Darkest Night
Copyright
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2015
HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,
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Copyright © Will Hill 2015
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Will Hill asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of the work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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Source ISBN: 9780007505890
Ebook Edition © MAY 2015 ISBN: 9780007505883
Version: 2015-05-09
For everyone who has come this far.
Just a little further …
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Robert Frost
We have learned to believe, all of us – is it not so? And since so, do we not see our duty? Yes! And do we not promise to go on to the bitter end?
Abraham Van Helsing
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Six Months Earlier: Zero Hour Plus 2 Days
Chapter 1: Home Truths
Chapter 2: Diminished Responsibility
Chapter 3: Running on Empty
Zero Hour Plus 11 Days
Chapter 4: The Definition of Insanity
Chapter 5: Fallout
Chapter 6: Acceleration
Zero Hour Plus 13 Days
Zero Hour Plus 41 Days
Zero Hour Plus 67 Days
Zero Hour Plus 91 Days
Zero Hour Plus 109 Days
Zero Hour Plus 140 Days
Zero Hour Plus 163 Days
Zero Hour Plus 191 Days
Chapter 7: Redundant
Chapter 8: Not for Profit
Chapter 9: The Faintest Glimmer
Chapter 10: Collateral Damage (I)
Chapter 11: The Enemy of my Enemy
Chapter 12: Haven
Zero Hour Plus 192 Days
Chapter 13: Sleight of Hand
Chapter 14: Strange Bedfellows
Chapter 15: At Ease
Zero Hour Plus 193 Days
Chapter 16: A Butterfly Flaps its Wings
Chapter 17: The Weight of The World
Chapter 18: Huddled Masses, Yearning to Breathe Free
Chapter 19: Ratcatchers
Chapter 20: Human Trial
Zero Hour Plus 194 Days
Chapter 21: No going Back
Chapter 22: Quicksand
One Week Later: Zero Hour Plus 201 Days
Chapter 23: Empirical Evidence
Chapter 24: Collateral Damage (ii)
Three Days Later: Zero Hour Plus 204 Days
Chapter 25: A new Day
Chapter 26: Rapid Reactions
Chapter 27: Prometheus
Chapter 28: Close Enough To Touch
Chapter 29: Death From Above, Part One
Chapter 30: The Art of War
Chapter 31: Death From Above, Part Two
Zero Hour Plus 205 Days
Chapter 32: The Morning After
Chapter 33: The Elephant in The Room
Chapter 34: A Vision of the Future
Chapter 35: International Aid
Chapter 36: Willing Victims
Chapter 37: Down the Rabbit Hole
Chapter 38: The Hottest Ticket in Town
Zero Hour Plus 206 Days
Chapter 39: Collateral Damage (III)
Chapter 40: Jurisdiction
Chapter 41: The Scouring of Carcassonne
Chapter 42: All Good Things …
Zero Hour Plus 207 Days
Chapter 43: The Morning After
Chapter 44: Scorched Earth
Chapter 45: Sins of the Father
Chapter 46: The Waiting Game
Chapter 47: Aftershocks
Chapter 48: Directors’ Guild
Chapter 49: Enemy at the Gates
Zero Hour Plus 208 Days
Chapter 50: Just when you Think …
Chapter 51: … It can’t get any Worse
Chapter 52: Insertion Point
Chapter 53: Come Together
Chapter 54: Some Corner of a Foreign Field
Chapter 55: The Tip of the Spear
Zero Hour Plus 209 Days
Chapter 56: A Promise is a Promise
Chapter 57: Clean Slates
Chapter 58: Dulce Et Decorum Est
Chapter 59: In Fading Light
Chapter 60: Death’s Grey Land, Part One
Prologue, Redux
Chapter 61: Death’s Grey Land, Part Two
Chapter 62: Death’s Grey Land, Part Three
Chapter 63: Death’s Grey Land, Part Four
Chapter 64: Death’s Grey Land, Part Five
Chapter 65: Death’s Grey Land, Part Six
Chapter 66: Death’s Grey Land, Part Seven
Chapter 67: Death’s Grey Land, Part Eight
Chapter 68: Death’s Grey Land, Part Nine
Chapter 69: Death’s Grey Land, Part Ten
Chapter 70: Death’s Grey Land, Part Eleven
Chapter 71: After the Fire
Zero Hour Plus 210 Days
Chapter 72: The End (I)
Zero Hour Plus 211 Days
Chapter 73: The End (II)
Zero Hour Plus 213 Days
Chapter 74: The Beginning
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Also by Will Hill
About the Publisher
Jamie Carpenter soared over the battlefield, carrying Frankenstein effortlessly beneath him, marvelling at the scale of the fighting taking place below.
His view of it was fleeting, such was the speed he and the rest of the strike team were travelling, but it was enough to make quite an impression; the battle was already spread out across more than a mile of blasted landscape, the air full of movement and gunfire and screaming, the ground littered with black-clad bodies and soaked with vampire remains. Jamie tore his gaze away and focused on the looming shape of the medieval city, its pale stone darkening in the fading light, and, as he rose over the outer walls, his squad mates close behind him, he saw a distant figure floating near the summit of the hill, high above the raging battle.
Dracula, he thought, his heart leaping in his chest. Right where they said he would be.
This is going to be too easy.
Jamie swooped over the walls, rising above the wide cobbled street that led up through the city. He accelerated, the evening air cool as it rushed over his uniformed body, the rooftops passing below him in a blur, and allowed a smile to rise on to his face. As he soared over a wide square, he heard something above him, something that sounded like a flock of birds, and rolled to the side so he could look up and see what it was.
The sky above him was full of vampires.
They dropped silently out of the clouds, a vast dark swarm, and ripped into the strike team like a bolt of lightning, sending them spinning towards the ground. Something connected with the side of his helmet and he saw stars, his vision greying at the edges as his grip on Frankenstein loosened and gave way; the monster slipped from his grasp and fell towards the ancient city. Jamie lunged after him, but was hammered from all sides by heavy blows that drove him back and forth, bellowing with pain. He fought back furiously, but might as well have been trying to punch the wind; there seemed to be vampires all around him, as insubstantial as smoke, apart from when they struck. He ducked under a swinging fist and looked desperately around for his squad mates, but it was like trying to see through a colony of bats that had taken wing at the same time; all around him was darkness and churning movement.
A boot slammed into his stomach. Jamie folded in the air, the breath driven out of him, and sank towards the ground, barely able to even slow his fall. Cobblestones rose up to meet him, and he hit them hard enough to drive his teeth together on his tongue, spilling warm coppery liquid into his mouth. Pain raced through him, before being driven away by the heady taste of his own blood.
He leapt to his feet and scanned the narrow street he had landed in. There was no sign of his squad mates, or the vampires that had attacked them. He looked up, expecting to see them hurtling down towards him, but the sky was clear and empty; it was as though they had never been there at all.
Stupid, he told himself, and felt his eyes blaze with heat. Arrogant. Stupid.
Jamie leapt into the air, determined to locate the rest of the strike team and get their mission back on track.
A hand closed round his ankle and whipped him downwards.
Surprise filled him so completely that he didn’t get his hands up until it was too late; his helmet thudded against the ground, and everything went black.
Jamie Carpenter stared at his father.
Time seemed to have stopped; there was utter silence, as though even the wind that had been gently rustling the trees around the cottage had paused. Jamie’s heart was a solid lump of ice, his limbs frozen in place, his eyes unblinking, his mind stuck on a perpetual loop.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
His father looked different than the last time Jamie had seen him; he looked old. His face was deeply lined, and pale, as though he had not seen the sun in a long time. There were streaks of grey in his still-thick hair, and he looked worn out, like he was stretched too thin. But his eyes, the bright blue eyes that his son had inherited, still danced in the yellow glow of the light bulb above the door, and it was into them that Jamie found himself staring as his mind tried to process what he was seeing.
The still, silent moment lasted an unknowable length of time. The two men – one young, one old – stood motionless, a distance between them that was far more than merely physical; it contained an ocean of history, of grief and loss and wasted time. Then a noise emerged from Jamie’s father’s throat, a thick, involuntary sound like a gasp for air, and the spell was broken. The inertia in Jamie’s mind spun loose, replaced by outright horror, by disgust so strong it was almost physical. He was suddenly full of the desire to run, to turn and flee from this place, from this apparition from the past, but, before he could force his reeling body to move, his father swept forward and lifted him into a hug so tight the air was trapped in his chest, and the disgust was replaced by a shuddering wave of relief, of something utterly, essentially right.
His eyes closed of their own accord, and his face fell against his father’s shoulder, his hands dangling at his sides. He could feel his dad’s heart pounding, feel the tremble in his arms as they held him tight. Jamie gave himself over to the emotions flooding through him, powerless to resist them; grief, pain, relief and desperate, sharp-edged happiness combining into a sensation he could barely endure.
Then his mind conjured up a single memory: his mother, standing beside him at the funeral of her husband. She was dressed all in black, and her beautiful, dignified face was etched with pain and covered in the shiny tracks of her tears. She was gripping his hand as though it was the only thing keeping her from collapsing to the floor, and she looked utterly lost, as if she had been thrust unwillingly into a world that no longer made sense, that was full only of pain and grief. The memory cleared Jamie’s mind in an instant, wiping away the bittersweet cocktail that had momentarily overwhelmed him and replacing it with a single, burning emotion.
Fury.
He raised his arms and pushed his father backwards, breaking the embrace. Julian stumbled, a frown of confusion on his face, then regained his balance and stared at Jamie.
“What’s wrong, son?” he asked, his voice low and thick.
“What’s wrong?” growled Jamie, fury boiling and raging inside him, the sensation familiar and entirely welcome. “You actually have the nerve to ask me that? Everything’s wrong! Everything! And all of it’s your fault!”
His father’s eyes widened with shock. “Jamie, I—”
“Shut up,” said Jamie, his voice trembling with anger. “Just shut up. I went to your funeral. I stood next to Mum, next to your wife, and watched them bury you. Do you have any idea what that did to her?”
“No,” said Julian. “I can’t possibly—”
“I’m not done,” interrupted Jamie. “Not even close. You let us think you were dead. I watched you die, and that memory has lived with me every single day since. Our entire lives turned to shit after you were dead. You couldn’t let us know? Couldn’t even get a message to us? Something?”
“It wasn’t safe,” said Julian. “I was trying to protect you both.”
Jamie heard a growl rise from his throat, and felt a momentary surge of savage satisfaction as he saw his father take a frightened half-step backwards.
“That’s all right then, is it?” he said. “Everything’s cool, because you were trying to protect us. How well do you think that went?”
“I know,” said Julian. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Jamie. I made a mistake, I understand that now. But I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Ask your friends for help?” suggested Jamie. “The ones who’d fought alongside you dozens of times, and who would have done everything they could if you’d just asked them.”
Julian nodded, and held his hands up. “You’re right, Jamie. You are. And I don’t blame you for being angry with me. I’m just trying to explain.”
“You can’t,” said Jamie. “There’s nothing you can say to make this OK. Don’t you get that? Mum cried herself to sleep every night after you died, and we had to move house every few months because the whole country believed you were a traitor. We had to leave our home, and our friends, and we just barely survived the chaos you left behind. And now you’re back, and what? You want me to tell you that I forgive you, that we can just put it all behind us and be a family again? Not a chance. Not a chance in hell.”
“I’m sorry,” repeated Julian. His face was ashen. “There’s nothing else I can say, Jamie. I’m truly sorry.”
“I believe you,” said Jamie. “But I don’t have time to give a shit about how sorry you are. Where did you go?”
“What?”
“When you pretended to die,” said Jamie. “Where did you go?”
“America,” said Julian. “There was a rumour about a vampire who’d been cured. When I heard about what happened to your mum, I went looking for him.”
The fury boiling through Jamie turned as cold as ice.
“You knew?” he asked, his voice low and full of menace. “You knew about Lindisfarne?”
Julian nodded. “I knew,” he said. “I heard about what you did. I was so proud, son, so proud of—”
“You knew your wife had been turned and your son had joined Blacklight, and still you didn’t come in? Even then, you couldn’t do the right thing?”
Julian winced, and said nothing.
“How did you know?” asked Jamie. “Who told you?”
“I can’t say,” said Julian. “I swore.”
The answer burst into Jamie’s mind like a bolt of lightning, filling him with white-hot clarity. He felt his stomach churn and his legs turn to jelly beneath him.
Oh no. Oh please, no.
He sought another answer, one that wasn’t so terrible, but knew instantly that he was wasting his time; there was only one person it could have been.
The one person he wished it wasn’t.
“I have to go,” he said, and turned towards the door.
“Hey!” shouted Julian. He stepped forward and took hold of his son’s arm. Jamie turned his head and stared down at the hand until his father released his grip and stepped back.
“What?” he asked. “What do you want from me?”
“This isn’t how I wanted this to go, son,” said Julian. “This isn’t what I wanted at all.”
Jamie laughed, incredulous. “Even now?” he said. “Even now, what you want is all you care about.”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” said Julian, his face reddening. “You know it isn’t. Why are you making this so hard?”
“And now you’re blaming me?” asked Jamie, his voice a low hiss. “You actually have the balls to stand there and blame me for this? You did this, Dad. You did it all on your own. I don’t know why you’ve decided to reappear now, and I don’t know what you want from me, but I have to go. Now.”
Julian stared at him. “Don’t you even want to know how I did it?” he asked. “How I faked my death?”
“I couldn’t give less of a shit,” said Jamie. “And I’ll tell you something else, something that you can think about when I’m gone and you’re on your own again. I’m ashamed to be your son. Do you hear me? Ashamed.”
The red in Julian’s face darkened. “That’s enough, Jamie,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t care what’s happened, or how angry you’re feeling right now. I am still your father and you will not speak to me like that.”
Jamie laughed again, a sharp grunt of derision, and turned to the door. Again, his father stepped forward and took hold of his arm, and Jamie felt heat burst into his eyes as his self-control finally failed him. He spun, eyes blazing, fangs gleaming, and shoved his father away, hard. Julian was thrown across the room, slammed against the wall, and landed in a heap on the floor. He stared up at his son with a face full of terror, the expression of a man who is watching his worst nightmare come true before him. Jamie stepped into the air and floated above the carpet, fixing his father with his terrible crimson gaze.
“I never want to see you again,” he growled. “Do you hear me? Never.”
His father’s face crumpled. Tears brimmed in the corners of his eyes.
“You’re my son,” managed Julian, his voice barely audible.
Jamie’s eyes darkened. “Fuck you,” he said, then turned and flew through the door of the cottage. He swept down the path, ignoring the sobbing sounds behind him, and flew back towards the idling SUV. He could see Frankenstein behind its wheel; the monster was staring through the windscreen, his face set in a stern line.
He knew, thought Jamie. He knew what I was going to find out, but he brought me here anyway.
For a moment, his heart softened towards the man who had sworn to protect him and his family, as he considered the position his father’s actions must have put Frankenstein in, particularly once the monster became acquainted with Jamie and his mother. But then the cold reappeared, freezing his heart solid.
He should have told me. I don’t care what he swore. He shouldn’t have left me in the dark.
Jamie reached the SUV and tapped on the passenger window. Frankenstein looked round, and wound it down.
“Is everything OK?” he asked.
“No,” said Jamie, and heard the catch in his voice. “But I think you already knew that, didn’t you?”
A grimace crossed the monster’s face. “What happened?”
“I know you knew,” said Jamie. “Please don’t deny it.”
“I’m not going to.”
“You helped him fake his death.”
“Yes.”
“And it was you that told him about Lindisfarne. About what happened to me and my mother.”
“Yes,” said Frankenstein. His face was very still, his grey-green skin paler than usual, his eyes locked on Jamie’s.
“So when you rescued me from Alexandru,” said Jamie, “you knew my father wasn’t dead, even then. You knew I hadn’t watched him die, and you never told me. Never told my mum.”
A look of immense pain creased the monster’s face. “I couldn’t, Jamie,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “I couldn’t do that to you. You have to understand.”
Jamie felt the block of ice in his chest crack sharply. Pain bloomed out of it, accompanied by a profound sense of loss, of awful, bitter grief.
“I do,” he said, and blinked away sudden tears. “So I want you to understand something. You and I are done. I want you to stay away from me.”
He tore his gaze away from the monster, leapt off the ground, and accelerated into the sky, desperate to leave everything, and everyone, behind.
Kate Randall took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the Security Division, trying to slow her racing heart.
It was ridiculous, she tried to tell herself, to be nervous about entering the wide suite of desks and offices that had essentially become her home in the months since she had accepted the offer to join Blacklight; her office had come to feel like a sanctuary, as chaos and darkness raged around the Department, and the Division contained men and women she would have readily trusted with her life.
But now the Division had changed.
Major Paul Turner, who had for a number of years been the Blacklight Security Officer and Kate’s immediate boss, was now Director of the entire Department, having been promoted following the loss of Cal Holmwood on the gravel surrounding Château Dauncy. Paul was unquestionably the right choice and, as a serving Operator, Kate was delighted; she had no doubt that he would lead the Department with the same bravery and dedication that had characterised his entire Blacklight career. But on a personal level, she was far less thrilled; she and Turner had become close over the preceding months, tied together by an unswerving commitment to the Security Division, by the punishing ordeal that had been ISAT, and by red-raw grief over the death of Shaun, who had been both Major Turner’s son and Kate’s boyfriend.