TUNNELS OF BLOOD

THE SAGA OF DARREN SHAN

BOOK 3

TUNNELS OF BLOOD

THE SAGA OF DARREN SHAN

BOOK 3

Madam Octa’s on the Web… and so is Darren Shan!

For all things freaky, check out the official

Darren Shan website at www.darrenshan.com

For:

Declan – the original “mr happy”

OBEs (Order of the Bloody Entrails) to:

Jo “the jaguar” Williamson

Zoë “ze zombie” Clarke

The usual monsters:

Liam “Frankenstein” and Biddy “The Bride”

Gillie “rip yer guts out” Russell

the hungry HarperCollins cannibals

and

Emma & Chris – “who ya gonna call?”

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Other Books in the Series The Saga of Darren Shan

Copyright

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

THE SMELL of blood is sickening. Hundreds of carcasses hang from silver hooks, stiff, shiny with frosty blood. I know they’re just animals – cows, pigs, sheep – but I keep thinking they’re human.

I take a careful step forward. Powerful overhead lights mean it’s bright as day. I have to tread easily. Hide behind the dead animals. Move slowly. The floor’s slippery with water and blood, which makes progress even trickier.

Ahead, I spot him… the vampire… Mr Crepsley. He’s moving as quietly as I am, eyes focused on the fat man a little way ahead.

The fat man. He’s why I’m here in this ice-cold abattoir. He’s the human Mr Crepsley intends to kill. He’s the man I have to save.

The fat man pauses and checks one of the hanging slabs of meat. His cheeks are chubby and red. He’s wearing clear plastic gloves. He pats the dead animal – the squeaky noise of the hook as the carcass swings sets my teeth on edge – then begins whistling. He starts to walk again. Mr Crepsley follows. So do I.

Evra is somewhere far behind. I left him outside. No point the two of us risking our lives.

I pick up speed, moving slowly closer. Neither knows I’m here. If everything works out as planned, they won’t know, not until Mr Crepsley makes his move. Not until I’m forced to act.

The fat man stops again. Bends to examine something. I take a quick step back, afraid he’ll spot me but then I see Mr Crepsley closing in. Damn! No time to hide. If this is the moment he’s chosen to attack, I have to get nearer.

I sprint forward several metres, risking being heard. Luckily Mr Crepsley is entirely focused on the fat man.

I’m only three or four metres behind the vampire now. I bring up the long butcher’s knife which I’ve been holding down by my side. My eyes are glued to Mr Crepsley. I won’t act until he does – I’ll give him every chance to prove my terrible suspicions wrong – but the second I see him tensing to spring…

I take a firmer grip on the knife. I’ve been practising my swipe all day. I know the exact point I want to hit. One quick cut across Mr Crepsley’s throat and that’ll be that. No more vampire. One more carcass to add to the pile.

Long seconds slip by. I don’t dare look to see what the fat man is studying. Is he never going to rise?

Then it happens. The fat man struggles to his feet. Mr Crepsley hisses. He gets ready to lunge. I position the knife and steady my nerves. The fat man’s on his feet now. He hears something. Looks up at the ceiling – wrong way, fool! – as Mr Crepsley leaps. As the vampire jumps, so do I, screeching loudly, slashing at him with the knife, determined to kill…

CHAPTER ONE

One month earlier…

MY NAME’S Darren Shan. I’m a half-vampire.

I used to be human, until I stole a vampire’s spider. After that, my life changed for ever. Mr Crepsley – the vampire – forced me to become his assistant, and I joined a circus full of weird performers, called the Cirque Du Freak.

Adapting was hard. Drinking blood was harder, and for a long time I wouldn’t do it. Eventually I did, to save the memories of a dying friend (vampires can store a person’s memories if they drain all their blood). I didn’t enjoy it – the following few weeks were horrible, and I was plagued by nightmares – but after that first blood-red drink there could be no going back. I accepted my role as a vampire’s assistant and learnt to make the best of it.

Over the course of the next year Mr Crepsley taught me how to hunt and drink without being caught; how to take just enough blood to survive; how to hide my vampire identity when mixing with others. And in time I put my human fears behind me and became a true creature of the night.

A couple of girls stood watching Cormac Limbs with serious expressions. He was stretching his arms and legs, rolling his neck around, loosening his muscles. Then, winking at the girls, he put the middle three fingers of his right hand between his teeth and bit them off.

The girls screamed and fled. Cormac chuckled and wriggled the new fingers which were growing out of his hand.

I laughed. You got used to stuff like that when you worked in the Cirque Du Freak. The travelling show was full of remarkable people, freaks of nature with wonderful and sometimes frightening powers.

Apart from Cormac Limbs, the performers included Rhamus Twobellies, capable of eating a full-grown elephant or a tank; Gertha Teeth, who could bite through steel; the Wolf Man, half-man half-wolf, who’d killed my friend Sam Grest; Truska, a beautiful and mysterious woman, who could grow a beard at will; and Mr Tall, who could move as fast as lightning and seemed to be able to read people’s minds. Mr Tall owned and managed the Cirque Du Freak.

We were performing in a small town, camped behind an old mill, inside which the show was staged every night. It was a run-down tip, but I was used to such venues. We could have played the grandest theatres in the world and slept in luxurious hotel rooms – the Cirque made a load of money – but it was safer to keep a low profile and stick to places where the police and other officials rarely wandered.

I hadn’t changed much since leaving home with Mr Crepsley nearly a year and a half before. Because I was a half-vampire I aged at only a fifth the rate of humans, which meant that though eighteen months had passed, my body was only three or four months older.

Although I wasn’t very different on the outside, inside I was an entirely new person. I was stronger than any boy my age, able to run faster, leap further, and dig my extra-strong nails into brick walls. My hearing, eyesight and sense of smell had improved vastly.

Since I wasn’t a full-vampire, there was lots of stuff I couldn’t do yet. For instance, Mr Crepsley could run at a super-quick speed, which he called flitting. He could breathe out a gas which knocked people unconscious. And he could communicate telepathically with vampires and a few others, such as Mr Tall.

I wouldn’t be able to do those things until I became a full-vampire. I didn’t lose any sleep over it, because being a half-vampire had its bonuses: I didn’t have to drink much human blood and – better yet – I could move about during the day.

It was day when I was exploring a rubbish tip with Evra, the snake-boy, looking for food for the Little People – weird small creatures who wore blue hooded cloaks and never spoke. Nobody – except maybe Mr Tall – knew who or what they were, where they came from, or why they travelled with the Cirque. Their master was a disturbing man called Mr Tiny (he liked to eat children!), but we didn’t see much of him at the Cirque.

“Found a dead dog,” Evra shouted, holding it above his head. “It smells a bit. Do you think they’ll mind?”

I sniffed the air – Evra was a long way off, but I could smell the dog from here as well as a human could up close – and shook my head. “It’ll be fine,” I said. The Little People ate just about anything we brought.

I had a fox and a few rats in my bag. I felt bad about killing the rats – rats are friendly with vampires and usually come up to us like tame pets if we call them – but work is work. We’ve all got to do things we don’t like in life.

There were lots of Little People with the Cirque – twenty of them – and one was hunting with Evra and me. He’d been with the Cirque since soon after me and Mr Crepsley joined. I could tell him apart from the others because he had a limp in his left leg. Evra and me had taken to calling him Lefty.

“Hey, Lefty!” I shouted. “How’s it going?” The small figure in the blue hooded cloak didn’t answer – he never did – but patted his stomach, which was the sign we needed more food.

“Lefty says to keep going,” I told Evra.

“I figured as much,” he sighed.

As I prowled for another rat, I spotted a small silver cross in the rubbish. I picked it up and brushed off the dirt. Studying the cross, I smiled. To think I used to believe vampires were terrified of crosses! Most of that stuff in old films and books is hokum. Crosses, holy water, garlic: none of those matter to vampires. We can cross running water. We don’t have to be invited into a house before entering. We cast shadows and reflections (though a full-vampire can’t be photographed: something to do with bouncing atoms). We can’t change shape or fly.

A stake through the heart will kill a vampire. But so will a well-placed bullet, or fire, or a falling heavy object. We’re harder to kill than humans but we aren’t immortal. Far from it.

I placed the cross on the ground and stood back. Focusing my will, I tried making it jump into my left hand. I stared hard for all of a minute, then clicked the fingers of my right hand.

Nothing happened.

I tried again but still couldn’t do it. I’d been trying for months, with no success. Mr Crepsley made it look simple – one click of his fingers and an object would be in his hand, even if it was several metres away – but I hadn’t been able to copy him.

I was getting on quite well with Mr Crepsley. He wasn’t a bad old sort. We weren’t friends, but I’d accepted him as a teacher and no longer hated him as I had when he first turned me into a half-vampire.

I pocketed the cross, and proceeded with the hunt. After a while I found a half-starved cat in the remains of an old microwave oven. It was after rats as well.

The cat hissed at me and raised its hackles. I pretended to turn my back on it, then spun quickly, grabbed it by the neck and twisted. It gave a strangled little cry and then went limp. I stuck it in the bag and went to see how Evra was doing.

I didn’t enjoy killing animals, but hunting was part of my nature. Anyway, I had no sympathy for cats. The blood of cats is poisonous to vampires. Drinking from one wouldn’t have killed me but it would have made me sick. And cats are hunters too. The way I saw it, the less cats there were, the more rats there’d be.

That night, back in camp, I tried moving the cross with my mind again. I’d completed my jobs for the day, and the show wouldn’t be starting for another few hours, so I’d plenty of time to kill.

It was a cold, late-November night. There hadn’t been any snow yet, but it was threatening. I was dressed in my colourful pirate costume: a light green shirt, dark purple trousers, a gold and blue jacket, a red satin cloth round my belly, a brown hat with a feather in it, and soft shoes with toes that curled in on themselves.

I strolled away from the vans and tents and found a secluded spot around the side of the old mill. I stuck the cross on a piece of wood in front of me, took a deep breath, concentrated on the cross and willed it into the palm of my outstretched hand.

No good.

I shuffled closer, so my hand was only centimetres away from the cross.

“I command you to move,” I said, clicking my fingers. “I order you to move.” Click. “Move.” Click. “Move!”

I shouted this last word louder than intended and stamped my foot in anger.

“What are you doing?” a familiar voice asked behind me.

Looking up, I saw Mr Crepsley emerging out of the shadows.

“Nothing,” I said, trying to hide the cross.

“What is that?” he asked. His eyes missed nothing.

“Just a cross I found while hunting,” I said, holding it out.

“What were you doing with it?” Mr Crepsley asked suspiciously.

“Trying to make it move,” I said, deciding it was time to ask the vampire about his magic secrets. “How do you do it?”

A smile spread across his face, causing the long scar that ran down the left side to crinkle. “So that is what has been bothering you,” he chuckled. He stretched out a hand and clicked his fingers, causing me to blink. Next thing I knew, the cross was in his hand.

“How’s it done?” I asked. “Can only full-vampires do it?”

“I will demonstrate again. Watch closely this time.”

Replacing the cross on the piece of wood, he stood back and clicked his fingers. Once again it disappeared and turned up in his hand. “Did you see?”

“See what?” I was confused.

“One final time,” he said. “Try not to blink.”

I focused on the small silver piece. I heard his fingers clicking and – keeping my eyes wide open – thought I spotted the slightest blur darting between me and the cross.

When I turned to look at him he was tossing the cross from hand to hand and smiling. “Rumbled me yet?” he asked.

I frowned. “I thought I saw… It looked like…” My face lit up. “You didn’t move the cross!” I yelled excitedly. “You moved!”

He beamed. “Not as dull as you appear,” he complimented me in his usual sarcastic manner.

“Do it again,” I said. This time I didn’t look at the cross: I watched the vampire. I wasn’t able to track his movements – he was too fast – but I caught brief snaps of him as he darted forward, snatched up the cross and leapt back.

“So you’re not able to move things with your mind?” I asked.

“Of course not,” he laughed.

“Then why the click of the fingers?”

“To distract the eye,” he explained.

“Then it’s a trick,” I said. “It’s got nothing to do with being a vampire.”

He shrugged. “I could not move so fast if I were human, but yes, it is a trick. I dabbled with illusions before I became a vampire and I like to keep my hand in.”

“Could I learn to do it?” I asked.

“Maybe,” he said. “You cannot move as fast as I can, but you could get away with it if the object was close to hand. You would have to practise hard – but if you wish, I can teach you.”

“I always wanted to be a magician,” I said. “But… hold on…” I remembered a couple of occasions when Mr Crepsley had opened locks with a click of his fingers. “What about locks?” I asked.

“Those are different. You understand what static energy is?” My face was a blank. “Have you ever brushed a comb through your hair and held it up to a thin sheet of paper?”

“Yeah!” I said. “The paper sticks to it.”

“That is static energy,” he explained. “When a vampire flits, a very strong static charge builds up. I have learned to harness that charge. Thus I am able to force open any lock you care to mention.”

I thought about that. “And the click of your fingers?” I asked.

“Old habits die hard,” he smiled.

“But old vampires die easy!” a voice growled behind us, and before I knew what was happening, someone had reached around the two of us and pressed a pair of razor-sharp knives to the soft flesh of our throats!

CHAPTER TWO

I FROZE at the touch of the blade and the threatening voice, but Mr Crepsley didn’t even blink. He gently pushed the knife away from his throat, then tossed the silver cross to me.

“Gavner, Gavner, Gavner,” Mr Crepsley sighed. “I always could hear you coming from half a mile away.”

“Not true!” the voice said peevishly, as the blade drew back from my throat. “You couldn’t have heard.”

“Why not?” Mr Crepsley said. “Nobody in the world breathes as heavily as you. I could pick you out blindfolded in a crowd of thousands.”

“One night, Larten,” the stranger muttered. “One night I’ll catch you out. We’ll see how smart you are then.”

“Upon that night I shall retire disgracefully,” Mr Crepsley chuckled.

Mr Crepsley cocked an eyebrow at me, amused to see I was still stiff and half-afraid, even though I’d figured out our lives weren’t in danger.

“Shame on you, Gavner Purl,” Mr Crepsley said. “You have frightened the boy.”

“Seems all I’m good for,” the stranger grunted. “Scaring children and little old ladies.”

Turning slowly, I came face to face with the man called Gavner Purl. He wasn’t very tall but he was wide, built like a wrestler. His face was a mass of scars and dark patches, and the rims around his eyes were extremely black. His brown hair was cut short and he was dressed in an ordinary pair of jeans and a baggy white jumper. He had a broad smile and glittering yellow teeth.

It was only when I glanced down at his fingertips and spotted ten scars that I realized he was a vampire. That’s how most vampires are created: vampire blood is pumped into them through the soft flesh at the ends of their fingers.

“Darren, this is Gavner Purl,” Mr Crepsley introduced us. “An old, trusted, rather clumsy friend. Gavner, this is Darren Shan.”

“Pleased to meet you,” the vampire said, shaking my hand. “You didn’t hear me coming, did you?”

“No,” I answered honestly.

“There!” he boomed proudly. “See?”

“Congratulations,” Mr Crepsley said dryly. “If you are ever called upon to sneak into a nursery, you should have no problems.”

Gavner grimaced. “I see time hasn’t sweetened you,” he noted. “As cutting as ever. How long has it been? Fourteen years? Fifteen?”

“Seventeen next February,” Mr Crepsley answered promptly.

“Seventeen!” Gavner whistled. “Longer than I thought. Seventeen years and as sour as ever.” He nudged me in the ribs. “Does he still complain like a grumpy old woman when he wakes up?” he asked.

“Yes,” I giggled.

“I could never get a positive word out of him until midnight. I had to share a coffin with him once for four whole months.” He shivered at the memory. “Longest four months of my life.”

“You shared a coffin?” I asked incredulously.

“Had to,” he said. “We were being hunted. We had to stick together. I wouldn’t do it again though. I’d rather face the sun and burn.”

“You were not the only one with cause for complaint,” Mr Crepsley grunted. “Your snoring nearly drove me to face the sun myself.” His lips were twitching and I could tell he was having a hard time not smiling.

“Why were you being hunted?” I asked curiously.

“Never mind,” Mr Crepsley snapped before Gavner could answer, then glared at his ex-partner.

Gavner pulled a face. “It was nearly sixty years ago, Larten,” he said. “I didn’t realize it was classified information.”

“The boy is not interested in the past,” Mr Crepsley said firmly. (I most certainly was!) “You are on my soil, Gavner Purl. I would ask you to respect my wishes.”

“Stuffy old bat,” Gavner grumbled, but gave in with a nod of his head. “So, Darren,” he said, “what do you do at the Cirque Du Freak?”

“Odd jobs,” I told him. “I fetch food for the Little People and help the performers get ready for—”

“The Little People still travel with the Cirque?” Gavner interrupted.

“More of them than ever,” Mr Crepsley answered. “There are twenty with us at the moment.”

The vampires shared a knowing glance but said no more about it. I could tell Gavner was troubled by the way his scars knit together into a fierce-looking frown.

“How goes it with the Generals?” Mr Crepsley enquired.

“Usual old routine,” Gavner said.

“Gavner is a Vampire General,” Mr Crepsley told me. That sparked my interest. I’d heard of the Vampire Generals, but nobody had told me exactly who or what they were.

“Excuse me,” I said, “but what’s a Vampire General? What do they do?”

“We keep an eye on rogues like this,” Gavner laughed, nudging Mr Crepsley. “We make sure they don’t get up to mischief.”

“The Vampire Generals monitor the behavior of the vampire clan,” Mr Crepsley added. “They make sure none of us kill innocents or use our powers for evil.”

“How do they do that?” I asked.

“If they discover a vampire who has turned bad,” Mr Crepsley said, “they kill him.”

“Oh.” I stared at Gavner Purl. He didn’t look like a killer, but then again, there were all those scars…

“It’s a boring job most of the time,” Gavner said. “I’m more like a village policeman than a soldier. I never did like the term ‘Vampire Generals’. Far too pompous.”

“It is not just evil vampires that Generals clamp down on,” Mr Crepsley said. “It is also their business to crack down on foolish or weak vampires.” He sighed. “I have been expecting this visit. Shall we retire to my tent, Gavner, to discuss the matter?”

“You’ve been expecting me?” Gavner looked startled.

“Word was bound to leak out sooner or later,” Mr Crepsley said. “I have made no attempt to hide the boy or suppress the truth. Note that please: I will use it during my trial, when I am called upon to defend myself.”

“Trial? Truth? The boy?” Gavner was bewildered. Glancing down at my hands, he spotted the vampire marks on my fingertips and his jaw dropped. “The boy’s a vampire?” he shrieked.

“Of course.” Mr Crepsley frowned. “But surely you knew.”

“I knew nothing of the sort!” Gavner protested. He looked into my eyes and concentrated hard. “The blood is weak in him,” he mused aloud. “He is only a half-vampire.”

“Naturally,” Mr Crepsley said. “It is not our custom to make full-vampires of our assistants.”

“Nor to make assistants of children!” Gavner Purl snapped, sounding more authoritative than he had before. “What were you thinking?” he asked Mr Crepsley. “A boy! When did this happen? Why haven’t you informed anybody?”

“It has been nearly a year and a half since I blooded Darren,” Mr Crepsley said. “Why I did it is a long story. As for why I have not yet told anyone, that is simpler to answer: you are the first of our kind we have encountered. I would have taken him to the next Council if I had not run into a General beforehand. Now that will not be necessary.”

“It bloody well will be!” Gavner snorted.

“Why?” Mr Crepsley asked. “You can judge my actions and pass verdict.”

“Me? Judge you?” Gavner laughed. “No thanks. I’ll leave you to the Council. The last thing I need is to get involved in something like this.”

“Excuse me,” I said again, “but what’s this all about? Why are you talking about being judged? And who or what are the Council?”

“I shall tell you later,” Mr Crepsley said, waving my questions aside. He studied Gavner curiously. “If you are not here about the boy, why have you come? I thought I made it clear when last we met that I wanted no more to do with the Generals.”

“You made it crystal clear,” Gavner agreed. “Maybe I’m just here to discuss old times.”

Mr Crepsley smiled cynically. “After seventeen years of leaving me to my own devices? I think not, Gavner.”

The Vampire General coughed discreetly. “There is trouble brewing. Nothing to do with the Generals,” he added quickly. “This is personal. I’ve come because I feel there’s something you should know.” He paused.

“Go on,” Mr Crepsley urged him.

Gavner looked at me and cleared his throat. “I have no objections to speaking in front of Darren,” he said, “but you seemed anxious to steer him clear of certain areas when we were discussing our past a while ago. What I have to tell you may not be for his ears.”

“Darren,” Mr Crepsley said immediately, “Gavner and I shall continue our discussion in my quarters, alone. Please find Mr Tall and tell him I shall be unable to perform tonight.”

I wasn’t happy – I wanted to hear what Gavner had to say: he was the first vampire I’d met apart from Mr Crepsley – but from his stern expression, I knew his mind was made up. I turned to leave.

“And Darren,” Mr Crepsley called me back. “I know you are curious by nature, but I warn you: do not attempt to eavesdrop. I shall take a dim view of it if you do.”

“What do you think I am?” I said. “You treat me like—”

“Darren!” he snapped. “No eavesdropping!”

I nodded glumly. “All right.”

“Cheer up,” Gavner Purl said as I walked away dejectedly. “I’ll tell you all about it, as soon as Larten’s back is turned.”

As Mr Crepsley spun round, with fire in his eyes, the Vampire General quickly raised his hands and laughed. “Only joking!”

CHAPTER THREE

I DECIDED to do the act with Madam Octa – Mr Crepsley’s spider – by myself. I was well able to handle her. Besides, it was fun to take over from Mr Crepsley. I’d been on stage with him loads of times, but always as his sidekick.

I went on after Hans Hands – a man who could run a hundred metres on his hands in less than eight seconds – and had great fun. The audience cheered me off, and later I sold loads of candy spiders to clamouring customers.

I hung out with Evra after the show. I told him about Gavner Purl and asked what he knew about Vampire Generals.

“Not much,” he said. “I know they exist but I’ve never met one.”

“What about the Council?” I asked.

“I think that’s a huge meeting they have every ten or fifteen years,” he said. “A big conference where they gather and discuss things.”

That was all he could tell me.

A few hours before dawn, while Evra was tending to his snake, Gavner Purl appeared from Mr Crepsley’s van – the vampire preferred to sleep in the basements of buildings, but there had been no suitable rooms in the old mill – and asked me to walk with him a while.

The Vampire General walked slowly, rubbing the scars on his face, much as Mr Crepsley often did when thinking.

“Do you enjoy being a half-vampire, Darren?” he asked.

“Not really,” I answered honestly. “I’ve got used to it, but I was happier as a human.”

He nodded. “You know that you will age at only a fifth of the human rate? You’ve resigned yourself to a long childhood? It doesn’t bother you?”

“It bothers me,” I said. “I used to look forward to growing up. It bugs me that it’s going to take so long. But there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m stuck, amn’t I?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “That’s the problem with blooding a person: there’s no way to take the vampire blood back. It’s why we don’t blood children: we only want people who know what they’re getting into, who wish to abandon their humanity. Larten shouldn’t have blooded you. It was a mistake.”

“Is that why he was talking about being judged?” I asked.

Gavner nodded. “He’ll have to account for his error,” he said. “He’ll have to convince the Generals and Princes that what he did won’t harm them. If he can’t…” Gavner looked grim.

“Will he be killed?” I asked softly.

Gavner smiled. “I doubt it. Larten is widely respected. His wrists will be slapped but I don’t think anybody will look for his head.”

“Why didn’t you judge him?” I asked.

“All Generals have the right to pass judgement on non-ranked vampires,” he said. “But Larten’s an old friend. It’s best for a judge to be unbiased. Even if he’d committed a real crime, I would have found it hard to punish him. Besides, Larten’s no ordinary vampire. He used to be a General.”

“Really?” I stared at Gavner Purl, stunned by the news.

“An important one too,” Gavner said. “He was on the verge of being voted a Vampire Prince when he stood down.”

“A prince?” I asked sceptically. It was hard to imagine Mr Crepsley with a crown and royal cloak.

“That’s what we call our leaders,” Gavner said. “There are very few of them. Only the noblest and most respected vampires are elected.”

“And Mr Crepsley almost became one?” I said. Gavner nodded. “What happened?” I asked. “How did he end up travelling with the Cirque Du Freak?”

“He resigned,” Gavner said. “He was a couple of years shy of being invested – we call the process of Prince-making an investiture – when one night he declared he was sick of the business and wanted nothing more to do with the Generals.”

“Why?” I asked.

Gavner shrugged. “Nobody knows. Larten never gave much away. Maybe he just got tired of the fighting and killing.”

I wanted to ask who it was the Vampire Generals had to fight, but at that moment we cleared the last of the town houses and Gavner Purl smiled and stretched his arms.

“A clear run,” he grunted happily.

“You’re leaving?” I asked.

“Have to,” he said. “A General’s schedule is a busy one. I only dropped by because it was on my way. I’d like to stay and chat over old times with Larten, but I can’t. Anyway, I think Larten will be on the move soon himself.”

My ears perked up. “Where’s he going?” I asked.

Gavner shook his head and grinned. “Sorry. He’d scalp me alive if I told. I’ve already said more than I should. You won’t tell him I told you about his being a General, will you?”

“Not if you don’t want me to,” I said.

“Thanks.” Gavner crouched down and faced me. “Larten’s a pain in the butt sometimes. He plays his cards too close to his chest, and getting information out of him can be like prying teeth from a shark. But he’s a good vampire, one of the best. You couldn’t hope for a better teacher. Trust him, Darren, and you won’t go wrong.”

“I’ll try,” I smiled.

“This can be a dangerous world for vampires,” Gavner said softly. “More dangerous than you know. Stick with Larten and you’ll be in a better position to survive than many of our kind. You don’t live as long as he has without learning more than your fair share of tricks.”

“How old is he?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” Gavner said. “I think about a hundred and eighty or two hundred.”

“How old are you?” I asked.

“I’m a whippersnapper,” he said. “Barely past the hundred mark.”

“A hundred years old!” I whistled softly.

“That’s nothing for a vampire,” Gavner said. “I was barely nineteen when first blooded and only twenty-two when I became a full-vampire. I could live to be a good five hundred years old, the gods of the vampires permitting.”

“Five hundred…!” I couldn’t imagine being so old.

“Picture trying to blow out the candles on that cake!” Gavner chuckled. Then he stood. “I must be off. I’ve fifty kilometres to make before dawn. I’ll have to slip into overdrive.” He grimaced. “I hate flitting. I always feel sick afterwards.”

“Will I see you again?” I asked.

“Probably,” he replied. “The world’s a small place. I’m sure our paths will cross again one fine gloomy night.” He shook my hand. “So long, Darren Shan.”

“Until next time, Gavner Purl,” I said.

“Next time,” he agreed, and then he was off. He took several deep breaths and started to jog. After a while he broke into a sprint. I stood where I was, watching him run, until he hit flitting speed and disappeared in the snapping of an eyelid, at which point I turned and headed back to camp.

I found Mr Crepsley in his van. He was sitting by the window (it was completely covered with strips of dark sticky tape, to block out the sun during the day), staring moodily off into space.

“Gavner’s gone,” I said.

“Yes,” he sighed.

“He didn’t stay long,” I remarked.

“He is a Vampire General,” Mr Crepsley said. “His time is not his own.”

“I liked him.”

“He is a fine vampire and a good friend,” Mr Crepsley agreed.

I cleared my throat. “He said you might be leaving too.”

Mr Crepsley regarded me suspiciously. “What else did he say?”

“Nothing,” I lied quickly. “I asked why he couldn’t stay longer and he said there was no point, as you’d probably be moving on soon.”

Mr Crepsley nodded. “Gavner brought unpleasant news,” he said carefully. “I will have to leave the Cirque for a while.”

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“To a city,” he responded vaguely.

“What about me?” I asked.

Mr Crepsley scratched his scar thoughtfully. “That is what I have been contemplating,” he said. “I would prefer not to take you with me but I think I must. I may have need of you.”

“But I like it here,” I complained. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Nor do I,” Mr Crepsley snapped. “But I must. And you have to come with me. Remember: we are vampires, not circus performers. The Cirque Du Freak is a means of cover, not our home.”

“How long will we be away?” I asked unhappily.

“Days. Weeks. Months. I cannot say for sure.”

“What if I refuse to come?”

He studied me ominously. “An assistant who does not obey orders has no purpose,” he said quietly. “If I cannot rely on your cooperation, I will have to take steps to remove you from my employ.”

“You mean you’d sack me?” I smiled bitterly.

“There is only one way to deal with a rebellious half-vampire,” he answered, and I knew what that way was – a stake through the heart!

“It’s not fair,” I grumbled. “What am I going to do by myself all day in a strange city while you’re asleep?”

“What did you do when you were a human?” he asked.

“Things were different,” I said. “I had friends and a family. I’m going to be alone again if we leave, like when I first joined up with you.”

“It will be hard,” Mr Crepsley said compassionately, “but we have no choice. I must be away with the coming of dusk – I would leave now, were we not so near to dawn – and you must come with me. There is no other…”

He stopped as a thought struck him. “Of course,” he said slowly, “we could bring another along.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“We could take Evra with us.”

I frowned as I considered it.

“The two of you are good friends, yes?” Mr Crepsley asked.

“Yes,” I said, “but I don’t know how he’d feel about leaving. And there’s his snake: what would we do with that?”

“I am sure somebody could look after the snake,” Mr Crepsley said, warming to the idea. “Evra would be good company for you. And he is wiser: he could keep you out of mischief when I am not around.”

“I don’t need a babysitter!” I huffed.

“No,” Mr Crepsley agreed, “but a guardian would not go amiss. You have a habit of getting into trouble when left to your own devices. Remember when you stole Madam Octa? And the mess we had with that human boy, Sam whatever his name was?”

“That wasn’t my fault!” I yelled.

“Indeed not,” Mr Crepsley said. “But it happened when you were by yourself.”

I pulled a face but didn’t say anything.

“Will I ask him or not?” Mr Crepsley pressed.

“I’ll ask him,” I said. “You’d probably bully him into going.”

“Have it your own way.” Mr Crepsley rose. “I will go and clear it with Hibernius.” That was Mr Tall’s first name. “Be back here before dawn so I can brief you – I want to make sure we are prepared to travel as soon as night falls.”

Evra took a lot of time deciding. He didn’t like the idea of parting company with his friends in the Cirque Du Freak – or with his snake.

“It won’t be for ever,” I told him.

“I know,” he said uncertainly.

“Look on it as a holiday,” I suggested.

“I like the idea of a holiday,” he admitted. “But it would be nice to know where I was going.”

“Sometimes surprises are more fun,” I said.

“And sometimes they aren’t,” Evra muttered.

“Mr Crepsley will be asleep all day,” I reminded him. “We’ll be free to do as we like. We can go sightseeing, to cinemas, swimming, whatever we want.”

“I’ve never been swimming,” Evra said, and I could tell by the way he grinned that he’d decided to come.

“I’ll tell Mr Tall you’re coming?” I asked. “And get him to arrange for your snake to be looked after?”

Evra nodded. “She doesn’t like the cold weather in any case,” he said. “She’ll be asleep most of the winter.”

“Great!” I beamed. “We’ll have a wonderful time.”

“We’d better,” he said, “or it’ll be the last time I come on ‘holiday’ with you.”

I spent the rest of the day packing and unpacking. I only had two small bags to bring, one for me and one for Mr Crepsley, but – apart from my diary, which went everywhere with me – I kept changing my mind about what to put in.

Then I remembered Madam Octa – I wasn’t bringing her along – and hurried off to find somebody to look after her. Hans Hands agreed to mind her, though he said there was no way he’d let her out of her cage.

Finally, after hours of rushing about – Mr Crepsley had it easy, the wily old goat! – night fell and it was time to leave.

Mr Crepsley checked the bags and nodded curtly. I told him about leaving Madam Octa with Hans Hands and again he nodded. We picked up Evra, said goodbye to Mr Tall and some of the others, then faced away from the camp and began walking.

“Will you be able to carry both of us when you flit?” I asked Mr Crepsley.

“I have no intention of flitting,” he said.

“Then how are we going to travel?” I asked.

“Buses and trains,” he replied. He laughed when I looked surprised. “Vampires can use public transport as well as humans. There are no laws against it.”

“I suppose not,” I said, grinning, wondering what other passengers would think if they knew they were travelling with a vampire, a half-vampire and a snake-boy. “Shall we go, then?” I asked.

“Yes,” Mr Crepsley answered simply, and the three of us headed into town to catch the first train out.

CHAPTER FOUR

IT FELT strange being in a city. The noise and smell nearly drove me mad the first couple of days: with my heightened senses it was like being in the middle of a whirring food blender. I lay in bed during the daytime, covering my head with the thickest pillow I could find. But by the end of the week I’d grown used to the super-sharp sounds and scents and learned to ignore them.

We stayed at a hotel situated in the corner of a quiet city square. In the evenings, when traffic was slow, neighbourhood kids gathered outside for a game of football. I’d have loved to join in but dared not – with my extra strength, I might accidentally end up breaking somebody’s bones, or worse.

By the start of our second week we’d fallen into a comfortable routine. Evra and me rose every morning – Mr Crepsley went off by himself at night without telling us where – and ate a big breakfast. After that we’d head out and explore the city, which was big and old and full of interesting stuff. We’d get back to the hotel for nightfall, in case Mr Crepsley wanted us, then watch some TV or play computer games. We usually got to bed between eleven and twelve.

After a year with the Cirque Du Freak, it was a thrill to live like a normal human again. I loved being able to sleep late in the morning, not having to worry about finding food for the Little People; it was great not to be rushing about, running errands for the performers; and sitting back at night, stuffing my face with sweets and pickled onions, watching TV shows – that was heaven!

Evra was enjoying himself too. He’d never known a life like this. He’d been part of the circus world for as long as he could remember, first with a nasty side-show owner, then with Mr Tall. He liked the Cirque – I did too – and was looking forward to returning, but he had to admit it was nice to have a break.

“I never realized TV could be so addictive,” he said one night, after we’d watched five soap operas in a row.

“My mum and dad never let me watch too much,” I told him, “but I knew guys in school who watched five or six hours of it every night of the week!”

“I wouldn’t take it that far,” Evra mused, “but it’s fun in small doses. Perhaps I’ll buy a portable set when we return to the Cirque Du Freak.”

“I never thought of getting a TV since I joined,” I said. “So much else was going on, it was the last thing on my mind. But you’re right – it would be nice to have a set, even if only for reruns of The Simpsons.” That was our favourite show.

I wondered sometimes what Mr Crepsley was up to – he’d always been mysterious, but never this secretive – but in truth I wasn’t overly bothered: it was nice to have him out of my hair.

Evra had to wrap up in layers of clothes whenever we went out. Not because of the cold – though it was chilly: the first snow had fallen a couple of days after our arrival – but because of how he looked. Though he didn’t mind people gawping at him – he was used to it – it was easier to get around if he was able to pass for a normal human. That way he didn’t have to stop every five or ten minutes to explain to a curious stranger who and what he was.

Covering his body, legs and arms was easy – trousers, a jumper and gloves – but his face was tricky: it wasn’t as strongly scaled or coloured as the rest of him, but it wasn’t the face of an ordinary human. A thick cap took care of his long yellow-green hair, and dark glasses shaded much of the upper half of his face. But as for the lower half…

We experimented with bandages and flesh-coloured paints before hitting on the answer: a fake beard! We bought it in a joke shop and though it looked silly – nobody could mistake it for a real one – it did the job.

“We must look a right pair,” Evra giggled one day as we strolled around a zoo. “You in your pirate costume, me in this get-up. People probably think we’re a couple of escaped crazies.”

“The folks at the hotel definitely do,” I giggled. “I’ve heard the bellboys and maids talking about us and they reckon Mr Crepsley is a mad doctor and we’re two of his patients.”

“Yeah?” Evra laughed. “Imagine if they knew the truth – that you’re a couple of vampires and I’m a snake-boy!”

“I don’t think it would matter,” I said. “Mr Crepsley tips well and that’s the important thing. ‘Money buys privacy’, as I heard one of the managers say when a maid was complaining about a guy who’d been walking about naked in the corridors.”

“I saw him!” Evra exclaimed. “I thought he’d locked himself out of his room.”

“Nope,” I smiled. “Apparently he’s been walking about starkers for four or five days. According to the manager, he comes every year for a couple of weeks and spends the entire time roaming around, naked as a baby.”

“They let him?” Evra asked incredulously.

“‘Money buys privacy,’” I repeated.

“And I thought the Cirque Du Freak was a strange place to live,” Evra muttered wryly. “Humans are even weirder than us!”

As the days passed the city became more and more Christmassy as people geared themselves up for the twenty-fifth of December. Christmas trees appeared; lights and decorations lit up the streets and windows at night; Father Christmas touched down and took orders; toys of every shape and size filled shop shelves from floor to ceiling.

I was looking forward to Christmas: last year’s had passed unnoticed, since Christmas was something hardly anyone associated with the Cirque Du Freak bothered celebrating.

Evra couldn’t understand what the fuss was about.

“What’s the point of it?” he kept asking. “People spend loads of money buying each other presents they don’t really need; they drive themselves half-crazy getting a fancy dinner ready; trees and turkeys are bred and slaughtered in frightening numbers. It’s ridiculous!”

I tried telling him that it was a day of peace and goodwill, for families to come together and rejoice, but he was having none of it. As far as he was concerned, it was a mad, money-spinning racket.

Mr Crepsley, of course, only snorted whenever the subject was mentioned. “A silly human custom,” was how he put it. He wanted nothing to do with the festival.

It would be a lonely Christmas without my family – I missed them more at this time of the year than ever, especially Annie – but I was looking forward to it all the same. The hotel staff were throwing a big party for the guests. There’d be turkey and ham and Christmas pudding and crackers. I was determined to drag Evra into the spirit of the day: I was sure he’d change his opinion when he experienced Christmas firsthand.

“Want to come shopping?” I asked one frosty afternoon, wrapping a scarf around my neck (I didn’t need it – my vampire blood kept me warm – nor the thick coat or woolly jumper, but I’d draw attention if I went out without them).

Evra glanced out of the window. It had been snowing earlier and the world outside was frosty-white.

“I can’t be bothered,” he said. “I don’t feel like getting into heavy clothes again.” We’d been out that morning, throwing snowballs at each other.

“OK,” I said, glad he wasn’t coming: I wanted to look over a few presents for him. “I won’t be more than an hour or two.”

“Will you be back before dark?” Evra asked.

“Maybe,” I said.

“You’d better be.” He nodded towards the room where Mr Crepsley lay sleeping. “You know how it goes: the one night you aren’t here when he wakes will be the one night he wants you.”

I laughed. “I’ll risk it. Want me to bring you back anything?” Evra shook his head. “OK. See you soon.”

I walked through the snow, whistling to myself. I liked snow: it covered up most of the smells and muffled a lot of the noise. Some of the kids who lived in the Square were out building a snowman. I stopped to watch them but moved on before they could ask me to join in: it was easier not to get involved with humans.

As I stood outside a large department store, studying the window display, wondering what to buy Evra, a girl walked over and stood beside me. She was dark-skinned, with long black hair, about my age, and a little shorter than me.

“Ahoy, cap’n,” she said, saluting.

“Excuse me?” I replied, startled.

“The costume,” she grinned, tugging my coat open. “I think it’s cool, you look like a pirate. You going in or just looking?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m looking for a present for my brother, but I’m not sure what to get him.” That was our cover story — that Evra and me were brothers, and Mr Crepsley was our father.

“Right,” she nodded. “How old is he?”

“A year older than me,” I said.

“Aftershave,” she said firmly.

I shook my head. “He hasn’t started shaving yet.” And never would: hairs wouldn’t grow on Evra’s scales.

“OK,” she said. “How about a CD?”

“He doesn’t listen to much music,” I said. “Although if I got him a CD player, he might start.”

“Those are expensive,” the girl said.

“He’s my only brother,” I said. “He’s worth it.”

“Then go for it.” She held out a hand. She wasn’t wearing gloves, despite the cold. “My name’s Debbie.”

I shook her hand – mine looked very white compared with her dark skin – and told her my name.

“Darren and Debbie.” She smiled. “That sounds good, like Bonnie and Clyde.”

“Do you always talk like this to strangers?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “But we’re not strangers.”

“We’re not?” I frowned.

“I’ve seen you around,” she said. “I live in the Square, a few doors up from the hotel. That’s how I knew about the pirate costume. You hang out with that funny guy in glasses and a fake beard.”

“Evra. He’s the one I’m buying the present for.” I tried placing her face but couldn’t remember seeing her with the other kids. “I haven’t noticed you around,” I said.

“I haven’t been out much,” she replied. “I’ve been in bed with a cold. That’s why I spotted you – I’ve been spending my days staring out the window, studying the Square. Life gets really boring when you’re stuck in bed.”

Debbie blew into her hands and rubbed them together.

“You should be wearing gloves,” I told her.

“Look who’s talking,” she sniffed. I’d forgotten to pull on a pair before leaving. “Anyway, that’s what I’m here for – I lost my gloves earlier and I’ve been stomping about from shop to shop trying to find an identical pair. I don’t want my parents to find out I lost them on only my second day out of bed.”

“What were they like?” I asked.

“Red, with fake fur round the wrists,” she said. “My uncle gave them to me a few months ago but didn’t say where he got them.”

“Have you tried this place yet?” I asked.

“Uh-uh,” she said. “I was on my way in when I spotted you.”

“Want to come in with me?” I asked.

“Sure,” she said. “I hate shopping by myself. I’ll help you choose a CD player if you want, I know a lot about them.”

“OK,” I said, then pushed the door open and held it for her.

“Why, Darren,” she laughed, “people will think you fancy me.”

I felt myself blushing and tried to think of a suitable response – but couldn’t. Debbie giggled, walked in, and left me to trail along behind her.

CHAPTER FIVE

DEBBIE’S SURNAME was Hemlock and she hated it.

“Imagine being named after a poisonous plant!” she fumed.

“It’s not that bad,” I said. “I quite like it.”

“Shows what sort of taste you have,” she sniffed.

Debbie had only moved here recently with her parents. She had no brothers or sisters. Her Dad was a computer whiz, who regularly flew around the world on business. They’d swapped homes five times since she was born.

She was interested to learn that I was also used to moving around. I didn’t tell her about the Cirque Du Freak but said I was on the road a lot with my dad, who was a travelling salesman.

Debbie wanted to know why she hadn’t seen my father in the Square. “I’ve seen you and your brother loads of times, but never your dad.”

“He’s an early riser,” I lied. “He gets up before dawn and doesn’t come back till after dark most days.”

“He leaves the two of you alone in the hotel?” She pursed her lips as she considered it. “What about school?” she asked.

“Are these like the gloves you want?” I side stepped the question, picking a pair of red gloves off a rack.

“Nearly,” she said, studying them. “Mine were a shade darker.”

We went on to another store and looked at loads of CD players. I didn’t have much money on me, so I didn’t buy anything.

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