The Lake of Souls
Darren Shan
The tenth part of the Saga of Darren Shan – one boy’s terrifying journey from human to half-vampire to Vampire Prince.“If you step through after Harkat, you might never come back. Is your friend worth such an enormous risk?”A terrifying new world, a deadly new challenge for Darren Shan, the Vampire Prince.Darren and Harkat face monstrous obstacles on their desperate quest to the Lake of Souls. Will they survive their savage journey? And what awaits them in the murky waters of the dead? Be careful what you fish for…
THE LAKE OF SOULS
THE SAGA OF DARREN SHAN
BOOK 10
THE LAKE OF SOULS
THE SAGA OF DARREN SHAN
BOOK 10
Fish for Darren Shan on the web at
www.darrenshan.com
For:
Bas – you steer my vaparetto!
OBE’s
(Order of the Bloody Entrails) to:
Nate – the Sheffield Shanster Seer!
Banshee Babes:
Zoë Clarke & Gillie Russell
Global Grotesques:
the Christopher Little Clan
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
Other Books in the Series The Saga of Darren Shan
Copyright
About the Publisher
PROLOGUE
DEATH WAS on the cards that day, but would it be ours or the panther’s?
Black panthers are really leopards. If you look closely, you can see faint spots blended into their fur. But trust me — unless it’s in a zoo, you don’t ever want to be that close to a panther! They’re one of nature’s greatest killers. They move silently and speedily. In a one-on-one fight they’ll almost always come out on top. You can’t outrun them, since they’re faster than you, and you can’t out-climb them, because they can climb too. The best thing is to stay out of their way completely, unless you’re an experienced big game hunter and have come packing a rifle.
Harkat and I had never hunted a panther before, and our best weapons were a few stone knives and a long, round-ended stick that served as a club. Yet there we were, on the edge of a pit which we’d dug the day before, watching a deer we’d captured and were using as bait, waiting for a panther.
We’d been there for hours, hidden in a bush, clutching our humble weapons close to our sides, when I spotted something long and black through the cover of the surrounding trees. A whiskered nose stuck out from around a tree and sniffed the air testingly — the panther. I nudged Harkat gently and we watched it, holding our breath, stiff with fright. After a few seconds the panther turned and padded away, back into the gloom of the jungle.
Harkat and I discussed the panther’s retreat in whispers. I thought the panther had sensed a trap and wouldn’t return. Harkat disagreed. He said it would come back. If we withdrew further, it might advance fully the next time. So we wriggled backwards, not stopping until we were almost at the end of the long stretch of bush. From here we could only vaguely see the deer.
A couple of hours passed. We said nothing. I was about to break the silence and suggest we were wasting our time, when I heard a large animal moving. The deer was jumping around wildly. There was a throaty growl. It came from the far side of the pit. That was great — if the panther attacked the deer from there, it might fall straight into our trap and be killed in the pit. Then we wouldn’t have to fight it at all!
I heard twigs snap as the panther crept up on the deer. Then there was a loud snapping sound as a heavy body crashed through the covering over the pit and landed heavily on the stakes we’d set in the bottom. There was a ferocious howl, followed by silence.
Harkat slowly got to his feet and stared over the bush at the pit. I stood and stared with him. We glanced at each other. I said uncertainly, “It worked.”
“You sound like you didn’t … expect it to,” Harkat grinned.
“I didn’t,” I laughed, and started towards the pit.
“Careful,” Harkat warned. “It could still be alive.”
Stepping in front of me, he moved off to the left and signalled for me to go right. Raising my knife, I circled away from Harkat, then we slowly closed on the pit from opposite directions.
Harkat was a few steps ahead of me, so he saw into the pit first. He stopped, confused. A couple of seconds later, I saw why. A body lay impaled on the stakes, blood dripping from its many puncture wounds. But it wasn’t the body of a panther — it was a red baboon.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “That was a panther’s growl, not a monkey’s.”
“But how did…” Harkat stopped and gasped. “The monkey’s throat! It’s been ripped open! The panther must—”
He got no further. There was a blur of movement in the upper branches of the tree closest to me. Whirling, I caught a very brief glimpse of a long, thick, pure black object flying through the air with outstretched claws and gaping jaws — then the panther was upon me, roaring triumphantly.
Death was on the cards that day.
CHAPTER ONE
Six months earlier.
THE WALK up the tunnels, coming off the back of our battle with the vampaneze, was slow and exhausting. We left Mr Crepsley’s charred bones in the pit where he’d fallen. I’d meant to bury him, but I hadn’t the heart for it. Steve’s revelation – that he was the Lord of the Vampaneze – had floored me, and now nothing seemed to matter. My closest friend had been killed. My world had been torn asunder. I didn’t care whether I lived or died.
Harkat and Debbie walked beside me, Vancha and Alice Burgess slightly in front. Debbie used to be my girlfriend, but now she was a grown woman, whereas I was stuck in the body of a teenager — the curse of being a half-vampire who only aged one year for every five that passed. Alice was a police chief inspector. Vancha had kidnapped her when we’d been surrounded by police. She and Debbie had taken part in the fight with the vampaneze. They’d both fought well. A shame it had been for nothing.
We’d told Alice and Debbie all about the War of the Scars. Vampires exist, but not the murderous monsters of myth. We don’t kill when we feed. But other night creatures do — the vampaneze. They broke away from the vampires six hundred years ago. They always drain their victims dry. Their skin has turned purple over the centuries, and their eyes and fingernails are red.
For a long time there’d been peace between the two clans. That ended when the Lord of the Vampaneze emerged. This vampaneze leader was destined to lead them into war against the vampires and destroy us. But if we found and killed him before he became a full-vampaneze, the war would go our way instead.
Only three vampires could hunt for the Vampaneze Lord (according to a powerful meddler called Desmond Tiny, who could see into the future). Two were Vampire Princes, Vancha March and me. The other had been Mr Crepsley, the vampire who’d blooded me and been like a father to me. He’d faced the person we thought was the Vampaneze Lord earlier that night and killed him. But then Steve sent Mr Crepsley tumbling to his death in a pit of flame-tipped stakes — shortly before he let me know that the person Mr Crepsley killed was an impostor, and that Steve himself was the Vampaneze Lord.
It didn’t seem possible that Mr Crepsley was dead. I kept expecting a tap on my shoulder, and the tall orange-haired vampire to be standing behind me when I turned, grinning wickedly, his long facial scar glinting as he held up a torch, asking where we thought we were going without him. But the tap never came. It couldn’t. Mr Crepsley was dead. He’d never come back.
Part of me wanted to go mad with rage, seize a sword and storm off after Steve. I wanted to track him down and drive a stake through his rotten excuse for a heart. But Mr Crepsley had warned me not to devote myself to revenge. He said it would warp and destroy me if I gave in to it. I knew in my soul that there was unfinished business between Steve and me, that our paths would cross again. But for the time being I pushed him from my thoughts and mourned for Mr Crepsley.
Except I couldn’t really mourn. Tears wouldn’t come. As much as I wanted to howl and sob with grief, my eyes remained dry and steely. Inside, I was a broken, weeping wreck, but on the outside I was cold, calm and collected, as though I hadn’t been affected by the vampire’s death.
Ahead, Vancha and Alice came to a halt. The Prince looked back, his wide eyes red from crying. He looked pitiful in his animal skins, with his filthy bare feet and wild hair, like an overgrown, lost child. “We’re almost at the surface,” he croaked. “It’s still day. Will we wait here for dark? If we’re spotted…”
“Don’t care,” I mumbled.
“I don’t want to stay here,” Debbie sobbed. “These tunnels are cruel.”
“And I have to inform my people that I’m alive,” Alice said, then frowned and picked dried blood flecks from her pale white hair. “Though I don’t know how I’m going to explain it to them!”
“Tell the truth,” Vancha grunted.
The Chief Inspector grimaced. “Hardly! I’ll have to think up some–” She stopped. A figure had appeared out of the darkness ahead of us, blocking the path.
Cursing, Vancha ripped loose a shuriken – throwing stars he kept strapped in belts around his chest – and prepared to launch it.
“Peate, Vancha,” the stranger said, raising a hand. “I am here to help, not harm.”
Vancha lowered his shuriken and muttered in disbelief, “Evanna?”
The woman ahead of us clicked her fingers and a torch flared into life overhead, revealing the ugly witch we’d travelled with earlier in the year, while we were searching for the Lord of the Vampaneze. She hadn’t changed. Short thick muscles, long untidy hair, pointed ears, a tiny nose, one brown eye and one green (the colours kept shifting from left to right), hairy body, long sharp nails and yellow ropes tied tight around her body instead of clothes.
“What are you doing … here?” Harkat asked, his large green eyes filled with suspicion — Evanna was a neutral in the War of the Scars, but could help or hinder those on either side, depending on her mood.
“I came to bid Larten’s spirit farewell,” the witch said. She was smiling.
“You don’t look too cut up about it,” I remarked without emotion.
She shrugged. “I foresaw his death many decades ago. I did my crying for him then.”
“You knew he’d die?” Vancha growled.
“I wasn’t certain, but I guessed he would perish,” she said.
“Then you could have stopped it!”
“No,” Evanna said. “Those with the ability to sense the currents of the future are forbidden to interfere. To save Larten, I’d have had to abandon the rules I live by, and if that happened, all chaos would break loose.”
The witch stretched out a hand, and even though she was many metres away from Vancha, her fingers cupped his chin tenderly. “I was fond of Larten,” she said softly. “I hoped I was wrong. But I couldn’t take it upon myself to spare him. His fate wasn’t mine to decide.”
“Then whose was it?” Vancha snapped.
“His own,” Evanna replied steadily. “He chose to hunt for the Lord of the Vampaneze, to enter the tunnels, to fight on the platform. He could have walked away from his responsibilities — but he chose not to.”
Vancha glared at the witch a moment longer, then lowered his gaze. I saw fresh tears splash in the dust at his feet. “My apologies, Lady,” he muttered. “I don’t blame you. I’m just so fired up with hatred…”
“I know,” the witch said, then studied the rest of us. “You must come with me. I have things to tell you, and I’d rather talk on the outside — the air here is rank with treachery and death. Will you spare me a few hours of your time?” She glanced at Alice Burgess. “I promise I won’t keep you long.”
Alice sniffed. “I guess a few hours can’t make much of a difference.”
Evanna looked at Harkat, Debbie, Vancha and me. We shared a glance, then nodded and followed the witch up the last stretch of the tunnels, leaving the darkness and the dead behind.
Evanna gave Vancha a thick deer hide to drape over his head and shoulders, to block out the rays of the sun. Trailing after the witch, we moved quickly through the streets. Evanna must have cast a spell to hide us, because people didn’t notice us, despite our blood-stained faces and clothes. We ended up outside the city, in a small forest, where Evanna had prepared a camp amidst the trees. At her offer, we sat and tucked into the berries, roots and water she’d set out for us.
We ate silently. I found myself studying the witch, wondering why she was here — if she’d really come to say goodbye to Mr Crepsley, she’d have gone down to where his body lay in the pit. Evanna was Mr Tiny’s daughter. He had created her by mixing the blood of a vampire with that of a wolf. Vampires and vampaneze were barren – we couldn’t have children – but Evanna was supposed to be able to bear a child by a male of either clan. When we met her shortly after setting out to hunt the Vampaneze Lord, she’d confirmed Mr Tiny’s prophecy – that we’d have four chances to kill the Lord – and added the warning that if we failed, two of us would die.
Vancha finished eating first, sat back and burped. “Speak,” he snapped — he wasn’t in the mood for formalities.
“You’re wondering how many chances you’ve used up,” Evanna said directly. “The answer is — three. The first was when you fought the vampaneze in the glade and let their Lord escape. The second, when you discovered Steve Leonard was a half-vampaneze and took him hostage — although you had several opportunities to kill him, they count as one. The third chance was when Larten faced him on the platform above the pit of stakes.”
“That means we still have a shot at him!” Vancha hissed excitedly.
“Yes,” Evanna said. “Once more the hunters will face the Vampaneze Lord, and on that occasion the future will be decided. But that confrontation will not come in the near future. Steve Leonard has withdrawn to plot anew. For now, you may relax.”
The witch turned to me and her expression softened. “It might not lighten your load,” she said kindly, “but Larten’s soul has flown to Paradise. He died nobly and earned the reward of the righteous. He is at rest.”
“I’d rather he was here,” I said miserably, gazing at the leaves of an overhanging tree, waiting for tears which still wouldn’t come.
“What about the rest of the vampaneze?” Alice asked. “Are any of them still in my city?”
Evanna shook her head. “All have fled.”
“Will they return?” Alice asked, and by the glint in her eyes I saw she was half hoping they would, so she could settle a few scores.
“No.” Evanna smiled. “But I think it’s safe to say that you will run into them again.”
“I’d better,” Alice growled, and I knew she was thinking of Morgan James, an officer of hers who’d joined the vampets. They were human allies of the vampaneze, who shaved their heads, daubed blood around their eyes, sported V tattoos above their ears, and dressed in brown uniforms.
“Is the nightmare over then?” Debbie asked, wiping her dark cheeks clean. The teacher had fought like a tigress in the tunnels, but the events of the night had caught up with her and she was shivering helplessly.
“For you — for now,” Evanna answered cryptically.
“What does that mean?” Debbie frowned.
“You and the Chief Inspector can choose to distance yourselves from the War of the Scars,” Evanna said. “You can return to your ordinary lives and pretend this never happened. If you do, the vampaneze won’t come after you again.”
“Of course we’ll return to our lives,” Alice said. “What else can we do? We’re not vampires. We don’t have any further part to play in their war.”
“Perhaps,” Evanna said. “Or perhaps you’ll think differently when you’ve had time to reconsider. You’ll return to the city – you need time to reflect, and you have affairs to put in order – but whether or not you’ll choose to stay…” Evanna’s eyes flicked over Vancha, Harkat and me. “And where do you three wish to go?”
“I’m continuing after that monster, Leonard,” Vancha said immediately.
“You may if you wish,” Evanna shrugged, “but you’ll be wasting your time and energy. Moreover, you will jeopardize your position. Although you are fated to confront him again, it’s not written in stone — by pursuing him now, you might miss the final destined showdown.”
Vancha cursed bitterly, then asked Evanna where she suggested he should go.
“Vampire Mountain,” she said. “Your clan should be told about the Vampaneze Lord. They must not kill him themselves – that rule still applies – but they can scout for him and point you in the right direction.”
Vancha nodded slowly. “I’ll call a temporary end to the fighting and set everyone searching for him. I’ll flit for Vampire Mountain as soon as night falls. Darren – are you and Harkat coming?”
I looked at my fellow Prince, then down at the hard brown earth of the forest floor. “No,” I said softly. “I’ve had all I can take of vampires and vampaneze. I know I’m a Prince and have duties to attend to. But I feel like my head’s about to explode. Mr Crepsley meant more to me than anything else. I need to get away from it all, maybe for a while — maybe for ever.”
“It’s a dangerous time to cut yourself off from those who care for you,” Vancha said quietly.
“I can’t help that,” I sighed.
Vancha was troubled by my choice, but he accepted it. “I don’t approve – a Prince should put the needs of his people before his own – but I understand. I’ll explain it to the others. Nobody will trouble you.” He cocked an eyebrow at Harkat. “I suppose you’ll be going with him?”
Harkat lowered the mask from his mouth (air was poisonous to the grey-skinned Little People) and smiled thinly. “Of course.” Mr Tiny had resurrected Harkat from the dead. Harkat didn’t know who he used to be, but he believed he could find out by sticking with me.
“Where will you go?” Vancha asked. “I can find you using the Stone of Blood, but it’ll be easier if I have a rough idea of where you’re heading.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll just pick a direction and…” I stopped as a picture flashed through my thoughts, of circus vans, snake-boys and hammocks. “The Cirque Du Freak,” I decided. “It’s the nearest place outside Vampire Mountain that I can call home.”
“A good choice,” Evanna said, and by the way her lips lifted at the edges, I realized the witch had known all along that I’d choose to return to the Cirque.
We went our separate ways as the sun was setting, even though we hadn’t slept and were ready to drop with exhaustion. Vancha departed first, on his long trek to Vampire Mountain. He said little when leaving, but hugged me hard and hissed in my ear, “Be brave!”
“You too,” I whispered back.
“We’ll kill Leonard next time,” he vowed.
“Aye,” I grinned weakly.
He turned and ran, hitting flitting speed seconds later, vanishing into the gloom of the dusk.
Debbie and Alice left next, to return to the city. Debbie asked me to stay with her, but I couldn’t, not as things stood. I needed to be by myself for a while. She wept and clutched me close. “Will you come back later?” she asked.
“I’ll try,” I croaked.
“If he doesn’t,” Evanna said, “you can always go looking for him.” She handed a folded-up piece of paper to Alice Burgess. “Hold on to that. Keep it closed. When the two of you decide upon your course, open it.”
The Chief Inspector asked no questions, just tucked the paper away and waited for Debbie to join her. Debbie looked at me pleadingly. She wanted me to go with her – or ask her to come with me – but there was a huge ball of grief sitting cold and hard in my gut. I couldn’t think of anything else right now.
“Take care,” I said, turning aside and breaking eye contact.
“You too,” she croaked, then sobbed loudly and stumbled away. With a quick “Goodbye”, Alice hurried after her, and the two women slipped through the trees, back to the city, supporting one another as they went.
That left just me, Harkat and Evanna.
“Any idea where the Cirque’s playing?” the witch asked. We shook our heads. “Then it’s lucky that I do and am going there,” she smiled. Standing between us, she looped her arms around my left arm and Harkat’s right, and led us through the forest, away from the city and its underground caverns of death, back to where my voyage into the night first started — the Cirque Du Freak.
CHAPTER TWO
ALEXANDER RIBS was sleeping in a large tyre hanging from a tree. He always slept curled up — it kept his body supple and made it easier for him to twist and contort when he was performing. Normally he kept the tyre on a special stand in his caravan, but occasionally he’d drag it outside and sleep in the open. It was a cold night for sleeping outdoors – the middle of a wintry November – but he had a thick, fur-lined body-bag to keep the chill out.
As Alexander snored musically a young boy crept towards him, a cockroach in his right hand, with the intention of dropping it into Alexander’s mouth. Behind him, his older brother and younger sister looked on with impish glee, urging him forward with harsh hand gestures whenever he paused nervously.
As the boy neared the tyre and held up the cockroach, his mother – always alert to mischief – stuck her head out of a nearby tent, ripped her left ear off and threw it at him. It spun through the air like a boomerang and knocked the cockroach from the boy’s pudgy fingers. Yelping, he raced back to his brother and sister, while Alexander slept on, unaware of his narrow escape.
“Urcha!” Merla snapped, catching her ear as it circled back, then reattaching it to her head. “If I catch you bothering Alexander again, I’ll lock you in with the Wolf Man until morning!”
“Shancus made me do it!” Urcha whined, receiving a dig in the ribs from his older brother.
“I don’t doubt he put you up to it,” Merla growled, “but you’re old enough to know better. Don’t do it again. Shancus!” she added. The snake-boy looked at his mother innocently. “If Urcha or Lilia get into trouble tonight, I’ll hold you responsible.”
“I didn’t do anything!” Shancus shouted. “They’re always–”
“Enough!” Merla cut him short. She started towards her children, then saw me sitting in the shadow of the tree next to the one Alexander Ribs was hanging from. Her expression softened. “Hello, Darren,” she said. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for cockroaches,” I said, managing a short smile. Merla and her husband, Evra Von – a snake-man and one of my oldest friends – had been very kind to me since I’d arrived a couple of weeks earlier. Though I found it hard to respond to their kindness in my miserable mood, I made as much of an effort as I could.
“It’s cold,” Merla noted. “Shall I fetch you a blanket?”
I shook my head. “It takes more than a slight frost to chill a half-vampire.”
“Well, would you mind keeping an eye on these three as long as you’re outside?” she asked. “Evra’s snake is moulting. If you can keep the kids out of the way, it’d be a real help.”
“No problem,” I said, rising and dusting myself down as she went back inside the tent. I walked over to the three Von children. They gazed up at me uncertainly. I’d been unusually solemn since returning to the Cirque Du Freak, and they weren’t quite sure what to make of me. “What would you like to do?” I asked.
“Cockroach!” Lilia squealed. She was only three years old, but looked five or six because of her rough, coloured scales. Like Shancus, Lilia was half-human, half-snake. Urcha was an ordinary human, though he wished he could be like the other two, and sometimes glued painted scraps of tinfoil to his body, driving his mother wild with exasperation.
“No more cockroaches,” I said. “Anything else?”
“Show us how you drink blood,” Urcha said, and Shancus hissed at him angrily.
“What’s wrong?” I asked Shancus, who’d been named in my honour.
“He’s not supposed to say that,” Shancus said, slicking back his yellow-green hair. “Mum told us not to say anything about vampires — it might upset you.”
I smiled. “Mums worry about silly things. Don’t worry — you can say whatever you like. I don’t mind.”
“Can you show us how you drink then?” Urcha asked again.
“Sure,” I said, then spread my arms, pulled a scary face, and made a deep groaning noise. The children shrieked with delight and ran away. I plodded after them, threatening to rip their stomachs open and drink all their blood.
Although I was able to put on a merry display for the kids, inside I felt as empty as ever. I still hadn’t come to terms with Mr Crepsley’s death. I was sleeping very little, no more than an hour or two most nights, and I’d lost my appetite. I hadn’t drunk blood since leaving the city. Nor had I washed, changed out of my clothes, cut my nails – they grew quicker than a human’s – or cried. I felt hollow and lost, and nothing in the world seemed worthwhile.
When I’d arrived at the Cirque, Mr Tall had spent the day locked in his trailer with Evanna. They emerged late that night and Evanna took off without a word. Mr Tall checked that Harkat and I were OK, then set us up with a tent, hammocks and anything else we required. Since then he’d spent a lot of time talking with me, recounting tales of Mr Crepsley and what the pair of them had got up to in the past. He kept asking me to chip in with my own recollections, but I could only smile faintly and shake my head. I found it impossible to mention the dead vampire’s name without my stomach tightening and my head pulsing with pain.
I hadn’t said much to Harkat lately. He wanted to discuss our friend’s death but I couldn’t talk about it, and kept turning him away, which upset him. I was being selfish, but I couldn’t help it. My sorrow was all consuming and endless, cutting me off from those who cared and wished to help.
Ahead, the Von children stopped, grabbed twigs and pebbles, and threw them at me. I stooped to grab a stick, but as I did, my thoughts flashed back to that underground cavern and Mr Crepsley’s face as he let go of Steve and crashed upon the fiery stakes. Sighing mournfully, I sat down in the middle of the clearing, taking no notice as the Vons covered me with moss and dirt and prodded me curiously. They thought this was part of the game. I hadn’t the heart to tell them otherwise, so I just sat still until they grew bored and wandered away. Then I remained there, filthy and alone, as the night darkened and grew colder around me.
As another week dragged by, I withdrew further and further inside myself. I no longer answered people when they asked a question, only grunted like an animal. Harkat had tried talking me out of my mood three days earlier, but I swore at him and told him to leave me alone. He lost his temper and took a swipe at me. I could have ducked out of the way of his chunky grey fist, but I let him knock me to the ground. When he bent to help me up, I swatted his hand away. He hadn’t spoken to me since.
Life went on as usual around me. The Cirque folk were excited. Truska – a lady who could grow a beard at will, then suck the hairs back into her face – had returned after an absence of several months. A big party was held after that night’s performance to celebrate her return. There was much cheering and singing. I didn’t attend. I sat by myself at the edge of camp, stony-faced and dry-eyed, thinking – as usual – about Mr Crepsley.
Late in the night, there was a tap on my shoulder. Glancing up, I saw Truska, smiling, holding out a slice of cake. “I know you feeling low, but I’m thinking you might like this,” she said. Truska was still learning to speak English and often mangled her words.
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry,” I said. “Good to see you again. How have you been?” Truska didn’t answer. She stared at me a moment — then thrust the slice of cake into my face! “What the hell!” I roared, leaping to my feet.
“That what you get for being big moody-guts,” Truska laughed. “I know you sad, Darren, but you can’t sit round like grumpy bear all time.”
“You don’t know anything about it,” I snapped. “You don’t know what I’m feeling. Nobody does!”
She looked at me archly. “You think you the only one to lose somebody close? I had husband and daughter. They get killed by evil fishermen.”
I blinked stupidly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Nobody here does.” She sat beside me, brushed her long hair out of her eyes and gazed up at the sky. “That why I left home and joined with Cirque Du Freak. I hurted terrible inside and had to get away. My daughter was less than two years old when she die.”
I wanted to say something but my throat felt as though there was a rope tied tight around it.
“The death of somebody you love is the second worst thing in world,” Truska said softly. “Worst thing is letting it hurt you so much that you die too — inside. Larten’s dead and I am sad for him, but if you go on as you are being, I will be sadder for you, because you will be dead too, even though your body lives.”
“I can’t help it,” I sighed. “He was like a father to me, but I didn’t cry when he died. I still haven’t. I can’t.”
Truska studied me silently, then nodded. “It hard to live with sadness if you can’t get it out with tears. Don’t worry — you’ll cry in end. Maybe you feel better when you do.” Standing, she offered me a hand. “You is dirty and smelly. Let me help clean you up. It might help.”
“I doubt it,” I said, but followed her into the tent that Mr Tall had prepared for her. I wiped the traces of cake from around my face, undressed and wrapped a towel around myself while Truska filled a tub with hot water and layered it with scented oils. She left me to get in. I felt foolish stepping into the sweet-smelling water, but it was wonderful once I lay down. I stayed there for almost an hour.
Truska came in when I’d stepped out of the tub and dried myself. She’d taken my dirty clothes, so I had to keep a towel wrapped around my middle. She made me sit in a low chair and set about my nails with a pair of scissors and a file. I told her they wouldn’t be any good – vampires have extra-tough nails – but she smiled and clipped the top of the nail off my right big toe. “These super-sharp scissors. I know all about vampire nails — I sometimes cut Vancha’s!”
When Truska was done with my nails, she trimmed my hair, then shaved me and finished off with a quick massage. When she stopped, I stood and asked where my clothes were. “Fire,” she smirked. “They was rotten. I chucked them away.”
“So what do you suggest I wear?” I grumbled.
“I have surprise,” she said. Going to a wardrobe, she plucked forth brightly coloured clothes and draped them across the foot of her bed. I instantly recognized the bright green shirt, purple trousers and blue-gold jacket — the pirate costume I used to wear when I lived at the Cirque Du Freak.
“You kept them,” I muttered, smiling foolishly.
“I told you last time you was here that I have them and would fix them so you can wear again, remember?”
It seemed like years since we’d stopped at the Cirque shortly before our first encounter with the Lord of the Vampaneze. Now that I cast my mind back, I recalled Truska promising to adjust my old costume when she had a chance.
“I wait outside,” Truska said. “Put them on and call when you ready.”
I took a long time getting into the clothes. It felt weird to be pulling them on after all these years. The last time I’d worn them, I’d been a boy, still coming to terms with being a half-vampire, unaware of how hard and unforgiving the world could be. Back then I thought the clothes looked cool, and I loved wearing them. Now they looked childish and silly to me, but since Truska had gone to the trouble of preparing them, I figured I’d better put them on to please her.
I called her when I was ready. She smiled as she entered, then went to a different wardrobe and came back with a brown hat adorned with a long feather. “I not have shoes your size,” she said. “We get some later.”
Pulling on the hat, I tilted it at an angle and smiled self-consciously at Truska. “How do I look?”
“See for yourself,” she replied, and led me to a full-length mirror.
My breath caught in my throat as I came face to face with my reflection. It may have been a trick of the dim light, but in the fresh clothes and hat, with my clean-shaven face, I looked very young, like when Truska first kitted me out in this costume.
“What you think?” Truska asked.
“I look like a child,” I whispered.
“That is partly the mirror,” she chuckled. “It is made to take off a few years — very kind to women!”
Removing the hat, I ruffled my hair and squinted at myself. I looked older when I squinted — lines sprang up around my eyes, a reminder of the sleepless nights I’d endured since Mr Crepsley’s death. “Thanks,” I said, turning away from the mirror.
Truska put a firm hand on my head and swivelled me back towards my reflection. “You not finished,” she said.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “I’ve seen all there is to see.”
“No,” she said. “You haven’t.” Leaning forward, she tapped the mirror. “Look at your eyes. Look deep in them, and don’t turn away until you see.”
“See what?” I asked, but she didn’t answer. Frowning, I gazed into my eyes, reflected in the mirror, searching for anything strange. They looked the same as ever, a little sadder than usual, but…
I stopped, realizing what Truska wanted me to see. My eyes didn’t just look sad — they were completely empty of life and hope. Even Mr Crepsley’s eyes, as he died, hadn’t looked that lost. I knew now what Truska meant when she said the living could be dead too.
“Larten not want this,” she murmured in my ear as I stared at the hollow eyes in the mirror. “He love life. He want you to love it too. What would he say if he saw this alive-but-dead gaze that will get worse if you not stop?”
“He … he…” I gulped deeply.
“Empty is no good,” Truska said. “You must fill eyes, if not with joy, then with sadness and pain. Even hate is better than empty.”
“Mr Crepsley told me I wasn’t to waste my life on hate,” I said promptly, and realized this was the first time I’d mentioned his name since arriving at the Cirque Du Freak. “Mr Crepsley,” I said again, slowly, and the eyes in the mirror wrinkled. “Mr Crepsley,” I sighed. “Larten. My friend.” My eyelids were trembling now, and tears gathered at the edges. “He’s dead,” I moaned, turning to face Truska. “Mr Crepsley’s dead!”
With that, I threw myself into her embrace, locked my arms around her waist, and wailed, finally finding the tears to express my grief. I wept long and hard, and the sun had risen on a new morning before I cried myself out and slid to the floor, where Truska slipped a pillow under my head and hummed a strange, sad tune as I closed my eyes and slept.
CHAPTER THREE
IT WAS a cold but dry March — star-filled nights, frost-white dawns and sharp blue days. The Cirque Du Freak was performing in a large town situated close to a waterfall. We’d been there four nights already, and it would be another week before we moved on — lots of tourists were coming to our shows, as well as the residents of the town. It was a busy, profitable time.
In the months after I first cried in Truska’s tent, I’d wept a lot for Mr Crepsley. It had been horrible – the slightest reminder of him could set me off – but necessary. Gradually the tearful bursts had lessened, as I came to terms with my loss and learnt to live with it.
I was lucky. I had lots of friends who helped. Truska, Mr Tall, Hans Hands, Cormac Limbs, Evra and Merla all talked me through the hard times, discussing Mr Crepsley with me, gently guiding me back to normality. Once I’d patched things up with Harkat and apologized for the way I’d treated him, I relied on the Little Person more than anyone else. We sat up many nights together, remembering Mr Crepsley, reminding each other of his personal quirks, things he’d said, expressions he’d favoured.
Now, months later, the tables had turned and I was doing the comforting. Harkat’s nightmares had returned. He’d been suffering from agonizing dreams when we left Vampire Mountain at the start of our quest, dreams of wastelands, stake-filled pits and dragons. Mr Tiny said the dreams would worsen unless Harkat went with him to find out who he’d been before he died, but Harkat chose to accompany me instead on my hunt for the Vampaneze Lord.
Later, Evanna helped me stop his nightmares. But the witch said it was only a temporary solution. When the dreams resumed, Harkat would have to find out the truth about himself or be driven insane.
For the last month Harkat had been tormented every time he slept. He stayed awake as long as he could – Little People didn’t need much sleep – but whenever he dozed off, the nightmares washed over him and he’d thrash and scream in his sleep. It had reached the stage where he had to be tied down when he slept — otherwise he stumbled through the camp, hitting out at imaginary monsters, causing damage to anything he encountered.
After five days and nights, he’d fallen asleep at the end of our latest show. I’d tied him down in his hammock, using strong ropes to strap his arms by his sides, and sat beside him while he tossed and moaned, wiping green beads of sweat from his forehead, away from his lidless eyes.
Finally, early in the morning, after hours of shrieking and straining, the cries stopped, his eyes cleared and he smiled weakly. “You can untie me … now. All done for tonight.”
“That was a long one,” I muttered, undoing the knots.
“That’s the trouble with putting … sleep off so long,” Harkat sighed, swinging out of his hammock. “I postpone the nightmares for a while, but I … sleep longer.”
“Maybe you should try hypnosis again,” I suggested. We’d done everything we could think of to ease Harkat’s pain, asking all the performers and crew in the Cirque if they knew of a cure for nightmares. Mr Tall had tried hypnotizing him, Truska had sung to him while he slept, Rhamus Twobellies had rubbed a foul-smelling ointment over his head — all to no avail.
“No good,” Harkat smiled tiredly. “Only one person can help — Mr Tiny. If he returns and shows me how to … find out who I was, the dreams … will hopefully stop. Otherwise…” He shook his squat, grey, neckless head.
After washing off the sweat in a barrel of cold water, Harkat accompanied me to Mr Tall’s van, to learn our schedule for the day. We’d been doing a variety of odd jobs since hooking up with the Cirque, putting up tents, fixing broken seats and equipment, cooking and washing.
Mr Tall had asked me if I’d like to perform in the shows, as his assistant. I told him I didn’t want to — it would have felt too weird being on stage without Mr Crepsley.
When we reported for duty, Mr Tall was standing in the doorway of his van, beaming broadly, his little black teeth shining dully in the early morning light. “I heard you roaring last night,” he said to Harkat.
“Sorry,” Harkat said.
“Don’t be. I mention it only to explain why I didn’t come to you straightaway with the news — I thought it best to let you sleep.”
“What news?” I asked warily. In my experience, unexpected news was more often bad than good.
“You have visitors,” Mr Tall chuckled. “They arrived late last night, and have been waiting impatiently.” He stepped aside and waved us in.
Harkat and I shared an uncertain glance, then entered cautiously. Neither of us carried a weapon – there seemed to be no need while we travelled with the Cirque Du Freak – but we bunched our hands into fists, ready to lash out if we didn’t like the look of our “visitors”. Once we saw the pair sitting on the couch, our fingers relaxed and we bounded forward, excited.
“Debbie!” I yelled. “Alice! What are you doing here?”
Debbie Hemlock and Chief Inspector Alice Burgess rose to hug us. They were simply dressed in trousers and jumpers. Debbie had cut her hair since I last saw her. It was short and tightly curled. I didn’t think it suited her, but I said nothing about it.
“How are you?” Debbie asked once I’d released her. She was studying my eyes quietly, checking me out.
“Better,” I smiled. “It’s been rough but I’m over the worst — touch wood.”
“Thanks to his friends,” Harkat noted wryly.
“What about you?” I asked the women. “Did the vampaneze return? How did you explain things to your bosses and friends?” Then, “What are you doing here?” I asked again, perplexed.
Debbie and Alice laughed at my confusion, then sat down and explained all that had happened since we parted in the forest outside the city. Rather than make a genuine report to her superiors, Alice claimed to have been unconscious the entire time since being kidnapped by Vancha March. It was a simple story, easy to stick to, and nobody had cause to disbelieve her.
Debbie faced rougher questioning — when the vampaneze told the police we were holding Steve Leonard, they also mentioned Debbie’s name. She’d protested her innocence, said she only knew me as a student, and knew nothing at all about Steve. With Alice’s support, Debbie’s story was finally accepted and she was released. She’d been shadowed for a few weeks, but eventually the police left her to get on with her life.
The officials knew nothing of the battle that had taken place in the tunnels, or of the vampaneze, vampets and vampires who’d been busy in their city. As far as they were concerned, a group of killers – Steve Leonard, Larten Crepsley, Darren Shan, Vancha March and Harkat Mulds – were responsible for the murders. One escaped during their arrest. The others broke out of prison later and fled. Our descriptions had been circulated near and far, but we were no longer the problem of the city, and the people there didn’t much care whether we’d been humans or vampires — they were just glad to be rid of us.
When a suitable period had passed, and interest in them dropped, Alice met Debbie and the pair discussed their bizarre brush with the world of vampires. Debbie had quit her job at Mahler’s – she couldn’t face work – and Alice was thinking about handing in her resignation too.
“It seemed pointless,” she said quietly, running her fingers through her short white hair. “I joined the force to protect people. When I saw how mysterious and deadly the world really is, I no longer felt useful. I couldn’t return to ordinary life.”
Over a number of weeks, the women talked about what they’d experienced in the tunnels, and what to do with their lives. They both agreed that they couldn’t go back to the way they’d been, but they didn’t know how to reshape their futures. Then, one night, after a lot of drinking and talking, Debbie said something that would change their lives completely and give them a new, purposeful direction.
“I was worrying about the vampets,” Debbie told us. “They seem more vicious than the vampaneze. Their masters have morals of a kind, but the vampets are just thugs. If the vampaneze win the war, it doesn’t seem likely that the vampets will want to stop fighting.”
“I agreed,” Alice said. “I’ve seen their kind before. Once they develop a taste for battle, they never lose it. But without vampires to attack, they’ll have to look elsewhere for prey.”
“Humanity,” Debbie said quietly. “They’ll turn on humans if they get rid of all the vampires. They’ll keep recruiting, growing all the time, finding weak, greedy people and offering them power. With the vampaneze behind them, I think they might pose a real threat to the world in the years to come.”
“But we didn’t think the vampires would worry about that,” Alice said. “The vampaneze are the real threat to the vampire clan. The vampets are just a nuisance as far as vampires are concerned.”
“That’s when I said we needed to fight fire with fire.” Debbie’s face was stern, unusually so. “This is our problem. I said we needed to recruit humans to fight the vampets, now, before they grow too strong. I was speaking generally when I used ‘our’ and ‘we’, but as soon as I said it, I realized it wasn’t general — it was personal.”
“Victims wait for others to fight on their behalf,” Alice said roughly. “Those who don’t want to be victims fight for themselves.”
By the time the sun rose, the pair had drawn up a plan to travel to Vampire Mountain, elicit the approval of the Princes, and build an army of humans to counter the threat of the vampets. Vampires and vampaneze don’t use guns or bows and arrows – they make a vow when blooded never to avail of such weapons – but vampets aren’t bound by such laws. Alice and Debbie’s army wouldn’t be bound by those laws either. With the help of the vampires they could track the vampets, then engage them on equal, vicious terms.
“We’d almost finished packing before the glaring flaw hit us,” Debbie laughed. “We didn’t know where Vampire Mountain was!”
That’s when Alice recalled the piece of paper Evanna had given her. Returning to her apartment, where she’d stored it, she unfolded it and discovered directions to where the Cirque Du Freak was currently playing — here by the waterfall.
“But Evanna gave you that paper months ago!” I exclaimed. “How did she know where the Cirque would be?”
Alice shrugged. “I’ve tried not to think about that one. I’m just about OK with the notion of vampires, but witches who can foresee the future … that’s a step too far. I prefer to believe she checked with the guy who runs this place before she met us.”
“Though that doesn’t explain how she knew when we’d read the message,” Debbie added with a wink.
“I suppose this means we’re meant to … guide you to Vampire Mountain,” Harkat mused.
“Looks like it,” Alice said. “Unless you’ve other plans?”
Harkat looked at me. I’d made it very clear when Mr Crepsley died that I didn’t want anything to do with vampires for a while. This call was mine.
“I’m not keen on going back,” I sighed. “It’s still too soon. But for something this important, I guess I don’t have much of a choice. As well as showing you the way, maybe I can act as the middle man between you and the Generals.”
“We were thinking along those lines,” Debbie smiled, leaning over to squeeze my hands. “We’re not sure what the vampires will think of two human women turning up with an offer to build an army to help them. We know little of their ways or customs. We need someone to fill us in.”
“I’m not sure the Princes will … accept your proposal,” Harkat said. “Vampires have always fought their … own battles. I think they’ll want to do the same now, even … if the odds are stacked against them.”
“If they do, we’ll fight the vampets without them,” Alice snorted. “But they’d be fools to disregard us, and from what I’ve seen, vampires aren’t foolish.”
“It makes sense,” I said. “Send humans to fight the vampets and leave the clan free to focus on the vampaneze.”
“Since when did vampires do things … because they made sense?” Harkat chuckled. “But it’s worth a try. I’ll come with you.”
“Oh no you won’t,” someone chortled behind us. Turning, startled, we saw that we’d been joined in the van by a third, uninvited guest, a short man with a savage leer. He was instantly recognizable and immediately unwelcome—Mr Tiny!
CHAPTER FOUR
THE CREATOR of the Little People was dressed in his customary yellow suit and green Wellington boots. He eyed us though thick glasses and twirled a heart-shaped watch between the fingers of his left hand. He was small and pudgy, with pure white hair and a cruel, mocking smile.
“Hello boys,” he greeted Harkat and me. “And hello! beautiful ladies.” He winked rakishly at Debbie and Alice. Debbie smiled, but the ex-Chief Inspector was wary. Mr Tiny took a seat and removed a boot to empty dirt out of it. I saw the strange, six webbed toes I’d glimpsed once before. “I see you survived your run-in with Master Leonard,” he drawled, putting the boot back on.
“No thanks to you,” I sniffed angrily. “You knew Steve was the Lord of the Vampaneze. You could have told us.”
“And spoilt the surprise?” Mr Tiny laughed. “I wouldn’t have missed that fatal confrontation in the Cavern of Retribution for anything. I haven’t enjoyed myself so much in years. The tension was unbearable, even though I guessed the outcome.”
“You weren’t in the cavern,” I challenged him. “And you didn’t guess the outcome — you knew how it would end!”
Mr Tiny yawned insolently. “I might not have been there physically,” he said, “but I was there in spirit. As for knowing the final outcome — I didn’t. I suspected Larten would fail, but I wasn’t sure. He could have won.
“Anyhow,” he said, clapping sharply. “That’s in the past. We’ve other fish to fry.” Looking at Harkat, he spun his watch so that it caught the light shining in the window of the van and reflected it into Harkat’s round green eyes. “Been sleeping well, Master Mulds?”
Harkat stared straight back at his master and said blankly, “You know only too damn … well that I haven’t.”
Mr Tiny tucked his watch away without taking his eyes off Harkat. “Time to find out who you used to be,” he murmured. Harkat stiffened.
“Why now?” I asked.
“His nightmares have intensified. He must come with me and search for his true identity, or stay, go mad — and perish.”
“Why can’t you just tell him?” I prodded.
“Doesn’t work that way,” Mr Tiny said.
“Will I be gone long?” Harkat asked quietly.
“Oh yes,” came the answer. “For ever, if things don’t go well. It’s not a case of simply finding out who you were and returning. The road is long and dangerous, and even if you struggle along to the end, there’s no guarantee you’ll make it back. But it’s a road you must tread — unless you’d rather go loopy and die.” Mr Tiny let out a fake sigh. “Poor Harkat — trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea.”
“You’re all heart,” Harkat grumbled, then faced me with a look of disgust. “Looks like this is where … we part company.”
“I could come with you–” I began, but he cut me short with a wave of a rough grey hand.
“Forget it,” he said. “You have to lead Debbie and … Alice to Vampire Mountain. Not just to guide them, but to … protect them — it’s a hard trek.”
“We could wait until you returned,” Debbie said.
“No,” Harkat sighed. “There’s no telling how long … I’ll be gone.”
I gazed helplessly at Harkat. He was my best friend, and I hated the thought of leaving him. But I loved Debbie and didn’t want to abandon her.
“Actually,” Mr Tiny purred, stroking the top of his heart-shaped watch, “I think young Shan should accompany you — assuming you value your life.”
“What do you mean?” Harkat barked sharply.
Mr Tiny studied his fingernails and spoke with a deceptively light tone. “If Darren accompanies you, your chances of survival are fair. Alone, it’s practically certain you’ll fail.”
My eyes narrowed hatefully. Mr Tiny had set Mr Crepsley and me on the trail of the Vampaneze Lord, knowing it was a journey bound to end in death. Now he wished to launch me on another.
“Darren’s not coming,” Harkat said as I opened my mouth to lay into Mr Tiny. “He has problems of his own … with the vampaneze. This is my quest, not his.”
“Of course, dear boy,” Mr Tiny simpered. “I fully understand, and if he chooses to go with the beautiful ladies, I won’t say anything to stop him. But it would be terribly wrong of me not to let him know in advance the awful–”
“Stop!” Harkat snapped. “Darren goes with Debbie and … Alice. End of story.”
“Harkat,” I muttered uncertainly, “maybe we should–”
“No,” he stopped me. “Your loyalty lies with the vampires. It’s time you returned to the fold. I’ll be OK on my own.” And he turned away and wouldn’t say anything more about it.
We broke camp before midday. Debbie and Alice had come well equipped, with ropes, thick jumpers, climbing boots, strong torches, lighters and matches, guns, knives, you name it! As a half-vampire, I didn’t require any special tools. All I packed in my rucksack was a good strong knife and a change of clothes. I was wearing jeans, a shirt and a light jumper. Although Truska had gone to a lot of trouble restoring my pirate costume, I didn’t feel comfortable in it — it was a child’s outfit. I’d picked up more normal gear over the last few months. Truska didn’t mind — she said she’d give the costume to Shancus or Urcha when they were older.
I didn’t wear my shoes. The trek to Vampire Mountain was a solemn tradition among vampires. No shoes or climbing gear were allowed. Normally you weren’t allowed to flit either. In recent years, because of the War of the Scars, that rule had been relaxed. But the others still stood. Debbie and Alice thought I was crazy! It’s hard for humans to understand the world of the creatures of the night.
One other thing I did take was my diary. I’d thought the diary lost for ever – it had been left behind in the city, along with the rest of my personal belongings – and was astonished when Alice produced it with a flourish.
“Where’d you get it?” I gasped, fingering the soft, crinkled cover of one of the several notepads that made up the diary.
“It was part of the evidence my officers collected after you were arrested. I sneaked it out before I quit the force.”
“Did you read it?” I asked.
“No, but others did.” She smiled. “They dismissed it as the fictional work of a lunatic.”
I looked for Harkat before we left, but he was locked away in Mr Tall’s van with Mr Tiny. Mr Tall came to the door when I knocked and said the Little Person was not receiving visitors. I called out “Goodbye” but there was no reply.
I felt lousy as we cleared the camp, having said farewell to Evra, Merla and my other friends. But Harkat had been firm about his wishes, and I knew it made more sense to go to Vampire Mountain and take my rightful place in the Hall of Princes again.
Debbie was delighted to have me back, and held on tight to my hand, telling me how excited she was – and a bit scared – to be heading for Vampire Mountain. She pumped me for information – what did vampires wear, did they sleep in coffins, could they turn into bats – but I was too distracted to answer in any great detail.
We’d walked two or three kilometres when I drew to a sudden halt. I was thinking about the times Harkat had saved my life — when he’d rescued me from the jaws of a savage bear, when he’d jumped into a pit during my Trials of Initiation and killed a wild boar as it was about to gouge me to death, the way he’d fought beside me, swinging his axe with speed and skill, when we’d taken on the vampaneze.
“Darren?” Debbie asked, gazing into my eyes, worried. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s got to go back,” Alice answered for me. I stared at her and she smiled. “You can’t ignore the obligations of friendship. Harkat needs you more than we do. Go help him, and catch us up later if you can.”
“But he told me to leave,” I muttered.
“Doesn’t matter,” Alice insisted. “Your place is with him, not us.”
“No!” Debbie objected. “We can’t find our way to the Mountain alone!”
Alice pulled a map out of her rucksack. “I’m sure Darren can point us in the right direction.”
“No!” Debbie cried again, clutching me tight. “I’m afraid I’ll never see you again if you leave!”
“I must,” I sighed. “Alice is right — I have to help Harkat. I’d rather stay with you, but I’d feel like a traitor if I did.”
There were hard tears in Debbie’s eyes, but she blinked them back and nodded tensely. “OK. If that’s the way you want it.”
“It’s the way it has to be,” I said. “You’d do the same thing in my place.”
“Possibly.” She smiled weakly, then, hiding her feelings behind a businesslike façade, she grabbed the map off Alice, laid it on the ground and told me to ink in the route to Vampire Mountain.
I quickly outlined the easiest route, pointed out a couple of alternate paths in case the first was blocked, and told them how to find their way through the maze of tunnels which led up the inside of the Mountain to the Halls where the vampires lived. Then, without any long goodbyes, I kissed Debbie quickly and thrust the rucksack with my newly recovered diary into Alice’s hands. I asked her to look after it for me.
I wished both women well, then turned and raced back for camp. I tried not to dwell on all that could happen to them on their way to the Mountain, and offered up a quick prayer to the gods of the vampires as I ran, asking them to watch over the ex-Chief Inspector and the teacher I loved.
I was on the edge of the camp when I spotted Mr Tiny and Harkat in an open field. In front of the pair stood a shimmering arched doorway, unconnected to anything else. The edges of the doorway glowed red. Mr Tiny also glowed, his suit, hair and skin pulsing a dark, vibrant, crimson shade. The space within the edges of the doorway was a dull grey colour.
Mr Tiny heard me coming, looked over his shoulder and smiled like a shark. “Ah — Master Shan! I thought you might turn up.”
“Darren!” Harkat snapped furiously. “I told you not to come! I won’t take you with … me. You’ll have to–”
Mr Tiny laid a hand on the Little Person’s back and shoved him through the doorway. There was a grey flash, then Harkat disappeared. I could see the field through the grey veil of the doorway — but no sign of Harkat.
“Where’s he gone?” I shouted.
“To search for the truth.” Mr Tiny smiled, edged aside and gestured towards the glowing doorway. “Care to search with him?”
I stepped up to the doorway, gazing uneasily at the glowing red edges and the grey sheen between. “Where does this lead?” I asked.
“Another place,” Mr Tiny answered obscurely, then laid a hand on my right shoulder and looked at me intently. “If you follow Harkat, you might never return. Think seriously about this. If you go with Harkat and die, you won’t be here to face Steve Leonard when the time comes, and your absence might have terrible repercussions for vampires everywhere. Is your short, grey-skinned friend worth such an enormous risk?”
I didn’t have to think twice about that. “Yes,” I answered simply, and stepped through into unnatural, otherworldly greyness.
CHAPTER FIVE
A SUN burnt brightly in the clear sky above the wasteland, highlighting the arid earth and bare rocky hills. A coarse red dust covered much of the land, choking the dry soil. When strong winds blew, the dust rose in sheets, making breathing almost impossible. At such times I pulled on one of Harkat’s spare masks – it blocked out the worst of the grainy particles – and the two of us sought shelter and waited for calm to descend.
It had been two weeks – roughly – since Mr Tiny brought us to this desolate land and abandoned us. Two weeks crossing barren valleys and dead hills, where nothing lived except a few hardy lizards and insects, which we caught and ate whenever we could. They tasted disgusting but you can’t be choosy if you’re stranded in a desert without food or water.
Water was our main concern. Walking in the heat and dust was thirsty work, but water was in scarce supply and we didn’t have any canteens to store it in when we found the occasional pool. We’d fashioned primitive containers from the skins of lizards, but they didn’t hold much. We had to drink sparingly.
Harkat was angry with me for disobeying his wishes – he ranted at me nonstop for a few days – but his temper gradually abated. Although he hadn’t thanked me for choosing to accompany him on his quest, I knew he was secretly grateful.
A fortnight earlier, Mr Tiny followed us through the doorway, which collapsed into dust after him. There’d been a brief moment of disorientation when I stepped through, a grey cloud obscuring my vision. As the cloud cleared, I saw that I was standing in a round, shallow, lifeless valley — and although it had been day when I stepped through the doorway, here it was night, albeit an uncommonly clear night, bright with a full moon and a sky filled with twinkling star clusters.
“Where are we?” Harkat asked, his large green eyes filled with wonder.
Mr Tiny tapped his nose. “That would be telling. Now, boys,” he said, squatting and signalling us to squat beside him. He drew a simple compass in the dust at his feet, and pointed to one of the arrows. “That’s west, as you’ll see by the position of the sun tomorrow. Go in that direction until you come to the hunting grounds of a black panther. You have to kill the panther to find out where to go next.”
Smiling, he stood and turned to leave.
“Wait!” I stopped him. “Is that all you’re going to tell us?”
“What more would you like to know?” he asked politely.
“Loads!” I shouted. “Where are we? How did we get here? What happens if we walk east instead of west? How will Harkat find out who he used to be? And what the hell does a panther have to do with any of it?”
Mr Tiny sighed impatiently. “I thought you would have developed an appreciation for the unknown by now,” he grumbled. “Don’t you realize how exciting it is to set out on an adventure without any idea of what’s coming next? I’d give my wellies and glasses to experience the world the way you do, as something strange and challenging.”
“Forget the wellies and glasses!” I snapped. “Just give with some answers!”
“You can be very rude sometimes,” Mr Tiny complained, but squatted again and paused thoughtfully. “There’s much I can’t and won’t tell you. You’ll have to discover for yourselves where we are — although it won’t make much difference if you don’t. You got here, obviously, through a mechanism either of magic or incredibly evolved technology — I’m not saying which. If you don’t follow the trail west, you’ll die, probably quite horribly. As for Harkat finding out who he is, and the panther…”
Mr Tiny considered the question in silence, before answering. “Somewhere on this world lies a lake – more a glorified pond, really – which I like to refer to as the Lake of Souls. In it you can glimpse the faces of many trapped souls, people whose spirits did not leave Earth when they died. The soul of the person Harkat used to be lies within. You must find the Lake, then fish for his soul. If you succeed, and Harkat learns and acknowledges the truth about himself, your quest will be complete and I’ll see that you’re guided safely home. If not…” He shrugged.
“How do we find this Lake … of Souls?” Harkat asked.
“By following instructions,” Mr Tiny said. “If you locate and kill the panther, you’ll learn where to go next. You’ll also discover a clue to your previous identity, which I’ve been gracious enough to toss in for free.”
“Couldn’t you just cut the crap and tell us?” I groaned.
“No,” Mr Tiny said. He stood and looked down at us seriously. “But I’ll say this much, boys — the panther’s the least of your worries. Step warily, trust in your instincts, and never let your guard down. And don’t forget,” he added to Harkat, “as well as learning who you were, you must acknowledge it. I can’t step in until you’ve admitted the truth out loud.
“Now,” he smiled, “I really must be going. Places to be, things to do, people to torment. If you’ve further questions, they’ll have to wait. Until next time, boys.” With a wave, the short, mysterious man turned and left us, walking east until the darkness swallowed him, stranding us in the unnamed, alien land.
We found a small pool of water and drank deeply from it, sinking our heads into the murky liquid, ignoring the many tiny eels and insects. Harkat’s grey skin looked like damp cardboard when he pulled up, having drunk his fill, but it swiftly resumed its natural colour as the water evaporated under the unforgiving sun.
“How far do you think we’ve come?” I groaned, stretching out in the shade of a prickly bush with small purple flowers. This was the first sign of vegetation we’d encountered, but I was too exhausted to display any active interest.
“I’ve no idea,” Harkat said. “How long have we … been travelling?”
“Two weeks — I think.”
After the first hot day, we’d tried travelling by night, but the path was rocky and treacherous underfoot — not to mention hard on my bare feet! After stumbling many times, ripping our clothes and cutting ourselves, we elected to brave the blistering sun. I wrapped my jumper around my head to ward off the worst of the rays – the sun didn’t affect Harkat’s grey skin, though he sweated a lot – but while that prevented sunstroke, it didn’t do much against sunburn. My upper body had been roasted all over, even through the material of my shirt. For a few days I’d been sore and irritable, but I’d recovered quickly – thanks to my healing abilities as a half-vampire – and the red had turned to a dark, protective brown. The soles of my feet had also hardened — I barely noticed the absence of shoes now.
“With all the climbing and back tracking we’ve … had to do, we can’t be making more than … a couple of miles an hour,” Harkat said. “Allowing for fourteen or fifteen hours of sunlight … per day, we probably cover twenty-five or thirty miles. Over two weeks that’s…” He frowned as he calculated. “Maybe four hundred in total.”
I nodded feebly. “Thank the gods we’re not human — we wouldn’t have lasted a week at this pace, in these conditions.”
Harkat sat up and tilted his head left, then right — the Little Person’s ears were stitched under the skin of his scalp, so he had to cock his head at a sharp angle to listen intently. Hearing nothing, he focused his green eyes on the land around us. After a brief study of the area, he turned towards me. “Has the smell altered?” he asked. He didn’t have a nose, so he relied on mine.
I sniffed the air. “Slightly. It doesn’t smell as tangy as it did before.”
“That’s because there’s less … dust,” he said, pointing to the hills around us. “We seem to be leaving the … desert behind. There are a few plants and patches … of dry grass.”
“About time,” I groaned. “Let’s hope there are animals too — I’ll crack up if I have to eat another lizard or bug.”
“What do you think those twelve-legged … insects were that we ate yesterday?” Harkat asked.
“I’ve no idea, but I won’t be touching them again — my stomach was in bits all night!”
Harkat chuckled. “They didn’t bother me. Sometimes it helps to have no … taste buds, and a stomach capable of digesting … almost anything.”
Harkat pulled his mask up over his mouth and breathed through it in silence, studying the land ahead. Harkat had spent a lot of time testing the air, and didn’t think it was poisonous to him – it was slightly different to the air on Earth, more acidic – but he kept his mask on anyway, to be safe. I’d coughed a lot for the first few days, but I was OK now — my hardened lungs had adapted to the bitter air.
“Decided where we are yet?” I asked after a while. That was our favourite topic of conversation. We’d narrowed the possibilities down to four options. Mr Tiny had somehow sent us back into the past. He’d transported us to some far-off world in our own universe. He’d slipped us into an alternate reality. Or this was an illusion, and our bodies were lying in a field in the real world, while Mr Tiny fed this dream scene into our imaginations.
“I believed in the … illusion theory at first,” Harkat said, lowering his mask. “But the more I consider it, the less … certain I am. If Mr Tiny was making this world up, I think … he’d make it more exciting and colourful. It’s quite drab.”
“It’s early days,” I grunted. “This is probably just to warm us up.”
“It certainly warmed you up,” Harkat grinned, nodding at my tan.
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