Volumes 5 and 6 - Blood Beast/Demon Apocalypse. Darren Shan
Reni does a lot of the organising. I spent a couple of hours last night drawing up a list of everything we might need and was more than a little pleased with myself. She took one look at the list this morning, laughed and tore it up. “Is Jesus coming?” she asked.
“Uh… no,” I replied, astonished.
“Then forget about the loaves and fishes miracle. What you had on that list wouldn’t have got us through to nine o’clock. Now, fetch me a fresh pad and pen—this needs a woman’s considered touch.”
Much as I hate to admit it, she was right. Carrying the supplies back from Carcery Vale, it feels like we’ve bought far too much—we could feed the starving millions with this lot. But by the time we’ve divided it out into plates and bowls, and distributed them around the three main party rooms – two big living rooms and the kitchen – there doesn’t look to be a whole load.
“Maybe we need to make another run,” Frank muses, opening a bag of crisps.
“Maybe you need to stop snacking before anyone arrives,” Reni retorts, grabbing the bag from him. “No,” she says, casting a professional eye around. “This will do. Any more would be a waste.” She checks her watch. “I’m going home to get ready. And you boys…” She wrinkles her nose and pulls a face. “Ever heard of showers?”
She leaves. I look around at Loch, Frank and Leon. They stare back. Then we all raise an arm and sniff.
→The party’s not set to start until seven, but the first guests begin arriving soon after six. I’m nervous and twitchy, worrying about where their coats should go, if there’s enough food and drink, if anyone’s smuggled in anything they shouldn’t have. But as more arrive and the laughter and buzz of voices increase, I begin to relax as I realise people are having fun.
Not everyone who comes was on the invitation list, but there’s nothing I can do about that. If I turned them away, I’d sour the atmosphere. A few blow-ins have to expected at any party.
Loch and Frank help (Leon can’t make it until nine), opening the front doors and greeting newcomers while I’m showing others around the mansion. It’s cool to be a guide to so many fascinated guests. I love leading them through the corridors, pointing out weapons on the walls, explaining the house’s bloody history, showing them the hall of portraits and the faces of the dead.
“How come there are so many young people?” Mary asks, studying the paintings and photos.
“We’re an adventuresome lot,” I lie. “We don’t sit around quietly, waiting to grow old. We embrace life and danger, and as a result a lot of us die young.”
“They leave good looking corpses though,” Reni says and giggles sweetly when I blush.
→Bill-E arrives at a quarter to eight. I’m coming down the stairs when he enters, admitted by Loch.
“Hey, Bill-E, great to see you, glad you could come,” Loch enthuses, offering his hand, which Bill-E predictably – and, I must admit, amusingly – tries to shake. “Sucker!”
But even Loch’s teasing can’t spoil the mood. Bill-E breezes past him, feathers only mildly ruffled, and makes for the nearest pile of food. Ten minutes of solid munching later, he’s by my side, marching after me as I lead the latest group on a tour. By midway he’s taken over—he knows much more about the house and its legends than I do and is better at telling the stories. I don’t mind. It’s nice to see him come out of his shell. I wish he was like this all the time.
→As the night lengthens I start to feel strange. Nauseous, dizzy, the rooms and people around me appearing oddly out of focus. My breath is heavy in my ears and my stomach and chest ache if I move quickly. It’s not alcohol – nobody brought booze – but maybe somebody spiked the soft drinks with a spoon of nasty powder or a pill.
“Are you OK?” Reni asks, spotting me staggering towards the kitchen.
“A bit… weird…” I gasp, having to sit on the floor a couple of metres shy of the kitchen door.
Reni squats beside me. “You don’t look good,” she says and feels my forehead. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?” I shake my head. “Drugs?” Her voice is hard.
“Not… that I know… about,” I wheeze. “I was going… to the kitchen… to check. Think somebody… might have spiked… the drinks.”
“They’d better bloody not,” Reni growls, surging to her feet. “I’ll have them arrested if they have! You wait here.” She storms off to investigate. Five or ten minutes later – hard to keep track of time, my head’s throbbing so much – she returns, calmer. “Everyone else is fine. I don’t think the drinks have been tampered with.”
“Maybe I’m just sick,” I mutter.
“That’s what it looks like,” she says, then grabs my arms and hauls me to my feet. “Let’s get you outside. Fresh air will do you a world of good.”
She steers me through the kitchen and out the back door, then props me against the wall and stands watch beside me as I take deep breaths and try to focus. After a few minutes my head clears a little and my stomach settles.
“Better?” Reni asks, tilting my chin up, examining my eyes.
“Good as new,” I smile.
Reni leans towards me, a serious look in her eyes. I tense. Will this be our first kiss? I hope I don’t mess up. How do they do it in the movies—tongue or just lips? But at the last moment her expression crinkles and she kisses me quickly on the nose instead of the mouth.
“Come on, Romeo,” she laughs, taking my hands. “It’s too cold out here for monkey business.”
“What about inside?” I murmur, smiling at myself for getting the line out without stammering.
“Maybe later,” Reni grins and heads back in. I follow in high spirits, feeling much better than I did a few minutes ago. It’s only when we reach the kitchen door that I stop and feel a stab of real panic.
The light’s been switched off inside the kitchen. I can see the reflection of the sky in the dark glass of the door. Letting go of Reni’s hand, turning slowly, I look up at the cloudless heavens and fix my sight on the moon—which is round and fat, dangerously near to full.
→Locked inside Dervish’s study. Breath coming quickly, raggedly. Trembling wildly. Remembering the night Bill-E changed, the beast he became. Dervish had to cage him up to protect people from him. He would have killed otherwise.
Am I turning into a werewolf?
I don’t know. The sickness and dizziness are still there, but they might be more a product of fear than anything else. Maybe it’s just worry that’s turned me white as a ghost and left me ready to throw up, shaking like a human maraca.
I focus on my hands, willing them steady. After a while they obey me. Then I force myself to breathe normally, evenly. When I feel like I’m in control, I study my reflection in a small hand mirror, looking for telltale signs around the eyes and lips—that’s where the marks show first.
Nothing. The same lines and creases. Eyes a bit wilder than normal – which is understandable – but mine. Not clouded over or animalistic.
I wish Dervish was here. I consider calling his mobile. He isn’t that far away. The speed he drives, he could be here in a couple of hours. I dig my phone out of my pocket, scroll down to his number, start to bring my thumb down over the dial button… then stop.
“I’m not turning,” I grunt, angry at myself for being so scared. “It’s after ten.” I check my watch. “Hell, nearly eleven. The moon’s at the height