Vampire Blood Trilogy. Darren Shan
rows behind us had cleared out, we made our way to the back of the theatre. I brought the stuff I’d bought with me. I also lugged Steve’s gifts, because he was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he would have dropped them or left them behind.
Mr Tall was standing at the back, holding the curtains open, smiling at everyone. The smile widened when we approached.
“Well, boys,” he said, “did you enjoy the show?”
“It was fabulous!” I said.
“You weren’t scared?” he asked.
“A little,” I admitted, “but no more than anybody else.”
He laughed. “You’re a tough pair,” he said.
There were people behind us, so we hurried on, not wanting to hold them up. Steve looked about when we entered the short corridor between the two sets of curtains, then leaned over and whispered in my ear: “Go back by yourself.”
“What?” I asked, stopping. The people who had been behind us were chatting with Mr Tall, so there was no rush.
“You heard,” he said.
“Why should I?” I asked.
“Because I’m not coming,” he said. “I’m staying. I don’t know how things will turn out, but I have to stay. I’ll follow you home later, after I’ve …” His voice trailed off and he pulled me forward.
We pushed past the second set of curtains and entered the corridor with the table, the one covered by the long black cloth. The people ahead of us had their backs to us. Steve looked over his shoulder, to make sure nobody could see, then dived underneath the table and hid behind the cloth!
“Steve!” I hissed, worried he was going to get us into trouble.
“Go on!” he hissed back.
“But you can’t—” I began.
“Do what I say!” he snapped. “Go, quick, before we’re caught.”
I didn’t like it but what else could I do? Steve sounded like he’d go ape if I didn’t obey him. I’d seen Steve get into fierce rages before and he wasn’t someone you wanted to mess with when he was angry.
I started walking, turned the corner and began down the long corridor leading to the front door. I was walking slowly, thinking, and the people in front got further ahead. I glanced over my shoulder and saw there was still nobody behind me.
And then I spotted the door.
It was the one we’d stopped by on our way in, the one leading up to the balcony. I paused when I reached it and checked behind one last time. Nobody there.
“OK,” I said to myself, “I’m staying! I don’t know what Steve’s up to, but he’s my best friend. If he gets into trouble, I want to be there to help him out.”
Before I could change my mind, I opened the door, slipped through, shut it quickly behind me and stood in the dark, my heart beating as fast as a mouse’s.
I stood there for ages, listening while the last of the audience filed out. I could hear their murmurs as they discussed the show in hushed, frightened, but excited tones. Then they were gone and the place was quiet. I thought I’d be able to hear noises from inside the theatre, people cleaning up and fixing the chairs back in place, but the whole building was silent as a graveyard.
I climbed the stairs. My eyes had got used to the dark and I could see pretty well. The stairs were old and creaky and I was half-afraid they would snap under my feet and send me hurtling to my death, but they held.
When I reached the top I discovered I was standing in the middle of the balcony. It was very dusty and dirty up here, and cold too. I shivered as I crept down towards the front.
I had a great view of the stage. The lights were still on and I could see everything in perfect detail. Nobody was about, not the freaks, not the pretty ladies, not the blue-hoods – not Steve. I sat back and waited.
About five minutes later, I spotted a shadow creeping slowly towards the stage. It pulled itself up, then stood and walked to the centre, where it stopped and turned around.
It was Steve.
He started towards the left wing, then stopped and set off towards the right. He stopped again. I could see him chewing on his nails, trying to decide which way to go.
Then a voice came from high above his head. “Are you looking for me?” it asked. A figure swooped down onto the stage, its arms out to its sides, a long red cloak floating behind it like a pair of wings.
Steve nearly jumped out of his skin when the figure hit the stage and rolled into a ball. I toppled backwards, terrified. When I rose to my knees again, the figure was standing and I was able to make out its red clothes, orange hair, pale skin and huge scar.
Mr Crepsley!
Steve tried speaking, but his teeth were shaking too much.
“I saw you watching me,” Mr Crepsley said. “You gasped aloud when you first saw me. Why?”
“B-b-b-because I kn-kn-know who you a-are,” Steve stuttered, finding his voice.
“I am Larten Crepsley,” the creepy-looking man said.
“No,” Steve replied. “I know who you really are.”
“Oh?” Mr Crepsley smiled, but there was no humour in it. “Tell me, little boy,” he sneered, “who am I, really?”
“Your real name is Vur Horston,” Steve said, and Mr Crepsley’s jaw dropped in astonishment. And then Steve said something else, and my jaw dropped too.
“You’re a vampire,” he said, and the silence which followed was as long as it was terrifying.
MR CREPSLEY (or Vur Horston, if that was his real name) smiled. “So,” he said, “I have been discovered. I should not be surprised. It had to happen eventually. Tell me, boy, who sent you?”
“Nobody,” Steve said.
Mr Crepsley frowned. “Come, boy,” he growled, “do not play games. Who are you working for? Who put you onto me and what do they want?”
“I’m not working for anybody,” Steve insisted. “I’ve lots of books and magazines at home about vampires and monsters. There was a picture of you in one of them.”
“A picture?” Mr Crepsley asked suspiciously.
“A painting,” Steve replied. “It was done in 1903, in Paris. You were with a rich woman. The story said the two of you almost married, but she found out you were a vampire and dumped you.”
Mr Crepsley smiled. “As good a reason as any. Her friends thought she was inventing a fantastic story to make herself look better.”
“But it wasn’t a story, was it?” Steve asked.
“No,” Mr Crepsley agreed. “It was not.” He sighed and fixed Steve with a fierce gaze. “Though it might have been better for you if it had been!” he boomed.
If I’d been in Steve’s place, I would have fled as soon as he said that. But Steve didn’t even blink.
“You won’t hurt me,” he said.
“Why not?” Mr Crepsley asked.
“Because of my friend,” Steve said. “I told him all about you and if anything happens to me, he’ll tell the police.”
“They will not believe him,” Mr Crepsley snorted.
“Probably not,” Steve agreed. “But if I turn up dead