Then things got nasty. The captain of the other team Danny had been trying to foul me for a while, but I was too quick for him and easily dodged his raised stick and stuck-out legs. But then he began to punch my ribs and stand on my toes and slam his elbows into my arms. None of it hurt me, but it annoyed me. I hate sore losers.
The last straw came when Danny pinched me in avery painful place! Even vampires have their limits. I yelled out and bent over, wincing from the pain.
Danny laughed and took off with the ball.
I got up after a few seconds, mad as hell. Danny was halfway down the rink. I sprinted after him. I knocked the players between us aside it didn't matter if they were on his team or mine then caught up behind him and swiped at his legs with my stick. It would have been a dangerous tackle if it had come from a human. Coming from a half-vampire
There was a sharp snapping sound. Danny screamed and went down. Play stopped immediately. Everybody in the game knew the difference between a yell of pain and a scream of real agony.
I scrambled to my feet, already sorry for what I'd done, wishing I could take it back. I looked at my stick, hoping to find it broken in two, hoping that had been what made the snapping noise. But it wasn't.
I'd broken both of Danny's shinbones.
His lower legs were bent awkwardly and the skin around the shins was torn. I could see the white of bone in among the red.
Michael bent over to examine Danny's legs. When he got up, there was a horrified look in his eyes.
"You've cracked his legs wide open!" he gasped.
"I didn't mean to," I cried. "He squeezed my " I pointed to the spot beneath my waist.
"You broke his legs!" Michael shouted, then backed away from me. Everyone around him backed away as well.
They wereafraid of me.
Breathing hard, I dropped my stick and left, knowing I'd make matters worse if I stayed and waited for grown-ups to arrive. None of the guys tried to stop me. They were too scared. They were terrified of me Darren Shan amonster .
CHAPTER SIX
It was dark when I got back. Mr. Crepsley was awake. I told him we should leave town right away, but didn't tell him why. He took one look at my face, nodded, and started gathering our stuff.
"We didn't say much that night. I was thinking how much it stunk to be a half-vampire. Mr. Crepsley could tell there was something wrong with me, but didn't bother me with questions. It wasn't the first time I'd been grouchy. He was getting used to my mood swings.
We found an abandoned church to sleep in. Mr. Crepsley lay out on a long pew, while I made a bed for myself on a pile of moss and weeds on the floor.
I woke early and spent the day exploring the church and the small cemetery outside. The headstones were old and a lot of them were cracked or covered with weeds. I spent a few hours cleaning some, pulling weeds away and washing the stones with water I got from a nearby stream. It kept my mind off the hockey game.
A family of rabbits lived in a nearby burrow. As the day went by, they crept closer to see what I was up to. They were curious little guys, especially the young ones. At one point, I pretended to be asleep and a couple edged closer and closer, until they were only a few feet away.
When they were as close as they would probably come, I leaped up and shouted, "Boo!" and they went running away like wildfire. One fell head over heels and rolled away down the mouth of the burrow.
That totally cheered me up.
I found a grocery store in the afternoon and bought some meat and vegetables. I made a fire when I got back to the church, then grabbed the pots and pans bag from underneath Mr. Crepsley's pew. I looked through the contents until I found what I was looking for. It was a small pot. I carefully laid it upside down on the floor, then pressed the metal bulge on the top.
The pot mushroomed out in size, as folded-in panels opened up. Within five seconds it had become a full-sized pot, which I filled with water and stuck on the fire.
All the pots and pans in the bag were like this. Mr. Crepsley got them from a woman called Evanna a long time ago. They weighed the same as ordinary cook-ware, but because they could fold up small, they were easier to carry around.
I made a stew like Mr. Crepsley had taught me. He thought everybody should know how to cook.
I took leftover pieces of the carrots and cabbage outside and dropped them by the rabbit burrow.
Mr. Crepsley was surprised to find dinner which was breakfast from his point of view waiting for him when he awoke. He sniffed the fumes from the bubbling pot and licked his lips.
"I could get used to this." He smiled, then yawned, stretched, and ran a hand through the short crop of orange hair on his head. Then he scratched the long scar running down the left side of his face. It was a familiar routine of his.
I'd always wanted to ask how he got his scar, but I never had. One night, when I was feeling brave, I would.
There were no tables, so we ate off our laps. I got two of the folded-up plates out of the bag, popped them open, and grabbed knives and forks. I served the food and we ate.
Toward the end, Mr. Crepsley wiped around his mouth with a white napkin and coughed awkwardly.
"The stew is very nice," he complimented me.
"Thank you," I replied.
"I um that is " He sighed. "I never was very good at being subtle," he said, "so I will come right out and say it: What went wrong yesterday? Why were you so upset?"
I stared at my almost empty plate, not sure if I wanted to answer or not. Then, all of a sudden, I blurted out the whole story. I hardly took a breath between the start and the finish.
Mr. Crepsley listened carefully. When I was done, he thought about it for a minute or two before speaking.
"It is something you must get used to," he said. "It is a fact of life that we are stronger than humans, faster and tougher. If you play with them, they will be hurt."
"I didn't mean to hurt him," I said. "It was an accident."
Mr. Crepsley shrugged. "Listen, Darren, there is no way you can stop this from happening again, not if you interact with humans. No matter how hard you try to be normal, you are not. There will always be accidents waiting to happen."
"What you're saying is, I can't have friends anymore, right?" I nodded sadly. "I'd figured that out by myself. That's why I was so sad. I was getting used to the idea of never being able to go back home to see my old friends, but it was just yesterday that I realized I'd never be able to make new ones, either. I'm stuck withyou . I can't have any other friends, can I?"
He rubbed his scar and pursed his lips. "That is not true," he said. "You can have friends. You just have to be careful. You "
"That's not good enough!" I cried. "You said it yourself; there will always be an accident waiting to happen. Even shaking hands is dangerous. I could cut their wrists open with my nails!"
I shook my head slowly. "No," I said firmly. "I won't put people's lives in danger. I'm too dangerous to have friends anymore. Besides, it's not like I can make a true friend."
"Why not?" he asked.
"True friends don't keep secrets from one another. I could never tell a human that I was a vampire. I'd always have to lie and pretend to be someone I'm not. I'd always be afraid he'd find out what I was and hate me."
"It is a problem every vampire shares," Mr. Crepsley said.
"But every vampire isn't a child!" I shouted. "What age were you when you were changed? Were you a man?" He nodded. "Friends aren't that important to adults. My dad told me that grown-ups get used to not having a lot of friends. They have work and hobbies and other stuff to keep them busy. But my friends were the most important thing in my life, besides my family. Well, you took my family away when you pumped your stinking blood into me. Now you've ruined the chances of my ever having a real friend again."
"Thanks a lot," I said angrily. "Thanks for making a monster out of me and wrecking my life."
I was close to tears, but didn't want to cry, not in front of him. So I stabbed the last piece of meat on my plate with my fork and rammed it into my mouth, then I chewed on it fiercely.
Mr. Crepsley was quiet after my outburst. I couldn't tell if he was angry or sorry. For a while I thought I'd said too much. What if he turned around and said, "If that's the way you feel, I will leave you"? What would I do then?
I was thinking of apologizing when he spoke in a soft voice and surprised me.
"I am sorry," he said. "I should not have blooded you. It was a poor call. You were too young. It has been so long since I was a boy, I had forgotten what it was like. I never thought of your friends and how much you would miss them. It was wrong of me to blood you. Terribly wrong. I "
He trailed off into silence. He looked so miserable, I almost felt sorry for him. Then I remembered what he'd done to me and I hated him again. Then I saw wet drops at the corners of his eyes that might have been tears, and I felt sorry for him again.
I was really confused.
"Well, there's no use crying about it," I finally said. "We can't go back. What's done is done, right?"
"Yes." He sighed. "If I could, I would take back my terrible gift. But that is not possible. Vampirism is forever. Once somebody has been changed, there is no changing back.
"Still," he said, mulling it over, "it is not as bad as you think. Perhaps " His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Perhaps what?" I asked.
"Wecan find friends for you," he said. "You do not have to be stuck with me all the time."
"I don't understand." I frowned. "Didn't we just agree it wasn't safe for me to be around humans?"
"I am not talking about humans," he said, starting to smile. "I am talking about people with special powers. People like us. People you can tell your secrets to "
He leaned across and took my hands in his.
"Darren," he said, "what do you think about going back and becoming a member of the Cirque Du Freak?"
CHAPTER SEVEN
The more we discussed the idea, the more I liked it. Mr. Crepsley said the Cirque performers would know what I was and would accept me as one of their own. The lineup of the show changed a lot and there was almost always someone who would be around my own age. I could hang out with them.
"What if I don't like it there?" I asked.
"Then we leave," he said. "I enjoyed traveling with the Cirque, but I am not crazy about it. If you like it, we stay. If you do not, we hit the road again."
"They won't mind me tagging along?" I asked.
"You will have to pull your weight," he replied. "Mr. Tall insists on everybody doing something. You will have to help set up chairs and lights, sell souvenirs, clean up afterward, or do the cooking. You will be kept busy, but they will not overwork you. We will have plenty of time for our lessons."
We decided to give it a shot. At least it would mean a real bed every night. My back was stiff from sleeping on floors.
Mr. Crepsley had to find out where the show was before we could join. I asked him how he was going to do that. He told me he was able to home in on Mr. Tall's thoughts.
"You mean he's telepathic?" I asked, remembering what Steve had called people who could talk to each other using only their brains.
"Sort of," Mr. Crepsley said. "We cannot speak to each other with our thoughts but I can pick up his aura , you could call it. Once I locate that, tracking him down will be no problem."
"Could I locate his aura?" I wanted to know.
"No," Mr. Crepsley said. "Most vampires along with a few gifted humans can, but half-vampires cannot."
He sat down in the middle of the church and closed his eyes. He was quiet for about a minute. Then his eyelids opened and he stood.
"Got him," he said.
"So soon?" I asked. "I thought it would take longer."
"I have searched for his aura many times," Mr. Crepsley explained. "I know what to look for. Finding him is as easy as finding a needle in a haystack."
"That's supposed to be hard, isn't it?"
"Not for a vampire," he said.
While we were packing to leave, I found myself gazing around the church. Something had been bothering me, but I wasn't sure whether I should mention it to Mr. Crepsley.
"Go on," he said, startling me. "Ask whatever it is that is on your mind."
"How did you know I wanted to ask something?" I said, sort of freaked out.
He laughed. "It does not take a vampire to know when a child is curious. You have been bursting with a question for ages. What is it?"
I took a deep breath. "Do you believe in God?" I asked.
Mr. Crepsley looked at me oddly, then nodded slowly. "I believe in the gods of the vampires."
I frowned. "There are vampire gods?"
"Of course," he said. "Every culture has gods: Egyptian gods, Indian gods, Chinese gods. Vampires are no different."
"What about heaven?" I asked.
"We believe in Paradise. It lies beyond the stars. When we die, if we have lived good lives, our spirits float free of the earth, cross the stars and galaxies, and come at last to a wonderful world at the other side of the universe Paradise."
"And if they don't live good lives?"
"They stay here," he said. "They remain bound to earth as ghosts, doomed to wander the face of this planet forever."
I thought about that. "What's a 'good life' for a vampire?" I asked. "How do they make it to Paradise?"
"Live cleanly," he said. "Do not kill unless necessary. Do not hurt people. Do not spoil the world."
"Drinking blood isn't evil?" I asked.
"Not unless you kill the person you drink from," Mr. Crepsley said. "And even then, sometimes, it can be a good thing."
"Killing someone can begood ?" I gasped.
Mr. Crepsley nodded seriously. "People have souls, Darren. When they die, those souls go to heaven or Paradise. But it is possible to keep a part of them here. When we drink small amounts of blood, we do not take any of a person's essence. But if we drink lots, we keep part of them alive within us."
"How?" I asked, frowning.
"By draining a person's blood, we absorb some of that person's memories and feelings," he said. "They become part of us, and we can see the world the way they saw it and remember things which might otherwise have been forgotten."
"Like what?"
He thought a moment. "One of my dearest friends is called Paris Skyle," he said. "He is very old. Many centuries ago, he was friends with William Shakespeare."
"TheWilliam Shakespeare the guy who wrote the plays?"
Mr. Crepsley nodded. "Plays and poems. But not all of Shakespeare's poetry was recorded; some of his most famous verses were lost. When Shakespeare was dying, Paris drank from him Shakespeare asked him to and was able to tap into those lost poems and have them written down. The world would have been a poorer place without them."
"But " I stopped. "Do you only do that with people who ask, and who are dying?"
"Yes," he said. "It would be evil to kill a healthy person. But to drink from friends who are close to death, and keep their memories and experiences alive " He smiled. "That is very good indeed.
"Come," he said then. "Brood about it on the way. We must be off."
I jumped on Mr. Crepsley's back when we were ready to leave, and off we flitted. He still hadn't explained how he could move so fast. It wasn't that he ran quickly; it was more like the world slipped by as he ran. He said all full vampires could flit.
It was nice, watching the countryside drift away behind us. We ran up hills and across the vast plains, faster than the wind. There was total silence while we were flitting and nobody ever noticed us. It was like we were surrounded by a magic bubble.
While we flitted I thought about what Mr. Crepsley had said, about keeping people's memories alive by drinking from them. I wasn't sure how that would work, and I made up my mind to ask him about it sometime later.
Flitting was hard work; the vampire was sweating and I could see him starting to struggle. To help, I took out a bottle of human blood, uncorked it, and held it to his lips so he could drink.
He nodded his silent thanks, wiped the sweat from his brow, and kept going.
Finally, as the sky was beginning to lighten, he slowed to a halt. I climbed down off his back and looked around. We were in the middle of a country road, fields and trees all around us, with no houses in sight.
"Where's the Cirque Du Freak?" I asked.
"A few miles farther ahead," he said, pointing. He was kneeling down, panting for breath.
"Did you run out of steam?" I asked, holding back my laughter.
"No." He glared. "I could have made it, but did not want to arrive looking flushed."
"You'd better not rest too long," I warned him. "Morning's on its way."
"I know precisely what time it is!" he snapped. "I know more about mornings and dawns than any living human. We have plenty of time on our side. A whole forty-three minutes yet."
"If you say so."
"Ido ." He stood, annoyed, and began to walk. I waited until he was a little in front, then ran ahead of him.
"Hurry up, old man," I teased. "You're getting left behind."
"Keep it up," he growled. "See what it gets you. A smack on the ear and a kick in the pants."
He started running after a couple of minutes, and the two of us jogged along, side by side. I was in a good mood, happier than I'd been for months. It was nice having something to look forward to.
We passed a bunch of grungy campers on our way.
They were starting to wake up and move around. A couple waved to us. They were funny-looking people: long hair, strange clothes, weighed down with fancy earrings and bracelets.
There were banners and flags all over the camp. I tried reading them, but it was hard to focus while I was jogging, and I didn't want to stop. From what I could tell, the campers had something to do with a protest against a new road.
The road was really curvy. After the fifth turn, we finally spotted the Cirque Du Freak, nestled in a clearing by the banks of a river. It was quiet everyone was sleeping, I imagined and if we'd been in a car and not looking for the vans and tents, it would have been easy to miss.
It was a weird place for the circus to be. There was no hall or big tent for the freaks to perform in. I figured this must be a pit stop between two towns.
Mr. Crepsley weaved between the vans and cars with confidence. He knew exactly where he was going. I followed, less sure of myself, remembering the night I crept past the freaks and stole Madam Octa.
Mr. Crepsley stopped at a long silver van and knocked on the door. It opened almost immediately and the towering figure of Mr. Tall appeared. His eyes looked darker than ever in the dim light. If I hadn't known better, I would have sworn he had no eyeballs, only two black, empty spaces.
"Oh, it's you," he said, voice low, lips hardly moving. "I thought I felt you searching for me." He craned over Mr. Crepsley and looked down to where I was shaking. "I see you've brought the boy."
"May we come in?" Mr. Crepsley asked.
"Of course. "What is it one is supposed to say to you vampires?" He smiled. "Enter of your own free will?"
"Something like that," Mr. Crepsley replied, and from the smile on his face, I knew it was an old joke between them.
We went in the van and sat down. It was pretty bare inside, just a few shelves with posters and pamphlets for the Cirque, the tall red hat and gloves I'd seen Mr. Tall wear before, a couple of knickknacks, and a hideaway bed.
"I didn't expect you back so soon, Larten," Mr. Tall said. Even when he was sitting down he looked enormous.
"A swift return had not been on the agenda, Hibernius."
Hibernius? That was a weird name. Still, it fit him somehow. Hibernius Tall. It had a strange ring to it.
"Did you run into trouble?" Mr. Tall asked.
"No," Mr. Crepsley said. "Darren was not happy. I decided he would be better off here, among those of his own kind."
"I see." Mr. Tall studied me curiously. "You have come a long way since I saw you last, Darren Shan," he said.
"I liked it better where I was," I grumbled.
"Then why did you leave?" he asked.
I glared at him. "You know why," I said coldly.
He nodded slowly.
"Is it okay if we stay?" Mr. Crepsley asked.
"Of course," Mr. Tall replied immediately. "Delighted to have you back, actually. We're a bit understaffed at the moment. Alexander Ribs, Sive and Seersa, and Gertha Teeth are off on vacations or business. Cormac Limbs is on his way to join Us but is late getting here. Larten Crepsley and his amazing performing spider will be an invaluable addition to the lineup."
"Thank you," Mr. Crepsley said.
"What about me?" I asked boldly.
Mr. Tall smiled. "You are less valuable," he said, "but welcome all the same."
I snorted but said nothing.
"Where shall we be playing?" Mr. Crepsley asked next.
"Right here," Mr. Tall told him.
"Here?" I piped up in surprise.
"That puzzles you?" Mr. Tall enquired.
"It's in the middle of nowhere," I said. "I thought you only played in towns and cities, where you'd get big audiences."
"Wealways get a big audience," Mr. Tall said. "No matter where we play, people will come. Usually we stick to more populated areas, but this is a slow time of the year for us. As I've said, several of our best performers are absent, as are certain other members of our company."
A strange, secretive look passed between Mr. Tall and Mr. Crepsley, and I felt I was being left out of something.
"So we are resting for a while," Mr. Tall went on. "We shall not be putting on any shows for a few days. We're relaxing."
"We passed a camp on our way," Mr. Crepsley said. "Are they causing any problems?"
"The foot soldiers of NOP?" Mr. Tall laughed. "They're too busy defending trees and rocks to interfere with us."
"What's NOP?" I asked.
"Nature's Opposing Protectors," Mr. Tall explained. "They're ecowarriors. They run around the country trying to stop new roads and bridges from being built. They've been here a couple of months but are due to move on soon."
"Are they real warriors?" I asked. "Do they have guns and grenades and tanks?"
The two adults almost laughed their heads off.
"He can be quite silly sometimes," Mr. Crepsley said between fits of laughter, "but he is not as dumb as he seems."
I felt my face reddening but held my tongue. I knew from experience that it was no use getting mad at grown-ups when they laugh at you; it only makes them laugh even harder.
"They call themselves warriors," Mr. Tall said, "but they're not really. They chain themselves to trees and pour sand into the engines of backhoes and toss nails in the paths of cars. That sort of thing."
"Why " I started, but Mr. Crepsley interrupted.
"We do not have time for questions," he said. "A few more minutes and the sun will be up." He rose and shook Mr. Tall's hand. "Thank you for taking us back, Hibernius."
"My pleasure," Mr. Tall replied.
"I trust you took good care of my coffin?"
"Of course."
Mr. Crepsley smiled happily and rubbed his hands together. "That is what I miss most when I am away. It will be nice to sleep in it once more."
"What about the boy?" Mr. Tall asked. "Do you want us to knock together a coffin for him?"
"Don't even think about it!" I shouted. "You won't get me in one of those again!" I remembered what it felt like to be in a coffin when I was buried alive and shivered.
Mr. Crepsley smiled. "Put Darren in with one of the other performers," he said. "Somebody his own age, if possible."
Mr. Tall thought a moment. "How about Evra?"
Mr. Crepsley's smile spread. "Yes. I think putting him in with Evra is a marvelous idea."
"Who's Evra?" I asked nervously.
"You will find out," Mr. Crepsley promised, opening the door to the van. "I will leave you to Mr. Tall. He will take care of you. I have to be away."
And then he was gone, off to find his beloved coffin.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw Mr. Tall standing directly behind me. I don't know how he crossed the room so quickly. I didn't even hear him moving to stand up.
"Shall we go?" he said.
I gulped and nodded.
He led the way through the campsite. The morning was breaking and I saw a couple of lights coming on in a few of the vans and tents. Mr. Tall led me to an old gray tent, big enough for five or six people.
"Here are some blankets," he said, handing over a bunch of woolly sheets. "And a pillow." I didn't know where he got them from he didn't have them when we left the van but was too tired to ask. "You may sleep as late as you wish. I will come for you when you are awake and explain your duties. Evra will take care of you until then."
I lifted the flap of the tent and looked inside. It was too dark to see anything. "Who's Evra?" I asked, turning back to Mr. Tall. But he was gone, having disappeared with his usual quick, silent speed.
I sighed and entered, clutching the blankets to my chest. I let the flap fall back into place, then stood quietly inside, waiting for my eyes to adjust. I could hear someone breathing softly and could make out a vague shape in a hammock in the darkness beyond the middle of the tent. I looked for somewhere to make my bed. I didn't want my tentmate tripping over me when he was getting up.
I walked forward a few blind steps. Suddenly something slithered toward me through the darkness.
I stopped and stared ahead, wishing so badly that I could see (without the light of the stars or moon, even a vampire struggles to make things out).
"Hello?" I whispered. "Are you Evra? I'm Darren Shan. I'm your new "
I stopped. The slithering noise had reached my feet. As I stood rooted to the spot, something fleshy and slimy wrapped itself around my legs. I instantly knew what it was but didn't dare look down until it had climbed more than halfway up my body. Finally, as its coils curled around my chest, I worked up the courage to look down and stare into the eyes of a long, thick, hissing snake!
CHAPTER EIGHT
Istood frozen with fear for more than an hour, staring into the snake's deathly cold eyes, waiting for it to strike.
Finally, with the light of the strong morning sun shining through the canvas of the tent, the sleeping shape in the hammock shifted, yawned, sat up, and glanced around.
It was the snake-boy, and he looked shocked when he saw me. He immediately rocked back in the hammock and raised the covers, as though to protect himself. Then he saw the snake wrapped around me and breathed easily.
"Who are you?" he asked sharply. "What are you doing here?"
I shook my head slowly. I didn't dare speak for fear that the movement of my lungs would cause the snake to strike.
"You'd better answer," he warned, "or I'll tell her to take your eyes out."
"I I I'm Duh-Darren Sh-sh-Shan," I stuttered. "Mr. Tuh-Tall told me to cuh-come in. He said I wuh-wuh-was supposed to be your new ruh-ruh-ruh-roommate."
"Darren Shan?" The snake-boy frowned, then pointed knowingly. "You're Mr. Crepsley's assistant, aren't you?"
"Yes," I said quietly.
The snake-boy grinned. "Did he know Mr. Tall was putting you in with me?" I nodded and he laughed. "I've never met a vampire without a nasty sense of humor."
He swung down out of the hammock, crossed the tent, took hold of the snake's head, and began unwrapping it. "You're okay," he assured me. "In fact, you were never in danger. The snake's been asleep the whole time. You could have tugged her off and she wouldn't have stirred. She's a deep sleeper."
"She'sasleep ?" I squeaked. "But how come she wrapped herself around me?"
He smiled. "She sleepcrawls."
"Sleepcrawls!" I stared at him, then at the snake, which hadn't moved while he was unwinding her. The last of her coils came free and I could step away to one side. My legs were stiff and full of pins and needles.
"A sleepcrawling snake." I laughed uneasily. "Thank God she's not asleepeating snake!"
The snake-boy tucked his pet away in a corner and stroked her head lovingly. "She wouldn't have eaten you even if she had woken up," he informed me. "She ate a goat yesterday. Snakes her size don't have to eat very often."
Leaving his snake, he threw back the tent flap and stepped out. I followed quickly, not wanting to be left alone with the reptile.
I studied him closely outside. He was exactly as I remembered: a few years older than me and very thin, with long yellow-green hair, narrow eyes, and strangely webbed fingers and toes; his body was covered in green, gold, yellow, and blue scales. He was wearing a pair of shorts and nothing else.