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

by Darren Shan

  “Well, listen to this,” I growled, standing on my toes so I could go eyeball to eyeball with him. “Your test was useless. I didn’t kill you this time, but if I ever get the chance again, I’ll take it!”

  I stormed off without another word, too upset to stick around to see Cormac Limbs or the end of the show, feeling betrayed, even though deep down I knew what he said made sense.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  I was still upset the next morning. Evra kept asking me what was wrong, but I wouldn’t tell him. I didn’t want him to know I’d been thinking of killing Mr. Crepsley.

  Evra told me he’d met Sam and R.V. after the show. “Sam loved it,” Evra said, “especially Cormac Limbs. You should have stayed to see Cormac in action. When he sawed his legs off . . .”

  “I’ll see him next time,” I said. “How did R.V. take it?”

  Evra frowned. “He wasn’t happy.”

  “Upset about the goat?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Evra said, “but not just that. I said we bought the goat from a butcher, so it would have been killed anyway. It was the wolf-man, the snake, and Mr. Crepsley’s spider that bothered him the most.”

  “What was wrong with them?” I asked.

  “He was afraid they weren’t being treated right. He didn’t like the idea of them being locked in cages. I told him they weren’t, except for the spider. I said the wolf-man was really quiet offstage. And I showed him my snake and how she slept with me.”

  “Did he believe you about the wolf-man?” I asked.

  “I think so,” Evra said, “although he still seemed suspicious when they were leaving. And he was very interested in their eating habits. He wanted to know what we fed them, how often, and where we got the food. We have to be careful with R.V. He could cause problems. Luckily, he should be leaving in a day or two, but until then, beware.”

  The day went by quietly. Sam didn’t show up until later on in the afternoon, and none of us was in the mood for playing. It was a cloudy day, and we were all a little out of sorts. Sam only stayed for half an hour, then went home again.

  Mr. Crepsley summoned me to his van a little after sunset. I wasn’t going to go, but decided it was best not to annoy him too much. He was my guardian, after all, and could probably have me booted out of the Cirque Du Freak.

  “What do you want?” I snapped when I arrived.

  “Stand over here, where I can see you better,” the vampire said.

  He tilted my head backward with his bony fingers and rolled up my eyelids to check the whites of my eyes. He told me to open my mouth and peered down my throat. Then he checked my pulse and reflexes.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  “Tired,” I said.

  “Weak?” he asked. “Sick?”

  “A bit.”

  He grunted. “Have you been drinking much blood lately?” he asked.

  “As much as I’m supposed to,” I said.

  “But no human blood?”

  “No,” I said softly.

  “Okay,” he said. “Get ready. We are going out.” “Hunting?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “To see a friend.”

  I got up on his back outside the van, and he began running.

  When we were far enough away from the camp, he flitted and the world blurred around us.

  I didn’t really pay attention to where we were going. I was more concerned with my suit. I’d forgotten to get new clothes, and now, the more I examined it, the worse the suit seemed.

  There were dozens of small holes and rips, and the color was a lot grayer than it was supposed to be, because of the dirt and dust. Strands of thread and fibers had come loose, and every time I shook an arm or a leg I looked like I was shedding hairs.

  I’d never been very worried about clothes, but I didn’t want to look like a bum. Tomorrow I’d definitely find something new to wear.

  After a while we approached a city and Mr. Crepsley slowed down. He stopped outside the back of a tall building. I wanted to ask where we were, but he put a finger to his lips and made the sign for silence.

  The back door was locked but Mr. Crepsley laid a hand over it and clicked the fingers of his other hand. It opened instantly. He led the way through a long, dark corridor, then up a set of stairs and into a brightly lit hallway.

  After a few minutes, we came to a white desk. Mr. Crepsley looked around to make sure we were alone, then rang the bell that hung from one of the walls.

  A figure appeared behind the glass wall on the other side of the desk. The door in the glass wall opened and a brown-haired man in a white uniform and green mask stepped through. He looked like a doctor.

  “How may I — ,” he began, then stopped. “Larten Crepsley! What are you doing here, you old devil?”

  The man pulled down his mask, and I saw he was grinning.

  “Hello, Jimmy,” Mr. Crepsley said. The two shook hands and smiled at each other. “Long time no see.”

  “Not as long as I thought it would be,” the man called Jimmy said. “I heard you’d been killed. An old enemy finally rammed a stake through your rotten heart, or so the story went.”

  “You should not believe everything you hear,” Mr. Crepsley said. He put a hand on my shoulder and nudged me forward. “Jimmy, this is Darren Shan, a traveling companion of mine. Darren, this is Jimmy Ovo, an old friend and the world’s finest pathologist.”

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Jimmy said, shaking my hand. “You aren’t a ...I mean, do you belong to the club?”

  “He is a vampire,” Mr. Crepsley said.

  “Only half of me,” I snapped. “I’m not a full vampire.”

  “Please,” Jimmy winced. “Don’t use that word. I know what you guys are, and I’m fine with it, but that ‘V’ word never fails to freak me out.” He shivered playfully. “I think it’s because of all the horror movies I watched when I was a kid. I know you’re not like those movie monsters, but it’s hard to get the image out of my mind.”

  “What’s a pathologist do?” I asked.

  “I cut corpses open to see how they died,” Jimmy explained. “I don’t do it with a lot of bodies — just the ones who died in suspicious circumstances.”

  “This is a city morgue,” Mr. Crepsley said. “They store bodies that arrive dead at the hospital or die while they’re there.”

  “Is that where you keep them?” I asked Jimmy, pointing at the room behind the glass wall.

  “Yup,” he said cheerfully. He swung up a section of the desk and invited us through.

  I was nervous. I expected to see dozens of tables piled high with sliced-open bodies. But it wasn’t like that. There was one dead body, covered from head to toe with a long sheet, but that was the only one I could see. Otherwise it was a huge, well-lit room, with big filing cabinets built in the walls and lots of medical equipment scattered around the place.

  “How is business?” Mr. Crepsley asked as we sat on three chairs near the corpse on the table. Jimmy and Mr. Crepsley didn’t pay attention to the dead person, and since I didn’t want to look out of place, neither did I.

  “Slow enough,” Jimmy answered. “The weather’s been good, and there haven’t been many car accidents. No strange diseases, no food epidemics, no collapsing buildings. By the way,” he added, “I had an old friend of yours in here a few years back.”

  “Oh?” Mr. Crepsley responded politely. “Who was that?”

  Jimmy sniffed heavily through his nose, then cleared his throat.

  “Gavner Purl?” Mr. Crepsley hooted with delight. “How is the old dog — as clumsy as ever?”

  They started talking about their friend Gavner Purl. I looked around while they were speaking, wondering where the bodies were kept. Finally, when they paused for breath, I asked Jimmy. He stood up, and told me to follow. He led the way to the big filing cabinets and pulled one of the drawers out.

  There was a hissing sound, and a cloud of cold air rose from inside the drawer. When it c
leared, I saw a sheet-covered form and realized the filing cabinets weren’t filing cabinets at all. They were refrigerated coffins!

  “We store the bodies here until we’re ready,” Jimmy said, “or until their next of kin come to collect them.”

  I looked around the room, counting the rows of drawer doors. “Is there a body behind each of these?” I asked.

  Jimmy shook his head. “We’ve only got six guests right now, not counting the one on the table. Like I said, it’s quiet. And even during our busiest times, most of our storage space goes unused. It’s rare for us to be half full. We just like to be prepared for the worst.”

  “Any fresh bodies in stock?” Mr. Crepsley asked. “Wait a minute and I’ll check,” Jimmy said. He consulted a large pad and flicked through a few pages. “There’s a man in his thirties,” Jimmy said. “Died in a car crash just over eight hours ago.”

  “Nothing fresher?” Mr. Crepsley asked.

  “Afraid not,” Jimmy replied.

  Mr. Crepsley sighed. “It will have to do.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “You’re not going to drink from a dead person, are you?”

  “No,” Mr. Crepsley said. He reached inside his cape and pulled out some of the small bottles where he stored his supply of human blood. “I have come for a refill.”

  “You can’t!” I yelled.

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “It isn’t right. It’s not fair to drink from the dead. Besides, the blood will have turned sour.”

  “It will not be at its best,” Mr. Crepsley agreed, “but it will do for bottling. And I disagree: A corpse is the ideal person to drain, since it has no use for the blood. It will take a lot to fill these bottles. Too much to take from a living person.”

  “Not if you took a little from several,” I protested. “True,” he said. “But that would require time, effort, and risk. It is easier this way.”

  “Darren doesn’t speak like a vampire,” Jimmy remarked.

  “He is still learning.” Mr. Crepsley grunted. “Now, lead the way to the body, please. We have not got all night.”

  I knew it would be pointless to argue anymore, so I shut my mouth and followed silently behind them.

  Jimmy slid out the body of a tall blond man and whipped back the sheet. There was a nasty bruise on the dead man’s head and his body was really white, but otherwise he looked like he might be sleeping.

  Mr. Crepsley made a long, deep cut across the man’s chest, baring his heart. He arranged the bottles beside the corpse, then got out a tube and stuck one end into the first of the bottles. He stuck the other end into the dead man’s heart, then wrapped his fist around the organ and squeezed it like a pump.

  Blood crept slowly along the tube and into the bottle. When it was almost full, Mr. Crepsley pulled the tube out and jammed a cork into the neck of the bottle. He stuck the mouth of the tube into the second bottle and started filling that one.

  Raising the first bottle, he swallowed a mouthful and rolled it around his gums, as though tasting wine. “Good,” he grunted, licking his lips. “It is pure. We can use it.”

  He filled eight bottles, then turned to me with a serious look on his face.

  “Darren,” he said, “I know you are reluctant to drink human blood, but it is time you got over your fear.”

  “No,” I said immediately.

  “Come now, Darren,” he growled. “This person is dead. His blood is no good to him anymore.”

  “I can’t,” I said. “Not from a corpse.”

  “But you will not drink from a live person!” Mr. Crepsley exploded. “You will have to drink human blood eventually. This is the best way to start.”

  “Um, listen, guys,” Jimmy said. “If you’re going to feed, I think I should get out of —”

  “Quiet!” Mr. Crepsley snapped. His eyes were burning into me. “You have to drink,” he said firmly. “You are a vampire’s assistant. It is time you behaved like one.”

  “Not tonight,” I begged. “Another time. When we go hunting. From a living person. I can’t drink from a corpse. It’s disgusting.”

  Mr. Crepsley sighed and shook his head. “One night you will realize how silly you are being,” he said. “I just hope, by that time, you are not beyond being saved.”

  Mr. Crepsley thanked Jimmy Ovo for his help, and the two started talking about the past and their friends. I sat by myself while they chatted, feeling miserable, wondering how long I could go without human blood.

  When they were finished, we walked downstairs. Jimmy came with us and waved good-bye. He was a nice guy and I was sorry we’d had to meet under dark circumstances.

  Mr. Crepsley didn’t say anything the whole way home, and when we arrived back at the Cirque Du Freak, he tossed me angrily to one side and pointed a finger at me.

  “If you die,” he said, “it is not my fault.”

  “Okay,” I replied.

  “Stupid boy,” he grumbled, then stormed off to his coffin.

  I stayed up a while longer and watched the sun rising. I thought a lot about my situation and what would happen when my strength faded and I began to die. A half-vampire who wouldn’t drink blood; it would have been funny if it wasn’t so deadly.

  What should I do? That was the question that kept me awake long after the sun rose. What should I do? Forget about it and just drink human blood? Or stay true to my humanity and . . . die?

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I stayed inside my tent most of the day and didn’t even go out to say hi to Sam when he came around. I was so sad. I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere anymore. I couldn’t be a human and wouldn’t be a vampire. I was somewhere in between the two.

  I got a lot of sleep that night, and the next day I felt better. The sun was shining, and although I knew my problems hadn’t gone away, I was able to overlook them for a while.

  Evra’s snake was sick. She’d picked up a virus, and Evra had to stay in to look after her.

  When Sam showed up, we decided to visit that old deserted railroad station of his. Evra didn’t mind being left behind. He’d come with us another time.

  The railroad station was cool. There was a huge circular yard paved with cracked stones, a three-story house that had served as the guard’s house, a couple of old sheds, and several abandoned train cars. There were also railroad tracks running everywhere you looked, overgrown with weeds and grass.

  Sam and I walked along some of the tracks and pretended we were on tightropes way above the ground. Every time one of us slipped, he had to scream and pretend to fall fatally to earth. I was much better at the game than Sam, because my vampire powers meant my sense of balance was better than any human’s.

  We explored a few of the old cars. A couple were run down, but most were okay. Pretty dusty and dirty, but otherwise in good condition. I couldn’t understand why they’d been left there to rot.

  We climbed onto the roof of one of the cars and stretched out to sit in the sun.

  “You know what we should do?” Sam said after a while.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Become blood brothers.”

  I propped myself up on an elbow and stared. “Blood brothers?” I asked. “What for? And how’s it done?”

  “It’d be fun,” he said. “We each make a small cut

  on one of our hands, then join them together and swear an oath to be best friends forever.”

  “That sounds all right,” I agreed. “Do you have a knife?”

  “We can use some glass,” Sam said. He slid over to the edge of the roof, reached down, and snapped a piece of glass out of one of the train-car windows. When he came back, he made a small cut in the fleshy part of his palm, then handed me the glass.

  I was about to cut my palm when I remembered the vampire blood in my veins. I didn’t think a small amount could do Sam any harm, but then again . . .

  I lowered the glass and shook my head.

  “No,” I said. “I don’t want to do it.”

  �
��Come on,” Sam urged. “Don’t be afraid. You only have to make a small cut.”

  “No,” I said again.

  “Coward!” he yelled. “You’re afraid! Chicken! Coward!” He began to sing: “Fraidy cat, fraidy cat!”

  “Okay, I’m a coward.” I laughed. It was easier to lie than tell the truth. “Everybody’s afraid of something. I didn’t see you rushing to wash the wolf-man the other day.”

  Sam made a face. “That’s different.” “Horses for courses,” I said smugly.

  “What does that mean?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “It’s something my dad used to say.”

  We joked around some more, then hopped down and crossed the yard to the guard’s house. The doors had rotted off years ago, and most of the glass in the windows had fallen out. We walked through a couple of small rooms, then into a larger one, which had been the living room.

  There was a huge hole in the middle of the floor, which we carefully avoided.

  “Look up,” Sam told me.

  I did and discovered I was gazing directly at the roof. The floors in between had fallen in over the years, and all that was left of them were jagged edges around the sides. I could see sunlight shining through a couple of holes in the roof.

  “Follow me,” Sam said, and he led me to a staircase at the side of the room. He started up. I followed slowly, not sure if it was the smartest thing to do — the steps were creaky and looked as though they might collapse — but not wanting to be called a chicken twice in the same day.

  We stopped at the third floor, where the stairs stopped. You could touch the roof from there, and we did.

  “Can we get out on the roof?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Sam said, “but it’s too dangerous. The shingles are loose. You could slide off. Anyway, there’s something better up here than the roof.”

  He walked along the side of the uppermost room of the house. The ledge was about two feet wide most of the way, but I kept my back to the wall, not wanting to take any chances.

  “This section of floor won’t collapse, will it?” I asked nervously.

  “It never has before,” Sam replied. “But there’s a first time for everything.”