my hand. "We must get out of this madhouse and never return."

  "I can't let you do that," Dunstable says, grabbing the gun and aiming it at the both of us. "You see, I've spent so many years living here with just the Tenderling for company. During that time, it has preyed upon my body, with results that you can clearly see are extremely unfortunate. If you leave, the creature will return to feed on me, whereas if you stay, I will be free of its attention. After all, you're fresh meat."

  "This is absolute madness," Edward says. "I will not be held prisoner in my own home."

  "Perhaps we can all leave?" I ask.

  "No," Dunstable says, with the rifle still aimed at us. "If we try to leave, the creature will merely follow. I'm so tired. I want rid of it. If that means it must become your burden, then so be it."

  "You would condemn us?" Edward asks. "You would allow us to fall prey to the same fate that has nearly felled you? You would allow us to become like you?"

  "Yes," Dunstable says firmly. "Yes, I would do that. Years of suffering have broken my resolve. I have no honor left. I merely wish to be free of this cursed creature. You have no idea how it feels to be its plaything like this."

  I look up and see the Tenderling scuttling along the wall. Another flash of lightning brightens the room, followed moments later by a clap of thunder. As its yellow eyes stare straight at me, the Tenderling opens its mouth, reaches in and with a bony red hand removes a single black stone. The creature continues to stare at me, and I understand all too well that it intends to put that stone in my body. And then another, and another, and another, until I become as wretched as Dunstable.

  "I will not accept such a fate," I say, stepping toward Dunstable even as the rifle points straight at me. "I would rather die now, swiftly and cleanly, than be condemned to suffer as you have suffered. So please... pull the trigger and let this nightmare end." I wish I could say that there is no fear in my voice as I say these words, but the truth is I am terrified. I put my hands behind my back, hoping that Dunstable will not see that they are now shaking.

  "It's not so bad," Dunstable says slowly. "You'll get used to it."

  I stare at him. "Are you such a coward," I ask slowly, "that you will not follow through on your threat to pull that trigger?"

  He stares at me, and then I realize that his gaze has shifted and he is looking past me. I turn and see a figure standing at the other end of the ballroom. My heart feels as if it might burst as I recognize this new arrival as the man from my nightmares. There is another bright flash of lightning, with more thunder. Patrick has arrived.

  Chapter Eight

  Patrick steps toward us. He looks exactly as he always did in my dreams: tall, wearing dark clothes, with dark hair and the deepest, darkest eyes. He seems strangely calm, though, whereas in my dreams he was always chasing Sophie from room to room. This time he seems unnaturally focused on me, and he has an expression on his face that seems edged with compassion. Although I have long feared him, I find now that his arrival makes me feel strangely happy.

  "You!" Edward says, his voice filled with shock. "What have you to do with this nightmare?"

  "Is this the poacher?" I ask.

  "It most certainly is," Edward says, "and he's picked a bad day to boldly enter my house in such a manner."

  Ignoring us, Patrick walks over to the wall and starts to climb up toward the Tenderling, somehow managing to find grip where it appears that there is none. The Tenderling scurries away and then stops, watching Patrick, clearly concerned. By this point, P
atrick has reached the ceiling and, like the Tenderling, seems able to still move while upside down. Without warning, Patrick leaps at the creature, grabbing it and pulling it down. They crash together onto the floor, and Patrick already has his hands around the Tenderling's neck. The poor creature shrieks as Patrick drags it toward the middle of the room, and then - as Edward, Dunstable and I watch in horror - Patrick opens his mouth to reveal two sharp fangs, which he sinks into the Tenderling's face.

  For a moment, the Tenderling struggles and screams. The sound it makes is quite piercing, as if some kind of wild animal is in the final throes of agony, but it quickly falls limp, and Patrick lets it drop to the ground.

  "Is it dead?" Dunstable asks. He steps toward the creature, looking down at it. "Is this infernal thing truly, finally dead?" There are tears in his eyes. He turns to Patrick. "Do you still want the same thing you wanted last time you were here?"

  Slowly, Patrick nods.

  Dunstable smiles. "Then take it, man. It's yours."

  Patrick glances at me, and then he walks determinedly out of the room.

  "You know him?" I ask, staring at Dunstable, my heart beating so fast that I fear it might leap from my chest.

  "We've met before," he replies. "He's an interesting fellow. Doesn't say much, but..." He pauses. "There's no time for this. We must all hurry out of the house. It won't be safe to remain for much longer."

  I look over at the Tenderling's dead body. While it was alive, it was a hideous creature, one that filled me with fear, but now that it is dead, it looks strangely pitiful. How could such a monstrosity exist without mankind knowing more about it?

  "We must leave!" Dunstable insists, turning and shuffling toward the door.

  "This is my house," Edward says, his face filled with anger. "My wife and I will remain, but everyone else is to depart at once."

  Dunstable turns to us. "If you stay, that is your choice, but you will burn along with Gabriel Hall."

  "Burn?" Edward asks as thunder rumbles outside.

  Dunstable smiles again. "Yes," he says. "Burn." As he says the words, there's the sound of a terrible explosion somewhere else in the house. Rushing over to the doorway, I see that the next room along is now engulfed in flames.

  "Is the house to be destroyed?" I ask. In truth, the prospect of Gabriel Hall being reduced to rubble is one that fills me with joy. How I would love to know that I never have to set foot in here again.

  "It's what Patrick wants," Dunstable says, staring at the flames. "From the research I've carried out, it seems there's something beneath the house that Patrick wants to get his hands on." He turns to me. "I think we owe him the chance to get what he wants, don't we? He saved us from that thing. We owe him a great debt of gratitude."

  Edward walks toward the burning room as the flames spread to the hallway. "This is my house," he says, as if he's hypnotized by the sight of destruction. "I will not lose it!" With no warning, he runs straight into the room.

  "Edward!" I call out, but it's no use. He has disappeared into the flames.

  "We must leave," Dunstable says, shuffling toward the door. "Others might die, but we must live."

  "I'm not leaving without my husband," I say, heading toward the flames with tears in my eyes. "I shall share his fate. It is only right and proper."

  A hand grabs my arm and pulls me back. I turn to find that Lively has got to his feet and, though wounded, seems determined to stop me following Edward into the flames.

  "Madame," Lively says, "we must leave."

  "Not without my husband," I say, trying to pull away from him.

  "He would not want you to throw your life away," Lively insists. "There has been enough death in this place today."

  "You're right," I say, "but still I cannot leave." I pull my arm free from his grip and run toward the flames, but at the last moment he manages to grab me and pull me back. Although I struggle, Lively is able to drag me across the hallway and out to the steps. Rain is pouring down and seems to be having no effect on the roaring inferno that is swiftly consuming the entire house.

  "Let go of me!" I shout, unable to comprehend the thought of my poor, dear Edward in that conflagration.

  "It's not safe here, Madame," Lively says. "We must get further away."

  "Edward..." I say, transfixed by the flames. As I stare at the house, the entire east wing collapses. "Oh my poor dear Edward."

  Finally, as we reach the lawn, Lively loosens his grip on me a little and I stand staring at the burning building. Dunstable has followed us out and he, too, turns to witness the sight. Overhead, a flash of lightning briefly illuminates the scene.

  "Such a sad end," Dunstable says.

  Suddenly I see a figure emerging from the inferno. It's Patrick, and he's carrying someone. Walking over to us, he sets the body on the grass and I see that it's Edward. I rush over and, to my astonishment, I find that he is still breathing, and barely burnt.

  "Edward!" I shout over the sound of the rain and the thunder. "Can you hear me?"

  He opens his eyes, staring up at me.

  "Thank you," Dunstable says.

  Patrick turns and starts walking back toward the house.

  "Wait!" I shout. "Where did you come from? Why were you in my dreams?"

  Patrick stops and turns to me, but he says nothing.

  "You must tell me!" I shout at him. "Who is Sophie?"

  Patrick frowns.

  "She has been in my dreams," I say, "along with you. Who is she? Why are you chasing her? Why did you come here?"

  Patrick stares at me. He looks, for the first time, a little confused, as if he's not entirely sure of the answer. After a moment, he resumes his walk back up to the house, just as the rest of the building collapses.

  I turn to Dunstable. "What does he want?" I ask. "Why did he have to burn the house down?"

  Dunstable stares at the inferno, watching as Patrick walks into the flames. "I don't know," he says, "but I'm going to find out." He shuffles after Patrick. I look down at Edward and see that he will be fine. "Lively," I say, "attend to your master." As Lively kneels to check on Edward's health, I rush after Dunstable.

  "It's too dangerous for you," Dunstable says.

  "I will see it with my own eyes," I reply, rushing forward.

  As Dunstable and I reach the edge of the inferno, we are greeted with the most astonishing sight. Where the house used to stand, there is now nothing but a huge, burning pit that seems to have no bottom. Down and down and down, with its sides burning, the pit looks like the entrance to Hell itself. Even the pouring rain cannot douse its flames.

  "All this time," I say, stunned, "the house was built over this... this... what is this?"

  "What does it look like?" Dunstable asks, clearly as stunned by the sight as I am.

  "It looks like the door to Hell," I say.

  "Then perhaps that's exactly what it is," Dunstable replies.

  "But what does he want with it?" I ask, looking over at Patrick. He has walked to the very edge of the pit, and is staring down into its flames. Before Dunstable can answer, Patrick turns to us and looks me straight in the eye. For a moment, a smile crosses his lips, and then he leans forward and falls directly into the burning pit. I watch in horror as his body plummets into the darkness and disappears.

  Above, there's a huge flash of lightning, followed by the loudest thunder I've ever heard. I look up into the pouring rain.

  "Whatever this is," Dunstable says, grabbing me and pulling me back from the edge, "I am quite sure it is beyond our understanding. I fear we have witnessed a moment in a much greater narrative, one that does not concern us. Wherever Patrick came from, and wherever he is going, we shall never know the truth. We should just be thankful, or rueful, that we were witness to all of this, and that we survived."

  "This is all quite unfathomable," I say quietly, as rain runs down my face.

  "One thing I have learnt," Dunstable says, "is that there are things going on, of which we know nothing. A great battle,
a conflict, that makes any conflict riven by man seem shallow and pale."

  "Like a war?" I ask, turning to him. "Are you saying that there's a war raging on this planet, of which mortal men are not aware?"

  I turn and look over at Edward. Tended by Lively, he is starting to sit up. He stares in disbelief at the pit that burns where Gabriel Hall once stood. My poor, brave soldier; my poor, brave Edward.

  "I shall stay here for now," Dunstable says, starting to pick stones from his skin. "It will take me quite some time to become presentable again." As he pulls more stones away, I see that his skin is soaked in blood. "Perhaps I shall never recover," he continues, "but you and Edward must leave and never come back, and I would advise you never to tell anyone what you saw. People will only think you mad, and you might end up in an asylum, like your mother."

  "What do you know of my mother?" I ask him, shocked to find that he has any knowledge of my family at all.

  He smiles. "Just enough to know that you and she are very different."

  I look back at the flames. It seems almost impossible that the inferno will ever stop burning, but Dunstable is right about one thing: if I return to civilized society and start talking about vampires and Tenderlings and the like, I shall be considered mad. I refuse to be seen to have inherited my mother's insanity. My husband will recover, and we will find a new home.

  I walk over to Edward, who is struggling to get to his feet. Lively is trying to help him, but he has his own injuries.

  "Here," I say, trying to help Edward.

  "I'm fine," he says.

  "No," I reply, "you're not. Lean on me."

  Reluctantly, Edward allows me to support him. Together, the three of us limp away from the fire as the rain continues to fall. I glance back and see Dunstable standing by the remains of the house, but Edward stumbles and I have to help lift him back up. Glancing back again, I see that Dunstable has now disappeared. Did he leap into the pit after Patrick? I doubt it. Wherever he is, I hope he succeeds in removing all the stones from his body, and I hope Patrick, wherever he is, found what he was looking for at the bottom of that burning pit. Perhaps I shall see him again one day, and perhaps now - finally - all my nightmares are over.