Blood Beast. Darren Shan
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Confront the enemy within at
First published in hardback in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2007
HarperCollins Children’s Books
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THE DEMONATA BOOK 5: BLOOD BEAST. Copyright © Darren Shan 2007.
Darren Shan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of the work.
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Source ISBN: 9780007231409
Ebook edition © FEBRUARY 2011 ISBN: 9780007435418
Version: 2018-08-14
Dedication
For:
Mary Barry (my gruesome Granny), who overcame a
much fiercer beast than any Grubbs Grady ever faced!
Glad to still have you with us, old 'un!!!
OBEs (Order of the Bloody Entrails) to:
Catherine “the cut-throat” Holmes
Katie McGowan — there's a new killer kid
on the block!
Mage superior:
Stella “the gouger” Paskins
Magical support:
Christopher Little's circular crew
Contents
DAMN THE SANDMAN
→ My hands are red with blood. I’m running through a forest. Naked, but I don’t care. I’m an animal, not a human. Animals don’t need clothes.
Blood on my tongue too. Must have fed recently. Can’t remember if it was a wild creature or a person. Not bothered much either way. Still hungry — that’s all that matters. Need to find something new to chew. And soon.
I leap a fallen log. As I land, my bare feet hit twigs. They snap and I sink into a pool of mud. I collapse, howling. The twigs bite into me. I catch a glimpse of fiery red eyes peering up out of the mud. They aren’t twigs — they’re teeth! I lash out with my feet, screaming wordlessly…
… and mud and bits of bark fly everywhere. I stare at the mess suspiciously, my heart rate returning to normal. I was wrong. I haven’t fallen victim to a monstrous baby with mouths in the palms of its hands and balls of fire where its eyes should be. It’s just a muddy hole, covered with the remains of branches and leaves.
Scowling, I rise and wipe my feet clean on clumps of nearby grass. As I’m using my nails to pick off some splinters, a voice calls, “Grubbs…”
The name doesn’t register immediately. Then I remember — that’s my name. Or it used to be, once upon a time. I glance up warily, sniffing the air, but all I can smell is blood.
“Grubitsch…” the voice murmurs and I growl angrily. I hate my real name. Grubbs