Dark Season: The Complete Box Set Page 9

  "That's what they said," Adam says. He's picked up my copy of 'Brave New World' and is thumbing through it. "But you know they didn't have DNA testing or anything back then. Puncture wounds could be from a syringe." He puts the book down. "So," he says with a smile, "you've mentioned vampires three times already today. Does that mean you believe in them?"

  "No!" I say. "Totally not." I pause for a moment. "It's just interesting how people explain things they don't understand."

  "There's no such thing as vampires," he replies. "Just 'cause we don't know what really happened with Rose and Jessica, we don't have to start believing in a bunch of ridiculous theories." He sits on the end of my bed. "I hope I didn't just insult you."

  I shake my head.

  "So," he continues. "Do you want to come and sit down?"

  I stare at him for a moment. I'm pretty sure I know what he wants, and I'm starting to kick myself for getting into this situation. I guess it was naive of me to think that a hot guy would offer to take me out to the woods just for the sake of an adventure.

  "I don't believe in vampires," I say, walking over and sitting next to him. I'm about to add some more lies, but Adam leans over and kisses me. It's a longer kiss than before, but there's still no tongue, just touching lips. We don't even touch one another with our hands. It's the gentlest, most chaste kiss you could imagine.

  "Hey," he says, pulling back slightly.

  "Hey," I say, taking a deep breath. Something about this whole thing feels really wrong.

  "You wanna do that again?" he asks.

  "Sure," I say, not wanting to hurt his feelings. This time there's more to the kiss, from both of us. After a moment, we seem to simultaneously take things a step further and our tongues meet. It's at this point that I put one hand on his shoulder, and he takes the cue and puts an arm around my waist. Scared by this sudden escalation, I pull back.

  "Something wrong?" he asks.

  "You saved my life today," I say, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. "I never thanked you."

  "It was nothing," he says. "I mean... it was something, obviously..." He seems awkward now. "It was something, but it wasn't anything you need to thank me for. I saw you were in danger and I helped you. It was instinct." With that, he leans over and kisses me again, but this time I feel his hand reach up and brush against the front of my shirt.

  "I don't know if I want to go all the way," I whisper, pulling back for a moment. "I... I have a problem with that."

  "It's okay," he says, whispering too. "We can wait."

  "It's not that I don't want to I say," I continue, still whispering. He has his hand on my knee now. "It's just... I've only ever been with another guy once before and it really hurt. Like, really hurt. I'm sorry. It felt like a knife inside me. I went to see a doctor and he said -" At this point I sigh, as I realize I've completely ruined the mood. "He said it's muscular," I continue. "He said I get too tense. I don't know if I'll ever be able to do it."

  He smiles at me kindly. "We can do other stuff," he says. "If you want to."

  "Yeah," I say nervously, "only... not today."

  He nods. I can see he's disappointed, but he seems to have accepted my decision. There's an awkward pause, and I can tell that he just wants to get out of here.

  "Maybe you want to meet up tomorrow?" I ask, figuring I should make it easier for him to leave.

  "Sure," he says, smiling. "That'd be good. I'd like to see you again, Sophie." He stands up and walks over to the door. "I hope I didn't move too fast tonight," he adds, turning back to me. "I swear, I didn't even mean to kiss you, I just..."

  "It's fine," I say. "I'll give you a call tomorrow."

  Once he's gone, I go back over to the window and pull the curtains open. It's crazy, but all the time Adam was in my room, I kept thinking about whether Patrick might be out there, watching. In fact, if I'd been able to take my mind off Patrick for more than a nanosecond, I might actually have fooled around with Adam a little. I'm scared of Patrick and I dread the thought that he might come back; at the same time, however, I can't stop thinking about him, and I feel as if I'm standing on the edge of a huge mystery that's slowly starting to unravel.

  Rose Tisser

  1959

  At half past nine, I'm on the corner of Pincer and 44th Street exactly as Jess requested. Sure enough, she arrives five minutes late. Typical Jess, always five minutes behind time for everything, never any more or any less. And she always, always has a good excuse.

  "Sorry I'm late," she says, arriving wrapped up in a beige wool coat with a beige hat. She's fiddling with a box. "I borrowed Daddy's camera, isn't it wonderful?"

  I look at the camera. It's a large black device, the likes of which I wouldn't know how to begin to operate. There's a flash mounted on the top.

  "Does he know?" I ask as we start walking. As a cold wind whips across the road, I realize I'm totally under-dressed for tonight, which means I'm in for a cold evening.

  "About the camera?" Jess replies. "I told him it's for a school project."

  "I mean about all this," I say. "Does he know we're going out so late?"

  "Are you kidding?" Jess asks. "This is need to know stuff."

  We soon reach the edge of the woods, which look menacingly dark and still. Jess marches straight into the brush, but I hold back. "Are you sure about this?" I ask. "Do you have a flashlight?"

  "No light," Jess says. "We need to be able to see any other lights out there, silly. We'll be okay if we walk slowly, our eyes'll adjust. And yes, I'm sure." She doesn't even look back to see if I'm following.

  I run after her. "Can you imagine the kind of people who are out here?" I ask. "Murderers. Kidnappers. Worse."

  "What's worse than murderers and kidnappers?" Jess asks. "What's wrong, Rose? Worried you'll meet a tall dark stranger and he might deflower you?"

  "Hardly," I say.

  "So you've already been deflowered? Is that what you and Heathcliff get up to when I'm not around?"

  We're right in among the trees now, moving slowly so that we don't bump into anything. The only sound comes from our feet crashing and snapping through the bushes on the forest floor.

  "For your information," I say, "Patrick is a perfect gentleman. More so than the boys you hang around with."

  "Ah, but the boys I hang around with are just that. Boys. Patrick..." She laughs. "Don't take this the wrong way, Rose, but Patrick strikes me as a real man. Men are more dangerous than boys."

  "Well, I disagree!" I say. "Men are sure and steady. They know how to behave. Boys are more likely to make mistakes than men. Give me a man over a boy any day."

  "I don't have any experience with men," Jess says. "But I have plenty of experience with boys. And they're harmless enough." She stops walking suddenly. "Rose, do you see that?"

  Looking ahead, I see a distant light flickering between the trees. I'm nervous now, but I don't want to show it. "Forest ranger," I say.

  "There aren't any forest rangers," Jess says, whispering. "And keep your voice down. Anyway, it's not a torch. It's completely still."

  I stare at the light. "It's a long way away," I say. "Maybe by the beach." As I say that, a second light appears from behind the first one and seems to sort of hover next to it.

  "We have to get closer," Jess says.

  "Are you a complete fool?" I say, grabbing her arm in order to hold her back. "It's just two people out with torches on the beach, that's all, and whatever they're doing, I really don't think we should be poking our noses in."

  "They're not torches," Jess says. "The edges of the lights are too fuzzy. And yes, I think we should be poking our noses in. That's what noses are for. Come on, a light can't hurt us."

  She breaks free of my grip and marches on. I wait for a moment, and then I realize I'm in danger of getting stranded alone in the forest, Reluctantly, I start to follow her.

  "I don't want to get too close," I say. "Can we at least agree on that?"

  "Sure," says Jess, and I know she has no
intention of paying any heed to my warning. Ahead of us, the lights are flickering slightly, but they're still there, even though we're still several hundred meters from them. They seem small, and not far off the ground.

  "They're by the lighthouse," Jess says. "Aren't they? That's where the old lighthouse is."

  "I think so," I say. The lighthouse has been abandoned for years, and I can't imagine anyone decent wanting to go near it at any time of the day or night.

  We reach the edge of the forest and, to my great relief, Jess stops. We can hear the sea lapping the nearby beach, and the dark tower of the lighthouse - which has been unlit for decades - is just about discernible in the gloom. The two lights are still hovering near the base, although they seem to be moving a little from side to side.

  "Now what?" I whisper. "Shall we go back?"

  "Let's just watch," Jess says. "Let's work out what they are."

  We stand in darkness, watching the lights. We're still a few hundred meters away, but it's clear now that they're not torches. They seem to be fuzzy balls of light, almost out of focus, and the way they're flickering and hovering seems unusual, like nothing I've ever seen before.

  "Rose," says Jess.

  "You want to go home?" I ask, hopefully.

  "Look," she says.

  "What?" The lights haven't changed. I turn to Jess, and then I realize she isn't looking at them at all. She's looking behind us. I turn to look back the way we came. And that's when I see two more lights a couple of hundred meters behind us. It's almost as if they've seen us, and have come around to block off our escape.

  "It's a sign," says Jess. "They want us to keep moving." She turns to me. She has this excited look in her eyes. It's the kind of look I always dread. When we were children, it usually meant I was going to end up with a grazed knee, or a twisted ankle, or being chased by someone, or something equally horrible. Tonight, though, it seems like a particularly bad omen.

  "They?" I ask, feeling a sense of absolute terror wash over my body. "Who are they?"

  "I don't know," says Jess, as if it doesn't matter. "But look at it like this. We go forwards, we meet lights and we find out what's going on. We go backwards, we meet lights and maybe we don't learn anything. Come on!" And with that, she scuffles off towards the lighthouse, only this time I don't follow.

  "Jess!" I hiss.

  It's too late: she's gone. I look out at the blackness between me and the lights, and I know Jess is in there somewhere, racing toward the lighthouse. It's too late for me to follow, though, and I have no idea what I should do. I look over my shoulder and see that the lights behind haven't come any closer. I look ahead and to my shock, I see that the lights by the lighthouse are moving towards the direction in which Jess ran, as if they're following her. And then there's another light, but this time it seems to be coming from one of the windows of the lighthouse, and it lasts for only a fraction of a second before it goes dead and the other lights disappear as well. I turn and look back, and the lights behind me are gone too.

  I look at the lighthouse. "Jess," I say quietly, hoping the word will make her come back.

  Sophie

  Today

  "So what's his name?" Shelley asks. We're sitting in a cafe in the old (i.e. cheap) part of town.

  "What do you mean?" I ask, stirring my Coke with a straw.

  "Shut up," she says. "I know there's someone. What's his name?"

  I give her my best poker face, but it's clearly not good enough. "Adam," I say.

  "I don't know an Adam." Shelley turns to Rob, who's dressed up in his usual moody teenage vampire outfit, all black leather and chains. "Do you know an Adam?" Shelley asks him.

  "No," he says dourly, staring at me from behind ten tons of mascara. "Are you sure he's real?"

  Shelley elbows him in the ribs.

  "Maybe he's a ghost," Rob continues. "Or a vampire. I saw a vampire once. Just out of the corner of my eye. He was tall, maybe seven feet, with glowing red eyes and fangs like little knives. His skin was pale as the moon and when he spoke, he had this thick Eastern European accent, like... I am ze vampire and vill suck your blood!" He looks at Shelley and me, waiting for a reaction. "Okay, I'm exaggerating slightly, but I really did see a vampire. I nearly shit myself."

  "Honey, can you get me another coffee?" Shelley asks him.

  "Sure," he says, "I'll call the girl over."

  "No," Shelley says. "Get it from the counter, yeah?" She plants a couple of notes in Rob's hand and he gets up, heading off on his mission. "So are you okay?" she asks me once we're alone.

  "Yeah," I say, drawing a pattern on the tablecloth with a spoon. "I'm fine."

  "What happened to your lip?"

  "I banged it on a door."

  "Oh," she says, "how believable."

  "It does actually happen, you know? People do actually walk into doors occasionally." I realize I'm being a little harsh, so I try to tone it down. "That's why it's such a popular sob story, because some people actually do walk into doors."

  She stares at me, clearly not believing my story.

  "Patrick's not violent," I say, trying to get her to leave me alone.

  "Patrick?" She frowns. "I thought the guy's name was Adam?"

  "Adam," I say, correcting myself. "Adam's not violent."

  "And Patrick?"

  "That was a slip of the tongue. There's no-one called Patrick."

  "Huh."

  "Can we drop it?" I ask, feeling as if I'm about ready to storm away.

  Clearly sensing my irritability, she backs off. "Hope it doesn't hurt too much."

  I shrug. "Could be worse," I say. That's certainly true. When Patrick knocked me to the ground, I could easily have bashed my head open.

  Shelley nods. "So there's something I've been meaning to ask you. It's kinda awkward but do you not like Rob or something?"

  "Rob?" I ask.

  "Yeah. Like, do you have something against vampires?"

  I laugh out loud, clearly offending Shelley a little. "Rob's not a vampire," I say. "He's just a guy with loads of black clothes."

  "But he adopts the manner of a vampire," Shelley says. "He has that... cool vibe about him."

  "You call that a cool vibe?" I ask as Rob comes back with Shelley's coffee.

  "Cool vibe?" he asks. "Someone talking about me?"

  "What did you want to see me about, anyway?" Shelley asks. "You mentioned something about reading a diary for you?"

  I shake my head. "Never mind. It doesn't matter now."

  "Seemed important on the phone."

  "I don't have the diary anymore. I lost it."

  "Well if you find it -"

  "I'll let you know," I say. Something catches my eye out the window. I look at an old man walking slowly along the other side of the street. I recognize him from somewhere, but it takes me a moment to realize who he is. "Vincent..." I mutter.

  "What?" asks Shelley.

  I look at her, slightly panicked. "Got to go," I say, getting up. "Love you. Seeya." With that, I run out. I don't immediately call out to Vincent, though. Instead, I loiter behind him as he walks. I want to see what he's doing and where he's going. After all, this is Patrick's father we're talking about here, a man with more than a few mysteries about him. Since meeting him in the cave below town, I'd kind of assumed that Vincent never came up to the 'real' world, so it's a little surprising to see him here now, looking like any other old guy, with a handful of regular brand shopping bags in his hand.

  After a few minutes, he turns down a secluded little street. I turn to follow him, but as soon as I get around the corner I find him standing and waiting for me with a smile on his face.

  "You know," he says, "it's rude to follow someone in the street. If you want to talk to me, there are other ways to attract my attention."

  "I just..." I pause for a moment. Damn it, I should have planned ahead and worked out what to say.

  "Will you walk with me?" he asks, turning and making his way along the street.

&nb
sp; "It's about Patrick," I say as I keep pace with him.

  He laughs. "Of course it is."

  "Things have been weird recently. It's like... It's like he hates me."

  "He doesn't hate you," Vincent says.

  "I think he tried to kill me."

  He stops and turns to face me. He looks serious now. "Please listen to me, Sophie. There is no way Patrick would ever try to hurt you. Not at the moment, anyway. Quite the opposite. He's trying to protect you."

  "From what?" I ask. "I don't need protecting." I pause for a moment. "Was he at the lighthouse yesterday?"

  "What lighthouse?"

  "The lighthouse where the lantern fell down and almost killed me. Patrick didn't save me, Adam did."

  Vincent seems concerned now. "Who's Adam?"

  "Never mind," I say, realizing I'm veering off course. "The point is, look at my lip. See the swelling? That was Patrick. He did that to me. So do you still think he's trying to protect me?"

  Vincent seems shocked. "Patrick would never hurt you."

  "He almost broke my arm," I say. "Just because I wouldn't give him the diary."

  "What diary?"

  "Rose Tisser's diary."

  All the color seems to drain from Vincent's face. "Where did you get that?"

  "It doesn't matter. Patrick has it now. He damn near killed me to get it back."

  "You must leave it alone," Vincent says. "Listen to me very carefully, Sophie. You must leave that whole situation alone. Never think of it again, never ask about it, never do anything about it. It's in the past. Neither Patrick or I will let you rake it up again."

  "I just want to know -"

  "Please, Sophie," he replies, sounding a little annoyed. "Will you just accept what I'm telling you? Don't dig into the past. Mistakes have been made over the years, but they're over. It'll do no good to start shaking the dirt off bones that were buried long ago." He sighs. "Patrick would die to protect you. He would kill anyone who hurts you. But if you start digging around in things that don't matter any more, you'll dig up painful memories. And then he -"