The Vampire's Assistant and Other Tales from the Cirque Du Freak

by Darren Shan

  “I’m not working for anybody,” Steve insisted. “I’ve got 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 had invented 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 or missing, they’ll have to investigate. You wouldn’t like that. Lots of police asking questions, coming here in the daytime. …”

  Mr. Crepsley shook his head with disgust. “Children!” he snarled. “I hate children. What is it you want? Money? Jewels? The rights to publish my story?”

  “I want to join you,” Steve said.

  I almost fell off the balcony when I heard that. Join him?

  “What do you mean?” Mr. Crepsley asked, as stunned as I was.

  “I want to become a vampire,” Steve said. “I want you to make me a vampire and teach me your ways.”

  “You are crazy!” Mr. Crepsley roared.

  “No,” Steve said, “I’m not.”

  “I cannot turn a child into a vampire,” Mr. Crepsley said. “I would be murdered by the Vampire Generals if I did.”

  “What are Vampire Generals?” Steve asked.

  “Never you mind,” Mr. Crepsley said. “All you need to know is, it cannot be done. We do not blood children. It creates too many problems.”

  “So don’t change me right away,” Steve said. “That’s okay. I don’t mind waiting. I can be an apprentice. I know vampires often have assistants who are half-human, half-vampire. Let me be one. I’ll work hard and prove myself, and when I’m old enough …”

  Mr. Crepsley stared at Steve and thought it over. He snapped his fingers while he was thinking and a chair flew up onto the stage from the front row! He sat down on it and crossed his legs.

  “Why do you want to be a vampire?” he asked. “It is not much fun. We can only come out at night. Humans despise us. We have to sleep in dirty old places like this. We can never marry or have children or settle down. It is a horrible life.”

  “I don’t care,” Steve said stubbornly.

  “Is it because you want to live forever?” Mr. Crepsley asked. “If so, I must tell you — we do not. We live far longer than humans, but we die all the same, sooner or later.”

  “I don’t care,” Steve said again. “I want to come with you. I want to learn. I want to become a vampire.”

  “What about your friends?” Mr. Crepsley asked. “You would not be able to see them again. You would have to leave school and home and never return. What about your parents? Would you not miss them?”

  Steve shook his head miserably and looked down at the floor. “My dad doesn’t live with us,” he said softly. “I hardly ever see him. And my mom doesn’t love me. She doesn’t care what I do. She probably won’t even notice I’m gone.”

  “That is why you want to run away? Because your mother does not love you?”

  “Partly,” Steve said.

  “If you wait a few years, you will be old enough to leave by yourself,” Mr. Crepsley said.

  “I don’t want to wait,” Steve replied.

  “And your friends?” Mr. Crepsley asked again. He looked very kind at the moment, though still a little scary. “Would you miss the boy you came with tonight?”

  “Darren?” Steve asked, then nodded. “Yes, I’ll miss my friends, Darren especially. But it doesn’t matter. I want to be a vampire more than I care about them. And if you don’t accept me, I’ll tell the police and become a vampire hunter when I grow up!”

  Mr. Crepsley didn’t laugh. Instead he nodded seriously. “You have thought this through?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Steve said.

  “You are certain it is what you want?”

  “Yes,” came the answer.

  Mr. Crepsley took a deep breath. “Come here,” he said. “I will have to test you first.”

  Steve stood beside Mr. Crepsley. His body blocked my view of the vampire, so I couldn’t see what happened next. All I know is, they spoke to each other very softly, then there was a noise like a cat lapping up milk.

  I saw Steve’s back shaking and I thought he was going to fall over but somehow he managed to stay upright. I can’t even begin to tell you how frightened I was, watching this. I wanted to leap to my feet and cry out, “No, Steve, stop!”

  But I was too scared to move, terrified that, if Mr. Crepsley knew I was here, there would be nothing to stop him from killing and eating both me and Steve.

  All of a sudden, the vampire began coughing. He pushed Steve away from him and stumbled to his feet. To my horror, I saw his mouth was red, covered in blood, which he quickly spat out.

  “What’s wrong?” Steve asked, rubbing his arm where he had fallen.

  “You have bad blood!” Mr. Crepsley screamed.

  “What do you mean?” Steve asked. His voice was trembling.

  “You are evil!” Mr. Crepsley shouted. “I can taste the menace in your blood. You are savage.”

  “That’s a lie!” Steve yelled. “You take that back!”

  Steve ran at Mr. Crepsley and tried to punch him, but the vampire knocked him to the floor with one hand. “It is no good,” he growled. “Your blood is bad. You can never be a vampire!”

  “Why not?” Steve asked. He had started to cry.

  “Because vampires are not the evil monsters of lore,” Mr. Crepsley said. “We respect life. You have a killer’s instincts, but we are not killers.

  “I will not make you a vampire,” Mr. Crepsley insisted. “You must forget about it. Go home and get on with your life.”

  “No!” Steve screamed. “I won’t forget!” He stumbled to his feet and pointed a shaking finger at the tall, ugly vampire. “I’ll get you for this,” he promised. “I don’t care how long it takes. One day, Vur Horston, I’ll track you down and kill you for rejecting me!”

  Steve jumped from the stage and ran toward the exit. “One day!” he called back over his shoulder, and I could hear him laughing as he ran, a crazy kind of laugh.

  Then he was gone and I was alone with the vampire.

  Mr. Crepsley sat where he was for a long time, his head between his hands, spitting blood out onto the stage. He wiped his teeth with his fingers, then with a large handkerchief.

  “Children!” he snorted aloud, then stood, still wiping his teeth, glanced one last time out over the chairs at the theater (I ducked down low for fear he might spot me), then turned and walked back to the wings. I could see drops of blood dripping from his lips as he went.

  I stayed where I was for a long, long time. It was tough. I’d never been as scared as I was up there on the balcony. I wanted to rush out of the theater as fast as my feet would carry me.

  But I stayed. I made myself wait until I was sure none of the freaks or helpers were around, then slowly crept back up the balcony, down the stairs, into the corridor, and finally out into the night.

  I stood outside the theater for a few seconds, staring up at the moon, studying the trees until I was sure there were no vampires lurking on any
of the branches. Then, as quietly as I could, I raced for home. My home, not Steve’s. I didn’t want to be near Steve right then. I was almost as scared of Steve as I was of Mr. Crepsley. I mean, he wanted to be a vampire! What sort of lunatic actually wants to be a vampire?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I DIDN’T CALL STEVE THAT Sunday. I told Mom and Dad we’d had a small argument and that was why I’d come home early. They weren’t happy about it, especially my having walked home so late at night by myself. Dad said he was going to dock my allowance and was grounding me for a month. I didn’t argue. The way I saw it, I was getting off lightly. Imagine what they’d have done to me if they knew about the Cirque Du Freak!

  Annie loved her presents. She gobbled the candy down quickly and played with the spider for hours. She made me tell her all about the show. She wanted to know what every freak looked like and what they’d done. Her eyes went wide when I told her about the wolf-man and how he bit off a woman’s hand.

  “You’re joking,” she said. “That can’t be true.”

  “It is,” I vowed.

  “Cross your heart?” she asked.

  “Cross my heart.”

  “Swear on your eyes?”

  “I swear on my eyes,” I promised. “May rats gnaw them out if I’m telling a lie.”

  “Wow!” she gasped. “I wish I’d been there. If you ever go again, will you take me?”

  “Sure,” I said, “but I don’t think the freak show comes here that often. They move around a lot.”

  I didn’t tell Annie about Mr. Crepsley being a vampire or Steve wanting to become one, but I thought about the two of them all day long. I wanted to call Steve but didn’t know what to say. He would be bound to ask why I didn’t go back to his place, and I didn’t want to tell him that I’d stayed in the theater and spied on him.

  Imagine: a real-life vampire! I used to believe they were real but then my parents and teachers convinced me they weren’t. So much for the wisdom of grownups!

  I wondered what vampires were really like, whether they could do everything the books and movies said they could. I had seen Mr. Crepsley make a chair fly, and I’d seen him swoop down from the roof of the theater, and I’d seen him drink some of Steve’s blood. What else could he do? Could he turn into a bat, into smoke, into a rat? Could you see him in a mirror? Would sunlight kill him?

  As much as I thought about Mr. Crepsley, I thought just as much about Madam Octa. I wished once again that I could buy one like her, one I could control. I could join a freak show if I had a spider like that, and travel the world, having marvelous adventures.

  Sunday came and went. I watched TV, helped Dad in the garden and Mom in the kitchen (part of my punishment for coming home late by myself), went for a long walk in the afternoon, and daydreamed about vampires and spiders.

  Then it was Monday and time for school. I was nervous going in, not sure what I was going to say to Steve, or what he might say to me. Also, I hadn’t slept much over the weekend (it’s hard to sleep when you’ve seen a real vampire), so I was tired and groggy.

  Steve was in the yard when I arrived, which was unusual. I normally got to school before him. He was standing apart from the rest of the kids, waiting for me. I took a deep breath, then walked over and leaned against the wall beside him.

  “Morning,” I said.

  “Morning,” he replied. There were dark circles under his eyes and I bet he’d slept even less than me the last couple of nights. “Where did you go after the show?” he asked.

  “I went home,” I told him.

  “Why?” he asked, watching me carefully.

  “It was dark outside and I wasn’t looking where I was going. I took a few wrong turns and got lost. By the time I found myself somewhere familiar, I was closer to home than to your house.”

  I made the lie sound as convincing as possible, and I could see him trying to figure out if it was the truth or not.

  “You must have gotten into a lot of trouble,” he said.

  “Tell me about it!” I groaned. “No allowance, grounded for a month, and Dad said I’m going to have to do a bunch of chores. Still,” I said with a grin, “it was worth it, right? I mean, was the Cirque Du Freak superb or what!”

  Steve studied me for one more moment, then decided I was telling the truth. “Yeah,” he said, returning my smile. “It was great.”

  Tommy and Alan arrived and we had to tell them everything. We were pretty good actors, Steve and I. You’d never have guessed that he had spoken to a vampire on Saturday, or that I had seen him.

  I could tell, as the day wore on, that things would never be quite the same between me and Steve. Even though he believed what I’d told him, part of him still doubted me. I caught him looking at me oddly from time to time, as though I was someone who had hurt him.

  For my part, I didn’t want to get too close to him any longer. It scared me, what he’d said to Mr. Crepsley, and what the vampire had said to him. Steve was evil, according to Crepsley. It worried me. After all, Steve was prepared to become a vampire and kill people for their blood. How could I go on being friends with someone like that?

  We were chatting about Madam Octa later that afternoon. Steve and I hadn’t said much about Mr. Crepsley and his spider. We were afraid to talk about him, in case we let something slip. But Tommy and Alan kept pestering us and eventually we filled them in on the act.

  “How do you think he controlled the spider?” Tommy asked.

  “Maybe it was a fake spider,” Alan said.

  “It wasn’t a fake,” I snorted. “None of the freaks were fake. That was why it was so brilliant. You could tell everything was real.”

  “So how did he control it?” Tommy asked again.

  “Maybe the flute is magic,” I said, “or else Mr. Crepsley knows how to charm spiders, the way Indians can charm snakes.”

  “But you said Mr. Tall controlled the spider, too,” Alan said, “when Mr. Crepsley had Madam Octa in his mouth.”

  “Oh. Yeah. I forgot,” I said. “Well, I guess that means they must have used magic flutes.”

  “They didn’t use magic flutes,” Steve said. He had been quiet most of the day, saying less than me about the show, but Steve never could resist hammering someone with facts.

  “So what did they use?” I asked.

  “Telepathy,” Steve answered.

  “Is that something to do with telephones?” Alan asked.

  Steve smiled, and Tommy and I laughed (although I wasn’t entirely sure what “telepathy” meant, and I bet Tommy wasn’t either). “Moron!” Tommy chuckled, and punched Alan playfully.

  “Go on, Steve,” I said, “tell him what it means.”

  “Telepathy is when you can read somebody else’s mind,” Steve explained, “or send them thoughts without speaking. That’s how they controlled the spider, with their minds.”

  “So what’s with the flutes?” I asked.

  “Either they’re just for show,” Steve said, “or, more likely, you need them to attract her attention.”

  “You mean anyone could control her?” Tommy asked.

  “Anyone with a brain, yes,” Steve said. “Which counts you out, Alan,” he added, but smiled to show he didn’t mean it.

  “You wouldn’t need magic flutes or special training or anything?” Tommy asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Steve answered.

  The talk moved on to something else after that — soccer, I think — but I wasn’t listening. Because all of a sudden there was a new thought running through my mind, setting my brain on fire with ideas. I forgot about Steve and vampires and everything.

  “You mean anyone could control her?”

  “Anyone with a brain, yes.”

  “You wouldn’t need magic flutes or special training or anything?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Tommy’s and Steve’s words kept bouncing through my mind, over and over, like a stuck CD.

  Anyone could control her. That anyone could be
me. If I could get my hands on Madam Octa and communicate with her, she could be my pet and I could control her and …

  No. It was foolish. Maybe I could control her, but I would never own her. She was Mr. Crepsley’s and there was no way in the world that he would part with her, not for money or jewels or …

  The answer hit me in a flash. A way to get her from him. A way to make her mine. Blackmail! If I threatened the vampire — I could say I’d get the police after him — he’d have to let me keep her.

  But the thought of going face to face with Mr. Crepsley terrified me. I knew I couldn’t do it. That left just one other option: I’d have to steal her!

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  EARLY MORNING WOULD BE THE best time to steal the spider. Having performed so late into the night, most members of the Cirque Du Freak would probably sleep in until eight or nine. I’d sneak into camp, find Madam Octa, grab her, and run. If that wasn’t possible — if the camp was awake — I’d just return home and forget about it.

  The difficult part was picking a day. Wednesday might be ideal: the last show would have played the night before, so the circus would in all likelihood have pulled out before midday and moved on to its next venue before the vampire could awake and discover the theft. But what if they left town directly after the show, in the middle of the night? Then I’d miss my big chance.

  It had to be tomorrow — Tuesday. That meant Mr. Crepsley would have all of Tuesday night to search for his spider — for me — but that was a risk I’d just have to take.

  I went to bed earlier than usual. I was tired and ready to fall asleep, but was so excited, I thought I wouldn’t be able to. I kissed Mom good night and hugged Dad. They thought I was trying to win my allowance back, but it was in case something happened to me at the theater and I never saw them again.

  I have a radio that is also an alarm clock, and I set the alarm for five o’clock in the morning, then stuck my headphones on and plugged them into the radio. That way, I could wake up nice and early without waking anyone else.

  I fell asleep quicker than I expected and slept straight through till morning. If I had any dreams, I can’t remember them.