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

by Darren Shan

  “Thanks for putting my mind at ease,” I grumbled. Sam stopped a little farther on. I craned my neck so I could see past him and realized we had come to a set of rafters. There were six or seven of them, long pieces of wood stretching from one side of the room to the other.

  “This used to be the attic,” Sam explained.

  “I guessed that,” I told him.

  He looked back at me and grinned. “But can you guess what we’re going to do next?” he asked.

  I stared at him, then down at the rafters. “You don’t mean ...You aren’t going to ...You’re going to walk across, right?”

  “Right,” he said, and set his left foot on the rafter.

  “Sam, this isn’t a good idea,” I said. “You looked unsteady on the railroad tracks. If you stumble up here...”

  “I won’t,” he said. “I was only fooling down there.” He set his other foot on the wooden rafter and began walking. He went slowly, his arms stretched out on either side. My heart was in my throat. I was certain he’d fall. I looked down and knew he wouldn’t survive if he fell. There were four stories if you included the basement. It was a long drop. A deadly one.

  But Sam made it across safely to the other side, where he turned and took a bow.

  “You’re crazy!” I yelled.

  “No,” he said, “just brave. How about you? Dare to chance it? It’d be easier for you than it was for me.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Chickens have wings!” he shouted.

  That did it! I’d show him!

  Taking a deep breath, I went across, moving quicker than Sam had, making full use of my vampire abilities. I didn’t look down and tried not to think about what I was doing and in a couple of seconds I was across and standing beside Sam.

  “Wow!” He was impressed. “I didn’t think you’d do it. Certainly not so quickly.”

  “You don’t travel with the Cirque without picking up a few tricks,” I said, pleased with myself.

  “Do you think I could go that fast?” Sam asked. “I wouldn’t try it,” I advised him.

  “I bet you can’t do it again,” he dared me.

  “Just watch,” I said, and darted back across, even faster.

  We spent a fun few minutes crossing over and back, taking each of the rafters in turn. Then we crossed at the same time, on different rafters, yelling and laughing at each other.

  Sam stopped in the middle of his rafter and turned to face me.

  “Hey!” he shouted. “Let’s play mirrors.” “What’s that?” I asked.

  “I do something and you have to copy me.” He shook his left hand above his head. “Like this.”

  “Oh,” I said, and shook my hand. “Okay. As long as you don’t jump to your death. That’s the one thing I won’t copy.”

  He laughed, then made a face. I made one, too. Then he slowly stood on one leg. I did the same. Next he bent and touched his toes. I followed his example. I couldn’t wait until it was my turn. I’d do a few things — like jump from one rafter to the next — that there was no way he could copy. For once, I was glad for my vampire blood.

  Of course, that was the moment when it went and let me down

  There was no warning. One second I was beginning to stand, having bent to touch my toes. The next my head was spinning, my arms were flapping, and my legs were shaking.

  This wasn’t my first dizzy spell — I’d had several recently — but I hadn’t taken much notice before — I’d just sat down and waited for the dizziness to pass. This time was different. I was four stories up. There was nowhere to sit.

  I tried lowering myself, thinking I could cling to the rafter and crawl to safety. But before I could get low enough, my feet slipped out from under me . . . and I fell!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Although my vampire blood was responsible for getting me into the mess on the rafters, it also saved my life.

  As I fell, I stuck out an arm — more out of desperation than anything else — and my hand caught the rafter. If I’d been an ordinary human boy, I wouldn’t have had the strength to hold on. But I wasn’t ordinary. I was a half-vampire. And even though I was dizzy, I was able to grab tight and hold on.

  I swung above the four-story drop, eyes shut, hanging on by those four slim fingers and my thumb.

  “Darren! Hang on!” Sam shouted. He didn’t need to tell me that — I was hardly going to let go.

  I’m coming over,” Sam said. “I’ll be there as fast as I can. Don’t let go. And don’t panic.”

  He went on talking as he made his way across, calming me down, telling me it would be all right, he’d rescue me, I had to relax, everything was fine.

  His words helped. They gave me something other than the drop to think about. If not for Sam, I would have been a goner.

  I felt him inch out along my rafter. The wood creaked, and for one awful moment I thought the weight would cause it to break and send both of us plummeting to our deaths. But it held and he closed the gap, crawling along on his stomach, quickly but carefully.

  Sam paused when he reached me.

  “Now,” he said, “I’m going to grab your wrist with my right hand. I’ll do it slowly. Don’t move while I’m doing it, and don’t grab me with your free hand. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I said.

  I felt his hand close over my wrist.

  “Don’t let go of the rafter,” he said.

  “I won’t,” I promised.

  “I don’t have the strength to pull you up,” he told me, “so I’m going to swing you from one side to the other. Stretch your free arm out. When you can, grab for the rafter. If you miss, don’t panic, I’ll still be holding on. If you get a grip, stay still for a few seconds and give your body a chance to relax. Then we can haul you up. Got it?”

  “Got it, captain,” I said, grinning nervously. “Here goes. And remember: Everything will be all right. Okay. It’s going to work. You will survive.”

  He began swinging me, lightly at first, then a little harder. I was tempted to grab at the rafter after a few swings but forced myself to wait. When I thought I was swinging high enough, I stretched out my fingers, concentrated on the thin plank of wood, and grabbed.

  I caught it!

  I was able to relax a little then and rest the muscles of my right arm.

  “Do you feel ready to pull yourself up?” Sam asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I’ll help you get your upper body up,” he said. “When your stomach is safe across the rafter, I’ll get out of the way and give you room to bring your legs up.”

  Sam put his right hand on the collar of my shirt and jacket — to catch me if I slipped — and helped yank me upward.

  I scraped my chest and stomach on the rafter, but the pain didn’t bother me. In fact, I welcomed it: It meant I was alive.

  When I was safe, Sam backed off and I got my legs up. I crawled after him, moving slower than necessary. When I reached the ledge, I stayed crouched down and didn’t stand until we got to the stairs. Then I leaned against the wall and let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief.

  “Wow,” Sam said to the left of me. “That was fun! Do you want to do it again?”

  I think he was joking.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Later, after i’d stumbled down the stairs — my sense of balance was still off, but getting better — we walked back to the train cars and rested in the shadow of one.

  “You saved my life,” I said softly.

  “It was nothing,” Sam said. “You would have done the same for me.”

  “Probably,” I said. “But I wasn’t called upon to help. I wasn’t the one who had to use his head and act cool. You saved me, Sam. I owe you my life.”

  “Keep it.” He laughed. “What would I do with it?” “I’m serious, Sam. I owe you big-time. Anything you ever want or need, just ask, and I’ll do anything to get it for you.”

  “You mean that?”

  “Cross my heart,” I swor
e.

  “There is one thing,” he said.

  “Name it.”

  “I want to join the Cirque Du Freak.” “Saaaammmm . . . ,” I groaned.

  “You asked what I wanted, so I’m telling you,” he replied.

  “It’s not that easy,” I protested.

  “Yes it is,” he said. “You can talk to the owner and put in a good word for me. Come on, Darren, did you mean what you said or not?”

  “All right.” I sighed. “I’ll ask Mr. Tall.”

  “When?”

  “Today,” I promised. “As soon as I get back.” “All right!” Sam tried to high-five me.

  “But if he says no,” I warned him, “that’s the end of it, okay? I’ll do what I can, but if Mr. Tall says no, that means no.”

  “Sure,” Sam said. “That’s fine by me.”

  “Maybe there’s a job for me, too,” somebody said behind my back.

  I spun around quickly, and there was R.V., smiling strangely.

  “You shouldn’t creep up on people like that,” I snapped. “You scared me.”

  “Sorry, man,” R.V. said, but he didn’t look very sorry.

  “What are you doing out here?” Sam asked.

  “I wanted to find Darren,” R.V. said. “I never got a chance to thank him for my ticket.”

  “That’s okay,” I said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around to see you when it was over, but I had to go somewhere else.”

  “Sure,” R.V. said, sitting down on the track beside me. “I can understand that. A show that size, there must be lots to do, huh? I bet they keep you real busy, right, man?”

  “Right,” I said.

  R.V. grinned, and stared at the two of us. There was something about the way he was smiling that made me uneasy. It wasn’t a nice smile.

  “Tell me,” R.V. said, “how’s the wolf-man doing?” “He’s fine,” I said.

  “He’s chained up all the time, isn’t he?” R.V. asked.

  “No,” I said, remembering Evra’s warning.

  “He’s not?” R.V. acted surprised. “A wild beast like him, savage and dangerous, and he isn’t locked up?”

  “He’s not really dangerous,” I said. “That’s an act. He’s pretty tame, actually.” I could see Sam staring at me. He knew how wild the wolf-man was and didn’t get why I was lying.

  “Tell me, man, what does a thing like that eat?” R.V. asked.

  “Steak. Pork chops. Sausages.” I forced a smile. “The usual stuff. All store-bought.”

  “Really? What about the goat that spider bit? Who eats that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Evra said the two of you bought the goat from a local farmer. Did it cost much?”

  “Not really,” I said. “It was pretty sick, so it —” I stopped. Evra had told R.V. we bought the goat from a butcher, not a farmer.

  “I’ve been doing a little investigating, man,” R.V. said softly. “Everybody else in my camp has been getting ready to move on, but I’ve been walking around, counting sheep and cows, asking questions, digging for bones.

  “Animals have been vanishing,” R.V. continued. “The farmers aren’t taking much notice — they don’t mind the odd one or two missing — but it intrigues me. Who do you think could be taking them, man?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Another thing,” he said. “I was walking along the river you’re camped by, and do you know what I found downstream? Lots of small bones and scraps of skin and meat. Where do you think they could have come from, Darren?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. Then I stood up. “I gotta go now. They need me back at the Cirque. Jobs to do.”

  “Don’t let me keep you,” R.V. said with a smile. “When is your group headed out?” I asked. “I might stop by to say good-bye before you leave.”

  “That’s nice of you,” R.V. said. “But don’t worry, man. I won’t be going anywhere soon.”

  I frowned. “I thought you said you were moving on.”

  “NOP is moving on,” he said. “In fact, they’ve already moved. They pulled out yesterday evening.” He smiled icily. “But I’m staying a little longer. There are a few things I want to check out.”

  “Oh.” Inside my head I swore loudly, but outside I pretended to be happy. “That’s good news. Well, see you around.”

  “Oh, yeah,” R.V. said. “You’ll see me around, man. You can bet on that. You’ll be seeing plenty of me.”

  I grinned awkwardly.

  “So long for now,” I said.

  “So long,” R.V. replied.

  “Wait up,” Sam called. “I’ll come with you.”

  “No,” I said. “Come tomorrow. I’ll have an answer from Mr. Tall for you by then. Bye.”

  I took off before either of them could say anything else.

  R.V.’s interest in the disappearance of the animals worried me at first, but as I walked back to camp I began to relax. When all was said and done, he was only a hairy harmless human, while those of us in the Cirque Du Freak were strange, powerful beings. What could he possibly do to hurt us?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I meant to report right to Mr. Tall when I got back, to tell him about R.V., but as I was heading for his van, Truska — the lady who was able to grow an incredible beard — grabbed my arm and made signs that she wanted me to follow her.

  She led me to her tent. It was decorated more than most of the other tents and vans. The walls were covered with mirrors and paintings. There were huge wardrobes and dressing tables and a humongous four-poster bed.

  Truska said something in her weird seal-like voice, then stood me in the center of the room and made a sign that I wasn’t supposed to move. She grabbed a measuring tape and measured my body.

  When she finished, she pursed her lips and thought for a few seconds, then clicked her fingers and hurried to one of the closets. She dug through it, coming out with a pair of pants. She found a shirt in another closet, a jacket in another, and a pair of shoes in a large chest. She let me pick my own T-shirt, underwear, and socks from one of the dressing-table drawers.

  I stepped behind a silk screen to put the clothes on. Evra must have told her about my wish to find new clothes. I’m glad that he did, because I probably would have kept on forgetting.

  Truska clapped her hands when I came out and quickly shoved me in front of a mirror. The clothes fit perfectly and, much to my surprise, I looked super-cool! The shirt was light green, the pants were dark purple, and the jacket was blue and gold. Truska found a long piece of red satin cloth and wrapped it around my waist like a belt. That completed the picture: I looked just like a pirate!

  “This is great!” I told her. “The only thing is,” I said, pointing at my feet, “the shoes are a little tight.”

  Truska took back the shoes and found a new pair. They were roomier than the first pair and the toes curled up just like Sinbad the Sailor’s. They were really cool.

  “Thanks, Truska,” I said, and started to leave. She raised a hand and I stopped. She pulled a chair over to one of the taller wardrobes and stood on it, reached up, and brought down a huge round box. She plopped it on the floor, opened it, and pulled out a small brown hat with a feather in it, the kind that Robin Hood wore.

  Before I could put the hat on, she made me sit down, got a pair of scissors, and gave me a haircut, which I badly needed.

  The haircut and hat were the icing on the cake. I almost didn’t recognize myself in the mirror when I looked this time.

  “Oh, Truska,” I said. “I ...I...” I couldn’t find the words, so instead I threw my arms around her and gave her a big, sloppy kiss. I felt embarrassed when I let go, and was glad none of my friends had been around to see, but Truska was beaming.

  I rushed off to show Evra my new look. He thought the clothes were great, but swore he’d never asked Truska to help me. He said she must have either been sick of seeing me look so scruffy, or Mr. Crepsley had asked her to fix me up, or she’d done it because she liked me.
r />   “She does not like me!” I shouted.

  “Truska loves Darren,” he sang. “Truska loves Darren.”

  “Oh, shut up, you slimy excuse for a reptile,” I growled.

  He laughed, not the least bit offended.

  “Darren and Truska sitting in a tree,” he sang, “k-i-s-s-i-n-g. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Darren with the vampire carriage.”

  I jumped on him, wrestled him to the ground, and wouldn’t let go until he cried for mercy.

  When we were finished. Evra went back to taking care of his snake, and I went outside and continued with the day’s jobs. I was on the go nonstop, because I had to cover for Evra and do the work of two. With all that coming and going, and the excitement of having new clothes, I totally forgot about R.V. and telling Mr. Tall about the ecowarrior’s threat to investigate the disappearing animals.

  If I hadn’t been so forgetful, maybe things would have turned out differently, and maybe our stay wouldn’t have ended in a bloodbath.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  I was ready to collapse by the time night came. The activity had worn me out. Evra had warned me not to sleep in his tent that night; his snake was in a foul mood because of the virus and might bite. So I headed for Mr. Crepsley’s van and made a bed on the floor beside Madam Octa’s cage.

  I fell asleep within a couple of minutes of lying down. A little later, as I was dreaming, something caught in my throat and made me gag. I coughed and awoke.

  There was a figure above me, holding a small bottle to my mouth, trying to force a liquid down me. My first strange, terrified thought was: “It’s Mr. Tiny!”

  I bit the top off the bottle, cutting my lips and spilling most of the liquid. The man swore, grabbed my chin, and pried my gums apart. He tried pouring the last of the liquid into my open mouth, but I spat it out.

  The man swore again, then let go and slumped back. As my heartbeat slowed, I saw that it wasn’t Mr. Tiny.

  It was Mr. Crepsley.

  “What the hell were you trying to do?” I screamed angrily. I was too mad to feel the pain in my cut lips.

  He showed me the remains of the small bottle . . . one of the containers he used to store human blood.