Lord of the Shadows. Darren Shan
I studied it curiously, wondering why he was showing me. “And this is where we will be going next,” he said, pointing to a town a hundred and sixty kilometres away.
I looked at the name of the town. My breath caught in my throat. For a moment I felt dizzy and a cloud seemed to pass in front of my eyes. Then my expression cleared. “I see,” I said softly.
“You don’t have to come with us,” Mr Tall said. “You can take a different route and meet up with us later, if you wish.”
I started to think about it, then made a snap gut decision instead. “That’s OK,” I said. “I’ll come. I want to. It … it’ll be interesting.”
“Very well,” Mr Tall said briskly, taking back the map and rolling it up again. “We depart in the morning.”
With that, Mr Tall slipped away. I felt he didn’t approve of my decision, but I couldn’t say why, and I didn’t devote much thought to it. Instead, I stood by the stacked-up chairs, lost in the past, thinking about all the people I’d known as a child, especially my parents and younger sister.
Harkat limped over eventually and waved a grey hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my daze. “What’s wrong?” he asked, sensing my disquiet.
“Nothing,” I said, with a confused shrug. “At least, I don’t think so. It might even be a good thing. I…” Sighing, I stared at the ten little scars on my fingertips and muttered without looking up, “I’m going home.”
CHAPTER TWO
ALEXANDER RIBS stood, rapped his ribcage with a spoon and opened his mouth. A loud musical note sprang out and all conversation ceased. Facing the boy at the head of the table, Alexander sang, “He’s green, he’s lean, snot he’s never seen, his name is Shancus — happy birthday!”
Everybody cheered. Thirty performers and helpers from the Cirque Du Freak were seated around a huge oval table, celebrating Shancus Von’s eighth birthday. It was a chilly April day, and most people were wrapped up warmly. The table was overflowing with cakes, sweets and drinks, and we were digging in happily.
When Alexander Ribs sat down, Truska – a woman who could grow her beard at will – stood and sung another birthday greeting. “The only things he fears is his mother’s flying ears, his name is Shancus — happy birthday!”
Merla snapped one of her ears off when she heard that and flicked it at her son. He ducked and it flew high over his head, then circled back to Merla, who caught and reattached it to the side of her head. Everyone laughed.
Since Shancus had been named in my honour, I guessed I’d better chip in with a verse of my own. Thinking quickly, I stood, cleared my throat, and chanted, “He’s scaly and he’s great, today he has turned eight, his name is Shancus — happy birthday!”
“Thanks, godfather,” Shancus smirked. I wasn’t really his godfather, but he liked to pretend I was — especially when it was his birthday and he was looking for a cool present!
A few others took turns singing birthday greetings to the snake-boy, then Evra stood and wrapped up the song with, “Despite the pranks you pull, your mum and I love you, pesky Shancus — happy birthday!”
There was lots of applause, then the women at the table shuffled over to hug and kiss Shancus. He pulled a mortified expression, but I could see he was delighted by the attention. His younger brother, Urcha, was jealous and sat a little way back from the table, sulking. Their sister, Lilia, was rooting through the piles of presents Shancus had received, seeing if there was anything of interest to a five-year-old girl.
Evra went to try and cheer up Urcha. Unlike Shancus and Lilia, the middle Von child was an ordinary human and he felt he was the odd one out. Evra and Merla had a tough time making him feel special. I saw Evra slip a small present to Urcha, and heard him whisper, “Don’t tell the others!” Urcha looked much happier after that. He joined Shancus at the table and tucked into a pile of small cakes.
I made my way over to where Evra was beaming at his family. “Eight years,” I remarked, clapping Evra on his left shoulder (some of his scales had been sliced away from his right shoulder a long time ago, and he didn’t like people touching him there). “I bet it feels like eight weeks.”
“You don’t know how right you are,” Evra smiled. “Time flies when you have kids. You’ll find out yourself one–” He stopped and grimaced. “Sorry. I forgot.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. As a half-vampire, I was sterile. I could never have children. It was one of the drawbacks to being part of the clan.
“When are you going to show the snake to Shancus?” Evra asked.
“Later,” I grinned. “I gave him a book earlier. He thinks that’s his real present — he looked disgusted! I’ll let him enjoy the rest of the party, then hit him with the snake when he thinks the fun is over.”
Shancus already owned a snake, but I’d bought a new one for him, larger and more colourful. Evra helped me choose it. His old snake would be passed on to Urcha, so both boys would have cause to celebrate tonight.
Merla called Evra back to the party — Lilia had got stuck in wrapping paper and needed to be rescued. I watched my friends for a minute or two, then turned my back on the festivities and walked away. I wandered through the maze of vans and tents of the Cirque Du Freak, coming to a halt near the Wolf Man’s cage. The savage man-beast was snoring. I took a small jar of pickled onions out of my pocket and ate one, smiling sadly as I remembered where my taste for pickled onions had come from.
That memory led to others, and I found myself looking back over the years, recalling major events, remarkable triumphs, and sickening losses. The night of my blooding, when Mr Crepsley pumped his vampiric blood into me. Slowly coming to terms with my appetite and powers. Sam Grest — the original pickled onion connoisseur. My first girlfriend, Debbie Hemlock. Learning about the vampaneze. The trek to Vampire Mountain. My Trials, where I’d had to prove myself worthy of being a child of the night. Failing and running away. The revelation that a Vampire General – Kurda Smahlt – was a traitor, in league with the vampaneze. Exposing Kurda. Becoming a Prince.
The Wolf Man stirred and I walked on, not wanting to wake him. My mind continued to turn over old memories. Kurda telling us why he’d betrayed the clan — the Lord of the Vampaneze had arisen and stood poised to lead his people into war against the vampires. The early years of the War of the Scars, when I’d lived in Vampire Mountain. Leaving the safety of the fortress to hunt for the Vampaneze Lord, accompanied by Mr Crepsley and Harkat. Meeting Vancha March, the third hunter — only he, Mr Crepsley or I could kill the Vampaneze Lord. Travelling with a witch called Evanna. Clashing with the Lord of the Vampaneze, unaware of his identity until afterwards, when he’d escaped with his protector, Gannen Harst.
I wanted to stop there – the next set of memories was the most painful – but my thoughts raced on. Returning to the city of Mr Crepsley’s youth. Running into Debbie again — an adult now, a teacher. Other faces from the past — R.V. and Steve Leopard. The former used to be an eco-warrior, a man who blamed me for the loss of his hands. He’d become a vampaneze and was part of a plot to lure my allies and me underground, where the Lord of the Vampaneze could kill us.
Steve was part of that plot too, though at first I thought he was on our side. Steve was my best friend when we were kids. We went to the Cirque Du Freak together. He recognized Mr Crepsley and asked to be his assistant. Mr Crepsley refused — he said Steve had evil blood. Later, Steve was bitten by Mr Crepsley’s poisonous tarantula. Only Mr Crepsley could cure him. I became a half-vampire to save Steve’s life, but Steve didn’t see it that way. He thought I’d betrayed him and taken his place among the vampires. He became hell-bent on revenge.
Underground in Mr Crepsley’s city. Facing the vampaneze in a chamber