Allies of the Night

by Darren Shan

  Before he could test me, Vancha and Steve appeared. Steve fired an arrow at the vampaneze — missing on purpose — and Vancha leapt on to the wall. Hooky howled again, sent another few tiles flying towards us, then scrambled up the roof and down the other side.

  "Are you OK?" Vancha asked, stopping beside me.

  "Yes. We got him in the leg. He's bleeding."

  "I noticed."

  There was a small pool of blood nearby. I dipped a finger into it and sniffed. It smelt of vampaneze blood, but I still asked Vancha to test it. "It's vampaneze," he said, tasting it. "Why wouldn't it be?" I explained about Hooky's eyes. "Strange," he grunted, but said no more. Helping me to my feet, he scuttled to the top of the roof, checked to make sure Hooky wasn't lying in wait for us, then beckoned me to follow. The chase was on!

  While Vancha and I trailed the vampaneze across the rooftops, Harkat and Steve kept abreast of us on the ground, slowing only to negotiate their way around roadblocks or police patrols. About five minutes into the chase, Mr Crepsley and Debbie connected with us, Debbie joining those below, the vampire taking to the roofs.

  We could have closed in on Hooky — he was having a hard time, slowed by his injured leg, the pain and loss of blood — but we allowed him to remain ahead of us. There was no way he could ditch us up here. If we'd wanted to kill him, it would have been a simple matter to reel him in. But we didn't want to kill him — yet!

  "We mustn't let him grow suspicious," Vancha said after several minutes of silence. "If we hang back too long, he'll guess something's up. Time to drive him to earth." Vancha moved ahead of us, until he was within shuriken-throwing range of the vampaneze. He took a throwing star from the belts looped around his chest, aimed carefully and sent it skimming off a chimney just above Hooky's head.

  Whirling, the vampaneze shouted something unintelligible back at us and angrily shook a golden hook. Vancha silenced him with another shuriken, which flew even closer to its mark than the first. Dropping to his belly, Hooky slid to the edge of the roof, where he grabbed on to the guttering with his hooks, halting his fall. He hung over open space a moment, checked the area underneath, jerked his hooks clear of the guttering and then dropped. It was a four-storey fall, but that was nothing to a vampaneze.

  "Here we go," Mr Crepsley muttered, making for a nearby fire escape. "Call the others and warn them — we do not want them running into him on the streets."

  I did that while jogging down the steps of the fire escape. They were a block and a half behind us. I told them to hold position until further notice. While Mr Crepsley and I followed the vampaneze on the ground, Vancha kept sight of him from the rooftops, making sure he couldn't take to the roofs again, narrowing his options so that he had to choose between the streets and the tunnels.

  After three minutes of frenzied running, he chose the tunnels.

  We found a discarded manhole cover and a trail of blood leading down into the darkness. "This is it," I sighed nervously as we stood waiting for Vancha. I hit the redial button on my mobile and summoned the others. When they arrived, we paired off into our regular teams, and climbed down into the tunnels. Each of us knew what we had to do and no words were exchanged.

  Vancha and Steve led the pursuit. The rest of us trailed behind, covering adjacent tunnels, so Hooky couldn't double back. It wasn't easy tracking Hooky down here. The water in the tunnels had washed much of his blood away, and the darkness made it hard to see very far ahead. But we'd become accustomed to these tight, dark spaces, and we moved quickly and efficiently, keeping close, picking up on the slightest identifying marks.

  Hooky led us deeper into the tunnels than we'd ever been. Even the mad vampaneze, Murlough, hadn't delved this deeply into the underbelly of the city. Was Hooky heading for his companions and help, or simply trying to lose us?

  "We must be nearing the city limits," Harkat remarked as we rested a moment. "The tunnels must run out soon, or else …"

  "What?" I asked when he didn't continue.

  "They could open up," he said. "Perhaps he is making a break … for freedom. If he reaches open countryside and … has a clear run, he can flit to safety."

  "Won't his wounds stop him doing that?" I asked.

  "Perhaps. But if he is desperate enough … perhaps not."

  We resumed the chase and caught up with Vancha and Steve. Harkat told Vancha what he thought Hooky was planning. Vancha replied that he'd already thought of that, and was gradually closing in on the fleeing vampaneze — if Hooky angled for the surface, Vancha would head him off and make an end of him.

  But, to our surprise, instead of heading upwards, the vampaneze led us ever further down. I'd no idea the tunnels ran this deep, and couldn't imagine what they were for — they were modern in design, and showed no signs of having been used. As I was pondering it, Vancha came to a standstill and I almost walked into him.

  "What is it?" I asked.

  "He's stopped," Vancha whispered. "There's a room or cave up ahead and he's come to a halt."

  "Waiting for us, to make a final stand?" I suggested.

  "Perhaps," Vancha replied uneasily. "He's lost a lot of blood and the pace of the chase must be sapping his energy. But why stop now? Why here?" He shook his head. "I don't like it."

  As Mr Crepsley and Debbie arrived, Steve unstrapped his arrow gun and loaded it by torchlight.

  "Careful!" I hissed. "He'll see the light."

  Steve shrugged. "So? He knows we're here. We might as well operate by light as in darkness."

  That made sense, so we all lit the torches we'd brought, keeping the lights dim so as not to create too many distracting shadows.

  "Do we go after him," Steve asked, "or stay here and wait for him to attack?"

  "We go in," Mr Crepsley answered after the briefest of pauses.

  "Aye," Vancha said. "In."

  I studied Debbie. She was trembling and looked ready to collapse. "You can wait out here if you like," I told her.

  "No," she said. "I'm coming." She stopped trembling. "For Tara."

  "Steve and Debbie will keep to the back," Vancha said, loosening a few of his shurikens. "Larten and I will lead. Darren and Harkat in the middle." Everybody nodded obediently. "If he's alone, I'll take him," Vancha went on. "An even fight, one-on-one. If he has company—" he grinned humourlessly "—it's everyone for themselves."

  One final check to make sure we were ready and he advanced, Mr Crepsley to his right, Harkat and I close behind, Steve and Debbie bringing up the rear.

  We found ourselves in a large, domed room, modern like the tunnels. A handful of candles jutted from the walls, casting a gloomy, flickering light. There was another way into the room directly across from us, but it was barred by a heavy, round, metal door, like those used for walk-in safes in banks. Hooky had squatted a few metres in front of the door. His knees were drawn up to cover his face, and his hands were busy trying to pry the arrow head from his leg.

  We fanned out, Vancha in front, the rest of us forming a protective semi-circle behind him. "The game's over," Vancha said, holding back, examining the shadows for traces of other vampaneze.

  "Think so?" Hooky snorted and looked up at us with his one red eye and one blue-green. "I think it's only beginning." The vampaneze clashed his hooks together. Once. Twice. Three times.

  And someone dropped from the ceiling.

  The someone landed beside Hooky. Stood and faced us. His face was purple and his eyes were blood-red — a vampaneze. Someone else dropped. Another. More. I felt sick inside as I watched vampaneze drop. There were human vampets among them too, dressed in brown shirts and black trousers, with skinned heads, a tattooed 'V above either ear, and red circles painted around their eyes, carrying rifles, pistols and crossbows.

  I counted nine vampaneze and fourteen vampets, not including Hooky. We'd walked into a trap, and as I stared around at the armed, grim-faced warriors, I knew we'd need all the luck of the vampires just to scrape out of this alive.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN<
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  AS POOR as the odds were, they were about to get even worse. As we stood awaiting the onslaught, the huge door behind Hooky opened and four more vampaneze stepped through to join the others. That made it twenty-eight to six. We hadn't a hope.

  "Not so pleased with yourselves now, are you?" Hooky jeered, hobbling forward a few gleeful paces.

  "I don't know about that," Vancha sniffed. "This just means more of you for us to kill."

  Hooky's smile vanished. "Are you arrogant or ignorant?" he snapped.

  "Neither," Vancha said, gazing calmly at our foes. "I'm a vampire."

  "You really think you stand a chance against us?" Hooky sneered.

  "Yes," Vancha answered softly. "Were we fighting honest, noble vampaneze, I'd think otherwise. But a vampaneze who sends armed humans to fight his battles is a coward, without honour. I have nothing to fear from such pitiable beasts."

  "Be careful what you say," the vampaneze to the left of Hooky growled. "We don't take kindly to insults."

  "We're the ones who've been insulted," Vancha replied. "There's honour in dying at the hands of a worthy foe. If you'd sent your best warriors against us and killed us, we'd have died with smiles on our lips. But to send these … these …" He spat into the dust of the floor. "There's no word low enough to describe them."

  The vampets bristled at that, but the vampaneze looked uneasy, almost ashamed, and I realized they were no fonder of the vampets than we were. Vancha noticed this too and slowly loosened his belts of shurikens. "Drop your arrow guns," he said to Steve, Harkat and Debbie. They stared at him dumbly. "Do it!" he insisted gruffly and they complied. Vancha held up his bare hands. "We've put our long-range weapons aside. Will you order your pets to do the same and engage us honourably — or will you have us shot down in cold blood like the curs I think you are?"

  "Shoot them!" Hooky screamed, his voice laced with hatred. "Shoot them all!"

  The vampets raised their weapons and took aim.

  "No!" the vampaneze to Hooky's left bellowed and the vampets paused. "By all the shadows of the night, I say no!"

  Hooky whirled on him. "Are you crazy?"

  "Beware," the vampaneze warned him. "If you cross me on this, I'll kill you where you stand."

  Hooky stepped back, stunned. The vampaneze faced the vampets. "Drop your guns," he commanded. "We'll fight with our traditional weapons. With honour."

  The vampets obeyed the order. Vancha turned and winked at us while they were laying their weapons aside. Then he faced the vampaneze again. "Before we start," he said, "I'd like to know what manner of creature this thing with the hooks is."

  "I'm a vampaneze!" Hooky replied indignantly.

  "Really?" Vancha smirked. "I've never seen one with mismatched eyes before."

  Hooky's eyes twitched exploratively. "Damn!" he shouted. "It must have slipped out when I fell."

  "What slipped out?" Vancha asked.

  "A contact lens," I answered softly. "He's wearing red contact lenses."

  "No I'm not!" Hooky yelled. "That's a lie! Tell them, Bargen. My eyes are as red as yours and my skin's as purple."

  The vampaneze to Hooky's left shuffled his feet with embarrassment. "He is a vampaneze," he said, "but he's only been recently blooded. He wanted to look like the rest of us, so he wears contacts and …" Bargen coughed into a fist. "He paints his face and body purple."

  "Traitor!" Hooky howled.

  Bargen looked up at him, disgusted, then spat into the dust of the floor as Vancha had moments before.

  "What has the world come to when the vampaneze blood maniacs like this and recruit humans to fight for them?"

  Vancha asked quietly and there was no mockery in his voice — it was a genuine, puzzled query.

  "Times change," Bargen answered. "We don't like the changes, but we accept them. Our Lord has said it must be so."

  "This is what the great Lord of the Vampaneze has brought to his people?" Vancha barked. "Human thugs and crazy, hook-handed monsters?"

  "I'm not crazy!" Hooky shouted. "Except crazy with rage!" He pointed at me and snarled. "And it's all his fault."

  Vancha turned and stared at me, as did everybody else in the room.

  "Darren?" Mr Crepsley asked quietly.

  "I don't know what he's talking about," I said.

  "Liar!" Hooky laughed and started dancing. "Liar, liar, pants on fire!"

  "Do you know this creature!" Mr Crepsley enquired.

  "No," I insisted. "The first time I saw him was when he attacked me in the alley. I never—"

  "Lies!" Hooky screamed, then stopped dancing and glared at me. "Pretend all you like, man, but you know who I am. And you know what you did to drive me to this." He held up his arms, so the hooks glinted in the light of the candles.

  "Honestly," I swore, "I haven't a clue what you're on about."

  "No?" he sneered. "It's easy to lie to a mask. Let's see if you can stick to your lie when faced with—" he removed the balaclava with one quick sweep of his left hooks, revealing his face "—this!"

  It was a round, heavy, bearded face, smeared with purple paint. For a few seconds I couldn't place it. Then, putting it together with the missing hands, and the familiarity of the voice that I'd previously noted, I nailed him. "Reggie Veggie?" I gasped.

  "Don't call me that!" he shrieked. "It's R.V. — and it stands for Righteous Vampaneze!"

  I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. R.V. was a man I'd run into not long after joining the Cirque Du Freak, an eco-warrior who'd devoted his life to the protection of the countryside. We'd been friends until he found me killing animals to feed the Little People. He set out to free the Wolf Man — he thought we were mistreating him — but the savage beast bit his arms off. The last time I'd seen him, he'd been fleeing into the night, screaming loudly, "My hands! My hands!"

  Now he was here. With the vampaneze. And I began to understand why I'd been set up and who was behind it. "You sent those forms to Mahler's!" I accused him.

  He grinned slyly, then shook his head. "With hands like these?" He waved the hooks at me. "They're good for chopping and slicing and gutting, but not for writing. I played my part to get you down here, but it was one with a lot more cunning than me who dreamt the plan up."

  "I don't understand," Vancha interrupted. "Who is this lunatic?"

  "It's a long story," I said. "I'll tell you later."

  "Optimistic to the last," Vancha chuckled.

  I stepped closer to R.V., ignoring the threat of the vampaneze and vampets, until I was only a metre or so away. I studied his face silently. He fidgeted but didn't back off. "What happened to you?" I asked, appalled. "You loved life. You were gentle and kind. You were a vegetarian!"

  "Not any more," R.V. chuckled. "I eat plenty of meat now and I like it bloody!" His smile faded. "You happened to me, you and your band of freaks. You ruined my life, man. I wandered the world, alone, frightened, defenceless, until the vampaneze took me in. They gave me strength. They equipped me with new hands. In turn, I helped give them you."

  I shook my head sadly. "You're wrong. They haven't made you strong. They've turned you into an abomination."

  His face darkened. "Take that back! Take that back or I'll—"

  "Before this goes any further," Vancha interrupted dryly, "could I ask one more question? It's my final one." R.V. stared at him in silence. "If you didn't set us up, who did?" R.V. said nothing. Nor did the other vampaneze. "Come on!" Vancha shouted. "Don't be shy. Who's the clever boy?"

  The silence held a few moments more. Then, from behind us, somebody said in a soft, wicked voice, "I am."

  I whirled around to see who'd spoken. So did Vancha, Harkat and Mr Crepsley. But Debbie didn't whirl, because she was standing still, a knife pressed to the soft flesh of her throat. And Steve Leopard didn't whirl either, because he was standing beside her — holding the knife!

  We gawped wordlessly at the pair. I blinked twice, slowly, thinking maybe that would restore sanity to the world. But it didn't. Steve w
as still there, holding his knife on Debbie, grinning darkly.

  "Take off your gloves," Mr Crepsley said, his voice strained. "Take them off and show us your hands."

  Steve smiled knowingly, then put the fingertips of his left hand — which was wrapped around Debbie's throat — to his mouth, gripped the ends of the glove with his teeth, and pulled his hand free. The first thing my eyes went to was the cross carved into the flesh of his palm, the cross he'd made the night he vowed to track me down and kill me. Then my eyes slid from his palm to the end of his fingers, and I understood why Mr Crepsley had asked him to remove the glove.

  There were five small scars running along his fingertips — the sign that he was a creature of the night. But Steve hadn't been blooded by a vampire. He'd been blooded by one of the others. He was a half-vampaneze!

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  AS THE initial shock faded, a cold, dark hatred grew in the pit of my stomach. I forgot about the vampaneze and vampets and focused entirely on Steve. My best friend. The boy whose life I'd saved. The man I'd welcomed back with open arms. I'd vouched for him. Trusted him. Included him in our plans.

  And all along he'd been plotting against us.

  I would have gone for him there and then, and ripped him to pieces, except he was using Debbie as a shield. Fast as I was, I wouldn't be able to stop him slashing the knife across her throat. If I attacked, Debbie would die.

  "I knew we could not trust him," Mr Crepsley said, looking only slightly less wrathful than I felt. "Blood does not change. I should have killed him years ago."

  "Don't be a sore loser," Steve laughed, pulling Debbie even tighter in to him.