by Darren Shan
The old theater was pitch black and deserted. I used the front door this time.
I didn't know what I'd do if the vampire wasn't there, but somehow I sensed he would be. It was like the day Steve threw the scraps of paper up in the air with the winning ticket hidden amongst them, and I shut my eyes and reached out blindly. It was destiny.
It took a while to find the cellar. I'd brought a flashlight but the battery was almost dead and it flickered out after a couple of minutes, leaving me to grope through the dark like a mole. When I did find the steps, I started straight down, not giving fear time to catch up.
The farther down I went, the brighter it got, until I reached the bottom and saw five tall flickering candles. I was surprised weren't vampires supposed to be afraid of fire? but glad.
Mr. Crepsley was waiting for me at the other end of the cellar. He was sitting at a small table, playing a game of cards with himself.
"Good morning, Master Shan," he said, without looking up.
I cleared my throat before replying. "It's not morning," I said. "It's the middle of the night."
"To me, that is morning," he said, then looked up and grinned. His teeth were long and sharp. This was the closest to him I'd been and I expected to spot all sorts of details red teeth, long ears, narrow eyes but he looked like a normal human, albeit a tremendously ugly one.
"You've been waiting for me, haven't you?" I asked.
"Yes. "He nodded.
"How long have you known where Madam Octa was?"
"I found her the night you stole her," he said.
"Why didn't you take her then?"
He shrugged. "I was going to, but I got to thinking about the sort of boy who would dare steal from a vampire, and I decided you might be worth further study."
"Why?" I asked, trying to stop my knees from knocking together.
"Why indeed?" he replied mockingly. He snapped his fingers and the cards on the table jumped together and slid back into the pack by themselves. He put it away and cracked his knuckles. "Tell me, Darren Shan, why have you come? Is it to steal from me again? Do you still desire Madam Octa?"
I shook my head. "I never want to see that monster again!" I snarled.
He laughed. "She will be so sad to hear that."
"Don't make fun of me," I warned him. "I don't like being teased."
"No?" he asked. "And what will you do if I continue?"
I pulled out the cross and bottle of holy water and held them up. "I'll strike you with these!" I roared, expecting him to fall back, frozen with fear. But he didn't. Instead he smiled, snapped his fingers again, and suddenly the cross and plastic bottle were no longer in my hands. They were in his.
He studied the cross, chuckled and squeezed it into a little ball, as though it were made of tinfoil. Next he uncorked the holy water and drank it.
"You know what I love?" he asked. "I love people who watch lots of horror movies and read horror books. Because they believe what they read and hear, and come packing silly things like crosses and holy water, instead of weapons that could do real damage, like guns and hand grenades."
"You mean… crosses don't… hurt you?" I stammered.
"Why should they?" he asked.
"Because you're… evil," I said.
"Am I?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. "You must be. You're a vampire. Vampires are evil."
"You should not believe everything you are told," he said. "It is true that our appetites are rather exotic. But just because we drink blood does not mean that we are evil. Are vampire bats evil when they drink the blood of cows and horses?"
"No," I said. "But that's different. They're animals."
"Humans are animals, too," he told me. "If a vampire kills a human, then yes, he is evil. But one who just takes a little blood to fill his rumbling belly… where is the harm in that?"
I couldn't answer. I was numb and no longer knew what to believe. I was at his mercy, alone and defenseless.
"I see you are not in the mood for a debate," he said. "Very well. I will save the speeches for another time. So tell me, Darren Shan: what is it you want if not my spider?"
"She bit Steve Leonard," I told him.
"The one known as Steve Leopard," he said, nodding. "A nasty business. Still, little boys who play with things they do not understand can hardly complain if "
"I want you to make him better!" I yelled, interrupting.
"Me?" he asked, acting surprised. "But I am not a doctor. I am not a specialist. I am just a circus performer. A freak. Remember?"
"No," I said. "You're more. I know you can save him. I know you have the power."
"Maybe," he said. "Madam Octa's bite is deadly, but for every poison there exists an antidote. Maybe I do have the cure. Maybe I have a bottle of serum that will restore your friend's natural physical functions."
"Yes!" I shouted gleefully. "I knew it! I knew it! I "
"But maybe," Mr. Crepsley said, raising a long bony finger to silence me, "it is a small bottle. Maybe there is only a tiny amount of serum. Maybe it is very precious. Maybe I want to save it for a real emergency, in case Madam Octa ever bites me. Maybe I do not want to waste it on an evil little brat."
"No," I said softly. "You have to give it to me. You have to use it on Steve. He's dying. You can't let him die."
"I most certainly can." Mr. Crepsley laughed. "What is your friend to me? You heard him the night he was here: he said he would become a vampire hunter when he grew up!"
"He didn't mean it," I gasped. "He only said that because he was angry."
"Perhaps," Mr. Crepsley mused, tugging at his chin and stroking his scar. "But again, I ask: why should I save Steve Leopard? The serum was expensive and cannot be replaced."
"I can pay for it," I cried, and that was what he had been waiting for. I saw it in his eyes, the way they narrowed, the way he hunched forward, smiling. This was why he hadn't taken Madam Octa that first night. This was why he hadn't left town.
"Pay for it?" he asked slyly. "But you are only a boy. You cannot possibly have enough money to buy the cure."
"I'll pay in small amounts," I promised. "Every week for fifty years, or as long as you want. I'll get a job when I grow up and give you all my money. I swear."
He shook his head. "No," he said softly. "Your money does not interest me."
"What does interest you?" I asked in a low voice. "I'm sure you have a price. That's why you waited for me, isn't it?"
"You are a clever young man," he said. "I knew that when I woke up to find my spider gone and your note in her place. I said to myself, 'Larten, there goes a most remarkable child, a true prodigy. There goes a boy who is going places.'"
"Quit with the bull and tell me what you want," I snarled.
He laughed nastily, then grew serious. "You remember what Steve Leopard and I talked about?" he asked.
"Of course," I replied. "He wanted to become a vampire. You said he was too young, so he said he'd become your assistant. That was all right by you, but then you found out he was evil, so you said no."
"That about sums it up," he agreed. "Except, if you recall, I was not too keen on the idea of an assistant. They can be useful but also a burden."
"Where's all this leading?" I asked.
"I have had a rethink since then," he said. "I decided it might not be such a bad thing after all, especially now that I have been separated from the Cirque Du Freak and will have to fend for myself. An assistant could be just what the witch doctor ordered." He smiled at his little joke.
I frowned. "You mean you'll let Steve become your assistant now?"
"Heavens, no!" he yelped. "That monster? There is no telling what he will do as he matures. No, Darren Shan, I do not want Steve Leopard to be my assistant." He pointed at me with his long bony finger again, and I knew what he was going to say seconds before he said it.
"You want me!" I sighed, beating him to the punch, and his dark, sinister smile told me I was right.
"YOU'RE CRAZY!" I YELLED,
STUMBLING backward. "There's no way I'd become your assistant! You must be mad to even think such a thing!"
Mr. Crepsley shrugged. "Then Steve Leopard dies," he said simply.
I stopped retreating. "Please," I begged, "there must be another way."
"The issue is not open to debate," he said. "If you wish to save your friend, you must join me. If you refuse, we have nothing further to discuss."
"What if I "
"Do not waste my time!" he snapped, pounding on the table. "I have lived in this dirty hole for two weeks, putting up with fleas and cockroaches and lice. If you are not interested in my offer, say so and I will leave.
But do not waste my time with other options, because there are none."
I nodded slowly and took a few-steps forward. "Tell me more about being a vampire's assistant," I said.
He smiled. "You will be my traveling companion," he explained. "You will travel with me across the world. You will be my eyes and hands during the day. You will guard me while I sleep. You will find food for me if it is scarce. You will take my clothes to the laundry. You will polish my shoes. You will look after Madam Octa. In short, you will see to my every need. In return, I will teach you the ways of the vampires."
"Do I have to become a vampire?" I asked.
"Eventually," he said. "At first you will only have some vampire powers. I will make you a half-vampire. That means you will be able to move about during the day. You will not need much blood to keep you satisfied. You will have certain powers but not all. And you will only age at a fifth the regular rate, instead of the full vampire's tenth."
"What does that mean?" I asked, confused.
"Vampires do not live forever," he explained, "but we do live far longer than humans. We age at about one-tenth the regular rate. Which means, for every ten years that pass, we age one. As a half-vampire, you will age one year for every five."
"You mean, for every five years that pass, I'll only be one year older?" I asked.
"That is right."
"I dunno," I muttered. "It sounds sketchy to me."
"It is your choice," he said. "I cannot force you to become my assistant. If you decide it is not to your liking, you are free to leave."
"But Steve will die if I do that!" I cried.
"Yes," he agreed. "It is your assistance or his life."
"That's not much of a choice," I grumbled.
"No," he admitted, "it is not. But it is the only one I offer. Do you accept?"
I thought it over. I wanted to say no, run away, and never return. But if I did, Steve would die. Was he worth such a deal? Did I feel guilty enough to offer my life for his? The answer was:
Yes.
"Okay," I sighed. "I don't like it, but my hands are tied. I just want you to know this: if I ever get the chance to betray you, I will. If the opportunity arises to pay you back, I'll take it. You'll never be able to trust me."
"Fair enough," he said.
"I mean it," I warned him.
"I know you do," he said. "That is why I want you. A vampire's assistant must have spirit. Your fighting quality is exactly what drew me to you. You will be a dangerous lad to have around, I am sure, but in a fight, when the chips are down, I am just as sure you will be a worthy ally."
I took a deep breath. "How do we do it?" I asked.
He stood and pushed the table aside. Stepped forward until he was about a foot away. He seemed tall as a building. There was a foul smell to him that I hadn't noticed before, the smell of blood.
He raised his right hand and showed me the back of it. His nails weren't especially long but they looked sharp. He raised his left hand and pressed the nails of the right into the fleshy tips of his left-hand fingers. Then he used his other set of nails to mark the right-hand fingers in the same way. He winced as he did it.
"Lift your hands," he grunted. I was watching the blood drip from his fingers and didn't obey the command. "Now!" he yelled, grabbing my hands and jerking them up.
He dug his nails into the soft tips of my fingers, all ten of them at once. I cried out with pain and fell back, tucking my hands in at my sides, rubbing them against my jacket.
"Do not be such a baby," he jeered, tugging my hands free.
"It hurts! "I howled.
"Of course it does." He laughed. "It hurt me too. Did you think becoming a vampire was easy? Get used to the pain. Much of it lies ahead."
He put a couple of my fingers in his mouth and sucked some blood out. I watched as he rolled it around his mouth, testing it. Finally he nodded and swallowed. "It is good blood," he said. "We can proceed."
He pressed his fingers against mine, wound to wound. For a few seconds there was a numb feeling at the ends of my arms. Then I felt a gushing sensation and realized my blood was moving from my body to his through my left hand, while his blood was entering mine through my right.
It was a strange, tingling feeling. I felt his blood travel up my right arm, then down the side of my body and over to the left. When it reached my heart there was a stabbing pain and I almost collapsed. The same thing was happening to Mr. Crepsley and I could see him grinding his teeth and sweating.
The pain lasted until Mr. Crepsley's blood crept down my left arm and started flowing back into his body. We remained joined for a couple more seconds, until he broke free with a shout. I fell backward to the floor. I was dizzy and felt sick.
"Give me your fingers," Mr. Crepsley said. I looked across and saw him licking his. "My spit will heal the wounds. You will lose all your blood and die otherwise."
I glanced down at my hands and saw blood leaking out. Stretching them forth, I let the vampire put them in his mouth and run his rough tongue over the tips.
When he released them, the flow had stopped. I wiped the leftover blood off on a rag. I studied my fingers and noted they now had ten tiny scars running across them.
"That is how you recognize a vampire," Mr. Crepsley told me. "There are other ways to change a human but the fingers are the simplest and least painful method."
"Is that it?" I asked. "Am I a half-vampire now?"
"Yes," he said.
"I don't feel any different," I told him.
"It will take a few days for the effects to become apparent," he said. "There is always a period of adjustment. The shock would be too great otherwise."
"How do you become a full vampire?" I asked.
"The same way," he said, "only you stay joined longer, so more of the vampire's blood enters your body."
"What will I be able to do with my new powers?" I asked. "Will I be able to change into a bat?"
His laughter rocked the room. "A bat!" he shrieked. "You do not believe those silly stories, do you? How on Earth could somebody the size of you or I turn into a tiny flying rat? Use your brain, boy. We can no more turn into bats, rats, or fog than we can turn into ships, planes, or monkeys!"
"So what can we do?" I asked.
He scratched his chin. "There is too much to explain right now," he said. "We must tend to your friend. If he does not get the antidote before tomorrow morning, the serum will not work. Besides, we have plenty of time to discuss secret powers." He grinned. "You could say we have all the time in the world."
MR. CREPSLEY LED THE WAY up the stairs and out of the building. He walked confidently through the darkness. I thought I could see a bit better than I could when coming in, but that might just have been because my eyes were used to the dark, not because of the vampire blood in my veins.
Once outside, he told me to hop up on his back. "Keep your arms wrapped around my neck," he said. "Do not let go or make any sudden movements."
As I was getting up, I looked down and saw he was wearing slippers. I thought it was strange but didn't say anything.
When I was on his back, he started running. I didn't notice anything strange at first, but soon began to realize how fast buildings were zipping by. Mr. Crepsley's legs didn't seem to be moving that quickly.
Instead, it was as if the world was moving
faster and we were slipping past it!
We reached the hospital in a couple of minutes. Normally it would have taken twenty minutes, and that was if you sprinted all the way.
"How did you do that?" I asked, sliding down.
"Speed is relative," he said, tugging his red cloak tight around his shoulders, pulling back into the shadows so we could not be seen, and that was all the answer he gave.
"Which room is your friend in?" he asked.
I told him Steve's room number. He looked up, counting windows, then nodded and told me to hop back up on his back. When I was in position, he walked over to the wall, took off his slippers, and laid his fingers and toes against the wall. Then he shoved his nails forward into the brick!
"Hmmm," he muttered. "It is crumbly but it will hold us. Do not panic if we slip. I know how to land on my feet. It takes a very long fall to kill a vampire."
He climbed up the wall, digging his nails in, moving a hand forward, then a foot, then the other hand and foot, one after the other. He moved quickly and within moments we were at Steve's window, crouching on the ledge, gazing in.
I wasn't sure of the time, but it was very late. No-body was in the room except for Steve. Mr. Crepsley tried the window. It was locked. He laid the fingers of one hand beside the glass covering the latch, then clicked the fingers of his other hand.
The latch sprang open! He shoved the window up and stepped inside. I got down from his back. While he checked the door, I examined Steve. His breathing was more ragged than it had been and there were new tubes all over his body, hooked up to menacing-looking machines.
"The poison has worked rapidly," Mr. Crepsley said, gazing down at him over my shoulder. "We might be too late to save him." I felt my insides turn to ice at his words.
Mr. Crepsley bent over and rolled up one of Steve's eyelids. For a few long seconds he stared at the eyeball and held Steve's right wrist. Finally he grunted.
"We are in time," he said, and I felt my heart lifting. "But it is a good thing you did not wait any longer. A few more hours and he would have been a goner."
"Just get on with it and cure him," I snapped, not wanting to know how close to death my best friend had come.
