by Darren Shan
“Darius,” the boy said, nodding at Harkat, not offering to shake hands.
“And I’m Darren.” I smiled.
“You two are with the freak show,” Darius said. “I saw you yesterday.”
“You’ve been here before?” Harkat asked.
“A couple of times. I’ve never seen a freak show before. I tried buying a ticket but nobody will sell me one. I asked the tall guy — he’s the owner, isn’t he? — but he said it wasn’t suitable for children.”
“It is a bit on the gruesome side,” I said.
“That’s why I want to see it,” he grunted.
I laughed, remembering what I’d been like at his age. “Tell you what,” I said. “Why don’t you walk around with us? We can show you some of the performers and tell you about the show. If you still want a ticket, maybe we can sort one out for you then.”
Darius squinted at me suspiciously, then at Harkat. “How do I know I can trust you?” he asked. “You might be a pair of kidnappers.”
“Oh, you have my word we won’t . . . kidnap you,” Harkat purred, treating Darius to his widest grin, displaying his grey tongue and sharp, pointed teeth. “We might feed you to the Wolf Man . . . but we won’t kidnap you.”
Darius yawned to show he wasn’t impressed by the theatrical threat, then said, “What the hell, I’ve nothing better to do.” Then he tapped his foot and raised an eyebrow impatiently. “Come on!” he snapped. “I’m ready!”
“Yes, master,” I laughed, and led the harmless-looking boy on a tour of the Cirque.
CHAPTER SIX
WE WALKED DARIUS AROUND THE SITE and introduced him to Rhamus Twobellies, Cormac Limbs, Hans Hands, and Truska. Cormac was busy and didn’t have time to show the boy how he could re-grow his limbs, but Truska sprouted a short beard for him, then sucked the hairs back into her face. Darius acted like he wasn’t impressed, but I could see the wonder in his eyes.
Darius was strange. He didn’t say much, and kept his distance, always a couple of yards away from Harkat and me, as though he still didn’t trust us. He asked lots of questions about the performers and the Cirque Du Freak, which was normal. But he didn’t ask anything about me, where I was from, how I’d come to join the show, or what my tasks involved. He didn’t ask about Harkat either. The grey-skinned, stitched-together Little Person was like nothing most people had ever seen. It was common for newcomers to pump him for information. But Darius seemed uninterested in Harkat, as if he already knew everything about him.
He also had a way of staring at me oddly. I’d catch him looking at me, when he thought my attention was elsewhere. It wasn’t a threatening look. There was just something about the flickering of his eyes that for some reason unsettled me.
Harkat and I weren’t hungry, but when we passed one of the open campfires and saw a pot of bubbling soup, I heard Darius’s stomach rumble. “Want to eat?” I asked.
“I’m having dinner when I go home,” he said. “How about a snack, to keep you going?”
He hesitated, then licked his lips and nodded quickly. “But just a small bowl of soup,” he snapped, as though we meant to force-feed him.
While Darius was downing the soup, Harkat asked if he lived nearby.
“Not far off,” he answered vaguely.
“How did you find out . . . about the show?”
Darius didn’t look up. “A friend of mine — Oggy Bas — was here. He was going to take some seats — we often come here when we want seats or railings. It’s easy to get in and nobody cares what we take. He saw the circus tent and told me. I thought it was an ordinary circus until I came exploring yesterday.”
“What sort of a name is Oggy Bas?” I asked. “Oggy’s short for Augustine,” Darius explained. “Did you tell Oggy what the Cirque Du . . . Freak really was?” Harkat asked.
“Nah,” Darius said. “He’s got a big mouth. He’d tell everybody and they’d all come. I like being the only one who knows about it.”
“So you’re a boy who knows how to keep a secret,” I chuckled. “Of course, the downside is that since nobody knows you’re here, if we did kidnap you or feed you to the Wolf Man, nobody would know where to look.”
I was joking, but Darius reacted sharply. He half-bolted to his feet, dropping the unfinished bowl of soup. Acting instinctively, I snatched for the bowl, and with my vampire speed I caught it before it hit the ground. But Darius thought I meant to strike him. He threw himself backwards and roared, “Leave me alone!”
I took a surprised step back. The other people around the fire were gaping at us. Harkat’s green eyes were on Darius, and there was more than just surprise in his expression — he looked wary too.
“Easy,” I half-laughed, lowering the bowl, then raising my hands in a gesture of friendship. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Darius sat up. He was blushing angrily. “I’m OK,” he mumbled, getting to his feet.
“What’s wrong, Darius?” Harkat asked quietly. “Why so edgy?”
“I’m OK,” Darius said again, glaring at Harkat. “I just don’t like people saying stuff like that. It’s not funny, creatures like you making threats like that.”
“I didn’t mean it,” I said, ashamed for having frightened the boy. “How about I get a ticket to tonight’s show for you, to make up for scaring you?”
“I ain’t scared,” Darius growled.
“Of course you aren’t.” I smiled. “But would you like a ticket anyway?”
Darius pulled a face. “How much are they?”
“It’s free,” I said. “Courtesy of the house.”
“OK then.” That was as close as Darius got to saying thanks.
“Would you like one for Oggy too?” I asked. “No,” Darius said. “He wouldn’t come. He’s a scaredy-cat. He doesn’t even watch horror movies, not even the really old and boring ones.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”
I tracked down Mr. Tall. When I told him what I wanted, he frowned and said all the tickets for tonight’s show had been sold. “But surely you can find a spare one somewhere,” I laughed. There was always lots of space in the aisle and it was usually not a problem to stick in a few extra chairs.
“Is it wise, inviting a child to the show?” Mr. Tall asked. “Children tend to fare unfavorably here. Yourself, Steve Leonard, Sam Grest.” Sam was a boy who’d had a fatal run-in with the Wolf Man. He was the first person I’d drunk blood from. Part of his spirit — not to mention his taste for pickled onions! — still lived on within me.
“Why mention Sam?” I asked, confused. I couldn’t remember the last time Mr. Tall had made a reference to my long-dead friend.
“No reason in particular,” Mr. Tall said. “I just think this is a dangerous place for children.” Then he produced a ticket out of thin air and handed it to me. “Give it to the boy if you wish,” he grumbled, as if I’d squeezed an inconvenient favor out of him.
I walked back slowly to Darius and Harkat, wondering why Mr. Tall had behaved in such a curious manner. Had he been trying to warn me not to let Darius get too closely involved with the Cirque De Freak? Was Darius like Sam Grest, eager to leave home and travel around with a band of magical performers? By inviting him to the show, was I setting him up for a fall like Sam’s?
I found Darius standing where I’d left him. He didn’t look like he’d moved a muscle. Harkat was on the other side of the fire, keeping a green eye on the boy. I hesitated before giving Darius his ticket. “What do you think of the Cirque Du Freak?” I asked.
“It’s OK.” He shrugged.
“How would you feel about joining?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“If there was an opening, and you had the chance to leave home, would —”
“No way!” he snapped before I finished.
“You’re happy at home?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t want to travel around the world?” “Not with you creep
s.”
I smiled and gave him the ticket. “That’s OK then. The show starts at ten. Will you be able to come?”
“Of course,” Darius said, pocketing the ticket without looking at it.
“What about your parents?” I asked.
“I’ll go to bed early, then sneak out,” he said, and giggled slyly.
“If you’re caught, don’t tell them about us,” I warned him.
“As if!” he snorted, then waved sharply and left. He looked at me one final time before he passed out of sight, and again there was something odd about his gaze.
Harkat walked around the fire and stared after the boy.
“A strange kid,” I commented.
“More than just strange,” Harkat murmured. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I don’t like him,” Harkat said.
“He was a bit sullen,” I agreed, “but lots of kids his age are like that. I was that way myself when I first joined the Cirque Du Freak.”
“I don’t know.” Harkat’s eyes were full of doubt. “I didn’t buy his story about his . . . friend, Oggy. If he’s such a scaredy-cat, what was he . . . doing exploring up here by himself?”
“You’re getting suspicious in your old age,” I laughed.
Harkat shook his head slowly. “You didn’t pick up on it.”
“What?” I frowned.
“When he accused us of threatening him, he said . . . ‘creatures like you.’”
“So?”
Harkat smiled thinly. “I’m quite obviously not human. But what tipped him off to the fact . . . that you aren’t either?”
A sudden chill ran through me. Harkat was right — the boy had known more about us than he should have. And I realized now what it was about Darius’s gaze that had disturbed me. When he thought I wasn’t looking, his eyes kept going to the scars on my fingertips, the standard marks of a vampire — like he knew what they meant!
CHAPTER SEVEN
HARKAT AND I WEREN’T SURE what to make of Darius. It seemed unlikely that the vampaneze would recruit children. But there was the twisted mind of their leader, Steve Leopard, to take into account. This could be one of his evil, hate-fueled games. We decided to take the boy to one side when he came to the show, and pump him for information. We wouldn’t resort to torture or anything so drastic — just try to scare a few answers out of him.
We were supposed to help the performers get ready for the show, but we told Mr. Tall we were busy and he assigned our tasks to other members of the troupe. If he knew about our plans for Darius, he didn’t say so.
There were two entrances to the big top. Shortly before the audience started to arrive, Harkat and I each took up a position close to one of the entry points, where we could watch for Darius. I was still worried about being recognized by somebody who’d known me in the past, so I stood in the shadows beside the entrance, disguised in a set of Harkat’s blue robes, the hood pulled up to hide my face. I watched silently as the early birds trickled in, handing their tickets to Jekkus Flang (Mr. Tall was on the other entrance). With every third or fourth customer, Jekkus threw their ticket into the air, then launched a knife at it, spearing it through the middle and pinning it to a nearby post.
As the trickle of people turned into a steady stream, and Jekkus pinned more and more tickets to the pole, the tickets and knives took on the outline of a hanged man. People chuckled edgily when they realized what Jekkus was doing. A few paused to commend him on his knife-throwing skills, but most hurried past to their seats, some glancing backwards at the figure of the hanged man, perhaps wondering if it was an omen of things to come.
I ignored the hanged man — I’d seen Jekkus perform this trick many times before — and focused on the faces in the crowd. It was hard to note everybody who passed in the crush, especially short people. Even if Darius entered this way, there was no guarantee I’d spot him.
Towards the end of the line, as the last members of the audience were filing in, Jekkus gave a gasp of surprise and abandoned his post. “Tom Jones!” he shouted, bounding forward. “What an honor!”
It was the town’s famous goalkeeper, Tom Jones — my old school friend!
Tommy smiled awkwardly and shook Jekkus’s hand. “Hi,” he coughed, looking around to see if anyone else had noticed him. Apart from those nearest us, nobody had — all eyes were fixed on the stage, as everyone awaited the start of the show.
“I’ve seen you play!” Jekkus enthused. “You’re awesome! Do you think we’ll win tomorrow? I wanted to get a ticket, but they were sold out.”
“It’s a big match,” Tommy said. “I could try to get one for you, but I don’t think —”
“That’s OK,” Jekkus interrupted. “I’m not trying to shake you down for free tickets. Just wanted to wish you good luck. Now, speaking of tickets, could I see yours?”
Tommy gave his ticket to Jekkus, who asked if Tommy would sign it for him. Tommy obliged and Jekkus pocketed the ticket, beaming happily. He offered to find a seat for Tommy near the front, but Tommy said he was happy to sit at the back. “I don’t think it would be good for my image if word got out that I came to shows like this,” he laughed.
As Tommy made his way to one of the few free seats, I breathed a sigh of relief — he hadn’t seen me. The luck of the vampires was on my side. I waited a few more minutes, until the final stragglers had been admitted, then crept out as Jekkus closed off the entrance. I linked up with Harkat.
“Did you see him?” I asked.
“No,” Harkat said. “You?”
“No. But I saw an old friend.” I told him about Tom Jones.
“Could it be a setup?” Harkat asked.
“I doubt it,” I said. “Tommy wanted to come to the Cirque Du Freak the last time it was in town. He’s here for the match tomorrow. He must have heard about the show and picked up a ticket — easy when you’re a celebrity.”
“But isn’t it a bit too coincidental that . . . he’s here the same time as us?” Harkat persisted.
“He’s here because our national team’s a World Cup qualifier,” I reminded Harkat. “Steve couldn’t have engineered that — even the Lord of the Vampaneze has his limits!”
“You’re right,” Harkat laughed. “I really am getting paranoid!”
“Let’s forget about Tommy,” I said. “What about Darius? Could he have got in without us seeing him?”
“Yes,” Harkat said. “It was impossible to identify . . . everyone who entered. A child could have easily . . . passed without us noticing.”
“Then we’ve got to go inside and look for him,” I said.
“Steady on.” Harkat stopped me. “Although your friend Tommy’s being here is most likely . . . nothing to worry about, let’s not tempt fate. If you go in, your hood might slip . . . and he might see you. Leave it to me.”
While I waited outside, Harkat entered the tent and patrolled the aisles, checking the faces of every audience member as the show got under way. More than half an hour passed before he emerged.
“I didn’t see him,” Harkat said.
“Maybe he isn’t able to sneak away from home,” I said.
“Or maybe he sensed we were . . . suspicious of him,” Harkat said. “Either way, we can’t do anything except . . . keep watch the rest of the time we’re here. He might come sneaking around . . . by day again.”
Although it was anticlimactic, I was glad Darius hadn’t shown. I hadn’t been looking forward to threatening the boy. It was better this way, for all concerned. And the more I thought about it, the more ridiculous our reaction seemed. Darius had certainly known more about us than any child should, but maybe he’d simply read the right books or found out about us on the Internet. Not many humans know about the true marks of a vampire, or that Little People exist, but the truth (like they used to say on that famous TV show) is out there! There were any number of ways a clued-in kid could have found out the facts about us.
Harkat wasn’t as relaxed as I was, and he insisted we stay
outside the entrances until the show finished, in case Darius turned up late. There was no harm in being cautious, so I kept watch throughout the rest of the show, listening to the gasps, screams, and applause of the people inside the tent. I slipped away a few minutes before the end and collected Harkat. We hid in a van as the crowd poured out, and only emerged when the final excited customer had left the stadium.
We gathered with most of the performers and backstage crew in a tent behind the big top for the post-show party. There wasn’t a celebration after each performance, but we liked to let our hair down every once in a while. It was a hard life on the road, driving long distances, working doggedly, keeping a low profile so as not to attract attention. It was good to chill out now and then.
There were a few guests in the tent — police officers, council officials, wealthy businessmen. Mr. Tall knew how to grease the right palms, to make life easy for us.
Our visitors were particularly interested in Harkat. The normal audience members hadn’t seen the grey-skinned Little Person. This was a chance for the special guests to experience something different, which they could boast about to their friends. Harkat knew what was expected of him and he let the humans examine him, telling them a bit about his past, politely answering their questions.
I sat in a quiet corner of the tent, munching a sandwich, washing it down with water. I was getting ready to leave when Jekkus Flang pushed his way through a knot of people and introduced me to the guest he’d just led into the tent. “Darren, this is the world’s best goalkeeper, Tom Jones. Tom, this is my good friend and fellow workmate, Darren Shan.”
I groaned and closed my eyes. So much for the luck of the vampires! I heard Tommy gasp with recognition. Opening my eyes, I forced a smile, stood, shook Tommy’s hand — his eyes were bulging out of his head — and said, “Hello, Tommy. It’s been a long time. Can I get you something to drink?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
TOMMY WAS ASTONISHED to see me alive when I’d been declared dead and buried eighteen years earlier. Then there was the fact that I only looked a handful of years older. It was almost too much for him to comprehend. For a while he listened to me talk, nodding weakly, not taking anything in. But eventually his head cleared and he focused on what I was saying.
