Tunnels of Blood. Darren Shan
Evra laughed. “Imagine if they knew the truth – that you’re a couple of vampires and I’m a snake-boy!”
“I don’t think it would matter,” I said. “Mr Crepsley tips well and that’s the important thing. ‘Money buys privacy’, as I heard one of the managers say when a maid was complaining about a guy who’d been walking about naked in the corridors.”
“I saw him!” Evra exclaimed. “I thought he’d locked himself out of his room.”
“Nope,” I smiled. “Apparently he’s been walking about starkers for four or five days. According to the manager, he comes every year for a couple of weeks and spends the entire time roaming around, naked as a baby.”
“They let him?” Evra asked incredulously.
“‘Money buys privacy,’” I repeated.
“And I thought the Cirque Du Freak was a strange place to live,” Evra muttered wryly. “Humans are even weirder than us!”
As the days passed the city became more and more Christmassy as people geared themselves up for the twenty-fifth of December. Christmas trees appeared; lights and decorations lit up the streets and windows at night; Father Christmas touched down and took orders; toys of every shape and size filled shop shelves from floor to ceiling.
I was looking forward to Christmas: last year’s had passed unnoticed, since Christmas was something hardly anyone associated with the Cirque Du Freak bothered celebrating.
Evra couldn’t understand what the fuss was about.
“What’s the point of it?” he kept asking. “People spend loads of money buying each other presents they don’t really need; they drive themselves half-crazy getting a fancy dinner ready; trees and turkeys are bred and slaughtered in frightening numbers. It’s ridiculous!”
I tried telling him that it was a day of peace and goodwill, for families to come together and rejoice, but he was having none of it. As far as he was concerned, it was a mad, money-spinning racket.
Mr Crepsley, of course, only snorted whenever the subject was mentioned. “A silly human custom,” was how he put it. He wanted nothing to do with the festival.
It would be a lonely Christmas without my family – I missed them more at this time of the year than ever, especially Annie – but I was looking forward to it all the same. The hotel staff were throwing a big party for the guests. There’d be turkey and ham and Christmas pudding and crackers. I was determined to drag Evra into the spirit of the day: I was sure he’d change his opinion when he experienced Christmas firsthand.
“Want to come shopping?” I asked one frosty afternoon, wrapping a scarf around my neck (I didn’t need it – my vampire blood kept me warm – nor the thick coat or woolly jumper, but I’d draw attention if I went out without them).
Evra glanced out of the window. It had been snowing earlier and the world outside was frosty-white.
“I can’t be bothered,” he said. “I don’t feel like getting into heavy clothes again.” We’d been out that morning, throwing snowballs at each other.
“OK,” I said, glad he wasn’t coming: I wanted to look over a few presents for him. “I won’t be more than an hour or two.”
“Will you be back before dark?” Evra asked.
“Maybe,” I said.
“You’d better be.” He nodded towards the room where Mr Crepsley lay sleeping. “You know how it goes: the one night you aren’t here when he wakes will be the one night he wants you.”
I laughed. “I’ll risk it. Want me to bring you back anything?” Evra shook his head. “OK. See you soon.”
I walked through the snow, whistling to myself. I liked snow: it covered up most of the smells and muffled a lot of the noise. Some of the kids who lived in the Square were out building a snowman. I stopped to watch them but moved on before they could ask me to join in: it was easier not to get involved with humans.
As I stood outside a large department store, studying the window display, wondering what to buy Evra, a girl walked over and stood beside me. She was dark-skinned, with long black hair, about my age, and a little shorter than me.
“Ahoy, cap’n,” she said, saluting.
“Excuse me?” I replied, startled.
“The costume,” she grinned, tugging my coat open. “I think it’s cool, you look like a pirate. You going in or just looking?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m looking for a present for my brother, but I’m not sure what to get him.” That was our cover story — that Evra and me were brothers, and Mr Crepsley was our father.
“Right,” she nodded. “How old is he?”
“A year older than me,” I said.
“Aftershave,” she said firmly.
I shook my head. “He hasn’t started shaving yet.” And never would: hairs wouldn’t grow on Evra’s scales.
“OK,” she said. “How about a CD?”
“He doesn’t listen to much music,” I said. “Although if I got him a CD player, he might start.”
“Those are expensive,” the girl said.
“He’s my only brother,” I said. “He’s worth it.”
“Then go for it.” She held out a hand. She wasn’t wearing gloves, despite the cold. “My name’s Debbie.”
I shook her hand – mine looked very white compared with her dark skin – and told her my name.
“Darren and Debbie.” She smiled. “That sounds good, like Bonnie and Clyde.”
“Do you always talk like this to strangers?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “But we’re not strangers.”
“We’re not?” I frowned.
“I’ve seen you around,” she said. “I live in the Square, a few doors up from the hotel. That’s how I knew about the pirate costume. You hang out with that funny guy in glasses and a fake beard.”
“Evra. He’s the one I’m buying the present for.” I tried placing her face but couldn’t remember seeing her with the other kids. “I haven’t noticed you around,” I said.
“I haven’t been out much,” she replied. “I’ve been in bed with a cold. That’s why I spotted you – I’ve been spending my days staring out the window, studying the Square. Life gets really boring when you’re stuck in bed.”
Debbie blew into her hands and rubbed them together.
“You should be wearing gloves,” I told her.
“Look who’s talking,” she sniffed. I’d forgotten to pull on a pair before leaving. “Anyway, that’s what I’m here for – I lost my gloves earlier and I’ve been stomping about from shop to shop trying to find an identical pair. I don’t want my parents to find out I lost them on only my second day out of bed.”
“What were they like?” I asked.
“Red, with fake fur round the wrists,” she said. “My uncle gave them to me a few months ago but didn’t say where he got them.”
“Have you tried this place yet?” I asked.
“Uh-uh,” she said. “I was on my way in when I spotted you.”
“Want to come in with me?” I asked.
“Sure,” she said. “I hate shopping by myself. I’ll help you