by Amy Cross
“Stay in the car!” John replied, opening the door on his side.
She turned to him. “Where are you -”
“Don't argue with me, Isobel!” he said firmly. “I know what this thing is, I'll be back in a moment!”
“But Dad -”
“Stay in the car!” With that, he slammed the door shut and made his way around the side of the vehicle, heading over toward the figure.
“It's a statue,” Izzy whispered, watching as smoke continued to rise up from the figure's feet. “It has to be.”
A moment later, she heard her father's cellphone ringing on the back seat. She watched John approaching the figure for a moment, and then she turned and grabbed his phone. Looking at the screen, she saw to her surprise that someone was trying to call from the land-line phone at home.
After a couple of seconds, the ringing stopped.
Hearing a raised voice, Izzy turned and saw that her father appeared to be remonstrating with the dark figure, arguing about something, almost pleading. The figure, meanwhile, remained completely still. She watched for a moment, before the cellphone started ringing again. She glanced at the screen and then swiped to answer.
“Hello?” she said cautiously, raising the phone to the side of her face.
“John,” a male voice replied, sounding irritated, “where are you? Did you try to lock me in the basement? The bolt was drawn across! I had to remove the hinges! Was that an accident?”
Izzy paused for a moment. “Who is this?”
She waited.
“Who are you?” the voice asked finally.
“Who are you?” she replied, still watching as her father argued with the statue up ahead, “and what are you doing in our house?” She paused. “Wait, are you the guy who came to visit? The one who's been staying in the basement?”
“Is this Izzy?” the voice asked. “Wow, you sound so grown-up and... Izzy, can you put your father on the line? It's kind of urgent.”
“I can't right now,” she muttered. “He's busy. Listen, who are you? Why are you in our house?”
“Did your father never mention his good friend O'Malley?”
“Who?”
She heard a sigh.
“I guess it's been a long time,” O'Malley continued. “I'm not offended. Well, I'm a little offended, I mean I'd like to think I was memorable, for everyone concerned. Then again, I guess the situation was rather busy and fluid, and you were just a baby and I -”
“What are you talking about?” Izzy asked, watching as her father stepped closer to the figure and pointed angrily back toward the car. A moment later he prodded the figure's chest with a finger, although once again the figure seemed not to respond. A slow, cold sense of fear was rippling up Izzy's back and onto her shoulders, and she couldn't shake the feeling that somehow her father seemed very angry with the strange man on the road. Either that or he had lost his mind and he was having an argument with a statue. “Dad can't talk to you right now,” she explained cautiously, “because he's arguing with some random guy in the middle of the -”
“He's arguing with a Sentinel?” O'Malley spat back.
“A what?”
“No, he's not that stupid,” O'Malley continued. “Even John Farmer isn't so stupid that he'd pick a fight with a fully-armed Gothosian Sentinel. He'd end up -”
Suddenly Izzy saw a flash of light ahead, seemingly coming from the dark figure itself, and then she screamed and dropped the phone as her father's body was tossed through the air, slamming against the front of the car and then slumping down onto the tarmac. The light was already gone, and Izzy stared wide-eyed with shock as the dark figure remained in place with steam now rising from its neck.
“Dad!” she yelled, clambering out of the car and hurrying around to the front, where she found John gasping as he tried to sit up. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“I told you to stay in the car!” he hissed, clearly in pain as he clutched the left side of his chest. “Get back in there! It's okay, that was just -”
He let out a gasp.
“That was just a low-power warning,” he stammered.
“We have to turn around and get out of here!”
“Isobel, get in the car!” Pushing her aside, he scrambled to his feet, breathless and clearly struggling with the pain in his ribs. He stared at the dark figure for a moment, before turning to Izzy again. “I swear, Isobel, you just have to do what you're told right now. Get in the car!”
“Why?”
“Get in the car!”
“Because of the Sentinel?”
“Because -” He froze for a moment, as if she'd shocked him to his core. “Where did you hear that word?”
“What's a Sentinel? Why does -”
“Where did you hear that word?” he shouted, putting his hands on her shoulders. There was panic in his eyes now. “Who told you about Sentinels?”
“First tell me what it means!”
“Where did you hear it?” he asked again, before looking into the car and spotting his cellphone. Hurrying past her, he reached in and grabbed the phone, only to see that the screen was blank. He tapped a few times, before tossing it back inside and turning to her. “The discharge must have fried the circuits,” he muttered, looking past and watching the dark figure for a moment. “Isobel, I know it's your natural instinct to challenge me on things like this, but I really -”
“And who's O'Malley?” she asked.
He hesitated for a moment. “You talked to him?”
“He asked if you were challenging a Sentinel. He said it was a very dumb thing to do.”
“What else did he say?”
She paused. “A lot. He basically told me everything.”
“He did?”
“The whole thing,” she lied, hoping that she could trick him into revealing more than he intended. “I know exactly what's going on, Dad.”
He stared at her for a moment, before pushing past as he headed back toward the Sentinel. “You're bluffing.”
“No, I'm -”
“If he told you what a Sentinel is,” he continued, “then he'd have had to have told you about the Abluthian Wraiths and the Theory of Memory Equations.”
“Sure,” she replied, swallowing hard. “All of those and more.”
He shook his head. “I made those things up, Isobel. Wait in the car, I'm going to -”
“What is that thing?” she asked, grabbing his arm in an attempt to keep him away from the figure.
“Isobel -”
“If you don't tell me,” she hissed, “I'm coming right over there with you!”
He turned to her and opened his mouth to argue, before pausing.
“What is it?” she asked again.
“It's...” He took a deep breath, as the dark figure continued to watch them from the middle of the road. “It's a piece of ancient vampire technology, originally devised by the masters of Gothos as a means of observing the outer terrain far from the great house. Later the Sentinels became weaponized, due to the various wars that erupted. They're partly organic and partly crystalline, and they're sentient even though they lack the ability to challenge or refuse their orders. Unfortunately, this particular Sentinel has been re-purposed since the old days and is now being used to pen us in and keep us from leaving town. I'm simply attempting, quite reasonably, to make it realize that its orders don't apply to us, although so far it refuses to budge.” He paused, seeing the shock in her eyes. “So there. Now you know what it is. Are you happy?”
“Um...” She paused, trying to make sense of everything she'd just heard. “I still have a few questions...”
“There's a chance I can explain things to the Sentinel,” he continued. “Its orders are to keep all vampires within the cordon, because there's one that it's hunting, but none of that really applies to us so -”
“You're lying,” she said firmly, looking past him and watching the dark figure.
“Isobel, you just have to believe me. I can prove it all to you
later, but for now -”
“No!” Pushing past him, she hurried toward the figure.
“Isobel, wait!”
Ignoring her father, Izzy quickened her pace, determined not to turn back even though she could feel a twisting ball of fear in her chest. With each step closer to the figure, the ball of pain seemed to grow and grow, but she managed to keep going until finally she stopped right in front of the figure and looked up at its bald head. Taking a deep breath, she was just about able to make out one side of its features in the moonlight, and to her surprise she saw an eyeless surface with a series of intricate scratches and grooves cut into the flesh, almost as if the face was covered with a series of unfamiliar letters and words. After a moment, some of the scratches seemed to shift slightly, reconfiguring themselves into a different set of patterns.
The air around the figure seemed different, too, as if it was somehow charged and flickering with power.
“I...” she stammered, before her voice trailed off.
Pausing, she realized her chest felt too tight to get any words out.
“Isobel, get back!” John said firmly, limping over to join her. “This thing is deadly!”
“What is it?” she asked, tilting her head slightly to get a better view of the carvings all over its face. Again, some of the carvings remained stationary while others were constantly changing, swimming between one another.
“It's something you need to get away from.” John grabbed her arm, trying to pull her away, but she held her ground. “It's very old and it's very dangerous!”
“It's beautiful,” she whispered, taking a step closer to the figure. For a moment, she felt genuinely mesmerized by the sight of the carvings all over its face, almost as if some deeper, calmer part of her mind actually recognized the inscriptions and knew what they meant. Without even realizing what she was doing, she reached up and moved her hand toward the figure's head.
“Isobel!” John hissed. “Stop!”
Barely even noticing her father's words, Izzy placed her hand on one side of the Sentinel's face. Her fingers felt the carved grooves as they continued to move, and a moment later she saw a faint, warm glow starting to flicker somewhere inside the creature's head. The buzz in the air became a little stronger, too, and after a moment she realized her hair was starting to rise, as if possessed by some kind of hidden static charge. She knew she was taking a risk, but touching the face just felt so right, as if...
“I've met you before,” she whispered, even though she knew the idea was impossible. “I've -”
“Stop!” Grabbing her hand, John pulled her away, this time with enough force to make her take a step back.
Immediately, the glow faded from the Sentinel's face.
“This is my daughter,” John continued, pushing Izzy away and taking a step closer. “She has nothing whatsoever to do with what is happening in this town. She's just a child, you can see that for yourself, so let her go! Even if you insist on keeping me here, you have to recognize that your orders don't apply to her. You were sent here to contain the threat, were you not? So contain it by letting Isobel Farmer leave the cordon!”
He waited, but there was no response.
“Dad,” Izzy said cautiously, “I don't think -”
“Quiet!” he hissed, holding a hand up as if to stop her, while still facing the Sentinel. “You don't know how these things work, Isobel! I do!”
“You've seen one before?”
He paused. “A long time ago.”
“Before I was born?”
“Long, long before you were born. They tend not to be deployed unless something's very wrong.”
“And have I seen one before?”
“You?” He turned to her, as if the idea was impossible. “Of course not. I kept you far away from anything vampire-related.”
“Then why do I feel as if -”
“You're just letting your imagination run away with you. Either that, or perhaps you encountered one during a race memory.” He paused, watching the Sentinel for a moment longer, before taking another step closer. “You know who I am,” he said firmly. “Based on that information, surely you understand my position here. I'll stay, I won't put up a fight, but for the sake of all that's holy you have to let my daughter go.”
No reply.
“Let her go!” he shouted, putting his hands on the Sentinel's chest and trying to push it back. “You had feelings once! Show some pity and let her -”
Before he could finish, the Sentinel's face flared again.
Izzy turned away as sparks filled the air, and a moment later she saw her father's body once again getting tossed through the air until it thudded against the tarmac. Hurrying over to him, she knelt and rolled him onto his back, only to see that there was a gash on the side of his forehead.
“Wake up!” she hissed, shaking his shoulder. “Dad, you have to get up!”
She waited, but his eyes remained closed.
“You've hurt him!” she shouted, turning and looking toward the Sentinel. “You didn't have to do that! You could have just -”
Suddenly she heard the car's engine starting to roar. Turning, she was momentarily blinded by the headlamps as the vehicle burst into life. A fraction of a second later, the car lurched forward with one of its doors still hanging wide open, and Izzy watched in horror as the driverless vehicle slowly turned with screeching tires until it was facing back toward town. The engine continued to run, revving louder and louder, and after a few seconds she heard the radio starting up, furiously searching through channels until finally it began to play Downtown.
“What the hell?” she whispered, staring at the waiting car before turning to look at the Sentinel, which continued to watch impassively.
A moment later she felt John's body moving, and she turned just in time to see that he was somehow being dragged by invisible forces. He was quickly bundled into the passenger seat and arranged properly, before the door slammed shut and then the door on the other side swung open.
Getting to her feet, Izzy stared at the car before turning to look at the Sentinel again.
“Why?” she asked finally. “Why do we have to go back?”
She waited, but of course there was no reply.
“Why?” she shouted, stepping closer as she felt a burst of anger in her chest. “Why does no-one ever tell me anything?”
Finally, realizing that she was once again going to be ignored, she turned and limped back toward the car. In the distance, the lights of town burned beneath the night sky. There was nowhere else to go.
PART FOUR
A PAIN IN THE NECK
Chapter Thirty-One
“No, it was lame!” Violet shouted as she stomped away from the house, making her way through the dark garden. “It was officially the lamest party on record, and that's saying something! This whole night has been a total waste of my fucking time!”
“Just come back and try again!” Annabel pleaded, grabbing her arm in an attempt to stop her leaving. “It'll get better, I swear!”
“Like hell it will,” Violet muttered, reaching the gate and trying to pull it open, only to find that it was somehow locked. “What's wrong with this damn thing?”
“There's this guy,” Annabel continued, “and he's cute, and I wanna talk to him some more. Well, we haven't actually talked at all yet, but I've been following him around all night and I think he's finally started to notice me!”
Rolling her eyes, Violet tried again to get the gate open, before stepping back and letting out a grunt of frustration. “I'm tired,” she said firmly, turning to Annabel, “and I've had a really bad night. Even before I showed up here, I had to deal with those two freaks from school. I swear, Izzy Farmer gets weirder every day, and that Rita Callow bitch is no better. And now I come to a party that you promised wouldn't be lame, and guess what? It's totally lame!”
“Please,” Annabel begged, “I think this guy might like me if I can make him notice that I exist!”
“Who was tha
t?” Violet asked suddenly, turning and looking across the dark garden.
Annabel followed her gaze, but saw no sign of anyone.
“I heard a noise,” Violet continued. “Damn it, are we being spied on now?”
“I don't -”
“Hey, pervs!” Violet shouted. “Do you get off on watching girls from the bushes? Why don't you actually come out here and talk to us?”
She waited, but there was no reply.
“This night just keeps getting lamer and lamer,” she said with a sigh, turning to Annabel. “I blame you!”
Annabel stared back at her, with wide, shocked eyes.
“What?” Violet asked. “You look really stupid right now. What's wrong? Why are you -”
Suddenly she spotted the hand that was holding Annabel's neck from behind. A thin, wiry hand with long cracked nails, reaching out from the darkness.
“Ana?” Violet said cautiously, as Annabel began to tremble with fear. “What the -”
Before she could finish, another hand reached out and grabbed her neck.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The car bumped and lurched slightly as Izzy turned the wheel and pulled into the yard at the front of the house. She squeezed the gas pedal a couple more times, inching the vehicle forward, until finally she figured it was parked okay. Switching the engine off, she sighed as she sat back in the driver's seat.
Next to her, John was finally beginning to stir.
“Are you okay?” Izzy asked, sitting in darkness and staring at the house's front door.
“What...” He sat up and looked around, clearly shocked to be home. “What happened?”
“I drove us back.”
“You did what? Isobel, you don't even have a license!”
“I didn't have a choice!” She turned to him. “In case you didn't notice, that thing wasn't about to let us leave town!” Spotting the cut on his forehead, she reached out to take a better look. “I should clean that and -”
“I'm fine,” he replied, pulling away.
