Vampire Mountain. Darren Shan

      PROLOGUE

      “PACK YOUR bags,” Mr Crepsley said late one night, as he was heading for his coffin. “We leave for Vampire Mountain tomorrow.”

      I was used to the vampire making declarations out of the blue – he didn’t believe in consulting me when making up his mind – but this was extraordinary, even for him.

      “Vampire Mountain?” I shrieked, racing after him. “Why are we going there?”

      “To present you to the Council,” he said. “It is time.”

      “The Council of Vampire Generals?” I asked. “Why do we have to go? Why now?”

      “We go because it is proper,” he said. “And we go now because the Council only meets once every twelve years. If we miss this year’s gathering, we will have a long wait until the next.”

      And that was all he’d say about it. He turned a deaf ear to the rest of my questions and tucked himself into his coffin before the sun rose, leaving me to fret the day away.

      My name’s Darren Shan. I’m a half-vampire. I used to be human until eight or so years ago, when my destiny clashed with Mr Crepsley’s and I reluctantly became his assistant. I had a hard time adapting to the vampire and his ways – especially when it came to drinking human blood – but finally I resigned myself, accepted my lot, and got on with the business of living.

      We were part of a travelling band of amazing circus performers, led by a man called Hibernius Tall. We toured the world, putting on incredible shows for customers who appreciated our strange and magical talents.

      Six years had passed since Mr Crepsley and me had last been separated from the Cirque Du Freak. We’d left to put a stop to a mad vampaneze by the name of Murlough, who was terrorizing the vampire’s home city. The vampaneze are a breakaway group of vampires who kill humans when they feed on them. Vampires don’t — we just take a bit of blood and move on, leaving those we sup from unharmed. Most of the vampire myths you read about in books or see in films actually originated with the vampaneze.

      They’d been a good six years. I’d become a regular performer at the Cirque, going on with Madam Octa – Mr Crepsley’s poisonous spider – every night to amaze and frighten audiences. I’d also learnt a few magic tricks, which I’d worked into the act. I got on well with the rest of the Cirque troupe. I’d grown accustomed to the wandering lifestyle and had been enjoying myself.

      Now, after six years of stability, we were about to journey into the unknown again. I knew a small bit about the Council and Vampire Mountain. Vampires were ruled by soldiers called Vampire Generals who made sure their laws were enforced. They killed mad or evil vampires and kept the rest of the walking un-dead in line. Mr Crepsley used to be a Vampire General, but quit long ago, for reasons he’d never revealed.

      Every so often – I now knew it was twelve years – the Generals gathered at a secret fortress to discuss whatever it was that blood-sucking creatures of the night discussed when they got together. Not only Generals attended – I’d heard