Dark Season: The Complete Box Set (7 page)

Patrick

It's beginning. I can feel it. I always wondered what it would be like. I wish I could tell her why it has to happen like this. I wish I could show her. But I know how these things work. Everything has to happen in its right place. Everything has to happen in the right order. Death requires dignity... demands it... I know what's about to happen. I don't know how it's going to take place, or why it has to be this way, but I know what she's about to do for me. It will bind us together forever.

Sophie

Vampires can't die, right? They're immortal. They live on and on. Right?

I kneel beside Patrick and look at his wound. Dark blood gushes from his chest, running down onto the rock. He has his hands over it, in a vain attempt to hold it all in. For a moment, I'm convinced that he'll be okay. After all, he's a vampire. He's hundreds if not thousands of years old. He can't get hurt, it's impossible. But from the look in his eyes, I know something's seriously wrong. There's blood flowing from the wound and he looks like he's trying to say something.

I lean in closer. "What?" I ask. "What is it?"

He looks at me, and for a moment I think he's trying to say something. He opens his mouth.

"What?" I ask urgently.

"Fucking hilarious," says Dexter Logan. He's standing a few meters away, sniffing with laughter. "Funny how long I spent planning this. And it was pathetically easy in the end." He smiles at me. "Thank you, Sophie," he says. "I really couldn't have done it without you."

I consider attacking him. I could reach him in a couple of seconds, but in his hand there's a gun. And I know he could fire a couple of shots before I got close enough. I look back at Patrick. "You can't die," I say. "It's impossible."

"Depends on the bullet," says Dexter. "A normal bullet, sure, wouldn't even make him flinch. But a bullet dipped in holy water from the well at Gothos? Different thing entirely."

I look at Patrick's wound. It's not just a wound; it's fizzling and hissing, as if it's full some kind of acid.

"Sorry about your face," says Dexter. "All part of the illusion. I've been waiting too long for this to fuck it up now. I think I'm going to call you Face Ache from now on."

Patrick slowly tries to get up, but he can't: he's in too much pain, but it seems to be
more
than pain; the wound is still sizzling, like meat on a barbecue. He grunts as he tries to get up again and again, each time failing, slipping and sliding in his own blood. I try to calm him, but it's as if he's not even aware of me. He's like an animal that knows it's dying but refuses to give up without a fight. He's trying to inch himself toward Dexter, as if he thinks he has some chance of fighting back.

"Come on," says Dexter. "Come and get me." He undoes the buttons of his shirt, exposing his neck. "Come and bite me, Batman." He crouches down as Patrick tries to crawl over to him. "You're dying," he says blankly. "You have two choices. One, die and let the vampire species die with you. Sad. Pathetic. All that history, all that honor, gone. Option two, pass it on. Bite me. You'll still die, but at least the vampire race will live on. And that's what you want, isn't it? That's what we all want? You'll be free of this curse, and someone else gets to carry the vampire breed onward."

Patrick reaches out to Dexter weakly, but Dexter swats his hand away.

"No?" Dexter asks. "Fine. I'll get what I want when you're dead. You think you're the last vampire? Think again. I'll just haul your corpse over to our mutual friend Benjamin. Once we've extracted your venom and killed you, I'll infect myself and I'll be the last vampire. But not for long. I'm not greedy. I'll share the fun. There'll be a whole new race of vampires, a whole new civilization. Isn't that better than doing things your way and letting the vampire race die out?"

Thinking he's distracted, I try to punch Dexter, but he pushes me away and I land hard on the rocky floor. I feel something crack in my arm, and as I roll over I see that Dexter is grinning as he watches Patrick's continued attempts to attack.

"Everything you said to me was a lie," I say to Dexter.

"Not everything," he replies. "We really
are
quite similar, you know, you and I. Both of us wondering if vampires are real. It's just that I had the balls to do something about it. And I'm not letting this runt be the last of his kind. Thanks to me, there's going to be a whole new generation of vampires, with me as the starting point. Believe me, young lady, I'm working with some very powerful people." He grins. "The Watchers are watching you."

"You're killing him," I say, trying to work out what to do.

"Yes," he says. "Eventually. I suppose that bullet has done some damage." He looks down at Patrick. "I'd love to put you out of your misery and end your suffering right now, pal, but I don't want to do anything else that might jeopardize the operation. I think it's best if we keep you alive. We can conduct a live autopsy and Benjamin can extract all your venom." He looks at his watch, and then he turns to me. "But what about you?" He fixes me with a cold, hard stare. "It doesn't matter what happens to you, does it? Not if the prophecy's broken." He steps over to me, eying me up as if I'm some kind of specimen. "There'll be no autopsy for you. There's nothing interesting about you. Time to finish what got started the other day." He pulls some photos from his pocket and throws them at me. I look down at them: they're photos of me while I was getting attacked at the ATM, before Patrick saved me. Some of them are zoomed in, and I can't believe how bad I look, my face cut up and twisted, my clothes torn. I knew I was hurt bad, but looking at these photos, I can't believe I survived.

"You did this..." I say, barely able to believe it.

"I had to lure him Patrick somehow," Dexter says. "All it cost was $100 to each of those goons, they didn't even ask
why
I wanted them to attack you. I guess their stupidity cost them their lives, thanks to your friend. Still, he got to feast on their bodies once he'd killed them, and I got to keep an eye on you and follow you down here. Now I'm ready."

He kicks me in the face and I roll away.

Behind Dexter, Patrick gets to his knees and looks for a moment as if he might be able to get up, but he collapses again. Dexter turns, see this, laughs, and then looks back at me. "Your boyfriend's not doing too well," he says. "Too bad you never fucked him. Maybe I'd have kept you alive, to see what happens. As it is, you're just a nuisance."

What happens next is seared into my memory. From behind Dexter, I suddenly see a figure rise from the floor. At first I think it can't be, but it
is
... it's Patrick. He's nearly trembling with the effort, and the strength is all he has left. I look at the anger burning in his eyes, and then I look at Dexter, whose smile is now edged with caution. There's a moment, just a moment, when I see in Dexter's eyes that he knows what's coming up behind him: he knows what I see, and he's filled with fear.

And that's when Patrick strikes. With his mouth wide open and his white fangs fully on display, he summons what must be his last ounces of energy and he launches himself at Dexter. He sinks his teeth into Dexter's neck, as deep as he can, and bites as hard as possible. Then, before Dexter can really react, Patrick tears half his neck away. As Patrick crashes to the ground, Dexter stands almost emotionless and for a moment I think he's going to just laugh it off. But then he collapses and doesn't move any more as blood gushes from his neck. I turn to look at Patrick, who isn't moving either. It's as if they're both dead.

"Help him!" shouts a voice from behind me. I turn to see Vincent getting to his feet, still bleeding from a wound on his head.

We run over to Patrick. He barely seems to be aware of us, and it looks like he's reaching one hand out to something far off on the other side of the cavern. I look over, but I can't see anything.

"He's dying," says Vincent, his hands caked in blood as he tries to stop the bleeding from the huge wound on Patrick's side. "My God, he's really dying this time."

"He can't be," I say. "I thought vampires lived forever."

"Vampires are strong," says Vincent. "Very strong. They can take a lot more punishment than you humans. But there are some things..." He pulls a small metal cartridge from the wound, causing Patrick to snarl in pain. "Quiet!" Vincent orders him, and Patrick obeys. Vincent turns to me. "People like Dexter, they know how to hurt vampires. Look at this." He shows me the cartridge: it's a bullet, with small lettering engraved on the side. "This thing is from Gothos, and it has the words of a curse engraved on it. Lethal to a vampire. Right now, it's burning through his body." He throws the bullet to the ground.

"Can't we do anything?" I ask.

There's a pause, silence for a few seconds. "He needs blood," says Vincent, looking at me. "I can't give him mine."

I stare at him for a moment, and then I look down at Patrick, who seems to be losing consciousness.

"He'll die if you don't," says Vincent.

I shake my head. It's hard to believe he's asking me to do this. "I can't," I say weakly. "I don't want to... be..."

Vincent grabs my arms and shakes me. "It won't turn you into a vampire," he says firmly. "That only happens if he
chooses
to do it, and he won't. I promise you. It's just blood. You won't be changed, but it will save his life."

I look down at Patrick. I'm terrified by the thought of letting him bite me, but at the same time it also excites me. It's just... I don't want to become one of them, and I don't know if I can trust Vincent.

"He won't turn me into a vampire," I say. "Are you sure?"

"I promise," says Vincent. "It's a choice he can make, and if you save his life, he won't do it. He'll just take the blood he needs. It won't even be that much."

"Will it hurt?"

"Yes. But it'll save his life."

I nod. "Okay," I say. I can't believe I'm agreeing to this, but I feel as if I have no choice. I can't let Patrick die, not after he saved my life three times in as many days. "Okay," I repeat. "But you have to promise he won't turn me into one of you."

Vincent leans down and tilts Patrick's face towards us. "Did you hear that?" he asks. "Do you understand what's happening?"

To my surprise, Patrick nods weakly.

"Do you promise?" I say.

He nods again.

Slowly, I push my hair over my shoulder so that my neck is fully exposed. I look down at Patrick. His mouth opens slightly, just enough for me to see his fangs. "Okay," I say. "Let's get this over with."

"Not like that," Vincent says. "The neck is too slow. He'll die before he gets enough. He has to bite you somewhere with more pressure."

"Where?"

"The iliac artery. It runs through your lower torso and down past your groin. Here..." He uses his hand to indicate a line just to one side below his belt. "It's closest to the surface here. There's not much time. I'll give you some privacy." He gets to his feet. "Hurry," he says, before walking quickly away.

I look down at Patrick and we make eye contact. He's staring directly at me, and he's clearly dying. He has just a few minutes left to live. I try to smile, but it doesn't really work, and he just carries on staring at me.

I sit next to him and slowly, cautiously I unbutton the top of my jeans, then I unzip the fly and pull them down and all the way off. I'm not entirely sure how this is supposed to work or where this artery is, but I guess he'll find it. And as soon as I move close to him, he seems to respond. He moves his head to my hip.

"Where?" I ask him, carefully opening my legs.

He seems so weak as he raises a hand to touch the edge of the front of my underwear, just to one side of the crotch. But he doesn't seem ready to take the blood yet.

I reach down and move his hand away. Then I take the front of my panties and pull it out of the way, just a little, to expose the patch of flesh that he needs.

"It's okay," I say, trembling with fear. "Take what you need."

He leans closer and opens his mouth, exposing his fangs, and he seems more awake and alert now. He's staring at the patch of skin between my leg and my crotch. He opens his mouth further and I see the full extent of his fangs. For a moment, I see him not as a man but as an animal, and we maintain eye contact for a moment, and I try to let him see that it's okay, and just when I think he's understood, that's when he bites down and sinks his two hard white fangs straight into the flesh to the side of my groin.

The pain is sharp and intense. I can feel the fangs inside me, each one hard and agonizing. And then I feel the blood flowing out of my body, and it's more painful than I imagined it would be but at the same time I don't scream or cry out, because I don't want him to stop. Just when I think he might be finished, he seems to go deeper, as if his teeth became longer, and the pain doubles but I still don't scream. As he continues to feed, I can feel his hot breath against the inside of my thigh, and he has one side of his face pressed against the crotch of my underwear, pushing up and against me. And then, without warning, he lifts his head a little and his teeth slowly slide out of the two fang marks he's made in my flesh, with blood on the teeth and a little drop of blood beading at each wound and then dribbling down the inside of my thigh. Finally, I see the strength return to his face and he slowly stands up.

Still seeming a little unsteady on his feet, he stumbles away from me, walking over to where Dexter remains collapsed in a heap on the floor. I close my legs as Patrick kneels down and picks up Dexter, then carries him over to the stop of the steps leading down into the deeper depths of the cavern.

"No," Dexter gurgles, already on the verge of death. "Someone stop him."