Dark Season: The Complete Third Series (All 8 books) (51 page)

I stare at her for a moment. While I appreciate her agony, there's nothing I can do to reverse the process. She chose to abandon her vampire form in order to survive the war, and now she must face the consequences.

"I've changed my mind," she says, stepping closer. "I want you to turn me back, Patrick. Let me be a vampire again, even if it means I must die instantly, even if it means I must burn. I'd rather have one more moment of true power than a thousand years of pitiful humanity".

I shake my head. Cassandra was one of the few who chose to throw off their old vampire bodies and become human. It was the only way for them to survive the final moment of our race, which all the others burned. There are just a dozen of these changelings, and they will live out their mortal lives far from Gothos. I could have joined them, but the prophecy demanded that one vampire should survive, and I deemed it appropriate that I should be the one who suffers that burden. Although I shouldn't allow my own feelings to cloud my judgment, the truth is that I'm glad Cassandra lives. Her body might be weak and fragile, but her soul remains the same.

"I can't do this," Cassandra insists, with tears in her eyes. "After living for centuries as a vampire, I can't live as a pathetic, weak human. I find it offensive! This is no way to exist! I don't know how those humans can go about their lives, living day after day with no power, and filled with the knowledge of their impending deaths". She pauses. "Why don't you answer me? Are you really taking this vow of silence so seriously? Surely you can speak a few words of comfort to me? Please, Patrick. I can't do this without you". She stares at me, searching my face for an answer I can never give. "Say something!" she pleads as tears roll down her cheeks. "Tell me how to live like this!" Using her finger nails, she scratches the skin on her neck, and a thin line of blood seeps out. "Look how easily I bleed!" she says. "It hurts! I actually feel the pain!"

I turn to walk away, but she grabs my arm. When she was a vampire, she was strong enough to hold me, but now she's weak and the gesture is futile. Still, I stay where I am, waiting to see what she'll do next. Proud, noble Cassandra has been reduced to the status of a human, and she's starting to panic. She sees that her immortal life has been snatched away from her, and now she faces the prospect of slowly growing older, of seeing her body start to decay. The process might take a little longer for her than it would for a natural-born human, but it will happen and she can't face the prospect of death.

"Is it true that you're looking for a child?" she asks. "Vincent told me that you plan to sire a new race of vampires, with a human, and that then you'll allow yourself to die. If that's the case... I can be the mother. Let me do that, at least. We can make a deal". She steps closer, pressing her body against mine. "Let me carry your child, Patrick, Imagine our offspring, imagine how beautiful it would be. We could even have more than one. I'm sure you want a son, but I would dearly like to have a daughter. I've always loved the name Gwendoline". She pauses. "Ignore Vincent's talk of a prophecy. Take me instead".

I want to leave, to cut myself off from Cassandra. If she has spoken to Vincent, she must know of the prophecy. It took him many months to decipher the text in the Book of Gothos, but Vincent finally declared the identity of the woman who will ultimately bear my successor. There is a man, living on a farm in the American state of Kentucky, who will one day have a grand-daughter named Sophie, and
she
is the one who will carry my child. I don't know why the prophecy has chosen that particular girl, but there is no point fighting the prophecy's words.

"At least consider the possibility," Cassandra says, trying desperately to seduce me. "Stay tonight. Let your mind ponder the idea that we could be together. And..." She smiles. "Think about it, Patrick. Even if no child came of the union, I'm quite certain we could at least have a pleasant night in one another's arms. Why wait for some dull human girl who won't be born for many years?"

I should walk away. Even as Cassandra presses herself against me, I know that no good can come of this moment. I must wait for Sophie Hart, and one day it will be
she
who gives me the child I so desperately require.
When that moment comes, I will ensure that the child is ready to assume these responsibilities; the moment will be prepared for, and I will ensure that nothing can possibly go wrong with the transition.

Abigail

The pain is intense, bursting up through my spine and cracking through every atom in my body. It's so strong, it pushes all thoughts from my mind, leaving me suspended in the air in agony. With my wrists tied to a set of manacles, I'm ten meters above the ground in a large, cavernous room with a low light. Although I'm trying to control the pain, I know that this is a battle I'm doomed to lose; Benjamin will keep turning the dial, increasing the pain until I can no longer resist. The most important thing is that I don't allow the pain to become visible; I must stay quiet and show no weakness. Finally, though, after what feels like an eternity, I can't hold back any longer; I open my mouth and let out a scream that shakes the entire room, and slowly the pain starts to recede.

"Very good, Abigail," says a muffled voice, speaking to me over the tinny speakers that hang next to me. "You scored a 4.7, which is a point-thirteen per cent improvement over yesterday. Vital signs are encouraging. You're really toughening up. How do you feel?"

I don't feel anything. I can't speak. I can barely even think. I feel as if I'm not myself any more: I'm just a bag of blood and bones and meat, reacting primordially to the most basic sensation. Not human, not vampire, not anything, just... a living creature whose body is being ripped apart. All I can manage to do is hang, suspended high up from these chains, and wait to be released. I feel a thick, slimy blob of saliva start to dribble from my mouth and down my chin, but I don't have the energy to stop it. Opening my eyes, I stare down at the metal floor far below, and I watch as the saliva drips from my chin and falls through the air. With my improved eyesight, I can see the individual tear-drop-shaped blob of liquid as it hits the ground, and I hear the faintest tap as the blob bursts. A normal person couldn't see or hear any of that, but I'm not a normal person.

I'm not a normal
anything
.

"Do you want to come down now?" Benjamin asks over the speaker, "or do you want to try again? It's your choice".

I take a deep breath. "Again," I mutter, my voice harsh and ragged. Anything is better than resting. At least when I'm up here, there's no danger that I'll fall asleep. For five days now, I've battled sleep and managed to stay awake. It's hard, and as time goes by I find that I'm becoming more and more aware of strange shapes all around me. I guess my mind is struggling with the lack of rest, but the alternative would be to give in and accept the nightmares. Since I killed Shelley, I've only slept once, and it was terrifying. She was there in my dreams, taunting me and reminding me of what I did to her. She came toward me, blood dripping from the wound on her neck. I cowered beneath her, and finally I woke up screaming. I won't make the same mistake again. I'll stay awake for as long as it takes. I can't face these ghosts.

"Are you sure you're up to another session?" Benjamin asks, sounding a little concerned. "You're allowed to rest, Abigail. It's good that you want to push yourself, but we can afford to slow down a little".

"I'm sure," I say. "Just get on with it. No slowing down".

"Good girl," he replies. "It might sound daunting, but I'm quite certain you've got a 4.8 in you today, and we should hit 5 by the end of the week. I have to admit, you've exceeded my expectations. I knew you'd be tough, Abigail, but I never thought you'd be able to withstand so much punishment. We're already a couple of weeks ahead of schedule, and you seem to be improving all the time".

"Start," I say. My voice sounds so dry. How long has it been since I drank? How long since I ate? I've been hanging up here for almost twenty-four hours without a break, going through a constant cycle of pain and recovery. Each time, I think the pain is stronger than I can bear, and yet the next time I always manage to take a little more. I must be getting stronger every second, and I know the process is worth completing. The price, for now, is incessant agony, but anything is better than sleeping or thinking. If I sleep, I'll have the nightmares, and if I rest, I'll start thinking about what happened. I can't bear to see any more ghosts, and yet sometimes I have moments of blinding clarity. Sometimes I feel that I'm doomed to be haunted forever by the memory of Shelley's death.

There are other ghosts, though. I don't know whether it's the lack of sleep that's caused it, but over the past few days I've become increasingly aware of blurry, vague figures all around me. They don't seem menacing, but it's as if they're waiting for something. I look down and see them even now, and it's as if they're looking up at me and expecting me to do something. If I knew what they wanted, I'd give it to them, but for now I must bide my time. I don't dare tell Benjamin about any of this, because I'm worried he'll think I've got a weak, impressionable mind. The most important thing is that I earn his trust, and therefore I must be careful what I say.

"It'll take the machine a few minutes to re-set," Benjamin says, as if I don't already know the process. We've done this so many times now, I'm the one who should be telling
him
how it works. I don't know the precise purpose of Benjamin's tests, but I'm guessing he wants to test my limits. As he's told me many times, I'm an entirely new type of vampire. While he has spent many years studying Patrick from afar, this time Benjamin is able to test his ideas out of me directly. It's painful, but I feel as if I'm contributing to his work, and making him happy. Above all else, I want to make Benjamin proud of me, and I know that his work is hugely important. A little pain is a small price to pay for being able to contribute to Benjamin's work.

"Abigail," he says after a moment, "the scans are starting to show some unusual levels in your body. I'm not sure I've seen anything like this before? Do you feel anything unusual?"

I open my mouth to reply, but then I realize: I have no idea
what
I feel? My entire life is unusual, and I have no idea what's normal. I haven't told Benjamin about the nightmares, or about the fact that I'm not sleeping, but are those things unusual? Or are they a totally normal reaction to the things that have happened to me lately? I'm becoming more and more aware that I don't know who or what I am. I look human, but I have this body that feels strangely powerful, and I feel as if I barely know who or what I am. Even Benjamin, who has devoted his life to studying the vampire race, seems puzzled by my physiology. For now, I remain an enigma.

"Abigail?" Benjamin says through the speaker. "Can you hear me? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I reply quickly, hoping he won't decide to end the test early. "I'm just waiting for you to start again".

"Are you sure you're not worried about something?" he asks. "These readings indicate an accelerated heart-rate, and hormone production indicative of stress and fear".

"It must be the pain," I say. "This must just be how my body reacts to these things. It's fine. Let's just get on with the next cycle".

"Do you have any cravings?" he asks. "Do you crave blood?"

"No," I say, shuddering at the memory of Shelley's blood flowing into my mouth. There's a part of me that never, ever wants to drink blood again; at the same time, there's another part of me that is already counting the seconds until I can sink my teeth into another human neck. Blood revolts me on an emotional level, but on a physical level I feel compelled to seek out more and more sources, as if my body demands to be satisfied and filled. The first person I killed was Donna, and I barely enjoyed her blood because I was so shocked by the whole experience; then there was Todd, but I killed him because he needed to die, rather than because I wanted to feast; finally there was Shelley, whose blood I drank freely and gladly until her entire body was pale and empty. Of the three, it was Shelley who really opened my eyes to the power of human blood, but what if I need blood in order to survive? What if, all my life, I'm going to have to kill humans in order to satisfy some kind of primal need?

"You must let me know if anything feels wrong," Benjamin continues, "even if you don't think it's important. Let me be the one who makes that determination, okay?" He pauses for a moment. "Abigail? Are you listening to me?"

"Yes," I say. While he's a brilliant man, Benjamin sometimes talks way too much. He's a scientist, and sometimes this makes him a little cautious. "Can we just get on with it?" I ask, determined to get the pain back. When the pain comes, my mind always empties and I find I no longer think about Shelley or about my fears. I want the pain to flood into my body again. Pain is the only way to live. When there's no pain, I'm filled with fear and regret and doubt; when the pain comes, however, I feel more like myself.

"Abigail," says a voice nearby.

"What?" I ask after a moment, before I realize that the voice isn't Benjamin. It's someone else; it's a deeper, darker voice.

"Did you say something?" Benjamin asks over the speaker.

I feel my blood start to run cold. I've only heard Patrick's voice once, in my head, and that was when we in the same room together. The thought of hearing him again, when he's far away and perhaps even dead, fills me with horror. He sounded calm and authoritative, as if it was trying to get my attention, but I have to block him out. Every time I hear his voice, it's a sign of weakness, and I'm not weak. I'll never be weak again.