The Civil Dead (Dark Season IV) Read online

  A moment later, there's another sharp pain, then another. I realise what's happening: Patrick's taking the lumps out, one by one. I can't do anything except sit and wait, steeling myself against each little stab of agony as I feel his fingers reach inside me to pull out another pebble. And all the while, the scratching sound outside the room is getting louder, as if it's getting nearer.

  After a couple of minutes, I realise Patrick has stopped. I turn and find he has a hand full of these little pebbles. But he looks concerned. He reaches out a hand and runs them over my shoulders, and I realise he's searching for more of them. I sit there as his hand moves all over my back, then along my neck, where his hand stops. There's a sharp pain and he pulls away another pebble.

  Fuck, how many of these things are inside me?

  Patrick runs his hand through my hair, feeling my scalp. Apparently finding nothing, he runs his hand over my face, then back down onto my shoulders, his fingers constantly searching for any sign of another pebble, as if he has to get them all out as quickly as possible. I start to feel too. I run my hands along my arms, and I feel something near my wrist. I point it out to Patrick, and he checks. He pushes in with his finger and the skin breaks, and out comes another pebble.

  We both look for more. I check my stomach and my sides, while he checks my legs, finding two: one on each leg, just below the back of the knee. He also finds one on my ankle, and I find one on my left hip. I look at the little pile he's made. There must be twenty of these pebbles by now. But it seems there can't be any more, yet he's still searching, as if he knows that there's one he's missed.

  That's when I remember the lump I cut from the side of my breast. I carefully lift my shirt, and I put a hand over the breast but I left him see the wound where I cut out the lump. He stares at it, then he pushes against it with his finger and out comes another pebble. It must have been there all along, and I missed it when I carried out my little bit of home surgery. I pull my shirt back down and watch as Patrick counts the pebbles. He seems satisfied.

  There's a cracking sound from the other side of the room. I look over and see that the wall is starting to break. That's what the scratching sound was. The creature is trying to break through. And by the looks of things, he's almost managed to do it.

  I turn to Patrick and to my shock I see that he's made a little cut on his arm. He takes one of the pebbles and slips it under his skin. He glances at me, then he carried out, making little cuts all up and down his arm and slipping the pebbles inside. I have no idea why he's doing this, but he seems determined, so I just sit and watch. After a minute or so, he has place all the pebbles in his own body.

  There's a loud cracking sound as the wall finally splits and the creature climbs through the hole.

  Eighteen

  For weeks now, this Tenderling has been feeding off Sophie. It has been placing the pebbles under her skin, using them to absorb all her energy and all her negative emotion. As soon as it enters the room, it sees me and it realises the endgame has arrived. I can see from the way it stares at me that it initially sees me as a threat, and it starts moving towards Sophie with the intention of killing her. But I know it won't kill her, not now, because it has a better prize in sight.

  Tenderlings are like emotional vampires. They suck out all feeling from their victim, both positive and negative. When there isn't enough emotion, they have certain tricks they can use to create new, stronger feelings. That's why people who are the victim of a Tenderling often find their lives going seriously wrong. The Tenderling has the ability to take on other forms and to influence a person's life, all with the aim of creating stronger emotions that it can then absorb.

  So it was this Tenderling that took human form and killed Sophie's father.

  And it was this Tenderling that then appeared to Sophie as her father.

  And it was this Tenderling that attacked the idiot boy who shared Sophie's bed.

  And it's this Tenderling that is now torn between killing Sophie and investigating me. It knows that the pebbles should be in Sophie, but it can tell that they're in me now. And although it understands that I'm not quite like its usual victims, it can't help but be curious about me. So rather than killing Sophie, it starts sniffing at me, investigating me, trying to work out whether I can become its next victim. It circles me, and I feel its long, thin probe running over my body, checking the location of the pebbles.

  And finally, it sticks the end of the probe into my arm. Poor, pitiful creature. It can't resist. It has to have its fix.

  The problem for the Tenderling is that it's used to humans. Human emotions are strong. They're powerful. But they're never enough for a Tenderling, so the creature is used to feasting on them, leaving the human feeling weak and exhausted. This Tenderling has probably only ever feasted on humans, because humans are easy targets. So it doesn't know to be careful sometimes.

  It doesn't realise that I'm not human.

  It doesn't realise that it should be careful.

  Because no matter how strong Sophie's emotions are, she's still a human, and she's still young.

  Me? I'm a 1,500-year-old vampire who's been having a really bad century.

  I grab the Tenderling's head and force it against me, preventing it from pulling out its probe. While it's used to the emotions of humans, it's now feeling my emotions flood into its body. And it can't handle my emotions. When it was feeding off Sophie, the Tenderling was sucking up the emotions of a girl who had just lost her father, and who was confused about her life. Now that it's feeding off me, it's sucking up the emotions of a vampire who lives every day with the enormous guilt of having destroyed his entire species. That's the kind of emotion that it takes time to come to terms with, yet the Tenderling is absorbing it all at once. And its brain is frying.

  The creature starts to scream. It can't handle all the power it's absorbing from me. It's feeling my guilt over the genocide of the vampires. It's feeling my fear over the possibility that The Other could one day return. It's feeling my desire to keep Sophie safe and protect her. It's feeling my sorrow at the knowledge that one day I will have to watch her die. It's feeling my concern that I might never see my father again. And it's feeling my anger, the huge anger that I keep hidden away every day, the anger that I'm terrified I will one day have to use against the people I care about.

  Some people mistake my silence for a lack of feeling. They think I don't have any emotions at all. But this Tenderling is finding out the hard way that I have more than enough. I have too much. I can spare some.

  I look down at the creature. It's still screaming as my emotions rush through its mind, overcoming its defences. I actually feel sorry for it, because it's being killed by over-eating, and I can feel its head getting hotter and hotter as it struggles to remove its probe from my skin.

  But I can't let it live. It's too dangerous. It's done too much damage to Sophie. Even though it was only doing what came naturally to it, and it was only trying to survive, I have to make sure it dies. That doesn't mean, however, that I have to make it die in sorrow. So I look down at its face and I make sure that, as its brain overloads and switches off, the poor pathetic creature's last sensation is my overwhelming sympathy for its plight.

  It burns. It can't handle my emotions and its whole body starts to burn, flames erupting from within. It screams and screams, but I won't let it live. Eventually I let go of its head and it falls to the ground, but within seconds the fire has taken over its entire body and pretty soon it's just a smouldering pile of burnt flesh and bones.

  It tasted the emotions of a vampire and it couldn't handle the overload. It was like a junkie who always uses low-grade heroin, then one day accidentally takes an overdose of the pure stuff. Its body couldn't handle the experience, and it died.

  I hold out my arm and slowly I start taking out the pebbles from under my skin. I'll have to bury them somewhere, otherwise they'll attract more Tenderlings. And I certainly don't want to be having to do all of this again in a hurry.

>   When all the pebbles are out, I turn to Sophie. She's standing in the corner of the room, just watching me. She doesn't understand what happened, of course. Perhaps she never will. She probably thinks, like the rest of them, that I have no emotions. Perhaps it would be easier if she had her own probe she could stick into my body. Perhaps she'd be shocked to find out how I feel. Or perhaps she knows. That's the interesting thing about Sophie: sometimes I feel like deep down, she knows these things that others miss.

  I step towards her. I know I shouldn't do this. It's too soon. But I can't help myself. I move close to her, then I lean down and kiss her, just once, just briefly, on the lips. And then I turn and walk back to the Tenderling, scooping up its burnt body and the pebbles and carrying it out of the house.

  Nineteen

  I watch Patrick carry the dead creature away. I have no idea what just happened. All I saw was that the creature inserted its 'straw' thing into Patrick's arm, and Patrick held it in place and stared at it while the creature started to make this screaming sound and caught on fire, and eventually Patrick let go and the creature fell to the floor, apparently dead. As it died, its body was covered in flames and it seems to be writhing in agony, yet Patrick looked at it with a strange expression on his face.

  It was almost as if he felt compassion for the creature.

  Then, of course, Patrick kissed me, which was unexpected to say the least. Sure, it wasn't some great romantic kiss, with orchestral music in the background, but it was a small kiss, and it was a first kiss between us. It was the first sign that maybe he sees me as more than just this annoyance that keeps getting him into trouble.

  I follow him out of the house. I don't say anything as we walk up the tunnel and out into the forest. We walk for a few minutes until we reach a spot where he sets the creature's body down on a patch of soil. And then something really strange happens: Patrick reaches a hand down, presses it against the side of the creature's head, and the creature starts to burn again, and soon there's nothing left but a small patch of black ash.

  Patrick glances at me, then he walks away. I follow and soon we're at a small river that runs through the forest. Patrick takes the black pebbles from his body and he throws them, one by one, into the water. The current is strong and should take them all the way out to sea.

  There's so much I want to ask him. What was that creature? Why was it attacking me? And how exactly did he kill it? But what's the point of asking Patrick anything? He just stares blankly at me every time. So instead, I move close to him and lean up to kiss him properly. Sure, he won't say anything to me, but he can still communicate. I want to feel his tongue in my mouth.

  He pulls away.

  I look down.

  I guess it was too much to hope for, that he'd actually be ready to show me any emotion. Every part of my body tells me to walk away right now. I should just turn and go home. But I can't. And as Patrick turns and starts walking, I feel as if there's nothing I can do except follow him, even though I don't know where he's going. So as he walks, I walk behind him, not saying anything but feeling as if I can't leave.

  After a while, I have no idea where we are. I've never walked this far into the forest before. Patrick keeps glancing back, and I can't tell if he's checking to see if I'm still with him, or trying to encourage me to stop following. Whatever, I decide to stay with him. It seems like there's something important that Patrick has to do, and I have no doubt that if he wanted to get rid of me, he'd find a way. So I guess he at least doesn't mind me following him, and perhaps he actually likes that I'm here.

  Eventually we reach a clearing, and at one side of the clearing there's a stone door leading into the ground. Patrick stops and stares at the door, and looks around, as if he expected to find someone waiting here. He looks at me for a moment, and then he steps over to the door, opens it and goes inside.

  I pause, and then I decide to go after him.

  We walk down a long stone corridor, heading underground, and eventually we come to a set of spiral steps. Going down, we eventually arrive in a chamber. It's dark down here and I can barely see a thing, but we start walking towards a door that has a single torch burning bright. Patrick stops again and look at me, as if he's trying to tell me that I don't need to follow him. But I think we're a bit past the point of no return.

  We step into the room.

  It's a small chamber and I'm shocked to see a man chained to the wall. He looks old - very old - with long grey hair. He also looks weak, and at first he doesn't seem to have noticed us. I start to wonder if he's dead, but eventually he slowly lifts his head to look at us, and he smiles.

  "You came back," he says to Patrick. "You always come back". He looks at me. "Is this her?"

  Patrick says nothing.

  "My name's Sophie," I say. I wait for him to say something, but there's nothing. "Who are you?"

  "Hasn't he told you?" the man asks. He seems amused by the whole thing, and there's a glint in his eye that makes me think that he's completely insane. "I'm The Lock".

  Patrick is just standing there, watching this crazy man.

  "I know what you're wondering," says The Lock to Patrick. "You're wondering where your father is?" He starts to laugh, and then he bares his teeth like an animal. "Can't you see him? Look closer. I ate him, but you can still see some of the pieces between my teeth".

  Patrick takes a step towards him.

  "Stop!" calls out a voice. I turn to see Vincent entering the chamber. "Patrick, stop," he says. "You know he's insane. You can't believe what he says".

  Vincent steps back.

  "Pity," says The Lock. "I'm so ready to die. Can't you find it in your heart to rip me to pieces? It would be an awfully kind thing to do".

  "He's right, Patrick," says Vincent. "He should be allowed to die now. But not here. You know where it has to happen".

  Patrick turns to look at me, then he walks slowly out of the chamber.

  "Not today," says Vincent, staring at The Lock. "But I promise you, one day soon we'll take you to Gothos where you can have everything you want".

  "I want a great party," says The Lock. "A great feast".

  "I think that's guaranteed," says Vincent, before turning to me. "Come on, Sophie. We'll leave this man alone for now, until it's time to take him home".

  We leave the chamber. The Lock calls after us. "Don't you want to know how the pretty girl ended up among the bones of war?" he calls out, but Vincent slams the door shut.

  "Are you okay?" he asks me.

  I nod.

  "There was a Tenderling pursuing you," he says. "I trust that Patrick was able to deal with it?"

  "The red thing?" I ask. He nods. "Yeah, Patrick did something to it, but I don't know what. It's dead". I hold up my arm, where the wounds from the pebbles are starting to heal. "What the hell was it?"

  "Tenderlings feed off emotions," says Vincent. "They play tricks to cause you great pain and torment, and they suck those emotions straight out of you".

  I pause for a moment. "Could they... pretend to be someone else?" I ask.

  "Like a ghost?" Vincent smiles sadly. "Yes, that's what they do. I'm sorry about your father".

  "Me too," I say. As crazy as it might sound, I'd actually forgotten about my father's death while I was dealing with all these other problems, but back up in the real world I'm going to have to deal with things again. It's tempting to not bother, to just live with Patrick and Vincent forever, to forget the rest of my life. But I know I can't do that.

  "What is this place?" I ask as we start walking back up the spiral steps.

  "It's a place to put people when you want to forget about them," says Vincent. "Like a very large and elaborate oubliette. But as Patrick and I are discovering, you can never truly forget a person".

  "And that guy back there? Who is he?"

  "He's someone who is one step away from meeting his destiny. We shall have to help him take that final step when the time comes, and we shall perhaps require your help to do it".
/>   We reach the surface. Patrick is nowhere to be seen.

  "Where did he go?" I ask.

  "Where he always goes when he has had to reveal something of himself," says Vincent. "He has gone away. But he'll be back soon enough".

  "What did he reveal?" I ask.

  Vincent pulls the door to the tunnel shut. The clearing looks like any other. You'd never guess what's hidden beneath the ground. "Don't you have a funeral to get to?" he asks.

  I open my mouth to say something, but then I realise he's right. I look at my watch. "Is it Saturday?" I ask. He nods, and I realise it's my father's funeral this afternoon. "I'd better go," I say.

  "Good luck," says Vincent.

  I nod and start to walk back towards town, but I stop and turn back to Vincent. "Are you sure you don't believe in ghosts?" I ask.

  "Of course not," he says.

  "It just..." I pause, not sure whether I should mention the woman I met in the house, the woman who had my face. "I thought I heard something in your house earlier," I say, deciding to kind of fudge the truth. "When you and Patrick were out".

  Vincent shakes his head. "If Patrick and I were out, there was no-one else in the house. You just heard it creaking a little. Old houses do that".

  "I guess so," I say. He clearly doesn't know anything about the woman I saw upstairs.

  "I don't believe in things that aren't rational," he says. "Ghosts are a convenient fiction".

  I nod. Maybe he's right. Maybe.

  Twenty

  My father lived in Los Angeles, but his home was here in Dedston so his funeral is taking place here. I wanted to go to LA so I could fly back with his body, but we didn't have the money for that. Nevertheless, there's a good crowd of people who have travelled to Dedston to pay their last respects. There's even one guy, wearing a large hat with large sunglasses and keeping himself to himself, that I think might be Johnny Depp. Seriously! Johnny Depp at my dad's funeral? Stranger things have definitely, definitely happened...