Killers of the Dawn. Darren Shan
fired and a volley of bullets tore up the outside of the building. We fell to the floor, cursing and yelping, although there was no cause for concern — the marksmen were aiming deliberately high.
When the scream of bullets died away, the Chief Inspector addressed us again. “That was a warning — your last. Next time we shoot to kill. No bargaining. No trade-offs. No talking. You’ve terrorized this city for most of a year, but it stops here. You’re through.
“Two minutes,” she said. “Then we come in after you.”
A troubled silence descended.
“That’s that.” Harkat muttered after a handful of slow-ticking seconds. “We’re finished.”
“Maybe,” Vancha sighed. Then his gaze fell on Steve and he grinned. “But we won’t die alone.”
Vancha brought the fingers of his right hand together and held them out straight so they formed a blade of flesh and bone. He raised the hand above his head like a knife and advanced.
Steve closed his eyes and waited for death with a smile on his face.
“Wait,” Mr Crepsley said softly, halting him. “There is a way out.”
Vancha paused. “How?” he asked suspiciously.
“The window,” Mr Crepsley said. “We jump. They will not expect that.”
Vancha considered the plan. “The drop’s no problem,” he mused. “Not for us, anyway. How about you, Harkat?”
“Five storeys?” Harkat smiled. “I could do that … in my sleep.”
“But what do we do once down there?” Vancha asked. “The place is crawling with police and soldiers.”
“We flit,” Mr Crepsley said. “I will carry Darren. You carry Harkat. It will not be easy – they might shoot us before we can work up to flitting speed – but it can be done. With luck.”
“It’s crazy,” Vancha growled, then winked at us. “I like it!” He pointed at Steve. “But we kill him before we leave.”
“One minute!” Alice Burgess shouted through her megaphone.
Steve hadn’t moved. His eyes were still closed. He was still smiling.
I didn’t want Vancha to kill Steve. Although he’d betrayed us, he’d been my friend once, and the thought of him being killed in cold blood disturbed me. Also, there was Debbie to think about — if we killed Steve, R.V. would certainly kill Debbie in retaliation. It was crazy to worry about her, considering the trouble we were in, but I couldn’t help it.
I was about to ask Vancha to spare Steve’s life – although I didn’t think he’d listen to me – when Mr Crepsley beat me to the punch.
“We cannot kill him,” he said, sounding disgusted.
“Come again?” Vancha blinked.
“It is not the end of the world if we are captured,” Mr Crepsley said.
“Thirty seconds!” Burgess screamed tensely.
Mr Crepsley ignored the interruption. “If we are captured and taken alive, there may be chances to escape later. But if we kill Steve Leonard, I do not think they will spare us. These humans are ready to butcher us at the drop of a pin.”
Vancha shook his head uncertainly. “I don’t like it. I’d rather kill him and take our chances.”
“I would too,” Mr Crepsley agreed. “But there is the Vampaneze Lord to consider. We must put the hunt before our personal wishes. Sparing Steve Leonard is–”
“Ten seconds!” Burgess bellowed.
Vancha glowered over Steve a few seconds more, undecided, then cursed, twisted his hand, and whacked him over the back of the head with the flat of his palm. Steve toppled to the floor. I thought Vancha had killed him, but the Prince had only knocked him out.
“That should shut him up for a while,” Vancha grunted, checking his shuriken belts and wrapping his animal hides tight around him. “If we get the chance later, we’ll track him down and finish him off.”
“Time’s up!” Alice Burgess warned us. “Come out immediately or we open fire!”
“Ready?” Vancha asked.
“Ready,” Mr Crepsley said, drawing his knives.
“Ready,” Harkat said, testing the head of his axe with a large, grey finger.
“Ready,” I said, taking out my sword and holding it across my chest.
“Harkat jumps with me,” Vancha said. “Larten and Darren — you come next. Give us a second or two to roll out of your way.”
“Luck, Vancha,” Mr Crepsley said.
“Luck,” Vancha replied, then grinned savagely, slapped Harkat on the back, and leapt through the window, shattering the blind and glass, Harkat not far behind.
Mr Crepsley and I waited the agreed seconds, then jumped through the jagged remains of the window after our friends, and dropped swiftly to the ground like a couple of wingless bats, into the hellish cauldron which awaited us below.
CHAPTER FOUR
AS THE ground rushed up to meet me, I brought my legs together, hunched my upper body, spread my hands and landed in a crouch. My extra-strong bones absorbed the shock without breaking, although the force of the contact sent me rolling forward and I almost impaled myself on my sword (which would have been an embarrassing way to die).
There was a sharp yell of pain to my left, and as I bounced on to my feet I saw Mr Crepsley lying on the ground, nursing his right ankle, unable to stand. Ignoring my injured friend, I brought up my sword defensively and looked for Vancha and Harkat.
Our leap through the window had taken the police and soldiers by surprise. They were falling over one another and getting in each other’s way, making it impossible for anyone to take a clean shot.
Harkat had grabbed a young soldier in the midst of the confusion and was holding him close to his chest, spinning quickly in circles so nobody had time to shoot him in the back. Vancha, meanwhile, had set his sights on the big cheese. As I watched, he charged through several officers and soldiers, leapt over a car, and brought Chief Inspector Alice Burgess crashing to the ground with a perfectly timed tackle.
While all human eyes fixed on Vancha and the Chief Inspector, I hurried to Mr Crepsley’s side and helped him up. His teeth were gritted in pain and I could tell instantly that his ankle wouldn’t support him.
“Is it broken?” I shouted, dragging him behind a car for cover before someone snapped to his senses and took a shot at us.
“I do not think so,” he gasped, “but the pain is intense.” He collapsed behind the car and rubbed the flesh around his ankle, trying to massage out the pain.
Across the way, Vancha was on his feet, Alice Burgess’ throat clutched in one hand, her megaphone in the other. “Hear this!” he roared through the megaphone at the police and soldiers. “If you shoot, your Chief dies!”
Above us, the blades of the helicopter hummed like the wings of a thousand angry bees. Otherwise — total silence.
Burgess broke it. “Forget about me!” she roared. “Take these creeps out now!”
Several marksmen raised their weapons obediently.
Vancha tightened his fingers around the police chief’s throat. Her eyes bulged worryingly. The marksmen hesitated, then lowered their weapons slightly. Vancha loosened his grip,