by Darren Shan
Now here was the exile, bloated beyond recognition, wealthy and dressed in the most expensive clothes that Paris could offer, with a coterie of pretty young women and faithful servants.
“I knew you as soon as I saw you,” Tanish said for the umpteenth time. “The scar’s new, but otherwise you look the same. Not me! I’ve fattened out, haven’t I, Quicksilver?”
“You have,” Larten smiled. “But please, call me Vur.”
“Afraid I might ruin your cover?” Tanish smirked.
“Aye,” Larten admitted. He’d sent Alicia home, only telling her that he had met an old friend with whom he had much to discuss. Alicia wanted to meet Tanish Eul, but Larten had asked for some time alone with him.
“There’s no need to fear my tongue,” Tanish said. “Discretion is vital to me too. We both have secrets we wish to keep safe. I’ll say nothing of your past, Vur Horston.”
Larten thanked Tanish, then remarked on how well he seemed to be doing.
“Not bad,” Tanish sniffed, waving a hand at the beautifully decorated walls, the statues and paintings, the giant chandelier. The room was as big as the apartment where Larten and Alicia lived, and it was only one of many in the mansion, which was situated in the most fashionable part of Paris. “Of course this is just my town house. My place in the country is grander. I like an intimate setting when I come to the city.”
“It must have cost a fortune,” Larten noted. “You cannot have made such profits from gambling, surely.”
“Actually I did,” Tanish said. “But from the other side of the table. I run several casinos. There’s more to be made hosting gamblers than playing with them. Most of my profits come from drink and my pretty things, though I get a cut of all the table action too.”
Larten frowned. “What are your pretty things?”
“Women,” Tanish laughed. “We never had problems attracting young maids, did we? But others aren’t as lucky with the ladies as we were. For a price I supply the wealthier men of Paris with an introduction to companions who warmly welcome their attention.”
“Ah,” Larten sighed.
“You disapprove?” Tanish asked quietly.
“No,” Larten said. “I am merely surprised. I thought you might have gone into legitimate business. Having travelled so widely, I assumed import and export would have been more your line.”
“I rarely travel these days,” Tanish said. “No more than I have to. The world’s the same no matter where you go. Better to find a spot you can call home, then set down roots. I realised that long ago and I think you’ve come to see it too. That lady you were with tonight didn’t look as if she was going anywhere soon, and you plan to stay by her side a while, aye?”
“As long as she will have me,” Larten murmured.
“The years have been hard for you,” Tanish said seriously. “I see it in your eyes. Life in the clan wasn’t all that you imagined, eh, old friend?”
“No,” Larten said softly and that was all he had to say about it.
“Leaving that dark, insular world was the best thing I ever did,” Tanish sniffed. “The clan’s fine for the likes of Vancha March and those who think life is a trial that we should endure. But it’s not fitting for men of culture and refinement. You and I were meant for nobler things. The pleasures of the human world are best appreciated by those who have superseded humanity.”
There was a bell by Tanish’s chair. He picked it up and shook it twice. A man entered the room. Larten thought he was a servant, but at a click of Tanish’s fingers the man knelt by the side of the vampire’s chair. Tanish put a nail to the man’s neck and made a small incision. Leaning forward, wheezing as the layers of fat tightened round his stomach, he stuck out his tongue and lapped at the blood like a cat. When he was done, he spat on the man’s neck and rubbed in the spit to stop the flow of blood.
“Are you thirsty?” Tanish asked, nudging the man towards Larten.
“No,” Larten said.
“You’re sure I can’t tempt you?”
“I drank earlier,” Larten lied.
Tanish dismissed the man and smiled in an ugly way as the pitiful figure left the room, head bowed, silent as a ghost. “He wants to become a vampire,” Tanish sneered. “He thinks we live forever and are impervious to harm. I have others like him. I’ll never blood them – I know how scrupulous the Generals are, curse their eyes – but it amuses me to watch them squirm in the hope of joining our allegedly illustrious ranks.”
“Is it wise to let them know what you are?” Larten asked. “Especially given the current climate.”
“The…? Oh, you mean that Dracula book.” Tanish waved it away. “They’ll do as I say. I don’t keep them against their will. They think vampires are like gods. If one of them ever threatens to betray me… well, any god worth his salt is due a sacrifice every now and then, isn’t he?”
Tanish chortled at Larten’s expression. “I’m joking! I’d never kill those who serve me. I’m lazy, fat and foolish. I spend more than I should and chase women who only want me for my money. I have many vices, some that might shock even a hardened man of the world like you. But I’m not a killer.” His face softened. “You should know that better than any. You saw what happened when I was challenged. I’m a coward, aye, but not so craven that I’d kill weak humans to make myself feel powerful. I hope you know me well enough not to think so ill of me.”
“Of course,” Larten said, leaning across to pat the fat man’s pudgy knee. “Now tell me more about the past. I would like to know what you did when you left the clan, how you built your empire of sin.”
Tanish smiled at that – he liked the barbed compliment – and launched into a detailed history of his adventures since turning his back on the vampire world. It was a simple story of a man with more power and skill than humans, and how he had abused his talents, but Tanish told it skilfully, making Larten laugh on many occasions.
But there was a sad tinge to Tanish’s tales, and although he put a bright spin on things, Larten knew the exiled vampire wasn’t truly happy. He had found no more comfort beyond the reach of the clan than Larten had. As rich and surrounded by cronies and pretty women as he was, Tanish’s life was a sham of an existence. And Larten wondered, as he listened to his old friend speak, if this was the sort of wasted, miserable future he himself had to look forward to.
CHAPTER SEVEN
There was a knock at the front door. Gavner ran to answer it. When he saw the fat, beaming man on the doorstep, he squealed with excitement and threw himself into the visitor’s arms. “Uncle Tanish!” he yelled happily.
“Careful, young cur,” Tanish growled. “You’ll knock me over if you leap at me like a goat!” But he couldn’t hide a smile, even beneath the cover of his drooping moustache. He ruffled Gavner’s hair, then passed a box of sweets to the boy. He often brought gifts when he visited. Gavner never asked for any, and would have been equally delighted to see his uncle if he’d come empty-handed, but Tanish liked to “spread the joy” everywhere he went.
“Are the happy couple home?” Tanish asked.
“Yes,” Gavner said, opening the box and peering inside. “They’re in the dining room, posing for the portrait.”
“Not finished yet?” Tanish gasped theatrically. “That painter must be the slowest in Paris.”
“Alicia doesn’t mind,” Gavner said confidentially, “but Vur’s furious! He sits and glowers like those Indian chiefs in the stories you told me.” Gavner crossed his arms and frowned fiercely.
Tanish chortled. “Perhaps I’ll bribe the painter to work even slower,” he said, and the pair almost collapsed with giggles.
“Wait,” Gavner said when Tanish recovered and started for the dining room. “I built a model of the Eiffel Tower that I want to show you.”
Tanish went with the boy to his room, where he spent several minutes admiring Gavner’s crude recreation of the famous tower and complimenting the talentless but proud child. “You’ll be an architect one day,” Tanish
said with as straight a face as any he’d ever pulled when playing poker.
When Tanish finally made it out of Gavner’s bedroom, he saw that Larten did indeed look the spitting image of an Indian chief and he had to hide his smirk behind a large silk handkerchief. “Many greetings to the master and mistress of the house,” he said, sweeping as low as a man his size could. “I hope I have not come at an inopportune time.”
“Your timing could not be better,” Larten snapped and peeled away from Alicia. The artist had posed them with Larten bending over his loved one. That had been fine to begin with, but this was the eleventh (or was it the twelfth?) sitting and his back had almost seized up.
“Monsieur!” the artist protested. “Another half an hour, please.”
“No!” Larten roared. “I have had enough preening for tonight. Go, sir, and take your damn–”
“Vur,” Alicia tutted.
Larten scowled and tossed several coins to the indignant artist, who retorted stiffly, “Take care, monsieur. I work as a favour to my clients, not for money. If you continue to treat me this way, I will tear the portrait to shreds and never return.” It was a fine speech, but he ruined it when he scrabbled to pick up all the coins from the floor.
The artist was an old enemy of Larten’s. Alicia had originally asked Larten to pose for a drawing with her back in 1903, not long after they had first become a couple. He had only been able to endure a handful of sessions before banishing the artist forever (or so he had assumed).
As the prickly artist departed in a huff, Tanish studied the half-finished canvas. “He has a good eye. Very lifelike. Almost as clear as a photograph.”
Tanish exchanged a look with Larten and they both chuckled. Photography was all the rage, but neither vampire would ever be captured on film. For some reason no camera could photograph them — they appeared as messy blotches whenever a photo of one of them was developed. That was the only reason Larten had initially agreed to sit for a portrait.
As for why he had relented and invited the artist back to torment him again… Well, in a moment of what he now considered madness, Larten had proposed marriage. A delighted Alicia had swiftly accepted, but insisted they mark their engagement by having the artist finish the portrait that she had been so looking forward to three years earlier. Like all men who had willingly thrown themselves into the marriage trap, Larten had no choice but to agree to the wishes of his beloved.
“The date is wrong,” Tanish noted, tapping the large 1903 in the lower right corner of the canvas.
“He will not change it,” Larten growled. “That was when he started the painting and he insists on sticking with the date. I think he has kept it there to remind me of how I insulted him first time round. That will infuriate me whenever I look at the dratted thing. I might paint over it once it is done.”
“Don’t you dare!” Alicia snapped. “If you even look at the painting in a sour way, there’ll be trouble. Understand?”
“Yes, dear,” Larten mumbled with uncharacteristic meekness.
“Any advances with the wedding plans?” Tanish asked. It had been three months since Larten took everyone by surprise and asked Alicia to marry him. He still seemed to be in shock, as he went white and trembled whenever actual dates and logistics were mentioned.
“We’ve settled on a church,” Alicia said, then narrowed her eyes. “Haven’t we, my darling?”
“Yes, dear,” Larten said again, but sulkily this time.
“And it will be some time next year, correct?” Alicia pressed.
“Aye,” Larten sighed.
“Excellent,” Tanish applauded. “I’ll keep my diary free for the entire year, just to be safe. If I may, I’d recommend June. Brides look so ravishing in the summer.”
“Uncle Tanish,” Gavner roared, running into the room, cutting Larten short before he could tell Tanish what he thought of his suggestion. “A lift! You forgot to give me a lift.”
“Gavner,” Alicia sighed. “Where are your manners? That’s no way to address Monsieur Eul. You must ask when you want something, not demand.”
“Nonsense,” Tanish snorted, winking at the boy. “If you want to get anywhere in this world, you have to be forthright. Come, Gavner of the Purls, and let your uncle Tanish lift you to the skies.”
Ignoring Alicia’s disapproving scowl, Gavner ran to Tanish and stuck up his hands. The fat vampire crouched and Gavner took hold of his honorary uncle’s long moustache, grabbing one end in either fist. When he had a firm hold, Tanish twitched his whiskers like a cat, then stood swiftly. Gavner rose into the air with him, dangling from the moustache and wriggling his legs. Larten was reminded of how the boy had wriggled atop the icy tomb of Perta Vin-Grahl when he was a baby, and the memory made him wince.
Tanish made pained, yelping noises and shook his head wildly, but Gavner knew that he was only playing. Yelling with delight, he swung from the hairy suspenders and held on as long as he could. When he finally fell, Tanish pretended to kick him away and he ran from the room laughing.
“One night he’ll rip that moustache out from its roots,” Alicia said warningly.
“That might be for the best,” Tanish said. “I think my glorious whiskers might be going out of fashion.”
“Not at all,” Larten said, and waited for Tanish’s surprised smile before adding sadistically, “They went out of fashion twenty years ago.”
Alicia laughed, kissed Tanish’s cheeks, then went to fetch wine for their visitor and ale for the man who would shortly (Next year! He had promised!) be her husband. Tanish was a regular guest at their apartment. He came two or three times a week, and they sometimes went to visit him, although Alicia preferred it when he came to them. As much as she loved Tanish, especially for the way he delighted Gavner, he was a strange man who surrounded himself with people of low quality and dubious morals. She didn’t like exposing Gavner to such dark, seedy facets of the world.
“How goes your life, my scarred, orange-haired freak of a friend?” Tanish asked, settling down on the sofa.
“Much the same as when I saw you last night,” Larten smiled.
“Last night?” Tanish frowned. “I don’t remember…”
“I came to one of your casinos at your invitation. You had been drinking heavily. You welcomed me warmly, but I did not see much of you after that, and only then through layers of thinly veiled dancers.”
“I recall the dancers,” Tanish said dreamily, then grinned sheepishly. “I would apologise, Larten, but you know I meant no offence. One of my horses won earlier in the day and I got carried away.”
“I thought you were not going to the races yesterday.”
“I didn’t plan to, but then clouds blew in and I decided it was as good a day as any to venture forth.”
Tanish didn’t avoid sunlight as scrupulously as Larten. He had hidden his fear of the day world more cunningly than his friend. While his business gave him the excuse of mainly coming out at night, he made an effort to be seen from time to time when the sun was up, to sidestep the sort of rumours that Larten had attracted. Whenever he went out, he wore hats and gloves, and usually had a troop of his pretty things around him. He always held umbrellas for his female friends, making a joke of it, claiming they were too delicate to support the heavy devices themselves. In fact he slyly sought the shade of the umbrellas more than they did, but nobody had ever noticed.
“I probably wanted to ask if you’d thought about my offer,” Tanish said.
“I guessed that was the case,” Larten replied.
“And have you?”
Larten shrugged. Tanish had often invited him to get involved with his various businesses, saying they would make great partners. Larten had laughed off his advances to begin with, but Tanish had been more persistent recently, putting real deals before his friend, tempting him with offers of wealth and influence. Larten didn’t crave such things for himself, but it would be nice to treat Alicia to the finer fancies of the world, and Gavner would have to be educa
ted. Larten had little love of human luxuries, but he had others to consider now. It would be wrong to propose to Alicia and then carry on as if he was a carefree bachelor.
“I make good money already,” Larten said slowly.
“Aye,” Tanish huffed. “Stealing when you break in and feed, and picking up a few francs at the gambling tables every now and then. That’s no way to make a living. I can give you a real job, honest money and fine opportunities.”
“Honest?” Larten said with an arch look.
“Well, it’s honest in my eyes,” Tanish said lightly. “Come, Vur, you have responsibilities now. People talk about you behind your back. It was all well and good being a man of mystery when you first came to Paris, but you are to be a husband and father. You need–”
“A husband, certainly,” Larten interrupted. “Never a father. You are more of a father to Gavner than I will ever be.”
Tanish paused. Larten had never told Tanish why he treated Gavner so bluntly. Unlike Alicia, Tanish had an idea – vampires were careful drinkers, but sometimes one made a mistake and killed by accident, and he thought this had happened to Larten with one of the boy’s parents – but Larten had never discussed the specifics with him. He thought it was a shame that Larten was denying himself the joys of fatherhood – Tanish would have loved a boy like Gavner to call his own – but he knew better than to provoke the fiery vampire. Larten had a short temper and could bear a grudge a long time when angered.
“You might not play the full role of a father,” Tanish said cautiously, “but you must assume at least some of the attributes. Gavner thinks of Alicia as his mother. When you become her husband, you must stand as a stepfather to him. You might not love the boy, but I don’t think you wish to shame him, do you?”
“Shame him?” Larten barked. “I have never done anything to shame Gavner.”
“Not yet, but when you become his father, at least in the eyes of others,” he added quickly before Larten growled at him again, “you’ll be expected to go to his school every so often to watch him on the sporting field and discuss his future with his teachers. When he makes friends, their parents will want to dine with you and Alicia. It’s the way things work. You were able to keep out of that social loop before, but your situation has changed. You’ll need to change too.
