Sons of Destiny. Darren Shan

Sons of Destiny - Darren Shan


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you despise. This world will warp you and, despite your noble wishes, the monster within you will grow. Friends will become enemies. Truths will become lies. Beliefs will become sick jokes.

      “The path of revenge is always lined with danger. By following the ways of those you hate, you risk turning into them. This is your destiny, Darren Shan. You cannot avoid it. Unless Steve kills you and he becomes the Lord of the Shadows instead.”

      “What about Vancha?” I hissed. “What if he kills Steve? Can’t he become your bloody Lord of the Shadows?”

      “No,” she said calmly. “Vancha has the power to kill Steve and decide the fate of the War of the Scars. But moving beyond that, it’s either you or Steve. There is no other. Death or monstrosity. Those are your options.”

      She moved ahead of me then, leaving me with my troubled, frantic thoughts. Was there truly no hope for me or the world? And if not, if I was trapped between death at the hands of Steve or replacing him as the Lord of the Shadows, which was preferable? Was it better to live and terrorize the world — or die now, while I was still halfway human?

      I couldn’t decide on an answer. There didn’t seem to be one. And so I trudged along miserably and let my thoughts return to the more pressing issue — what to say to my grown-up sister who’d buried me as a child.

      Twenty minutes later, Darius opened the back door and held it ajar. I paused, staring at the house, filled with a sense of foreboding. Vancha and Alice were behind me, and Evanna further behind them. I looked back at my friends pleadingly. “Do I really have to do this?” I croaked.

      “Yes,” Vancha said. “It would be wrong to risk his life without informing his mother first. She must decide.”

      “OK,” I sighed. “You’ll wait out here till I call?”

      “Aye.”

      I gulped, then stepped over the threshold into the house where I’d lived as a boy. After eighteen long years of wandering, I’d finally come home.

      Darius guided me to the living room, though I could have found my way blindfolded. Much had changed within the house – new wallpaper and carpets, furniture and light fittings – but it felt the same, warm and comfy, layered with memories of the distant past. It was like walking through a ghost house — except the house was real and I was the ghost.

      Darius pushed the living-room door open. And there was Annie, her brown hair tied up in a bun, sitting in a chair in front of the TV, sipping hot chocolate, watching the news. “Decided to come home at last, did you?” she said to Darius, catching sight of him out of the corner of her eye. She laid the cup of hot chocolate down. “I was worried. Have you seen the news? There’s–”

      She saw me entering the room after Darius. “Is this one of your friends?” she asked. I could see her thinking I looked too old to be his friend. She was instantly suspicious of me.

      “Hello, Annie,” I said, smiling nervously, advancing into the light.

      “Have we met before?” she asked, frowning, not recognizing me.

      “In a way,” I chuckled drily.

      “Mum, it’s–” Darius started to say.

      “No,” I interrupted. “Let her see for herself. Don’t tell her.”

      “Tell me what?” Annie snapped. She was squinting at me now, uneasy.

      “Look closer, Annie,” I said softly, walking across the room, stopping less than a metre away from her. “Look at my eyes. They say the eyes never really change, even if everything else does.”

      “Your voice,” she muttered. “There’s something about…” She stood – she was the same height as me – and gazed steadily into my eyes. I smiled.

      “You look like somebody I knew a long time ago,” Annie said. “But I don’t remember who…”

      “You did know me a long time ago,” I whispered. “Eighteen years ago.”

      “Nonsense!” Annie snorted. “You’d have only been a baby.”

      “No,” I said. “I’ve aged slowly. I was slightly older than Darius when you last saw me.”

      “Is this a joke?” she half laughed.

      “Look at him, Mum,” Darius said intently. “Really look at him.”

      And she did. And this time I saw something in her expression and realized she’d known who I was the second she saw me — she just hadn’t admitted it to herself yet.

      “Listen to your instincts, Annie,” I said. “You always had good instincts. If I’d had your nose for trouble, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten into this mess. Maybe I’d have had more sense than to steal a poisonous spider…”

      Annie’s eyes widened. “No!” she gasped.

      “Yes,” I said.

      “You can’t be!”

      “I am.”

      “But … No!” she growled, firmly this time. “I don’t know who put you up to this, or what you think you’ll achieve by it, but if you don’t get out quick, I’ll–”

      “I bet you never told anyone about Madam Octa,” I cut her off. She trembled at mention of the spider’s name. “I bet you kept that secret all these years. You must have guessed she had something to do with my ‘death’. Maybe you asked Steve about it, since he was the one she bit, but I bet you never told Mum or–”

      “Darren?” she wheezed, confused tears springing to her eyes.

      “Hi, sis,” I grinned. “Long time no see.”

      She stared at me, appalled, and then did something I thought only happened in corny old movies — her eyes rolled up, her legs gave way, and she fainted!

      Annie sat in her chair, a fresh mug of hot chocolate cupped between her hands. I sat opposite her in a chair I’d dragged over from the other side of the room. Darius stood by the TV, which he’d turned off shortly after Annie fainted. Annie hadn’t said much since recovering. Once she’d come to, she’d pressed back into her chair, gazed at me, torn between horror and hope, and simply gasped, “How?”

      I’d spent the time since then filling her in. I spoke quietly and rapidly, starting with Mr Crepsley and Madam Octa, explaining the deal I’d struck to save Steve’s life, giving her a quick rundown of the years since then; my existence as a vampire, the vampaneze, the War of the Scars, tracking the Vampaneze Lord. I didn’t tell her Steve was the Lord or involved with the vampaneze — I wanted to see how she reacted to the rest of the story before hitting her with that one.

      Her eyes didn’t betray her feelings. It was impossible to guess what she was thinking. When I got to the part of the story involving Darius, her gaze slid from me to her son, and she leant forward slightly as I described how he’d been tricked into aiding the vampaneze, again being careful not to refer to Steve by name. I finished with my return to the old cinema theatre, Shancus’s death, and the Vampaneze Lord’s revelation that Darius was my nephew.

      “Once Darius knew the truth, he was horrified,” I said. “But I told him he mustn’t blame himself. Lots of older and wiser people than him have been fooled by the Lord of the Vampaneze.”

      I stopped and awaited her reaction. It wasn’t long coming.

      “You’re insane,” she said coldly. “If you are my brother – and I’m not a hundred per cent convinced – then whatever disease stunted your growth also affected your brain. Vampires? Vampaneze? My son in league with a killer?” She sneered. “You’re a madman.”

      “But it’s true!” Darius exclaimed. “He can prove it! He’s stronger and faster than any human. He can–”


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