Darius sat up. He was blushing angrily. "I'm OK," he mumbled, getting to his feet.
"What's wrong, Darius?" Harkat asked quietly. "Why so edgy?"
"I'm OK," Darius said again, glaring at Harkat. "I just don't like people saying stuff like that. It's not funny, creatures like you making threats like that."
"I didn't mean it," I said, ashamed for having frightened the boy. "How about I get a ticket to tonight's show for you, to make up for scaring you?"
"I ain't scared," Darius growled.
"Of course you aren't," I smiled. "But would you like a ticket anyway?"
Darius pulled a face. "How much are they?"
"It's free," I said. "Courtesy of the house."
"OK then." That was as close as Darius got to saying thanks.
"Would you like one for Oggy too?" I asked.
"No," Darius said. "He wouldn't come. He's a scaredy cat. He doesn't even watch horror movies, not even the really old and boring ones."
"Fair enough," I said. "Wait here. I'll be back in a couple of minutes."
I tracked down Mr Tall. When I told him what I wanted, he frowned and said all the tickets for tonight's show had been sold. "But surely you can find a spare one somewhere," I laughed. There was always lots of space in the aisles and it was usually never a problem to stick in a few extra chairs.
"Is it wise, inviting a child to the show?" Mr Tall asked. "Children tend to fare unfavourably here. Yourself, Steve Leonard, Sam Grest." Sam was a boy who'd had a fatal run-in with the Wolf Man. He was the first person I'd drunk blood from. Part of his spirit not to mention his taste for pickled onions! still lived on within me.
"Why mention Sam?" I asked, confused. I couldn't remember the last time Mr Tall had made a reference to my long-dead friend.
"No reason in particular," Mr Tall said. "I just think this is a dangerous place for children." Then he produced a ticket out of thin air and handed it to me. "Give it to the boy if you wish," he grumbled, as if I'd squeezed an inconvenient favour out of him.
I walked back slowly to Darius and Harkat, wondering why Mr Tall had behaved in such a curious manner. Had he been trying to warn me not to let Darius get too closely involved with the Cirque Du Freak? Was Darius like Sam Grest, eager to leave home and travel around with a band of magical performers? By inviting him to the show, was I setting him up for a fall like Sam's?
I found Darius standing where I'd left him. He didn't look like he'd moved a muscle. Harkat was on the other side of the fire, keeping a green eye on the boy. I hesitated before giving Darius his ticket. "What do you think of the Cirque Du Freak?" I asked.
"It's OK," he shrugged.
"How would you feel about joining?"
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"If there was an opening, and you had the chance to leave home, would"
"No way!" he snapped before I finished.
"You're happy at home?" Yes.
"You don't want to travel around the world?"
"Not with you lot."
I smiled and gave him the ticket. "That's OK then. The show starts at ten. Will you be able to come?"
"Of course," Darius said, pocketing the ticket without looking at it.
"What about your parents?" I asked.
"I'll go to bed early, then sneak out," he said, and giggled slyly.
"If you're caught, don't tell them about us," I warned him.
"As if!" he snorted, then waved sharply and left. He looked at me one final time before he passed out of sight, and again there was something odd about his gaze.
Harkat walked around the fire and stared after the boy.
"A strange kid," I commented.
"More than just strange," Harkat murmured.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"I don't like him," Harkat said.
"He was a bit sullen," I agreed, "but lots of kids his age are like that. I was that way myself when I first joined the Cirque Du Freak."
"I don't know." Harkat's eyes were full of doubt. "I didn't buy his story about his friend, Oggy. If he's such a scaredy cat, what was he doing exploring up here by himself?"
"You're getting suspicious in your old age," I laughed.
Harkat shook his head slowly. "You didn't pick up on it."
"What?" I frowned.
"When he accused us of threatening him, he said 'creatures like you'." So?
Harkat smiled thinly. "I'm quite obviouslynot human. But what tipped him off to the fact thatyou aren't either?"
A sudden chill ran through me. Harkat was right the boy had known more about us than he should have. And I realized now what it was about Darius's gaze which had disturbed me. When he thought I wasn't looking, his eyes kept going to the scars on my fingertips, the standard marks of a vampire like he knew what they meant!
CHAPTER SEVEN
«^»
Harkat and I weren't sure what to make of Darius. It seemed unlikely that the vampaneze would recruit children. But there was the twisted mind of their leader, Steve Leopard, to take into account. This could be one of his evil, hate-fuelled games. We decided to take the boy to one side when he came to the show, and pump him for information. We wouldn't resort to torture or anything so drastic just try to scare a few answers out of him.
We were supposed to help the performers get ready for the show, but we told Mr Tall we were busy and he assigned our tasks to other members of the troupe. If he knew about our plans for Darius, he didn't say so.
There were two entrances to the big top. Shortly before the audience started to arrive, Harkat and I each took up a position close to one of the entry points, where we could watch for Darius. I was still worried about being recognized by somebody who'd known me in the past, so I stood in the shadows beside the entrance, disguised in a set of Harkat's blue robes, the hood pulled up to hide my face. I watched silently as the early birds trickled in, handing their tickets to Jekkus Flang (Mr Tall was on the other entrance). With every third or fourth customer, Jekkus threw their ticket into the air, then launched a knife at it, spearing it through the middle and pinning it to a nearby post.
As the trickle of people turned into a steady stream, and Jekkus pinned more and more tickets to the pole, the tickets and knives took on the outline of a hanged man. People chuckled edgily when they realized what Jekkus was doing. A few paused to commend him on his knife-throwing skills, but most hurried past to their seats, some glancing backwards at the figure of the hanged man, perhaps wondering if it was an omen of things to come.
I ignored the hanged man I'd seen Jekkus perform this trick many times before and focused on the faces in the crowd. It was hard to note everybody who passed in the crush, especially short people. Even if Darius entered this way, there was no guarantee I'd spot him.
Towards the end of the line, as the last members of the audience were filing in, Jekkus gave a gasp of surprise and abandoned his post. "Tom Jones!" he shouted, bounding forward. "What an honour!"
It was the town's famous goalkeeper, Tom Jones my old school friend!
Tommy smiled awkwardly and shook Jekkus's hand.
"Hi," he coughed, looking around to see if anyone else had noticed him. Apart from those nearest us, nobody had all eyes were fixed on the stage, as everyone awaited the start of the show.
"I've seen you play!" Jekkus enthused. "I don't get to many games the curse of travelling but I've made it to a few. You're awesome! Do you think we'll win tomorrow? I wanted to get a ticket, but they were sold out."
"It's a big match," Tommy said. "I could try to get one for you, but I don't think"
"That's OK," Jekkus interrupted. "I'm not trying to shake you down for free tickets. Just wanted to wish you good luck. Now, speaking of tickets, could I see yours?"
Tommy gave his ticket to Jekkus, who askedif Tommy would sign it for him. Tommy obliged and Jekkus pocketed the ticket, beaming happily. He offered to find a seat for Tommy near the front, but Tommy said he was happy to sit at the back. "I don't think it would be good for my image if word got out that I came to shows like this," he laughed.
As Tommy made his way to one of the few free seats, I breathed a sigh of relief he hadn't seen me. The luck of the vampires was on my side. I waited a few more minutes, until the final stragglers had been admitted, then crept out as Jekkus closed off the entrance. I linked up with Harkat.
"Did you see him?" I asked.
"No," Harkat said. "You?"
"No. But I saw an old friend." I told him about Tom Jones.
"Could it be a setup?" Harkat asked.
"I doubt it," I said. "Tommy wanted to come to the Cirque Du Freak the last time it was in town. He's here for the match tomorrow. He must have heard about the show and picked up a ticket easy when you're a celebrity."
"But isn't it a bit too coincidental that he's here the same time as us?" Harkat persisted.
"He's here because his team's in the cup semi-final," I reminded Harkat. "Steve couldn't have engineered that even the Lord of the Vampaneze has his limits!"
"You're right," Harkat laughed. "I really am getting paranoid!"
"Let's forget about Tommy," I said. "What about Darius? Could he have got in without us seeing him?"
"Yes," Harkat said. "It was impossible to identify everyone who entered. A child could have easily passed without us noticing."
"Then we've got to go inside and look for him," I said.
"Steady on." Harkat stopped me. "Although your friend Tommy's being here is most likely nothing to worry about, let's not tempt fate. If you go in, your hood might slip and he might see you. Leave it to me."
While I waited outside, Harkat entered the tent and patrolled the aisles, checking the faces of every audience member as the show got under way. More than half an hour passed before he emerged.
"I didn't see him," Harkat said.
"Maybe he wasn't able to sneak away from home," I said.
"Or maybe he sensed we were suspicious of him," Harkat said. "Either way, we can't do anything except keep watch the rest of the time we're here. He might come sneaking around by day again."
Although it was anticlimactic, I was glad Darius hadn't shown. I hadn't been looking forward to threatening the boy. It was better this way, for all concerned. And the more I thought about it, the more ridiculous our reaction seemed. Darius had certainly known more about us than any child should, but maybe he'd simply read the right books or found out about us on the Internet. Not many humans know about the true marks of a vampire, or that Little People exist, but the truth (like they used to say on that famous TV show) is out there! There were any number of ways a clued-up kid could have found out the facts about us.
Harkat wasn't as relaxed as I was, and he insisted we stay outside the entrances until the show finished, in case Darius turned up late. There was no harm in being cautious, so I kept watch throughout the rest of the show, listening to the gasps, screams and applause of the people inside the tent. I slipped away a few minutes before the end and collected Harkat. We hid in a van as the crowd poured out, and only emerged when the final excited customer had left the stadium.
We gathered with most of the performers and backstage crew in a tent behind the big top, for the post-show party. There wasn't a celebration after each performance, but we liked to let our hair down every once in a while. It was a hard life on the road, driving long distances, working doggedly, keeping a low profile so as not to attract attention. It was good to chill out every so often.
There were a few guests in the tent police officers, council officials, wealthy businessmen. Mr Tall knew how to grease the right palms, to make life easy for us.
Our visitors were particularly interested in Harkat. The normal audience members hadn't seen the grey-skinned Little Person. This was a chance for the special guests to experience something different, which they could boast about to their friends. Harkat knew what was expected of him and he let the humans examine him, telling them a bit about his past, politely answering their questions.
I sat in a quiet corner of the tent, munching a sandwich, washing it down with water. I was getting ready to leave when Jekkus Flang pushed his way through a knot of people and introduced me to the guest he'd just led into the tent. "Darren, this is the world's best goalkeeper, Tom Jones. Tom, this is my good friend and fellow workmate, Darren Shan."
I groaned and closed my eyes. So much for the luck of the vampires.' I heard Tommy gasp with recognition. Opening my eyes, I forced a smile, stood, shook Tommy's hand his eyes were bulging out of his head and said, "Hello, Tommy. It's been a long time. Can I get you something to drink?"
CHAPTER EIGHT
«^»
Tommy was astonished to see me alive when I'd been declared dead and buried eighteen years earlier. Then there was the fact that I only looked a handful of years older. It was almost too much for him to comprehend. For a while he listened to me talk, nodding weakly, not taking anything in. But eventually his head cleared and he focused on what I was saying.
I spun him a far-fetched but just about believable tale. I felt bad, lying to my old friend, but the truth was stranger than fiction it was simpler and safer this way. I said I had a rare disease which prevented me from ageing normally. It was discovered when I was a child. The doctors gave me five or six years to live. My parents were devastated by the news, but since we could do nothing to prevent it, we told no one and tried to lead a normal life for as long as we could.
Then the Cirque Du Freak came to town.
"I ran into an extraordinary physician," I lied. "He was travelling with the Cirque, making a study of the freaks. He said he could help me, but I'd have to leave home and travel with the Cirque I'd need constant monitoring. I talked it over with my parents and we decided to fake my death, so I could leave without arousing suspicions."
"But for heaven's sake, why?" Tommy exploded. "Your parents could have left with you. Why put everyone through so much pain?"
"How would we have explained it?" I sighed. "The Cirque Du Freak is an illegal travelling show. My parents would have had to give up everything and gone undercover to be with me. It wouldn't have been fair on them, and it would have been dreadfully unfair on Annie."
"But there must have been some other way," Tommy protested.
"Maybe," I said. "But we hadn't much time to think it over. The Cirque Du Freak was only in town for a few days. We discussed the proposal put forward by the physician and accepted it. I think the fact that I'm still alive all these years later, against all medical odds, justifies that decision."
Tommy shook his head uncertainly. He'd grown up to be a very large man, tall and broad, with huge hands and bulging muscles. His black hair was receding prematurely he'd be bald in a few more years. But despite his physical presence, his eyes were soft. He was a gentle man. The idea of letting a child fake his death and be buried alive was repulsive to him.
"What's done is done," I said. "Maybe my parents should have searched for another way. But they had my best interests at heart. Hope was offered and they seized it, regardlessof the terrible price."
"Did Annie know?" Tommy asked.
"No. We never told her." I guessed Tommy had no way of contacting my parents directly, to check out my story, but he could have gone to Annie. I had to sidetrack him.
"Not even afterwards?" Tommy asked.
"I talked aboutit with Mum and Dad we keep in touch and meet up every few years but we never felt the time was right. Annie had her own problems, having a baby so young."
"Thatwas tough," Tommy agreed. "I was still living here. I didn't know her very well, but I heard all about it."
"That must have been just before your football career took off," I said, leading him away from talk about me. We discussed his career after that, some of the big matches he'd been involved in, what he planned to do when he retired. He wasn't married but he had two kids from a previous relationship, when he'd lived abroad.
"I only get to see them a couple of times a year and during the summer," he said sadly. "I hope to move over there when I quit football, to be closer to them."
Most of the performers, crew and guests had departed by this stage. Harkat had seen me talking with Tommy and made a sign askingif I wanted him to stick around. I signalled back that I was OK and he'd left with the others. A few people still sat and talked softly in the tent, but nobody was near Tommy and me.
Talk turned to the past and our old friends. Tommy told me Alan Morris had become a scientist. "Quite a famous one too," he said. "He's a geneticist big into cloning. A controversial area, but he's convinced it's the way forward."
"As long as he doesn't clone himself!" I laughed. "One Alan Morris is enough!"
Tommy laughed too. Alan had been a close friend of ours, but he could be a bit of a pain at times.
"I've no idea what Steve's up to," Tommy said, and the laughter died on my lips. "He left home at sixteen. Ran off without a word to anyone. I've spoken to him on the phone a few times, but I've only seen him once since then, about ten years ago. He returned home for a few months when his mother died."
"I didn't know she was dead," I said. "I'm sorry. I liked Steve's Mum."
"He sold off the house and all her effects. He shared an apartment with Alan for a while. That was before " Tommy stopped and glanced at me oddly. "Haveyou seen Steve since you left?"
"No," I lied.
"You don't know anything about him?"
"No," I lied again.
"Nothing at all?" Tommy pressed.
I forced a chuckle. "Why are you so concerned about Steve?"
Tommy shrugged. "He got into some trouble the last time he was here. I thought you might have heard about it from your parents."
"We don't discuss the past," I said, elaborating on the lie I'd concocted. I leant forward curiously. "What did Steve do?" I asked, wondering if it was in any way linked to his vampaneze activities.
"Oh, I don't rightly remember," Tommy said, shifting uncomfortably he was lying. "It's old history. Best not to bring it up. You know what Steve was like, always in one form of trouble or another."
"That's for sure," I muttered. Then my eyes narrowed. "You said you've talked to him on the phone?"
"Yeah. He rings every so often, asks what I'm up to, says nothing about what he's doing, then hangs up!"
"When was the last time he rang?"
Tommy thought about it. "Two, maybe three years ago. A long time."
"Have you a contact number for him?"
"No."
A shame. I'd thought for a moment that Tommy might be my path back to Steve, but it seemed he wasn't.
"What's the time?" Tommy asked. He looked at his watch and groaned. "If my manager finds out how late I've been out, he'll sack me! Sorry, Darren, but I really have to go."
"That's OK," I smiled, standing to shake his hand.
"Maybe we could meet up again after the match?"
"Yeah!" Tommy exclaimed. "I'm not travelling back with the team I'm staying here for the night, to see some relatives. You can come to the hotel after the game and Actually, how'd you like to come see me play?"
"At the semi-final?" My eyes lit up. "I'd love to. But didn't I hear you telling Jekkus the tickets were sold out?"
"Jekkus?" Tommy frowned.
"The guy with the knives your number-one fan."
"Oh." Tommy grimaced. "I can't give away tickets to all my fans. But family and friends are a different story."
"I wouldn't be sitting near anyone who knew me, would I?" I asked. "I don't want the truth about me going any further Annie might hear about it."
"I'll get you a seat away from the others," Tommy promised. Then he paused. "You know, Annie's not a girl any more. I saw her a year ago, the last time I was here for a match. She struck me as being very level-headed. Maybe it's time to tell her the truth."
"Maybe," I smiled, knowing I wouldn't.
"I really think you should," Tommy pressed. "It would be a shock, like it was for me, but I'm sure she'd be delighted to know you're alive and well."
"We'll see," I said.
I walked Tommy out of the tent, through the campsite and stadium tunnels to where his car was parked. I bid him goodnight at the car, but he stopped before getting in and stared at me seriously. "We must talk some more about Steve tomorrow," he said.
My heart skipped a beat. "Why?" I asked as casually as I could.
"There are things you should know. I don't want to get into them now it's too late but I think " He trailed off into silence, then smiled. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. It might help you make up your mind about some other things."
And on that cryptic note he said farewell. He promised to send over a ticket in the morning, gave me his hotel name and mobile number, shook my hand one last time, got into his car and drove away.
I stood outside the walls of the stadium a long while, thinking about Tommy, Annie and the past and wondering what he'd meant when he said we needed to talk some more about Steve.
CHAPTER NINE
«^»
When I told Harkat about the match, he reacted with automatic suspicion. "It's a trap," he said. "Your friend is an ally of Steve Leonard."
"Not Tommy," I said with absolute certainty. "But I've a feeling he might in some way be able to direct us to him, or set us on his trail."
"Do you want me to come with you to the match?" Harkat asked.
"You wouldn't be able to get in. Besides," I laughed, "there'll be tens of thousands of people there. In a crowd like that, I think I'll be safe!"
The ticket was delivered by courier and I set off in good time for the match. I arrived an hour before kickoff. A huge crowd milled around outside the stadium. People were singing and cheering, decked out in their club colours, buying drinks, hot dogs and burgers from the street vendors. Troops of police kept a close watch on the situation, making sure rival fans didn't clash.
I mingled for a while, strolling around the stadium, relishing the atmosphere. I bought a hot dog, a match programme, and a hat with Tommy's picture on it, sporting the slogan, "He's not unusual!" There were lots of hats and badges dedicated to Tommy. There were even CDs by the singer Tom Jones, with photos of Tommy taped across the covers!
I took my seat twenty minutes before kickoff. I had a greatview of the floodlit pitch. My seat was in the middle of the stadium, just a few rows behind the dugouts. The teams were warming up when I arrived. I got a real buzz out of seeing Tommy in one of the goals, stopping practice shots. To think one of my friends was playing in a cup semi-final! I'd come a long way since childhood and put most of my human interests behind me. But my love of football came flooding back as I sat, gazing down at Tommy, and I felt a ball of pure childish excitement build in the pit of my stomach.
The teams left the pitch to get ready for kickoff, then re-emerged a few minutes later. All the seats in the stadium had been filled and there was a huge cheer as the players marched out. Most people stood up, clapping and hollering. The ref tossed a coin to decide which way the teams would play, then the captains shook hands, the players lined up, the ref blew his whistle, and the match got underway.
It was a brilliant game. Both teams went all-out for the win. Tackles flew in fast and hard. Play shifted from one end to the other, both sides attacking in turn. There were lots of chances to score. Tommy made some great saves, as did the other keeper. A couple of players blasted wide or over the bar from good positions, to a chorus of jeers and groans. After forty-three minutes, the teams seemed like they'd be heading in level at half-time. But then there was a quick break, a defender slipped, a forward had a clear shot at goal, and he sent the ball flying into the left corner of the net, past the outstretched fingers of a flailing Tom Jones.
Tommy and his team-mates looked dejected as they trudged off at half-time, but their fans and the locals who'd come to cheer for Tommy kept on singing, "One-nil down, two-one up, that's the way to win the cup!"
I went to get a drink but the size of the queue was frightening the more experienced fans had slipped out just before the half-time whistle. I walked around to stretch my legs, then returned to my seat.
Although they were a goal down, Tommy's team looked the more confident when they came out after the break. They attacked from the start of the half, knocking their opponents off the ball, pushing them back, driving hard for goal. The game grew heated and three players were booked within the first quarter of an hour. But their new found hunger was rewarded in the sixty-fourth minute when they scored a scrappy goal from a corner to pull level.
The stadium erupted when Tommy's team scored. I was one of the thousands who leapt from their seats and punched the air with joy. I even joined in with the song to the silenced fans of the other team, "You're not singing, you're not singing, you're not singing any more!"
Five minutes later, I was chanting even louder when, from another corner, the team scored again to go two-one up. I found myself hugging the guy next to me a total stranger! and jumping up and down with glee. I could hardly believe I was behaving this way. What would the Vampire Generals say if they saw a Prince acting so ridiculously!
The rest of the game was a tense affair. Now that they were a goal down, the other team had to attack in search of an equalizer. Tommy's team-mates were forced further back inside their own half. There were dozens of desperate defensive tackles, lots of free kicks, more yellow cards. But they were holding out. Tommy had to make a few fairly easy saves, but apart from that his goal wasn't troubled. With six minutes to go, the win looked safe.
Then, in virtually an action replay of the first goal, a player slipped free of his defender and found himself in front of goal, with only Tommy to beat. Once again the ball was struck firmly and accurately. It streaked towards the lower left corner of the net. The striker turned away to celebrate.
But he'd reacted too soon. Because this time, somehow, Tommy got down and across, and managed to get a few fingers to the ball. He only barely connected, but it was enough to tip the ball out around the post.
The crowd went wild! They were chanting Tommy's name and singing, "It's not unusual, he's the greatest number one!" Tommy ignored the songs and stayed focused on the corner, directing his defenders. But the save had sapped the other team of their spirit, and though they kept coming forward for the final few minutes, they didn't threaten to score again.
When the whistle blew, Tommy's team wearily embraced each other, then shook their opponents' hands and swapped jerseys. After that they saluted their fans, acknowledging their support. We were all on our feet, applauding, singing victory songs, a lot of them about the incredible Tom Jones.
Tommy was one of the last players to leave the pitch. He'd swapped his jersey with his opposite number and the pair were walking off together, discussing the game. I roared Tommy's name as he came level with the dugouts, but of course he couldn't hear me over the noise of the crowd.
Just as Tommy was about to vanish down the tunnel to the dressing-rooms, a commotion broke out. I heard angry yells, then several sharp bangs. Most of the people around me didn't know what was happening. But I'd heard these sounds before gunfire!
I couldn't see down the tunnel from where I was, but I saw Tommy and the other goalkeeper stop, confused, then back away from the tunnel entrance. I immediately sensed danger. "Tommy!" I screamed, then knocked aside the people nearest me and forced my way down towards the pitch. Before I got there, a steward reeled out of the tunnel, blood pouring from his face. When the people in front of me saw that, they panicked. Turning, they pushed away from the pitch, halting my advance and forcing me back.