by Amy Cross
“No,” she says, “but I want you to think about why Patrick just sacrificed himself. Think about it, what's the one way he could make absolutely certain that he would never kill you?”
I stare at her, slowly understanding what she's saying.
“If he dies,” Shelley says, “the prophecy is broken. Don't you get it? He's sacrificing himself so that he doesn't have to end up killing you. It's the only thing that makes sense”.
“No,” I say, “he's sacrificing himself because he got what he wanted, he got the baby, and now he just wants to die. For fuck's sake, Shelley, he killed Adam!”
“Did he?” she replies. “You only have Dexter's word for that. And Patrick was away with the baby, which means the only person who could have killed Adam is Dexter himself. Then he told you it was Patrick, to turn you against the one person who you need to be with”.
I try not to believe it. At first I thought Patrick loved me, and then I realised he was just using me to get the child he wanted. But maybe both those things are true.
“If he feels something,” I say, “why doesn't he tell me? Why doesn't he say it? Why doesn't he show it? You saw him back there. He wants to die”.
“Don't let him,” Shelley says. “Stop him. You want him to show you that he loves you? Show him”.
I look back along the tunnel, back towards the chamber where we left Dexter and Patrick. “He's willing to die to protect me,” I say quietly, to myself. “He's willing to die so he can show me that he loves me...”
“Typical man,” says Shelley. “He'll do all this, but he won't say those three little words”.
“I have to stop him,” I say.
“Wait,” Shelley says. “If you do, the prophecy is back on. If he lives, he'll end up killing you”.
“Only if you believe in prophecies,” I say, staring her down. And I don't believe in prophecies. After all of this, after everything that has happened, I still believe I'm in charge of my own future, and I still believe I can keep Patrick alive and still be sure that he won't kill me.
Fuck the prophecy.
10.
Death places his hard, cold hand on my shoulder and whispers in my ear that he's been waiting for me. I open my eyes. I've been waiting for him too.
After two thousand years, I kind of started thinking I was immortal. Stupid, I know, but I started thinking I would outlast every other creature on this planet, perhaps even outlast the planet itself. I used to imagine the Earth breaking apart, crumbling to dust as the sun eventually goes supernova, and I imagined myself falling through the cold vacuum of space, lost and alone, destined to float like that until the universe was destroyed. And even then, perhaps I would survive, floating forever and ever, with nothing to do but dream of my old life and howl into the vacuum. But now, finally, death has caught up with me; I have invited it to conquer me. And though this dumb human delights in torturing my body, he can never overcome the sheer joy I feel at having reached this point.
Sophie is safe. Although she now hates me, and believes I never loved her, she at least will never have to die at my hands. I have done something that my father told me was impossible: I have beaten a prophecy. I have shown that it is possible to take your own destiny and shape it as you wish.
And the child is safe. Those who seek vampires will be happy to pick over my corpse for the next few years. By the time they turn their attention to the child, they will be too late. She will become stronger than I could ever have been, and she will deal with her enemies when the time comes. Like her mother, she too will hate me. But again, I accept this. I would rather they were alive and hated me, than died while loving me.
So Death can take me. I'm happy with the terms of this deal. My life for theirs. One small loss in exchange for a pair of great victories. I'll take that.
Hallelujah.
Silence, please.
“Hi,” says a voice from somewhere else in the chamber. I raise my head to see Sophie's friend has returned.
Dexter, poised to begin cutting me up alive, turns to her. “What do you want?” he shouts.
“I want to watch,” she replies. She steps forward, a glint in her eyes and a smile on her lips. She's pretty; not as pretty as Sophie, but pretty. However, she has a slightly dirty, slightly depraved glint in her eye that tells me there's a dark side to her soul that she rarely, if ever, lets the world see. “How often do you get the chance to watch a real live vampire die?” she asks. “I won't get in the way. Just let me watch. It's kind of erotic”.
She eyes me up, grinning slightly, looking at my bleeding torso. I don't have the energy to respond; I just hang there, waiting to die.
“Keep out of my way,” Dexter says brusquely, turning back to face me. “I understand why you want to watch me enjoy my victory, but I don't need any distractions”. And with that, he plunges the silver dagger into my side. The pain washes through me, but I refuse to scream. I lived quietly, and I will die quietly. Just like my father.
“Oh that's so hot,” the girl says. “This is like a fantasy come true”.
“I'm taking my time,” Dexter says. “I want to enjoy this, and I want him to suffer”. He twisted the knife.
I don't scream.
The girl puts her arms around Dexter's waist. “Can I help?” she asks. “Can I cut him? Please?”
Dexter pushes her away, but he doesn't notice that she managed to grab the manacle keys from him. I stare at her, trying to work out what she's doing. I'm ready to die, and I don't need anyone to interfere. The only way I can truly show Sophie that I love her is by dying so that the prophecy will never come true.
“Not many humans have killed a vampire,” Dexter says, coming close to me, the silver dagger in his hand. “Please don't doubt that I recognise what a great honour this is. I will always, always remember this moment and...” He smiles as he stares into my eyes - “I will tell this story to all who need to hear it. And don't worry about your body, it won't go to waste”. He runs his hand over my smooth chest. “I'll be cutting this baby up to find out its secrets. And then I'll create a whole new race of vampires. Your species will live on”.
He digs the tip of the knife slowly into my chest, not breaking the skin but clearly about to make the final lunge.
“You forgot something,” says a voice, a familiar voice from behind him. He turns and lets out a gasp, then he falls backwards, a smaller knife wedged into his chest. Sophie is standing before me, blood on her hand, with her friend next to her.
As her friend unlocks the manacles, I stare at Sophie. Why has she done this? If I live, she's in danger, and so is the child. She must understand this. By saving me, she's dooming herself.
“I'm not going to let you die like this,” Sophie says. “I'm going to make you live. I'm going to make you show me where that baby is, and I'm going to make you tell me the truth about how you feel. You've protected me long enough. Now I'm going to protect you. I know vampires can't commit suicide, so I'm going to follow you everywhere and I'm going to keep you alive until you fucking give me what I want. Then you can die. When I say so”.
There's a blur of action from my side, and I turn to see Dexter throwing himself at Sophie with the dagger drawn. I grab him, turn him around and slam him into the wall so hard I can feel his bones rattle in his body. He really is a weak, crippled fool. I should have killed him long ago, but I had to keep him alive. I needed him to kill me. Or at least, that's what I thought at the time.
“You should be dead by now,” Dexter spits, before I throw him all the way across the room. He slams into the wall and falls to the floor in a crumpled heap like the garbage that he is. I can't help it: I'm angry now. I'm angry at everyone and I'm ready to let the anger loose. But that will mean resting afterwards. And there's only one way for me to rest...
“Patrick, we have to leave,” Sophie says, coming close and putting her hands on the sides of my face. “If you stay here, I'll stay here, and we'll both die. And our baby will be alone, and people like Dexter wi
ll pursue it forever. Do you understand?”
“This isn't how it was supposed to end,” Dexter says, standing up and reaching into his pocket. “But I don't mind improvising. Some things, some weapons, are just too beautiful not to use”. And with that he opens his hand to reveal something glowing in his palm. I recognise it immediately: it's the weapon I used to end the vampire war, the weapon that changed everything. Dexter must have found it in the ruins of Gothos. I assumed it had been destroyed, but it's clear that a small fragment survived. And even a small fragment of something so powerful can cause major damage.
I step towards Dexter to try to stop him, but it's too late. He turns his hand over and lets the weapon fall, and in a flash of light he unleashes a great power that sends flames bursting across the chamber, knocking everyone to the ground and cracking the stone walls themselves. I look up to see the roof starting to buckle. This is the moment that should never have come to pass. The wheels of the universe are shifting. The prophecy is reasserting itself.
11.
With smoke everywhere and the heat from the flames becoming unbearable, I crawl over to Patrick.
“I figured it out,” I say, looking into his eyes, hoping to find some hint of understanding. “And I realised that there's only one way I'm ever going to see that baby, and that's if you take me to her. So I'm not going to let you die, do you understand?”
He sits up, looking at me with a shocked expression on his face.
“Do you really think that baby is going to be safer with you gone?” I ask him. “When they've finished with you, they'll still go after it, and you'll need to be around. If you really want to do all the heroic sacrificing yourself stuff, at least wait until it'll actually work. You have to be here for that baby. He needs you”. I look into Patrick's eyes, hoping to see that he understands. “It's a he, right?” I ask. “The baby's a boy?”
Patrick stares at me and then slowly shakes his head.
I stare back at him for a moment. “A girl?” I ask hesitantly.
Another pause, and then Patrick nods.
I think about this for a moment. “What's her name?” I ask.
Patrick seems like he's almost ready to say something, but he holds back.
“You can write it down for me later,” I say. “We're getting out of here”. I turn to look at the entrance, which is now almost completely covered by the fire. “Is there another way?”
Patrick stands. He seems stronger now, as if his wounds have already begun to heal. He walks over to where Shelley is still keeping Dexter on the ground. Reaching down, Patrick pushes Shelley out of the way, then leans in and bites Dexter's neck, ripping a chunk clean away. He bites again, and Dexter screams, and then a third bite severs Dexter's head, stops the scream and leaves Patrick covered in blood.
Dexter's head drops to the floor, and blood flows from his stumpy neck.
“That's pretty gross,” Shelley says, staring in shock.
Patrick rips more flesh from Dexter's neck, chewing it and swallowing it. He has that look in his eyes, the look of a wild beast. I used to hate that look, but I've come to appreciate it. It's part of him, it's part of who he is, and it's never going to go away.
“And that's gross too,” Shelley says, looking at me as Patrick pulls a stringy bit of Dexter's body away from the bones and chews on it. “Dude, does he have to eat him?”
I open my mouth to say something, but at that moment part of the ceiling collapses, covering us all in dust and sending me falling backwards. As I get up, I realise I can't see Patrick or Shelley, and the flames are getting stronger. At that moment, I feel a rush of cold air on my arm, and I turn to my left. In the distance there's a speck of light, and I realise that this is probably the only chance we have to get out of here.
I stumble towards the light, looking around for Shelley and Patrick. The floor starts to give way, and I have to jump to one side as the stones I was standing on crumble into darkness. Finally I spot Shelley and Patrick on the other side of the chamber, with Patrick covered in blood as he continues to devour what's left of Dexter.
“This way!” I shout to them.
Shelley grabs Patrick and tries to pull him away. Patrick lets go of Dexter's destroyed body, which falls into the dark hole in the floor.
“Come on!” I hear Shelley shouting as she tries to tug Patrick towards me. But Patrick seems hesitant, as if there's something he still needs to do.
In my heart, I get this sinking feeling. I know that Patrick could just come with us, but I also realise that nothing he does is ever simple. From the look on his face, I can tell he has something else planned. As he stands looking at me across the burning chamber, his bare torso still ripped and torn from Dexter's punishment, blood still around his mouth and on his hands, there's a strange expression in his eyes. I've often tried to read his expression, and I've rarely been successful, but this time I feel like I understand what he's saying: he's saying goodbye.
“Come with me!” I shout at him.
He stares at me, not responding.
“Patrick!” I shout. “If you don't leave, I won't leave and we'll both die here!”
He looks so sad as he turns towards the fire, then he stops, looks at me again, then goes back to Shelley. And then, as I watch, Patrick leans in to Shelley's ear and he whispers something to her, and as she listens, her face goes white with shock and her eyes and her mouth open wide.
And then Patrick grabs Shelley by the waist, picks her up and carries her across the chamber and towards the distant light. I run after them, scrambling over broken stones, barely able to see, as the three of us head out. There's smoke everywhere, and flames are spreading fast. Behind us, I can hear the sound of crumbling stone as the roof of the chamber continues to fall in on itself.
Finally, we emerge in the forest clearing, and Patrick puts Shelley onto the floor. He walks a few paces away, turns to me and gives me the faintest of smiles. It's a curious moment, unlike any I've ever shared with him, and for a moment I wonder what it means. Then there's a cracking sound, and a bizarre expression of peace crosses Patrick's face, and his skin starts to change, and at first I can't work out what's happening to him, but then I see how his skin is turning grey and becoming textured. I rush over to try to stop him, but it's too late. By the time I get to him, he has turned to stone.
I look back at Shelley, who is still on the ground and is staring at me with a horrified expression. “What did he say to you?” I shout at her. “I saw him whispering to you, what did he say?”
She doesn't say anything. She just stares at me, and slowly shakes her head, as if in shock.
“What did he say?” I scream.
12.
I grab Shelley and pull her towards me.
“What did he say to you?” I shout into her face. “I'm not going to ask you again, what did he say?”
She shakes her head, her eyes almost glazed over with shock. “I can't tell you,” she says. “Please don't ask me”.
“Tell me,” I say, searching her eyes for some sign. “Tell me what he said. You're my friend. You have to tell me”.
“I can't,” she says, breaking free from my grip. “Don't ask me, because I can't. I can't ever tell you”.
I turn to Patrick, who is just stood there, made of stone. I run over to him and run my hands over his stone body. “You're in there!” I shout at him. “You're hiding!” I look at his stone face. “Get out of there! Come back!”
Looking up at him, I see his stone face staring into the distance. In some ways, it's not that much of a change: he's always been pretty impassive. But the crazy thing is, now he's made of stone, I almost feel like I can read his face better. It's as if he's... I'm not sure, but it looks like he's... happy.
“Come back!” I shout again. I shake him, and he starts to tilt, and he's too heavy for me to hold up so I fall back and he lands with a crash next to me, and there's a loud cracking sound and I see with horror that his left arm has broken off and has landed away from the rest
of him. And it's clear that he's stone all the way through. No flesh. No blood. Just stone.
“What happened to him?” Shelley asks, staring.
“What did he tell you?” I ask her. “Was it about this? Did he tell you why he turned to stone?”
“No,” she says. “It was nothing to do with this. It was... It wasn't about this”.
“Then what was it about?”
She shakes her head. “Please, Soph, don't...”
I stare at her for a moment, then I go over and grab her by the collar, pulling her close to me. “Tell me,” I say. “Tell me what he said to you or I swear to God I will fucking kill you right here and now”.
“Don't,” she replies.
“If you're my friend,” I say, “you'll tell me”.
She stares back at me. “If you're my friend,” she replies, “you'll never ask”.
“Tell me!” I say firmly, shaking her by the shoulders.
There are tears in Shelley's eyes as she shakes her head, her lip trembling. “Don't you think I would if I could?” she sobs. “Don't you think I'd tell you everything he said if...” She puts her arms around me. “I can't ever tell you what he said to me,” she cries. “Not if you ask me ten million times. I can't ever tell you”.
I push her away, and I turn to look at the broken stone statue that is all that's of Patrick. “Is he dead?” I ask her. “Is this it? Is he gone forever?”
“I don't know,” she says. “I'm so sorry, Sophie. I don't know”.
I turn to her. “But you know something,” I say. “He told you something. Please, Shelley, if you're my friend, you have to tell me what he said”.
Still sobbing, she shakes her head. “I can't. Please try to understand. I can't tell you, I...” She looks at the forest around us, a look of panic in her eyes. “I'm sorry, Soph, I have to get out of here,” she says, and with that she turns and she runs.
I start to run after her, but I stop. I turn back to the stone statue of Patrick. Why did he do that? Why did he turn to stone? Why, after everything that we went through, did he feel he could talk to Shelley but not to me? And why can't she tell me what he said?
