Free Dark Season: The Complete Box Set by Amy Cross

won't listen to me again. Turning for a moment, Patrick stares at me as if to thank me, and then he slowly starts carrying Dexter down the steps, and as he goes, I hear Dexter start to scream. Eventually they disappear from sight, and I hear Dexter still screaming until, suddenly, the scream is cut off dead.

Sophie
     
    I stand up and grab my trousers, pulling them back on. I run to the steps leading down to the tunnel. For a moment, I consider going after them. Not to stop Patrick, but to see what he does. I feel as if I have to see this side of him too; I have to know how dark and brutal he can be. But as I try to decide whether to follow, I feel Vincent's hand on my shoulder.
    "It's not a place for you, down there," he says, as if he's read my mind. "Trust me. There are some things you don't want to see."
    "How long have you been watching?" I ask.
    "Long enough," he says. "When I heard the screams, I knew it was time. Are you okay?"
    "I want to see," I say. But the truth is, if I really wanted to see, I would have followed Patrick by now. The only thing stopping me is my fear. I turn to Vincent. "If I asked him to stop... If I asked Patrick not to kill Dexter... for me... would he?"
    He shakes his head. "Patrick is not a beast, Sophie. But he can act like one, when he has to."
    I'm about to tell him that I need to see it for myself, when we both hear a loud snap from deep in the tunnel. I turn to look, and then I turn back to Vincent. "I was wrong to stop him before," I say. "I should have let him kill Dexter the first time."
    Vincent shakes his head. "You were right to stop him then. But you would be wrong to stop him now."
    I nod. "I'll wait," I say. "I want to see him when he comes back up."
    "I don't think you should," says Vincent.
    "I don't care if I should," I say. "I'm going to stay."
    Vincent opens his mouth, to argue with me, but then he seems to accept my decision. He walks away, and all I can do is stand here, at the top of the steps leading down into the tunnel, waiting for Patrick to come back, and dreading what I might see. From the darkness below, I can hear the sound of Dexter's body being ripped apart. It sounds like a wild animal, feeding on its victim.

Patrick
     
    Everyone's blood tastes different. I wish I didn't know this, but I do. Some people have blood that tastes ordinary and bland. It's forgettable. But some people have blood that tastes rich and full. These rare ones come along maybe once a century, but they're worth the wait.
    Besides, I have no choice. Every second I delay the kill, more spiders appear on the ceiling. The prophecy is asserting itself.
    Dexter Logan's blood tastes old and dull. There's nothing unique about it. I'm disappointed. I expected to be rewarded for killing him so... inventively. But his blood was barely worth tasting. It was sour and thick. It almost sickened me. Perhaps that's why I let him live. But is it really life, what I've done to him? Perhaps I'll ask him one day, if I ever come back down here to see how he's doing.

Sophie
     
    It's getting late and cold and Patrick still hasn't returned. Vincent assures me that although he definitely will come back up soon, he might take many more hours. I'm determined to see him again, though, even if it's for the last time. I know I have to see his face, and look into his eyes, because my last ever image of him can't be so monstrous.
    "There's something I still don't understand," I say to Vincent, who's sitting at his desk and slowly turning the pages of a big, old yellowing book. "Why me? Hundreds of people get attacked in this town every year. How did Dexter know that Patrick would save me ?"
    "There are some things you don't need to know," he says.
    "Tell me."
    Vincent closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them to look at me. "Prophecies are strange things. Dangerous things. As you've seen, they can be abused terribly. Patrick has a great sense of how things should be," he says. "He senses destiny. It's almost as if