by Amy Cross
"It was infected," Benjamin says calmly. "You'd have died if we'd left it on. You'd have developed sepsis."
"What else?" I ask, looking down at the rest of my body. "Where else have you been hacking parts off?"
"You have far too many injuries for me to list," he replies. "It's a miracle you survived, and you're only alive now because we hooked you up to that machine. Frankly, I've never seen someone pull through after being in such a bad state. One might even say that it's a miracle."
"How long have I been unconscious?" I ask.
"Twenty-five days," he says. "We kept you in an induced coma for most of that time. It was by no means certain that you'd wake up when we stopped the drugs, but I felt it was important to give you a chance. I hope you'll appreciate the time and money that has been spent trying to get you back into shape."
I take a deep breath, trying to get my head around the fact that I've been out cold for almost a month. "Where are they?" I ask eventually.
"Where are who?" he replies, even though he must know what I mean.
"Patrick and Abby," I say firmly, starting to worry. "What happened to them?"
"We're still tracking Patrick," he says. "Surprisingly, he's not dead yet, although he's moving much more slowly. It's quite remarkable to see how he's managing to cling on to life. He rests for days on end, before exhibiting brief flurries of activity. I dare say we could probably swoop in and pick him up, but he's no longer the focus of our operations. There's no point going over to snuff out a flame, when it's about to burn out of its own accord. I'm not a believer in wasting energy. Patrick's irrelevant now. He can't hurt us. He's history. We'll just wait until he's dead, and then we'll go and fetch his corpse for dissection."
"There was something he wanted me to see," I reply. "Something in that house."
Benjamin smiles. "Yes, I rather think he'd been doing a little digging into some of my earlier experiments. I imagine he mis-interpreted what I did at the house all those years ago, and thought to warn you. I have all the relevant documents in my office."
"What about Abby?" I ask.
"Why don't you ask her yourself?" he says, smiling as he steps aside. Moments later, Abby walks into the room. My first instinct is relief to see her, but then I realize that there's something different about her; there's a calmness in her eyes, but also a sense of darkness. The way she stares at me, she looks more like Patrick than I ever thought possible.
"Where did you find her?" I ask. I've got a feeling in the pit of my stomach that something is very, very wrong.
"We didn't," Benjamin replies. "She came and found us. It seems she spent a few weeks alone out in the wild, before she realized she needed help. Her father isn't an option, so she came to us and we struck a deal."
"Are you okay?" I ask, turning to her. "Abby, say something."
"I'm fine," she says, smiling weakly. "Don't worry about me. I'm not the one whose arm got cut off." She pauses. "Does it hurt?"
"Not really," I say. "I guess I'm pretty drugged up." I take a deep breath. Something about Abby doesn't seem right, but I can't pinpoint the problem. I need to get her alone, away from Benjamin's influence. "Where were you?" I ask. "We were looking for you everywhere."
"Patrick took me to Gothos," she replies. "It was... interesting. I saw his true nature. He wants me to be the same, like him, but I'm not going to become a monster. He's alone and he's hurt. Hopefully he'll die soon. I think it'd be best for everyone if he wasn't around."
"Abby and I cut a deal," Benjamin says. "I'm going to help her discover the extent of her abilities, and in return she's going to help me with some of my work. I'll be able to study her and find out how she's different to Patrick."
"Let's be honest," Abby says. "Benjamin's acting more like a real father than Patrick ever could."
"I want to talk to her alone," I say to Benjamin. "Just a couple of minutes."
"Of course," he replies. "Abigail, I'll be in my office when you're done."
"Okay," she says flatly, staring at me as Benjamin leaves the room. It's almost as if he expected me to make this request. I get the feeling he's spent the past couple of weeks manipulating Abby while I was in the coma. Undoing that level of control isn't going to be easy.
"We have to get out of here," I say, trying again to sit up. A twinge of pain hits my shoulder and I realize there's no way I can get out of here right now. "You'll have to go without me. You have to get free from this place."
"I am free," she replies, coming closer. "I can leave any time I want. Benjamin promised me that. It's just..." She pauses for a moment. "I don't want to be alone. You understand that, don't you? At Gothos, I saw what happens to people when they're left alone for too long. They go crazy. Did you know I had a half-sister?"
"At Gothos?" I ask. "No. Gothos is the one place we've never been able to penetrate. The Watchers have very little idea of what goes on there." I stare at Abby, realizing that I have no proper idea what she's been through. "I didn't know that Patrick had another child," I say finally.
"I had a half-sister," she continues. "Her name was Gwendoline. She basically spent her whole life alone, trying to become what Patrick wanted her to be. She twisted and contorted herself, and she felt totally inadequate all the time, but she wouldn't stop trying to please him. I don't know what she was like when she was younger, but by the time I met her she'd become gnarled and bitter, and she still couldn't stop trying desperately to be the perfect daughter. Do you know how he repaid her?" She takes a deep breath, and I can see that she's close to tears. "He put his boot through her skull. He killed her like she was an annoying insect." She sniffs back the tears. "Is that what he did to my mother as well? Did he kill her because she disappointed him? Did he swat her aside because she was inconvenient?"
I sigh, trying to work out how to help Abby. It's clear that she's running from Patrick, and I'm fine with that, but I'm worried that she's making a mistake by running toward Benjamin. "Abby, listen," I say. "I can't help you right now. I can't even get out of this bed, but I can tell you the truth. Benjamin can't be trusted. Out in Louisiana, he set us up. Constance is dead -"
"I know," she replies quietly.
"Benjamin tricked us," I continue. "We found this house. It was full of dead bodies, and there was a creature. Patrick was there, and it was like he was trying to show us something. I don't understand what was going on, exactly, but I'm going to keep digging until I uncover the truth." I wait for Abby to react, but she just stares blankly at me. "Benjamin had given Constance this explosive device", I continue, trying to get through to her, "except he told her it was a digital flare. Whatever he -"
"Benjamin's a good person," Abby says suddenly, interrupting me. She steps a little closer.
"He's not," I say firmly. "He's dangerous, and you have to get away from him. He only wants you here so he can use you. He wants to carry out experiments, and he wants to control you. That's what all of this is about. Control. He sees you as something to be possessed and used for his own purposes."
"He doesn't control me," she replies, but the pain is evident in her eyes. She's lost and alone, and she's latched on to the one person who offers her any kind of structure and hope.
"Where's Shelley?" I ask, glancing over at the door to make sure no-one's listening to our conversation. "You have to get out of here, and go find Shelley."
She shakes her head. "This is where I belong right now. You were one of the ones who came and got me in Callerton. You helped Benjamin bring me here. If Benjamin's so bad, why did you work for him?"
"Because I didn't realize how dangerous he can be," I say, trying to get her to understand. "I let him talk me into doing things I should never have done. I killed people for him. I did his dirty work." Once again, I attempt to sit up, but this time the effort causes a sharp pain to jolt through my body. Exhausted, I collapse back onto the bed.
"You're in no fit state to be moving," Abby says calmly, inching closer. "You need to rest."
"I need to
get you out of here!" I insist. "Abby, you're in danger. I know you're scared of being alone, and you're scared of your father, but this isn't the place for you."
"You don't know what I'm scared of," she says, with a hint of anger in her voice. "I'm scared of things that you don't even know exist. You might be my uncle, but you don't know me, and you have no idea what I want. I'm old enough to make my own choices, and right now that means being here and working with Benjamin. I can't just go out into the world and sit around brooding like some kind of gargoyle. Right now, this place is... home."
I stare at her. "Then you need a better home. Wait until I've started to heal up, and we'll get out of here together. We'll go and find Shelley. She and I can look after you. You can be free without being alone."
She shakes her head.
"Abby, you have to get out of here!" I insist. "Look at me! This is Benjamin's fault! It's not safe for either of us, but at least you can run. He's dangerous. I don't even know why he bothered to..." I pause, suddenly realizing that I have no idea why I'm still alive. Something about this whole situation doesn't make sense. If Benjamin wanted me dead, why would he go to all the trouble of saving me, bringing me here and nursing me back to health? A cold chill spreads through my body as I realize that there's a very dark look in Abby's eyes, almost as if she's struggling with some great inner demon. "You have to run," I say to her, but I know in my heart of hearts that everything I say is going to fall on deaf ears. I have a horrible feeling that Abby already knows what she's going to do.
"I'm not running anymore," she says, looking over at the blank white wall. "I tried running, and it didn't work."
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," I say, hoping I can find some way to get through to her.
"Benjamin says that..." She takes a deep breath, before turning to look at me again. "Benjamin says that sometimes it's necessary to..." Her eyes are filled with tears.
"Necessary to what?" I ask, but I think I already know the answer. "Necessary to remove people who are a threat?"
She nods.
"And necessary to prove your loyalty?"
She nods again, her bottom lip trembling.
"You really don't have to do this," I say, my heart pounding. "You still have a choice. You've already rejected Patrick. Don't make the mistake of letting someone else control you."
She stares at me, saying nothing.
"I don't..." I pause, trying not to panic. "Abby, I don't want to die," I say finally. "Not here, not now. Not because of Benjamin. We're family." I reach out and put a hand on her arm. "I'm the only family you've got."
"That's not true," she says, her voice trembling. "Benjamin and the Watchers are my family now. They're more like a real family than anyone else."
"That's not true," I say. "It's what Benjamin wants you to think but it's not true at all. Don't you see how he's tricking you?"
She closes her eyes, but the tears keep rolling down her cheeks.
"How can you trust him?" I ask. "How can you trust someone who tells you to kill your own flesh and blood?" I wait for her to answer, but she just sits there with her eyes closed. "If you do this," I say finally, "you're no better than Patrick. In fact, you're worse. At least he makes his own decisions."
Slowly, she opens her eyes. The tears have stopped, and her face seems to be totally blank and devoid of expression. "Benjamin told me you'd say something like that," she says. "He told me you'd try to manipulate me by playing on my fear of becoming like my father." She slowly climbs up onto the bed, getting closer and closer to my face. "He warned me not to listen to you." She opens her mouth wide, and I see her two razor-sharp, glistening white fangs. After a moment, I hear a quiet hissing sound coming from her throat.
"I don't want to die," I say firmly, trying to stay calm. "Please, Abby, I don't want to die. Not here, not like this -"
She lunges for my neck and I feel the two fangs slice through the flesh. The pain is intense as I feel her slowly sucking the blood from my body; reaching out, I grab hold of her shoulders and try to push her away, but she's too strong and there's nothing I can do. Finally, in an act of desperation, I try to punch her, but I'm starting to get weaker and weaker. As she continues to feed, I can feel her hot breath against my skin, and it feels as if she's getting warmer and warmer while I'm getting more and more cold. It's too late to stop her, though. It's too late to do anything. I close my eyes and wait for the final moment. Determined not to scream, I hold my breath as my life slips away into nothingness.
Epilogue
Sitting at my desk, I stare at the opposite wall and wait for her to return. People often ask me why I have no pictures or decorations in my office, but the truth is simple: I like large, open surfaces into which I can gaze and lose my thoughts. I spend so much of my time dealing with people and problems, it's a rare luxury to sit and feel as if the world's problems are drifting away from me. These moments are vital and, as I stare at the large white wall, I find myself becoming less and less aware of everything else in the room until - finally - it's as if the whole world is blank.
"I did it," says a voice nearby.
Turning to look at the doorway, I see that Abby is back. There's blood on her chin, and she looks a little dazed.
"Sit down," I say. "Please."
She walks slowly over to the chair on the other side of my desk, before taking a seat and waiting for me to say something.
"How was your first taste of live human blood?" I ask.
She stares at me for a moment. "It felt good," she says eventually.
"I'm glad," I say, smiling. "You mustn't feel bad. It's part of the natural order. You need blood to survive. You're an animal, just as we humans are animals. All animals do what they must, in order to survive. You can't fight nature."
"I think it hurt him," she says. "I thought it'd be quick and painless, but I think he was alive for a couple of minutes after I started to..." She pauses. "Benjamin... Is that normal? Did I do it right?"
"I don't know," I reply. "Abigail, you're something completely new. As far as I can tell, you're the first successful offspring to be born of one human parent and one vampire. All other attempts have failed. With you, we're entering new territory and we must be careful not to rule things in or out based on our expectations. There has never been anyone like you in the past, but I can assure you that your kind will have a long and prosperous future." I smile. It's hard to believe that this unassuming young lady is so important. "You do realize," I continue, "that in a few days' time, Patrick will be dead and you will be the only vampire left in existence. You know that, don't you?"
She nods.
"I'm not even sure if we should call you a vampire, though," I say. "Perhaps we should come up with a new word to describe what you are."
"Vampire's fine," she replies. "It kind of seems to fit."
"We'll see," I say. "For now, you should probably rest. We're setting off tomorrow on a very important journey."
"Where are we going?" she asks.
"Somewhere rather exciting," I tell her. "Somewhere I'm sure you've never been before. I'm going to take you to visit an old friend." I pause for a moment. "We're going to deliver a message."
Book 7
A Woman, Waiting
Prologue
Dedston, Many years ago.
"Shelley!" shouts Mrs. Hardstone. "Shelley, where are you? Get back here right now!"
Running between the trees, I try to put more and more distance between myself and that bitch of a teacher. Just because I'm nine years old, I don't have to run over to her when she calls. I get treated like a dog at home; I don't need it when I'm at school as well, and besides: this is recess, so I get to do what I want. If that means unlatching the gate and heading out into the forest, I don't see why it's any of Mrs. Hardstone's business. I'll be back by the time recess is over, pretty much.
"Shelley!" she shouts again, but this time her voice is much further away.
I stop running, smiling at the
thought that I've managed to give her the slip. That was the easy part, though. Now comes the hard part. Stepping carefully through the forest, I listen out for the sound of Amanda and the other girls. They're older than me, and they go to the local high school so they're allowed out at lunch. I know they come into the forest and sit around talking, and I want to join them. I've even heard rumors that they know magic, and they perform spells and stuff like that. I want to see for myself, and I want to persuade them to let me take part. I might look like a kid, but I hate hanging out with people my own age; they're all idiots, and I want to hang out with the big girls. Once they see that I've snuck out from school, they'll have to let me be one of them.
"Shelley!" Mrs. Hardstone calls out. She doesn't sound like she's getting any closer, but I still don't want her to scare Amanda and the others away.
It takes me a few minutes to find any sign of other people in the forest, but eventually I hear the chatter of distant voices. Making my way cautiously in the direction of the noise, I eventually spot five girls sitting in a circle on the forest floor. I pause behind a tree, peering out and seeing that Amanda and her friends are holding some little white cards. Amanda's talking, and the others are kinda keeping their eyes closed and listening. I don't know what witches look like, but they definitely seem to be doing something weird. I take a few steps forward and hide behind a closer tree, and finally I can just about make out what they're saying.
"This one's all silver," Amanda tells her friends. "It's good for scaring away werewolves. This one's gold, it's lethal to older spirits so if you ever come across Sog-Yothoth, this is the one to use. Remember this stuff. It might save your lives one day."
I creep closer and closer. They haven't noticed me yet, which is good. I want them to be impressed when they finally realize that I've managed to find them. They're probably gonna assume I'm a stupid kid, but I'm not. Amanda's fifteen or sixteen, but that's only six years older than me. Anyway, I'm way older inside. All the other girls at school are into dolls and stupid games, and they hate me because they know I'm different. I need to hang out with people who are more mature; they'll understand me better, and they'll accept me for who I am.
