by Amy Cross
"Go to Hell!"
"That's the spirit!" he says with a laugh. "That's the Abigail Hart I was expecting to meet. You remind me of him, you know."
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to hold back from taking the bait.
"You know who I mean, don't you?" he continues, walking around me. "I never actually spoke to your father, of course, but I saw him. I still remember watching him lead the charge when we made our final stand at Gothos. He was naked and covered in blood, and his rage was so powerful, it shook the ground. It was the last day of the war, right before Patrick realized he couldn't win through force alone. I was still fighting when I turned and saw him walking away from the battlefield. I didn't understand at first, I thought he'd merely turned out of fear, but finally..." He pauses. "After that, like the others, I slept. The world could no longer accommodate our existence. It was only when your father finally died that the survivors were able to return to life. I'm glad that Patrick is no longer around to disrupt things, but at the same time I have to say that I miss his presence. He would have been useful."
Taking hold of one of the chains, I prepare to rip it from the ground. This game has gone on for long enough, and I'm no longer willing to listen to Absalom's inane nostalgia. Maybe brute force is the way to go sometimes.
"I can't help wondering just how much of your father is in your soul," he adds. "Even diluted by your mother's human blood, I'm sure there's a great deal of Patrick's fire left inside your heart. Do you ever fear that you're becoming his shadow, Abigail? Or would you welcome the chance to follow in his footsteps?"
Without responding, I carefully tighten my grip on the chain. I can feel the strength building and building in my body. I'm almost ready to break free.
"Did you think you'd be able to just run around like this forever?" Absalom continues. "Did you think that other vampires would leave you alone? This might be the Age of Chaos, Abigail, but there must be some rules, for your sake as well as ours. That's why the Disgrace has been resurrected. In the old days, the Disgrace was second only to Gothos. We were his spiritual army, his knights. Of course, in the modern day, we have to adapt to differing circumstances. For one thing, we have to accept that the human world is not our domain. That's why we prefer to slip quietly through the shadows, watching out for the activities of other vampires. Over the past few years, we've removed more than three hundred threats. Feral, wild vampires that were starting to draw attention to themselves. They had to be neutralized. Unfortunately, we've now reached the point at which we have to deal with you, Abigail. To be blunt, you can't carry on like this. You're out of control."
Summoning the last of my energy, I finally let out a roar of anger as I try to rip the chains away. To my surprise, however, I find that they're bolted down firmly, and although I strain every sinew in my body, I can't get free.
"Calm down," Absalom says, sounding amused. "You're going to bust a blood vessel."
Ignoring him, I continue to pull against the chains. They have to give way eventually; I've never encountered anything that's strong enough to stay in place when faced with my fury, and I'm determined to show this asshole that he can't just tie me up like this. Nevertheless, it feels as if the chains aren't even budging as I continue to pull. Eventually, I'm forced to take a break, and it's only now that the true hopelessness of the situation hits me.
"Nice try," he continues after a moment. "You know, I think you actually managed to pull one of the anchors out of place by roughly a millimeter and a half. That's not bad going, Abigail. You should be proud of yourself."
"When I get out of here," I mutter breathlessly, still trying to recover from my failed attempt to break free, "I'm going to make you regret every word you've uttered."
"I doubt it," he replies, "but you can try. I'm hoping, however, that we can come to a mutual understanding. I can assure you, the Disgrace will not simply pretend that you don't exist or ignore your continued actions."
"What are you going to do?" I ask. "Put a collar around my neck?"
"Of course not," he says. "As I explained, Abigail, you're out of control. That's bad for you, and it's bad for us. We need you to work with our organization, and we need you to make the decision on your own terms. I'm not here to force you to do anything, though. The chains are merely in place to force you to listen, and the decision is yours to make." He waits for me to say something. "You're not happy, though, are you?"
I take a deep breath.
"You're lost. You're alone and you don't know what to do. You live day by day, always looking over your shoulder, always wandering what's going to come next. There's no order or structure to your life, Abigail. You drink yourself into oblivion most nights, and you engage in activities that are at best extremely unwise and at worst self-destructive. Is this really how you want to live? Is this how the great Abigail Hart should be spending her time?"
I wait. Sure, my previous attempt to pull the chains loose might have been a failure, but that's only because I wasn't strong enough. This time, I'm going to wait a little longer and really build my strength up, and finally it'll be impossible for any chains in the world to stop me. I underestimated the strength I'd require at first, but I know that my strength is virtually limitless.
"This is getting tiring, Abigail," Absalom says after a moment. "If you really don't want to cooperate, there are ways we can speed things along."
Taking hold of the chains once again, I prepare to rebuild my strength. After a moment, however, I become aware of something in the air around me. It feels as if Absalom is somehow reaching his mind out toward me. No matter how hard I try to resist, I can feel his thoughts trying to slip their way into my head, picking and poking at every available point. As I attempt to push back, I'm overcome by the mental image of him with long black tentacles reaching out from his soul and gently brushing against my mind, trying to find a weak spot that might allow him to gain access to my innermost thoughts. I'm determined to fight back, but slowly the tips of the tentacles are able to push deep into my head and finally I feel his thoughts mingling with my own, brushing against my mind and creeping deeper and deeper into my soul. I push and push and push, but there's nothing I can do to keep him out.
Finally, unable to maintain my resistance any longer, I start to scream.
Mark Gregory
"So I was up all night doing these tests," Katie says, pinning a set of print-outs to the wall. "I didn't get any sleep at all. Not even for a second. Now I've got this rash all over my chest. I took some antihistamines but they didn't seem to help. Actually, I think they made it worse. It's almost like lots of little zits. I was thinking about trying to pop them, but -"
"Is there any sign of Abby?" I ask, interrupting her before she can launch into yet another long-winded discussion of her medical history. Katie's a good lab assistant, but listening to her discuss her litany of illnesses can take up an entire day.
"Uh, no," she replies. "I think someone from the office tried to call her, but it's like she's disappeared completely. Do you think something's wrong?"
"No," I say, relieved that Abby seems to be giving the place a miss. "I'm sure she's fine. She can take care of herself. Show me what you've got."
"I started by checking each body to see how much blood was removed." She runs a finger along a set of numbers. "As you can see from these values, they'd all had at least ninety-nine and a half per cent of their blood drained. In three cases, I couldn't actually find any trace amounts of blood at all. Do you have any idea what that means?"
"Someone was thorough," I reply.
"They were more than thorough," she says. "They were extreme. If you cut someone's wrists or throat and let them bleed out, they'd probably lose about seventy or eighty per cent of their blood, maybe a little more, but there'd always be some left in there. With these bodies, there was basically only a minor trace amount. Whoever did this, they were determined to get every last drop out, and all..." She points at a photo of one of the victim's necks, showing the tel
l-tale pair of puncture wounds. "All through these little holes," she adds. "Eight millimeters in diameter each. You can't pass blood out of such small holes at any real speed, but I've checked the bodies thoroughly. Each of them just had these two puncture wounds, like..."
I wait for her to finish. "Like what?" I ask eventually.
"Well, like vampire bites," she says. "I'm not saying that they are vampire bits, obviously, but that's what they look like. It's almost like someone was trying to give that impression. Somehow, at the same time, they were able to get all that blood out."
"Sounds tricky," I reply, trying to hide the fact that the mere mention of vampires makes me feel extremely uncomfortable.
"Tricky?" She sighs. "It's not tricky, it's impossible. Like, I seriously don't know how you'd do something like this. If you asked me to drain someone so completely, I wouldn't know how to start, and I definitely wouldn't be able to do it with just a pair of small drainage holes." She pauses to clear her throat for a moment. "Seriously, this is like magic. It's technologically beyond the capabilities of any lab I've ever encountered. I've been asking around, and no-one can explain how it could be done."
"Well, it was done," I point out, "so obviously it's possible. What about organs? Was there any sign of damage?"
"Not really," she replies, grabbing another set of print-outs. "The victims were alive when the blood was removed."
"Seriously?"
"At the start of the process, anyway," she continues, glancing at me. "I agree with Abby's claims about the bodies being repeatedly partially drained and then allowed to recover. Someone was literally using these people as a blood farm. They'd drain them to the point of death, and then leave just enough blood to allow them to recover. The body would eventually replace the lost blood and the whole process would begin again. The perpetrators did this several times over six months, maybe a year, and then finally they went all the way and drained them completely." She pauses. "I mean, I'm only an assistant, so obviously I don't have the same level of experience as Dr. Hart..."
"You're actually here, though," I reply, "so that's an advantage." Peering at one of the photos, which shows the pale, emaciated face of a victim, I find myself still trying to work out why someone would do such a horrific thing to so many people. The only thing that makes sense so far is that this is some kind of ritualistic killing, possibly part of a cult. Then again, there's also the other, darker idea that's festering at the back of my mind, inspired by my close encounter with Abby the other night. I don't want to say the 'v' word, because I know I'd be ridiculed, but I can't entirely dismiss it either. "What about the hand-holding?" I ask, turning to Katie. "You got an answer?"
She opens her mouth to reply, but something seems to be holding her back.
"What?" I ask, keen for her to get on with whatever she's got to say.
"I've been looking into various phenomena that might account for what happened," she says cautiously, even though her eyes betray her lack of certainty, "things like spasms and involuntary post-death movements, and I've only managed to come up with one thing that could be possible." She pauses. "Someone pranked us."
"You think someone snuck into the lab and moved all the bodies' arms?"
"I think that when you discount all the other ideas, it's the only thing that makes sense. Maybe someone wanted to send a message. Maybe there's some kind of significance. Maybe someone's making fun of us. Maybe..." Her voice trails off, and it's clear that she's holding back on something. "Someone got in while I was out of the room and moved the arms. It's the only way it could have happened."
"Did you check the surveillance tapes?" I ask.
"The what?"
"The surveillance tapes."
"I..." She pauses. "I don't even know if we have any."
"There are cameras in here," I tell her. "There are cameras all through the building. They're linked to the computers in Dr. Hart's office. Haven't you taken a look at the archive footage to see what happened?"
She swallows hard. "No."
"Why not?"
She takes a deep breath. "I was scared."
"Of what?"
"Of what I might see."
Sighing, I realize that she's clearly worried about the bodies, and she obviously believes that if she looks at the tapes, she won't like what she sees. Katie has always struck me as a being a level-headed kind of girl, but I guess the unusual facts are mounting up in this case and she's starting to wonder if there might be a more unusual explanation for what's happening. I can't say I blame her. Even if I hadn't witnessed Abby Hart turning into a snarling monster, I'd be questioning a few certainties myself.
"How about we look together?" I ask.
She nods.
"Go fire up the machines," I say. "Rewind the stream to around the time that the bodies suddenly linked hands. There's no point putting our heads in the sand, Katie. We need to know what we're dealing with."
She smiles awkwardly, but it's clear that she's terrified.
"How about I go and take a look?" I continue, figuring that things are going to go much more slowly if I wait for Katie. "You can stay right here."
A few minutes later, sitting alone in the office while Katie loiters nervously in the main part of the lab, I rewind the surveillance footage until I reach the time when she first noticed that the bodies had moved. To my surprise, however, I find that the crucial period is obscured by a sudden, and apparently isolated, burst of static, as if something disrupted the equipment. Watching the footage back, I see the bodies in their original position, followed by a few seconds' worth of static, followed finally by a shot of the bodies with their hands touching. I rewind and try again, but the same thing happens. When I pull up the footage of the lab's main door, I find more static.
Sitting back, I realize that there can only be two possible explanations. Either someone managed to get into the system and tamper with the recording, or something happened in the lab that affected the cameras. Whatever the truth, it's clear that someone, or something, enter the lab without being seen.
Abby Hart
"Your mind is a very scary place," Absalom says. "Credit where it's due, Abigail. The fact that you haven't lost your sanity completely is, I believe, a remarkable achievement."
Opening my eyes, I find that light is streaming into the room through a nearby window. I'm in my own bedroom, in my own apartment, and the huge mass of chains has been removed, replaced by a single manacle wrapped around my ankle, keeping me strapped to the floor. I don't know how long I've been unconscious, but the last thing I remember is having Absalom's mind twisting and snaking through my own, and my head is pounding with a kind of sharp pain I don't think I've ever felt before.
"I'm sorry about earlier," he continues, sitting a few feet away on the end of my bed. "You were being uncooperative, and I'm afraid we don't have time to break you down in a more delicate manner. On the way here, I kept reminding myself not to underestimate you, but still... I've never had so much trouble with an interrogation before. Even your mind was strong. In fact, I'm still not certain that I managed to see everything. Are you aware of a very deep, very dark place in your subconscious that seems to be completely closed?"
Staring at him, I try to work out if he's playing games with me.
"You've got a secret," he says after a moment. "It must be very big and very important. Someone went to a great deal of trouble to hide it away. Is this something you know about, Abigail, or did someone else put that secret in your mind? Did someone decide that the very best place to put this thing would be deep in your subconscious?"
"There's no secret," I mutter.
"You're wrong. I found it. I couldn't get into it, but I most certainly examined its edges."
"I felt you in my mind," I continue. "I felt you everywhere."
"Not everywhere. There was one part that I couldn't penetrate. Judging by the look on your face, it's clear that you don't even know that it's there. I'm sure you'll understand why I find that fascinating.
What has someone hidden in there? Who had access to your mind?"
Pulling at the remaining chain, I find that it's just as strong as all the rest. No matter how hard I try, I can't manage to get it loose. I hate this feeling; ever since I escaped from Benjamin and the Watchers, I've been determined to stay in control, yet here I am, back in captivity like some kind of zoo animal. I almost feel as if I no longer have the energy to fight. Maybe I'm destined to be someone's puppet forever. After all, my attempts to live and work alone in New York haven't worked too well, and I've ended up more or less where I started.
"We'll work on the secret later," Absalom continues. "Whoever put it there, I'm sure they'll be back to collect it one day. For now, we have much more important matters to deal with. Do you know why I'm here, Abigail?"
I stare at him, determined to find out what he wants and then make sure he doesn't get it. There's something about this Absalom guy that rubs me the wrong way, and I'd dearly love to wipe that smile off his face. He thinks he's got me right where he wants me, and he's convinced that he'll be able to break me. He's wrong.
"There are certain rumblings in this city," he says. "Certain rumors. I don't know if you're aware, but there are those among us who would very much like to return the vampire species to its old ways. They believe we can't co-exist with humans, and now that the war is over, they want to recreate the old world right here, by crushing human cities and building something new and powerful among the ruins. Obviously such plans have never been sanctioned by the Disgrace, and we're keen to ensure that these plotters are stopped at the earliest possible opportunity. Fortunately they're forced to move slowly, since they know they must remain undiscovered for as long as possible. They're getting closer, though. And stronger."
