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

by Darren Shan

“Oh, hell!” Evra gasped. I heard him dropping the hot dog and shuffling away from the people behind him, to a quieter spot. “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Positive,” I said. “The prey has been sighted.”

  “Okay,” Evra sighed. He sounded nervous. I didn’t blame him — I was nervous, too. “Okay,” he said again. “Give me your position.”

  I read out the name of the street. “But don’t rush,” I told him. “They’re moving slowly. Stay a couple of streets back. I don’t want Mr. Crepsley spotting you.”

  “I don’t want him spotting me either!” Evra snorted. “Keep me up to date.”

  “Will do,” I promised. Clicking off the phone, I started after the pursuing vampire.

  He trailed the fat man to a large building, which the human disappeared into. Mr. Crepsley waited half an hour, then slowly circled the building, checking on windows and doors. I trudged along behind, keeping my distance, ready to race after him if he entered.

  He didn’t. Instead, when he was through examining the place, he went to a nearby rooftop, from where he had a perfect view of all the entrances, and sat down to wait.

  I told Evra what was happening.

  “He’s just sitting there?” Evra asked.

  “Sitting and watching,” I confirmed.

  “What sort of place is it?”

  I’d read the name on the walls while I was passing them, and seen in a couple of the windows, but I could have told Evra what went on in the building just by the foul smell of animal blood in the air.

  “It’s a slaughterhouse,” I whispered.

  There was a long pause. Then: “Maybe he’s just here for the animal blood,” Evra suggested.

  “No. He would have entered by now if that was the case. He didn’t come for the animals. He came for the human.”

  “We don’t know that,” Evra said. “Maybe he’s waiting for it to close before going in.”

  “He’d have a long wait,” I laughed. “It stays open all night.”

  “I’m coming up,” Evra said. “Don’t move until I get there.”

  “I’ll move when Mr. Crepsley moves, whether you’re here or not,” I said, but Evra had hung up and didn’t hear me.

  He arrived a few minutes later, his breath stinking of mustard and onions. “Dry bread for you from now on,” I muttered.

  “Do you think Mr. Crepsley will smell me?” Evra asked. “Maybe I should go back down and —”

  I shook my head. “He’s too close to the slaughterhouse,” I said. “The smell of blood will block everything else out.”

  “Where is he?” Evra asked. I pointed the vampire out. Evra had to squint but eventually spotted him.

  “We have to be extra quiet,” I said. “Even a small noise could have him swooping down on us.”

  Evra shivered — whether because of the cold or the thought of being attacked, I don’t know — and settled down. We said hardly anything to each other after that.

  We had to breathe into our cupped fists to stop our breath from showing. We would have been all right if it had been snowing — the snow would have hidden the smokelike tendrils — but it was a clear and frosty night.

  We sat there until three in the morning. Evra’s teeth were chattering, and I was at the point of sending him home before he froze to death, when the fat man emerged. Mr. Crepsley started after him immediately.

  Too late, I realized the vampire was going to pass by us on his way back. There was no time to hide. He’d see us!

  “Keep perfectly still,” I whispered to Evra. “Don’t even breathe.”

  The vampire came toward us, walking steadily across the icy roofs in his bare feet. I was certain he’d spot us, but his eyes were trained on the human. He passed within ten feet of us — his shadow crept over me like some awful ghost — and then he was gone.

  “I think my heart stopped,” Evra said shakily.

  I heard the familiar thump-thump sounds of the snake-boy’s heart (it beat slightly slower than a normal human’s) and smiled. “You’re okay,” I told him.

  “I thought we were done for,” Evra hissed.

  “Me, too.” I stood and checked which way the vampire was going. “You’d better slip back down to the street,” I told Evra.

  “He’s not going fast,” Evra said. “I can keep up.”

  I shook my head. “There’s no telling when he’ll speed up: the man might get in a cab or have a car waiting for him. Besides, after our narrow escape, it’s better we split: that way, if one of us gets caught, the other can sneak back to the hotel and pretend he wasn’t involved.”

  Evra saw the sense in that and went down the nearest fire escape. I began following the tracks of the vampire and the fat man.

  He walked back the way he’d come, past the deserted street where we first picked him up, on to a block of apartments.

  He lived in one of the central apartments on the sixth floor. Mr. Crepsley waited for the lights to go off inside, then went up in the elevator. I ran up the stairs and watched from the far end of the landing.

  I expected him to open the door and enter — locks were no problem for the vampire — but all he did was check the door and windows. Then he turned around and went back to the elevator.

  I hurried down the stairs and got the vampire back in view as he walked away from the apartments. I told Evra what had happened and where the vampire was heading. A few minutes later he caught up with me and we followed Mr. Crepsley as he jogged through the streets.

  “Why didn’t he go in?” Evra asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe there was somebody else there. Or maybe he plans to come back later.

  One thing’s for sure: he didn’t go up there to send a letter!”

  After a while, we turned a corner into an alley and spotted Mr. Crepsley bent over a motionless woman. Evra gasped and started forward. I caught his arm and yanked him back.

  “What are you doing?” he hissed. “Didn’t you see? He’s attacking! We have to stop him before —”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “He isn’t attacking. He’s feeding.”

  Evra’s struggles stopped. “You’re sure?” he asked suspiciously.

  I nodded. “He’s drinking from the woman’s arm. The corpses in the building had their throats cut, remember?”

  Evra nodded uncertainly. “If you’re wrong . . .”

  “I’m not,” I assured him.

  Minutes later, the vampire moved on, leaving the woman behind. We hurried down the alley to check. As I’d guessed, she was unconscious but alive, a small, fresh scar on her left arm the only sign that she had been feasted upon.

  “Let’s go,” I said, standing. “She’ll wake up in a few minutes. We’d better not be here when she does.”

  “What about Mr. Crepsley?” Evra asked.

  I looked up at the sky, estimating how long was left until dawn. “He won’t kill anyone tonight,” I said. “It’s too late. He’s probably heading back for the hotel. Come on — if we don’t get back before him, we’ll have a hell of a time trying to explain where we were.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  BEFORE DUSK DESCENDED the next night, Evra went around to the block of apartments to keep watch on the fat man. I stayed home, in order to follow Mr. Crepsley. If the vampire headed for the apartments, I’d join Evra. If he went anywhere else, we’d discuss the situation and decide whether Evra should desert his post or stay.

  The vampire rose promptly as the sun went down. He was looking more cheerful tonight, though he still wouldn’t have appeared out of place in a funeral parlor.

  “Where is Evra?” he asked, diving into the meal I had prepared.

  “Shopping,” I said.

  “By himself?” Mr. Crepsley paused. For a moment I thought he was suspicious, but he was just looking for the salt.

  “I think he’s buying Christmas presents,” I said.

  “I thought Evra was above such absurdities. What is the date, anyway?”

  “The twentiet
h of December,” I answered.

  “And Christmas is the twenty-fifth?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  Mr. Crepsley rubbed his scar thoughtfully. “My business here may have come to an end by then,” he said.

  “Oh?” I tried not to sound curious or excited.

  “I had planned to move on as soon as possible, but if you wish to remain here for Christmas, we can. I understand the staff are hosting some kind of celebration?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “You would like to attend?”

  “Yes.” I forced a smile. “Evra and me are buying presents for each other. We’re going to eat dinner with the rest of the guests and eat cookies and stuff ourselves with turkey. You can come, too, if you want.” I tried to make it sound like I wanted him there.

  He smiled and shook his head. “Such follies do not appeal to me,” he said.

  “Suit yourself,” I replied.

  As soon as he left, I started after him. He led me straight to the slaughterhouse, which surprised me. Maybe it wasn’t the fat man he was interested in: perhaps there was something — or somebody — else there that he had his eye on.

  I discussed it with Evra over the phone.

  “It’s weird,” he agreed. “Maybe he wants to catch him when he’s entering or leaving work.”

  “Maybe,” I said uncertainly. Something seemed odd about it. The vampire wasn’t behaving as I had expected him to.

  Evra stayed where he was, to follow the fat man. I chose a safe spot to hide, next to a warm pipe that kept some of the cold out. My view of the slaughter-house wasn’t as good as it had been last night, but I had a clear sight of Mr. Crepsley, which was what mattered.

  The fat man arrived at the scheduled time, Evra soon after him. I moved to the edge of the roof when I saw them, ready to leap down and intervene if Mr. Crepsley made his move. But the vampire remained stationary.

  And that was it for the night. Mr. Crepsley sat on his ledge; Evra and me crouched on ours; the workers kept the slaughterhouse up and running. At three in the morning, the fat man reappeared and went home.

  Once again Mr. Crepsley followed, and once again we followed Mr. Crepsley. This time the vampire didn’t go up to the landing, but that was the only change in the routine.

  The next night, the exact same thing happened.

  “What’s he up to?” Evra asked. The cold was getting to him and he was complaining about cramps in his legs. I had told him he could leave, but he was determined to stick it out.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe he’s waiting for a special time to act. Maybe the moon has to be in a certain position or something.”

  “I thought werewolves were the only monsters affected by the moon,” Evra said, half-jokingly.

  “I thought so, too,” I said. “But I’m not sure. There’s so much Mr. Crepsley hasn’t told me about being a full vampire. You could fill a book with all the stuff I know nothing about.”

  “What are we going to do if he attacks?” Evra asked. “Do you think we stand a chance against him in a fight?”

  “Not a fair fight,” I said. “But in a dirty one . . .” I pulled out a long, rusty butcher’s knife, let Evra’s eyes focus on it, then slipped it back beneath my shirt.

  “Where did you get that?” Evra gasped.

  “I came exploring around the slaughterhouse today, to familiarize myself with the layout, and found this knife lying in a bin out back. I guess it was too rusty to be of any use.”

  “That’s what you’re going to use?” Evra asked quietly.

  I nodded. “I’ll slit his throat,” I whispered. “I’ll wait for him to make his move, then . . .” I clenched my jaw shut.

  “You think you can do it? He’s really fast. If you miss your first chance, you probably won’t get a second.”

  “He won’t be expecting me,” I said. “I can do it.” I faced Evra. “I know we agreed to do this together, but I want to go after him by myself when the time comes.”

  “No way!” Evra hissed.

  “I have to,” I said. “You can’t move as quietly or as quickly as me. If you come, you’ll be in the way. Besides,” I added, “if things go badly and I fail, you’ll still be around to take another shot at him. Wait for day and get him while he’s sleeping.”

  “Maybe that’s the best solution,” Evra said. “Maybe we should both wait. The main reason we’re here is to confirm he’s the killer. If he is, and we get proof, why don’t we wait and —”

  “No,” I said softly. “I won’t let him murder that man.”

  “You know nothing about him,” Evra said. “Remember what I said: that the six dead people may have been killed because they were evil? Maybe this guy’s rotten.”

  “I don’t care,” I said stubbornly. “I only agreed to go along with Mr. Crepsley because he convinced me he wasn’t bad, that he didn’t kill people. If he is a killer, I’m guilty, too, for believing him and helping him all this time. I could do nothing to stop the first six murders — but if I can prevent number seven, I will.”

  “Okay,” Evra sighed. “Have it your own way.”

  “You won’t interfere?”

  “No,” he promised.

  “Even if I run into trouble and look like I need help?”

  He hesitated before nodding. “All right. Not even then.”

  “You’re a good friend, Evra,” I said, clasping his hands.

  “Think so?” He smiled bitterly. “Wait until you mess up with Mr. Crepsley and end up trapped, screaming for help, only for me to ignore you. We’ll see what kind of a friend you think I am then!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  ON THE NIGHT of the twenty-second of December, Mr. Crepsley made his move.

  Evra spotted him. I was taking a short break, resting my eyes — even a half-vampire’s eyes get sore after hours of concentration — when Evra made a sudden alarmed jump and grabbed my ankle.

  “He’s moving!”

  I sprang forward, just in time to see the vampire leaping onto the roof of the slaughterhouse. He wrestled open a window and quickly slipped inside.

  “This is it!” I moaned, leaping to my feet and taking off.

  “Wait a sec,” Evra said. “I’m coming with you.”

  “No!” I snapped. “We discussed this. You promised —”

  “I won’t come all the way in,” Evra said. “But I’m not going to sit over here worrying myself crazy. I’ll wait for you inside the slaughterhouse.”

  There was no time to argue. Nodding quickly, I ran. Evra hurried after me as fast as he could.

  I paused at the open window and listened carefully for sounds of the vampire. There were none. Evra pulled up beside me, gasping from the exertion of the run. I climbed in and Evra followed.

  We found ourselves in a long room filled with pipes. The floor was covered in dust, in which Mr. Crepsley’s footprints were clearly visible. We traced the prints to a door, which opened onto a tiled corridor. The dust that Mr. Crepsley’s feet had picked up crossing the room now marked his path across the tiles.

  We followed the dusty trail along the corridor and down a flight of stairs. We were in a quiet part of the slaughterhouse — the workers were grouped near the other end — but we moved cautiously anyway: it wouldn’t be good to be caught at this delicate stage of the game.

  As the dust grew fainter by the step, I worried about losing the vampire. I didn’t want to have to search blindly around the slaughterhouse for him, so I quickened my pace. Evra did, too.

  As we turned a corner, I saw a familiar red cape and promptly stopped. I stepped back out of sight, dragging Evra with me.

  I mouthed the words “Say nothing,” then cautiously peered around the corner to see what Mr. Crepsley was up to.

  The vampire was tucked behind cardboard boxes that were stacked against one of the walls. I saw nobody else, but I could hear footsteps approaching.

  The fat man appeared through a door. He was whistling and looking through some pap
ers attached to a clipboard that he was carrying. He stopped at a large automated door and pressed a button in the wall. With a sharp, grinding noise, it opened.

  The fat man hung the clipboard on a hook on the wall, then entered. I heard him press a button on the other side. The door stopped, creaked, and came down at the same slow pace with which it had gone up.

  Mr. Crepsley darted forward as the door was closing and slid underneath.

  “Go back up to the room with the pipes and hide,” I told Evra. He began to complain. “Just do it!” I snapped. “He’d spot you here on his way back if you stayed. Go up and wait. I’ll track you down if I’m able to stop him. If not . . .” I found his hands and squeezed hard. “It’s been nice knowing you, Evra Von.”

  “Be careful, Darren,” Evra said, and I could see the fear in his eyes. Not fear for himself. Fear for me. “Good luck.”

  “I don’t need luck,” I said bravely and pulled out my knife. “I’ve got this.” Giving his hands another squeeze, I fled down the corridor and threw myself under the closing door, which shut right behind me, locking me in with the fat man and the vampire.

  The room was full of animal carcasses, which hung on steel hooks from the ceiling. It was refrigerated, to keep the animals fresh.

  The stench of blood was sickening. I knew the bodies were only those of animals, but I kept imagining they were humans.

  The overhead lights were incredibly bright, so I had to move very carefully: a stray shadow could mean the end of me. The floor was slippery — water? blood? — so I had to watch where I put my feet.

  There was a strange rosy glow around the carcasses, a result of the bright light and blood. You wouldn’t want to be a vegetarian in a place like this!

  After a few seconds of seeing nothing but dead animals, I spotted Mr. Crepsley and the fat man. I fell in behind the two and kept pace with them.

  The fat man stopped and checked one of the carcasses. He must have been feeling cold, because he blew into his hands to warm them up, even though he was wearing gloves. He gave the dead animal a slap when he finished examining it — the hook creaked creepily as the carcass swung back and forth — and began to whistle the same tune he’d been whistling outside.