by Darren Shan
"Don't be a sore loser," Steve laughed, pulling Debbie even tighter in to him.
"It was all a ploy, wasn't it?" Vancha noted. "The hooked one's attack and your rescue of Darren was staged."
"Of course," Steve smirked. "I knew where they were all along. I suckered them in, sending R.V. to this city to spread panic among the humans, knowing it would draw Creepy Crepsley back."
"How did you know?" Mr. Crepsley asked, astonished.
"Research," Steve said. "I found out all I could about you. I made you my life's work. It wasn't easy, but I traced you in the end. Found your birth certificate. Connected you to this place. I teamed up with my good friends, the vampaneze, during the course of my travels. They didn't reject me like you did. Through them I learnt that one of their brethren — poor, deranged Murlough — had gone missing here some years ago. Knowing what I did about you and your movements, it wasn't difficult to join the dots.
"What did happen with Murlough?" Steve asked. "Did you kill him or merely scare him off?"
Mr. Crepsley didn't answer. Nor did I.
"No matter," Steve said. "It's not important. But I figured that if you came back to help these people once, you'd do it again."
"Very clever," Mr. Crepsley snarled. His fingers were twitching like spider legs by his sides, and I knew he was itching to wrap them around Steve's throat.
"What I don't understand," Vancha remarked, "is what this lot are doing here." He nodded at Bargen and the other vampaneze and vampets. "Surely they're not here to assist you in your insane quest for revenge."
"Of course not," Steve said. "I'm just a humble half-vampaneze. It's not for me to command my betters. I told them about Murlough, which interested them, but they're here for other reasons, on someone else's say-so."
"Whose?" Vancha asked.
"That would be telling. And we aren't here to tell — we're here to kill!"
Behind us, the vampaneze and vampets advanced. Vancha, Mr. Crepsley and Harkat spun to face their challenge. I didn't. I couldn't tear my eyes away from Steve and Debbie. She was weeping, but holding herself steady, looking appealingly in my direction.
"Why?" I croaked.
"Why what?" Steve replied.
"Why do you hate us? We did nothing to hurt you."
"He said I was evil!" Steve howled, nodding at Mr. Crepsley, who didn't turn to remonstrate with him. "And you chose his side over mine. You set that spider on me and tried to kill me."
"No! I saved you. I gave up everything so that you could live."
"Nonsense," he snorted. "I know what really happened. You plotted with him against me, so you could take my rightful place among the vampires. You were jealous of me."
"No, Steve," I groaned. "That's madness. You don't know what—"
"Save it!" Steve interrupted. "I'm not interested. Besides, here comes the guest of honour — a man I'm sure you're all just dying to meet."
I didn't want to turn away from Steve, but I had to see what he was talking about. Looking over my shoulder, I saw two vague shapes behind the massed vampaneze and vampets. Vancha, Mr. Crepsley and Harkat were ignoring Steve's jibes and the pair at the back, concentrating instead on the foes directly in front of them, warding off their early testing jabs. Then the vampaneze parted slightly and I had a clear view of the two behind them.
"Vancha!" I shouted.
"What?" he snapped.
"At the rear — it's…" I licked my lips. The taller of the pair had spotted me and was gazing at me with a neutral, inquisitive expression. The other was dressed in dark green robes, his face covered by a hood.
"Who?" Vancha shouted, knocking aside a vampets blade with his bare hands.
"It's your brother, Gannen Harst," I said quietly and Vancha stopped fighting. So did Mr. Crepsley and Harkat. And so, puzzled, did the vampaneze.
Vancha stood to his fullest height and stared over the heads of those in front of him. Gannen Harst's eyes left mine and locked on Vancha's. The brothers stared at each other. Then Vancha's gaze switched to the person in the robes and hood — the Lord of the Vampaneze!
"Him! Here? Vancha gasped.
"You've met before, I take it," Steve commented snidely.
Vancha ignored the half-vampaneze. "Here!" he gasped again, eyes pinned on the leader of the vampaneze, the man we'd sworn to kill. Then he did the last thing the vampaneze had been expecting — with a roar of pure adrenaline, he charged!
It was lunacy, one unarmed vampire taking on twenty-eight armed and able opponents, but that lunacy worked in his favour. Before the vampaneze and vampets had time to come to terms with the craziness of Vancha's charge, he'd barrelled through nine or ten of them, knocking them to the ground or into the way of others, and was almost upon Gannen Harst and the Vampaneze Lord before they knew what was happening.
Seizing the moment, Mr. Crepsley reacted quicker than anyone else and darted after Vancha. He dived among the vampaneze and vampets, knives outstretched in his extended hands like a pair of talons at the end of a bat's wings, and three of our foes fell, throats or chests slit open.
As Harkat swung in behind the vampires, burying the head of his axe in the skull of a vampet, the last in the line of vampaneze closed ranks on Vancha and blocked his path to their Lord. The Prince lashed at them with his blade-like hands, but they knew what they were doing now, and although he killed one of them, the others surged forward and forced him to a halt.
I should have gone after my companions — killing the Vampaneze Lord meant more than anything else — but my senses were screaming one name only, and it was a name I reacted to impulsively: "Debbie?" Swivelling away from the battle, praying that Steve had been distracted by the sudden outbreak, I sent a knife flying towards him. It wasn't intended to hit — I couldn't risk striking Debbie — just to make him duck.
It worked. Startled by the swiftness of my move, Steve jerked his head behind Debbie's for protection. His left arm loosened around her throat, and his right hand — holding the knife — dropped a fraction. As I raced forward, I knew the momentary swing of fortune wasn't enough — he'd still have time to recover and kill Debbie before I reached him. But then Debbie, acting like a trained warrior, dug her left elbow sharply back into Steve's ribs, and broke free of his hold, throwing herself to the floor.
Before Steve could dive after her, I was on him. I grabbed him around the waist and propelled him backwards into the wall. He connected harshly and cried out. Stepping away from him, I sent my right fist smashing into the side of his face. The force of the blow knocked him down. It also nearly broke a couple of small bones in my fingers, but that didn't bother me. Falling upon him, I grabbed his ears, pulled his head up, then smashed it down on the hard concrete floor. He grunted and the lights went out in his eyes. He was dazed and defenceless — mine for the taking.
My hand went for the hilt of my sword. Then I saw Steves own knife lying close beside his head, and decided it would be more fitting to kill him with that. Picking it up, I positioned it above his dark, monstrous heart and prodded through the material of his shirt to make sure he wasn't protected by a breastplate or some other such armour. Then I raised the knife high above my head and brought it down slowly, determined to strike the mark and put an end to the life of the man I'd once counted as my dearest friend.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
"STOP!" R.V. screamed as my blade descended, and something in his voice made me pause and look back. My heart sank — he had Debbie! He was holding her as Steve had, the hooks of his golden right hand pressed up into the flesh of her jaw. A couple of hooks had lightly punctured the skin and thin streams of blood trickled down the golden blades. "Drop the knife or I slit her like a pig!" R.V. hissed.
If I dropped the knife, Debbie would die anyway, along with the rest of us. There was only one thing for it — I had to try and force a stand-off. Grabbing Steve by his long grey hair, I jammed my knife against the flesh of his throat. "If she dies, he dies," I growled and I saw doubt fill R.V.'s eyes.
/> "Don't play games with me," the hook-handed vampaneze warned. "Let him go or I kill her."
"If she dies, he dies," I said again.
R.V. cursed, then glanced over his shoulder for help. The battle was going the way of the vampaneze. Those who'd stumbled in the first few seconds of the fight had regained their feet, and now encircled Vancha, Mr. Crepsley and Harkat, who fought back to back, protecting each other, unable to advance or retreat. Beyond the crush, Gannen Harst and the Lord of the Vampaneze looked on.
"Forget about them," I said. "This is between you and me. It's got nothing to do with anybody else." I managed a weak smile. "Or are you afraid to face me on your own?"
R.V. sneered. "I'm afraid of nothing, man. Except…" He stopped.
Guessing what he'd been about to say, I put my head back and howled like a wolf. R.V.'s eyes widened with fear at the sound, but then he collected himself and stood firm. "Howling won't save your tasty little girlfriend," he taunted me.
I had a strange sense of deja vu — Murlough used to speak that way about Debbie, and for a moment it was as though the spirit of the dead vampaneze was alive inside R.V. Then I put such macabre thoughts behind me and concentrated.
"Let's stop wasting each other's time," I said. "You put Debbie aside, I'll put Steve aside, and we'll settle this man to man, winner takes all."
R.V. grinned and shook his head. "No deal. I don't have to risk my neck. I'm holding all the cards."
Keeping Debbie in front of him, he edged towards the exit at the opposite side of the room, skirting the vampaneze.
"What are you doing?" I shouted, moving to block him.
"Stay back!" he roared, digging his hooks deeper into Debbie's jaw, causing her to gasp with pain.
I stopped uncertainly. "Let her go," I said quietly, desperately.
"No," he replied. "I'm taking her. If you try to stop me, I'll kill her."
"I'll kill Steve if you do."
He laughed. "I don't care for Steve as much as you care for precious little Debbie. I'll sacrifice my friend if you'll sacrifice yours. How about it, Shan?" I studied Debbie's round, terrified eyes, then took a step back, clearing the way for R.V. to pass. "Wise move," he grunted, easing past, not turning his back on me.
"If you harm her…" I sobbed.
"I won't," he said. "Not for the time being. I want to see you squirm before I do. But if you kill Steve or come after me…" His cold, mismatched eyes told me what would happen.
Laughing, the hook-handed monster slipped past the vampaneze, then past Gannen Harst and his Lord, vanishing into the gloomy darkness of the tunnel beyond, taking Debbie with him, leaving me arid the others to the mercy of the vampaneze.
Now that Debbie was beyond saving, my choices were clear. I could try to help my friends, who were trapped by the vampaneze, or go after the Vampaneze Lord. It took me no time to choose. I couldn't rescue my friends — there were just too many vampaneze and vampets — and even if I could, I wouldn't have — the Vampaneze Lord came first. I'd momentarily forgotten that when Steve seized Debbie, but now my training reasserted itself. Across the way, Steve was still unconscious. No time to finish him off — I'd do it later, if possible. Sneaking around the vampaneze, drawing my sword, meaning to take on Gannen Harst and the figure he guarded.
Harst spotted me, put his fingers to his mouth and whistled loudly. Four of the vampaneze at the rear of the group looked to him, then followed the direction of his finger as he pointed towards me. Turning away from the ruckus, they blocked my path, then advanced.
I might have tried to fight my way through them, hopeless as it was, but then I saw Gannen Harst call another two vampaneze away from the fighting. He gave the Vampaneze Lord to them and they exited down the tunnel that R.V. had fled through. Gannen Harst swung the huge door shut after them and spun a large, circular lock at the centre of it. Without the combination, it would be impossible to get through a door as thick as that.
Gannen Harst stepped up behind the four vampaneze who were converging on me. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and the vampaneze came to a standstill. Harst looked into my eyes, then made the death's touch sign by pressing his middle finger to the centre of his forehead, the two adjacent fingers over his eyes, and spreading his thumb and little finger out wide. "Even in death, may you be triumphant," he said.
I glanced around swiftly, taking in the state of play. Close to my right, the battle still raged. Mr. Crepsley, Vancha and Harkat were cut in many places, bleeding liberally, yet none had sustained fatal wounds. They were on their feet, weapons in hand — except Vancha, whose weapons were his hands — keeping the circle of vampaneze and vampets at bay.
I couldn't understand it. Given our foes' superior numbers, they should have overwhelmed and dispatched the trio by now. The longer the fighting progressed, the more damage we were inflicting — at least six vampets and three vampaneze were dead, and several more nursed life-threatening injuries. Yet still they fought warily, judging their blows with care, almost as though they didn't want to kill us.
I reached a snap decision and knew what I had to do. I faced Gannen Harst and screamed, "I'll be triumphant in life!" in defiance, then whipped out a knife and launched it at the vampaneze, throwing it deliberately high. As the five vampaneze ahead of me ducked to avoid the knife, I swivelled and swung with my sword at the vampaneze and vampets packed tightly around Mr. Crepsley, Vancha and Harkat. Now that the Lord of the Vampaneze was beyond reach, I was free to help or perish with my friends. A few moments earlier, we'd surely have perished, but the pendulum had swung round slightly in our favour. The pack had been whittled down by half a dozen members — two had left with their Lord, and four more were standing with Gannen Harst. The remaining vampaneze and vampets had spread themselves out to cover for their missing clansmen.
My sword connected with the vampaneze to my right, and narrowly missed the throat of a vampet to my left. The vampaneze and vampet both stepped aside at the same moment, instinctively, in opposite directions, creating a gap. "To me!" I cried at the trio trapped in the middle of the mayhem.
Before the gap could be filled, Harkat burst through, chopping with his axe. More vampaneze and vampets drew back, and Mr. Crepsley and Vancha hurried after Harkat, fanning out around him, turning so that they were all facing the same way, instead of having to fight back to back.
We retreated swiftly towards the tunnel leading out of the cavern.
"Quick — block the exit!" one of the four vampaneze with Gannen Harst yelled, moving forward to bar our way.
"Hold," Gannen Harst responded quietly and the vampaneze stopped. He looked back at Harst, puzzled, but Harst only shook his head grimly.
I wasn't sure why Harst had prevented his men from blocking our one route of escape, but I didn't stop to ponder it. As we backed up towards the exit, lashing out at the vampaneze and vampets who pushed forward after us, we passed Steve. He was regaining his senses and was half sitting up. I paused as we came abreast of him, grabbed him by his hair and hauled him to his feet. He yelped and struggled, but then I stuck the edge of my sword to his throat and he went quiet. "You're coming with us!" I hissed in his ear. "If we die, so do you." I'd have killed him then and there, except I remembered what R.V. had said — if I killed Steve, he'd kill Debbie.
As we came to the mouth of the tunnel, a vampet swung a short length of chain at Vancha. The vampire grabbed the chain, yanked the vampet in, caught him by the head, and made to twist it sharply to the right, meaning to snap his neck and kill him.
"Enough!" Gannen Harst bellowed and the vampaneze and vampets closing upon us instantly stopped fighting and dropped back two paces.
Vancha relaxed his lock, but didn't release the vampet, and glared around suspiciously. "What now?" he muttered.
"I do not know," Mr. Crepsley said, wiping sweat and blood from his brow. "But they fight most bizarrely. Nothing they do would surprise me."
Gannen Harst pushed through the vampaneze until he was sta
nding in front of his brother. The two didn't look alike — where Vancha was burly, gruff and rough, Gannen was slim, cultured and smooth — but there was a certain way they had of standing and inclining their heads that was very similar.
"Vancha," Gannen greeted his estranged brother.
"Gannen," Vancha replied, not letting go of the vampet, watching the other vampaneze like a hawk in case they made any sudden moves.
Gannen looked at Mr. Crepsley, Harkat and me. "We meet again," he said, "as was destined. Last time, you had the beating of me. Now the tables have turned." He paused and gazed around the room at the silent vampaneze and vampets, then at their dead and dying colleagues. Then he glanced at the tunnel behind us. "We could kill you here, in this tunnel, but you would take many of us with you," he sighed. "I tire of needless bloodshed. Shall we strike a deal?"
"What sort of a deal?" Vancha grunted, trying to hide his bewilderment.
"It would be easier for us to slaughter you in the larger tunnels beyond this one. We could pick you off, in our own time, possibly without losing more of our men."
"You want us to make your job easier for you?" Vancha laughed.
"Let me finish," Gannen continued. "As things stand, you have no hope of making it back to the surface alive. If we attack you here, our losses will be great, but all four of you will certainly die. If, on the other hand, we were to give you a head start…" He trailed off into silence, then spoke again. "Fifteen minutes, Vancha. Leave your hostages — you can move more quickly without them — and flee. For fifteen minutes, nobody will follow. You have my word."
"This is a trick," Vancha snarled. "You wouldn't let us go, not like this."
"I don't lie," Gannen said stiffly. "The odds are still in our favour — we know these tunnels better than you do, and will probably catch you before you make it to freedom. But this way you have hope — and I won't have to bury any more of my friends."
Vancha exchanged a furtive glance with Mr. Crepsley.
