by Darren Shan
"That's not good enough!" I cried. "You said it yourself; there will always be an accident waiting to happen. Even shaking hands is dangerous. I could cut their wrists open with my nails!"
I shook my head slowly. "No," I said firmly. "I won't put people's lives in danger. I'm too dangerous to have friends anymore. Besides, it's not like I can make a true friend."
"Why not?" he asked.
"True friends don't keep secrets from one another. I could never tell a human that I was a vampire. I'd always have to lie and pretend to be someone I'm not. I'd always be afraid he'd find out what I was and hate me."
"It is a problem every vampire shares," Mr. Crepsley said.
"But every vampire isn't a child!" I shouted. "What age were you when you were changed? Were you a man?" He nodded. "Friends aren't that important to adults. My dad told me that grown-ups get used to not having a lot of friends. They have work and hobbies and other stuff to keep them busy. But my friends were the most important thing in my life, besides my family. Well, you took my family away when you pumped your stinking blood into me. Now you've ruined the chances of my ever having a real friend again."
"Thanks a lot," I said angrily. "Thanks for making a monster out of me and wrecking my life."
I was close to tears, but didn't want to cry, not in front of him. So I stabbed the last piece of meat on my plate with my fork and rammed it into my mouth, then I chewed on it fiercely.
Mr. Crepsley was quiet after my outburst. I couldn't tell if he was angry or sorry. For a while I thought I'd said too much. What if he turned around and said, "If that's the way you feel, I will leave you"? What would I do then?
I was thinking of apologizing when he spoke in a soft voice and surprised me.
"I am sorry," he said. "I should not have blooded you. It was a poor call. You were too young. It has been so long since I was a boy, I had forgotten what it was like. I never thought of your friends and how much you would miss them. It was wrong of me to blood you. Terribly wrong. I…"
He trailed off into silence. He looked so miserable, I almost felt sorry for him. Then I remembered what he'd done to me and I hated him again. Then I saw wet drops at the corners of his eyes that might have been tears, and I felt sorry for him again.
I was really confused.
"Well, there's no use crying about it," I finally said. "We can't go back. What's done is done, right?"
"Yes." He sighed. "If I could, I would take back my terrible gift. But that is not possible. Vampirism is forever. Once somebody has been changed, there is no changing back.
"Still," he said, mulling it over, "it is not as bad as you think. Perhaps…" His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Perhaps what?" I asked.
"We can find friends for you," he said. "You do not have to be stuck with me all the time."
"I don't understand." I frowned. "Didn't we just agree it wasn't safe for me to be around humans?"
"I am not talking about humans," he said, starting to smile. "I am talking about people with special powers. People like us. People you can tell your secrets to…"
He leaned across and took my hands in his.
"Darren," he said, "what do you think about going back and becoming a member of the Cirque Du Freak?"
CHAPTER SEVEN
The more we discussed the idea, the more I liked it. Mr. Crepsley said the Cirque performers would know what I was and would accept me as one of their own. The lineup of the show changed a lot and there was almost always someone who would be around my own age. I could hang out with them.
"What if I don't like it there?" I asked.
"Then we leave," he said. "I enjoyed traveling with the Cirque, but I am not crazy about it. If you like it, we stay. If you do not, we hit the road again."
"They won't mind me tagging along?" I asked.
"You will have to pull your weight," he replied. "Mr. Tall insists on everybody doing something. You will have to help set up chairs and lights, sell souvenirs, clean up afterward, or do the cooking. You will be kept busy, but they will not overwork you. We will have plenty of time for our lessons."
We decided to give it a shot. At least it would mean a real bed every night. My back was stiff from sleeping on floors.
Mr. Crepsley had to find out where the show was before we could join. I asked him how he was going to do that. He told me he was able to home in on Mr. Tall's thoughts.
"You mean he's telepathic?" I asked, remembering what Steve had called people who could talk to each other using only their brains.
"Sort of," Mr. Crepsley said. "We cannot speak to each other with our thoughts but I can pick up his… aura , you could call it. Once I locate that, tracking him down will be no problem."
"Could I locate his aura?" I wanted to know.
"No," Mr. Crepsley said. "Most vampires — along with a few gifted humans — can, but half-vampires cannot."
He sat down in the middle of the church and closed his eyes. He was quiet for about a minute. Then his eyelids opened and he stood.
"Got him," he said.
"So soon?" I asked. "I thought it would take longer."
"I have searched for his aura many times," Mr. Crepsley explained. "I know what to look for. Finding him is as easy as finding a needle in a haystack."
"That's supposed to be hard, isn't it?"
"Not for a vampire," he said.
While we were packing to leave, I found myself gazing around the church. Something had been bothering me, but I wasn't sure whether I should mention it to Mr. Crepsley.
"Go on," he said, startling me. "Ask whatever it is that is on your mind."
"How did you know I wanted to ask something?" I said, sort of freaked out.
He laughed. "It does not take a vampire to know when a child is curious. You have been bursting with a question for ages. What is it?"
I took a deep breath. "Do you believe in God?" I asked.
Mr. Crepsley looked at me oddly, then nodded slowly. "I believe in the gods of the vampires."
I frowned. "There are vampire gods?"
"Of course," he said. "Every culture has gods: Egyptian gods, Indian gods, Chinese gods. Vampires are no different."
"What about heaven?" I asked.
"We believe in Paradise. It lies beyond the stars. When we die, if we have lived good lives, our spirits float free of the earth, cross the stars and galaxies, and come at last to a wonderful world at the other side of the universe — Paradise."
"And if they don't live good lives?"
"They stay here," he said. "They remain bound to earth as ghosts, doomed to wander the face of this planet forever."
I thought about that. "What's a 'good life' for a vampire?" I asked. "How do they make it to Paradise?"
"Live cleanly," he said. "Do not kill unless necessary. Do not hurt people. Do not spoil the world."
"Drinking blood isn't evil?" I asked.
"Not unless you kill the person you drink from," Mr. Crepsley said. "And even then, sometimes, it can be a good thing."
"Killing someone can be good ?" I gasped.
Mr. Crepsley nodded seriously. "People have souls, Darren. When they die, those souls go to heaven or Paradise. But it is possible to keep a part of them here. When we drink small amounts of blood, we do not take any of a person's essence. But if we drink lots, we keep part of them alive within us."
"How?" I asked, frowning.
"By draining a person's blood, we absorb some of that person's memories and feelings," he said. "They become part of us, and we can see the world the way they saw it and remember things which might otherwise have been forgotten."
"Like what?"
He thought a moment. "One of my dearest friends is called Paris Skyle," he said. "He is very old. Many centuries ago, he was friends with William Shakespeare."
" The William Shakespeare — the guy who wrote the plays?"
Mr. Crepsley nodded. "Plays and poems. But not all of Shakespeare's poetry was recorded; some of his most famous
verses were lost. When Shakespeare was dying, Paris drank from him — Shakespeare asked him to — and was able to tap into those lost poems and have them written down. The world would have been a poorer place without them."
"But…" I stopped. "Do you only do that with people who ask, and who are dying?"
"Yes," he said. "It would be evil to kill a healthy person. But to drink from friends who are close to death, and keep their memories and experiences alive…" He smiled. "That is very good indeed.
"Come," he said then. "Brood about it on the way. We must be off."
I jumped on Mr. Crepsley's back when we were ready to leave, and off we flitted. He still hadn't explained how he could move so fast. It wasn't that he ran quickly; it was more like the world slipped by as he ran. He said all full vampires could flit.
It was nice, watching the countryside drift away behind us. We ran up hills and across the vast plains, faster than the wind. There was total silence while we were flitting and nobody ever noticed us. It was like we were surrounded by a magic bubble.
While we flitted I thought about what Mr. Crepsley had said, about keeping people's memories alive by drinking from them. I wasn't sure how that would work, and I made up my mind to ask him about it sometime later.
Flitting was hard work; the vampire was sweating and I could see him starting to struggle. To help, I took out a bottle of human blood, uncorked it, and held it to his lips so he could drink.
He nodded his silent thanks, wiped the sweat from his brow, and kept going.
Finally, as the sky was beginning to lighten, he slowed to a halt. I climbed down off his back and looked around. We were in the middle of a country road, fields and trees all around us, with no houses in sight.
"Where's the Cirque Du Freak?" I asked.
"A few miles farther ahead," he said, pointing. He was kneeling down, panting for breath.
"Did you run out of steam?" I asked, holding back my laughter.
"No." He glared. "I could have made it, but did not want to arrive looking flushed."
"You'd better not rest too long," I warned him. "Morning's on its way."
"I know precisely what time it is!" he snapped. "I know more about mornings and dawns than any living human. We have plenty of time on our side. A whole forty-three minutes yet."
"If you say so."
"I do." He stood, annoyed, and began to walk. I waited until he was a little in front, then ran ahead of him.
"Hurry up, old man," I teased. "You're getting left behind."
"Keep it up," he growled. "See what it gets you. A smack on the ear and a kick in the pants."
He started running after a couple of minutes, and the two of us jogged along, side by side. I was in a good mood, happier than I'd been for months. It was nice having something to look forward to.
We passed a bunch of grungy campers on our way.
They were starting to wake up and move around. A couple waved to us. They were funny-looking people: long hair, strange clothes, weighed down with fancy earrings and bracelets.
There were banners and flags all over the camp. I tried reading them, but it was hard to focus while I was jogging, and I didn't want to stop. From what I could tell, the campers had something to do with a protest against a new road.
The road was really curvy. After the fifth turn, we finally spotted the Cirque Du Freak, nestled in a clearing by the banks of a river. It was quiet — everyone was sleeping, I imagined — and if we'd been in a car and not looking for the vans and tents, it would have been easy to miss.
It was a weird place for the circus to be. There was no hall or big tent for the freaks to perform in. I figured this must be a pit stop between two towns.
Mr. Crepsley weaved between the vans and cars with confidence. He knew exactly where he was going. I followed, less sure of myself, remembering the night I crept past the freaks and stole Madam Octa.
Mr. Crepsley stopped at a long silver van and knocked on the door. It opened almost immediately and the towering figure of Mr. Tall appeared. His eyes looked darker than ever in the dim light. If I hadn't known better, I would have sworn he had no eyeballs, only two black, empty spaces.
"Oh, it's you," he said, voice low, lips hardly moving. "I thought I felt you searching for me." He craned over Mr. Crepsley and looked down to where I was shaking. "I see you've brought the boy."
"May we come in?" Mr. Crepsley asked.
"Of course. "What is it one is supposed to say to you vampires?" He smiled. "Enter of your own free will?"
"Something like that," Mr. Crepsley replied, and from the smile on his face, I knew it was an old joke between them.
We went in the van and sat down. It was pretty bare inside, just a few shelves with posters and pamphlets for the Cirque, the tall red hat and gloves I'd seen Mr. Tall wear before, a couple of knickknacks, and a hideaway bed.
"I didn't expect you back so soon, Larten," Mr. Tall said. Even when he was sitting down he looked enormous.
"A swift return had not been on the agenda, Hibernius."
Hibernius ? That was a weird name. Still, it fit him somehow. Hibernius Tall. It had a strange ring to it.
"Did you run into trouble?" Mr. Tall asked.
"No," Mr. Crepsley said. "Darren was not happy. I decided he would be better off here, among those of his own kind."
"I see." Mr. Tall studied me curiously. "You have come a long way since I saw you last, Darren Shan," he said.
"I liked it better where I was," I grumbled.
"Then why did you leave?" he asked.
I glared at him. "You know why," I said coldly.
He nodded slowly.
"Is it okay if we stay?" Mr. Crepsley asked.
"Of course," Mr. Tall replied immediately. "Delighted to have you back, actually. We're a bit understaffed at the moment. Alexander Ribs, Sive and Seersa, and Gertha Teeth are off on vacations or business. Cormac Limbs is on his way to join Us but is late getting here. Larten Crepsley and his amazing performing spider will be an invaluable addition to the lineup."
"Thank you," Mr. Crepsley said.
"What about me?" I asked boldly.
Mr. Tall smiled. "You are less valuable," he said, "but welcome all the same."
I snorted but said nothing.
"Where shall we be playing?" Mr. Crepsley asked next.
"Right here," Mr. Tall told him.
" Here ?" I piped up in surprise.
"That puzzles you?" Mr. Tall enquired.
"It's in the middle of nowhere," I said. "I thought you only played in towns and cities, where you'd get big audiences."
"We always get a big audience," Mr. Tall said. "No matter where we play, people will come. Usually we stick to more populated areas, but this is a slow time of the year for us. As I've said, several of our best performers are absent, as are… certain other members of our company."
A strange, secretive look passed between Mr. Tall and Mr. Crepsley, and I felt I was being left out of something.
"So we are resting for a while," Mr. Tall went on. "We shall not be putting on any shows for a few days. We're relaxing."
"We passed a camp on our way," Mr. Crepsley said. "Are they causing any problems?"
"The foot soldiers of NOP?" Mr. Tall laughed. "They're too busy defending trees and rocks to interfere with us."
"What's NOP?" I asked.
"Nature's Opposing Protectors," Mr. Tall explained. "They're ecowarriors. They run around the country trying to stop new roads and bridges from being built. They've been here a couple of months but are due to move on soon."
"Are they real warriors?" I asked. "Do they have guns and grenades and tanks?"
The two adults almost laughed their heads off.
"He can be quite silly sometimes," Mr. Crepsley said between fits of laughter, "but he is not as dumb as he seems."
I felt my face reddening but held my tongue. I knew from experience that it was no use getting mad at grown-ups when they laugh at you; it only makes them laugh even h
arder.
"They call themselves warriors," Mr. Tall said, "but they're not really. They chain themselves to trees and pour sand into the engines of backhoes and toss nails in the paths of cars. That sort of thing."
"Why — " I started, but Mr. Crepsley interrupted.
"We do not have time for questions," he said. "A few more minutes and the sun will be up." He rose and shook Mr. Tall's hand. "Thank you for taking us back, Hibernius."
"My pleasure," Mr. Tall replied.
"I trust you took good care of my coffin?"
"Of course."
Mr. Crepsley smiled happily and rubbed his hands together. "That is what I miss most when I am away. It will be nice to sleep in it once more."
"What about the boy?" Mr. Tall asked. "Do you want us to knock together a coffin for him?"
"Don't even think about it!" I shouted. "You won't get me in one of those again!" I remembered what it felt like to be in a coffin — when I was buried alive — and shivered.
Mr. Crepsley smiled. "Put Darren in with one of the other performers," he said. "Somebody his own age, if possible."
Mr. Tall thought a moment. "How about Evra?"
Mr. Crepsley's smile spread. "Yes. I think putting him in with Evra is a marvelous idea."
"Who's Evra?" I asked nervously.
"You will find out," Mr. Crepsley promised, opening the door to the van. "I will leave you to Mr. Tall. He will take care of you. I have to be away."
And then he was gone, off to find his beloved coffin.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw Mr. Tall standing directly behind me. I don't know how he crossed the room so quickly. I didn't even hear him moving to stand up.
"Shall we go?" he said.
I gulped and nodded.
He led the way through the campsite. The morning was breaking and I saw a couple of lights coming on in a few of the vans and tents. Mr. Tall led me to an old gray tent, big enough for five or six people.
"Here are some blankets," he said, handing over a bunch of woolly sheets. "And a pillow." I didn't know where he got them from — he didn't have them when we left the van — but was too tired to ask. "You may sleep as late as you wish. I will come for you when you are awake and explain your duties. Evra will take care of you until then."
