Lord of the Shadows

by Darren Shan

  “I don’t think this is the time —”

  “I don’t care what you think!” I interrupted. “You told me years ago that the Lord of the Shadows would be either the Vampaneze Lord — Steve — or me. Mr. Tall, before he died, said that the Lord of the Shadows would rise no matter who won the War of the Scars.”

  “Did he?” Evanna sounded surprised. “It was not like Hibernius to be so revealing. He was always the more secretive one.”

  “I want to know what it means,” I pressed on, before she got sidetracked talking about her dead brother.

  “According to Mr. Tall, the Lord of the Shadows will be a monster, and he’ll kill Vancha.”

  “He told you that too?” Evanna was angry now. “He went too far. He should not have —”

  “But he did,” I stopped her, then took a step nearer. “He was wrong. He must have been. You too. I’m no monster. I would never harm Vancha, or any vampire.”

  “Don’t be too sure of that,” she said softly, then hesitated, choosing her next words carefully. “Usually there are many paths between the present and future, dozens of options and outcomes. But sometimes there are only a few, or even just two. That is the case here. A Lord of the Shadows will come — this is definite. But he can be one of two people, you or Steve Leonard.”

  “But —” I began.

  “Silence,” she said commandingly. “Since we are so close to the time of choosing, I can reveal certain facts that before I could not. I wouldn’t have spoken of this, but it seems my brother wished to inform you of your fate, perhaps to give you time to prepare for it. It is only right that I honor his final wishes.

  “If you kill Steve Leonard, you will become a monster, the most despised and twisted the world has ever seen.” My eyes bulged and I opened my mouth to protest, but she continued before I uttered a syllable.

  “Monsters are not born fully developed. They grow, they mature, they become.

  “You are filling with hatred, Darren, hatred that will consume you. If you kill Steve, it will not be enough. You’ll push on, driven by rages you cannot control. Because destiny has marked you out as a bearer of great power, you will create great havoc. You will destroy the vampaneze but that won’t be enough. There will always be a new enemy to fight. During your quest, certain vampires will try to stop you. They too will die at your hands. Vancha will be one of them.”

  “No,” I moaned. “I would never —”

  “Not only vampires will obstruct you,” Evanna went on, ignoring my protests. “Humans will interfere, leading you to turn against them. And, as the vampaneze and vampires fall at your hands, so will humanity. You will reduce this world to rubble and ash. And over the remains you will rule, all-powerful, all-controlling, all-hating, for the rest of your unnaturally long and evil life.”

  She stopped and smiled at me witheringly. “That is your future, where you taste success. In the other, you die at the hands of the alternate Lord of the Shadows, if not during the hunt for him, then later, when the rest of the clan has fallen. In many ways, that might be for the best. Now, any more questions?”

  “I couldn’t,” I said numbly. “I wouldn’t. There must be some way to avoid it.”

  “There is,” Evanna said. She turned and pointed back the way she’d come. “Go. Walk away. Leave your friends. Hide. If you go now, you’ll break the terms of your destiny. Steve will lead the vampaneze to victory over the vampires and become the Lord of the Shadows. You can lead a normal, peaceful life — until he brings the world crashing down around you, of course.”

  “But . . . I can’t do that,” I said. “I can’t turn my back on those who’ve put their trust in me. What about Vancha, Debbie, Shancus? I have to help them.”

  “Yes,” Evanna said sadly. “I know. That is why you cannot escape. You have the power to run from your destiny, but your feelings for your friends won’t allow you. You’ll never retreat from a challenge. You can’t. And so, even though you have the best will in the world, you’ll see your destiny through to its bitter end — either death by Steve’s hand, or a rise to infamy as the Lord of the Shadows.”

  “You’re wrong,” I said shakily. “I won’t do that. I’m not evil. Now that I know, I won’t let myself go down that road. If I kill Steve . . . if we win . . . I’ll turn my back on my destiny then. I’ll save the clan if I can, then slip away. I’ll go where I can’t do any harm.”

  “No,” Evanna said simply. “You won’t. Now,” she went on before I could argue my case again, “let us hurry after your friends — this night is central to the future, and it would not do to miss a moment more of it.” With that, she slid ahead of me and followed after the others, tracking them by means of her own, leaving me to trail behind, silent, dejected, bewildered — and terrified.

  We caught up with Debbie, Harkat, and Darius after several minutes. They were surprised to see Evanna, but she said nothing to them, just hung back and observed us silently. As we progressed, Debbie asked me if I’d been talking with Evanna. I shook my head, unwilling to repeat what I’d been told, still trying to make sense of it and convince myself that Evanna was wrong.

  We regrouped with Vancha and Evra a quarter of an hour later. They’d tracked R.V. to a building and were waiting outside for us. “He went in a few minutes ago,” Vancha said. “Alice has gone around the back, in case he tries to escape that way.” He glanced at Evanna suspiciously. “Are you here to help or hinder, my Lady?”

  “Neither, my Prince.” She smiled. “I serve merely as a witness.”

  “Hurm!” he grunted.

  I stared up at the building. It was tall and dark, with jagged grey stones and broken windows. There were nine steps leading up to the oversized front door. The steps were cracked and covered with moss. Apart from some more moss and broken windows, it hadn’t changed much since my last visit.

  “I know this place,” I told Vancha, trying to forget about my conversation with Evanna and focus on the business at hand. “It’s an old movie theater. This is where the Cirque Du Freak performed when Steve and I were kids. I should have guessed this was where he’d come. It brings everything full circle. Stuff like that is important to a maniac like Steve.”

  “You shut up about my dad!” Darius growled. “You think Leonard’s inside?” Vancha asked, cuffing Darius around the ear.

  “I’m sure of it,” I said, wiping streaks of Morgan James’s blood from my forehead — there’d been no time to mop myself clean.

  “What about Shancus?” Evra hissed. He was trembling with anxiety. “Will he harm my son?”

  “Not as long as we hold his son captive,” I said.

  Evra stared at Darius, confused — he knew nothing about the boy — but my old friend trusted me, so he accepted my guarantee.

  “How should we play this?” Debbie asked.

  “Just march straight in,” I said.

  “Is that wise?” Vancha asked. “Perhaps we should try to sneak up on them from the back, or via the roof.”

  “Steve’s prepared this for us,” I said. “Anything we can think of, you can bet he’s already considered. We can’t outguess him. We’d be fools to try. I say we go in, face him directly, and pray that the luck of the vampires is with us.”

  “The luck of the damned,” Darius sneered. “You won’t beat my father or any vampaneze. We’re more than a match for the likes of you.”

  Vancha studied Darius curiously. He leaned up close, sniffing like a dog. Then he made a small cut on the boy’s right arm — Darius didn’t even wince — dabbed a finger in the blood that oozed out, and tasted it. He pulled a face. “He’s been blooded.”

  “By my father,” Darius said proudly.

  “He’s a half-vampaneze?” I frowned, glancing at his fingertips — they were unmarked.

  “The blood’s weak within him,” Vancha said. “But he’s one of them. There’s just enough blood in his system to ensure he can never regain his humanity.”

  “Did you volunteer for this, or did Steve force y
ou?” I asked Darius.

  “My father wouldn’t force me to do anything!” Darius snorted. “Like every vampaneze, he believes in free choice — not like you vampires.”

  Vancha looked at me questioningly. “Steve’s fed him a load of nonsense about us,” I explained. “He thinks we’re evil, and his father’s a noble crusader.”

  “He is!” Darius shouted. “He’ll stop you from taking over the world! He won’t let you kill freely! He’ll keep the night safe from you vampire scum!”

  Vancha cocked an amused eyebrow at me. “If we had time, I’d take great delight in setting this boy straight. But we haven’t. Debbie — phone Alice and tell her to come here. We’ll go in together — all for one and all that stuff.”

  While Debbie was on the phone, Vancha pulled me aside and nodded at Evra, who was standing a few yards ahead of us, gazing at the entrance to the theater, fingers twisted into desperate fists. “He’s in a bad way,” Vancha said.

  “Of course,” I muttered. “How would you expect him to react?”

  “Are you clear on what we must do?” Vancha responded. I stared at him coldly. He grabbed my arms and squeezed tight. “Leonard must be killed. You and I are expendable. So are Debbie, Alice, Harkat, Evra — and Shancus.”

  “I want to save him,” I said miserably.

  “So do I,” Vancha sighed. “And we will, if we can. But the Lord of the Vampaneze comes first. Remember what happens if we fail — the vampires will be destroyed. Would you trade the snake-boy’s life for all those of our clan?”

  “Of course not,” I said, shaking myself free. “But I won’t abandon him cheaply. If Steve’s prepared to deal, I’ll deal. We can fight him some other night.”

  “And if he won’t deal?” Vancha pressed. “If he forces a showdown?”

  “Then we’ll fight, and we’ll kill or we’ll die — whatever the cost.” I locked gazes with him so he could see I was telling the truth.

  Vancha checked his shurikens and drew a few. Then we turned, gathered our allies around us — Debbie dragged Darius along — and advanced up the steps and into the old abandoned movie theater where, for me, all those years ago, the nightmares had begun.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  IT WAS LIKE STEPPING BACK into the past. The building was cooler and damper than before, and fresh graffiti had been scrawled across the walls, but otherwise it was no different. I led the way down the long corridor where Mr. Tall had sneaked up on Steve and me, appearing out of the darkness with that incredible speed and silence that had been his trademark. A left turn at the end. I noted the spot where Mr. Tall had taken and eaten our tickets. Back then, blue curtains had been draped across the entrance to the auditorium. There were no curtains tonight — the only change.

  We entered the auditorium, two abreast, Vancha and Alice in front, Debbie and Evra next (Debbie pushing Darius in front of her), then Harkat and me. Evanna drifted along farther back, detached from us by distance and attitude.

  It was completely black inside the auditorium. I couldn’t see anything. But I could hear deep, muffled breathing, coming from somewhere far ahead of us. “Vancha,” I whispered.

  “I know,” he whispered back.

  “Should we move towards it?” I asked.

  “No,” he replied. “It’s too dark. Wait.”

  A minute passed. Two. Three. I could feel the tension rising, both in myself and those around me. But nobody broke rank or spoke. We stood in the darkness, waiting, leaving the first move to our foes.

  Several minutes later, without warning, spotlights were switched on overhead. Everyone gasped and I cried out loud, hunching over, covering my extra-sensitive eyes with my hands. We were defenseless for a few vital seconds. That would have been the ideal time for an attack. I expected vampaneze and vampets to fall upon us, weapons flashing — but nothing happened.

  “Are your eyes OK?” Debbie asked, crouching beside me.

  “Not really,” I groaned, slowly raising my eyelids a fraction, just enough to see out of. Even that was agony.

  Holding a hand over my eyes, I squinted ahead and caught my breath. It was good we hadn’t advanced. The entire floor of the auditorium had been torn out. In its place, spreading from one wall to the other, running from a few yards ahead of us all the way to the foot of the stage, was a giant pit, filled with sharpened stakes.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?” someone called from the stage. My eyes lifted. It was hard to see, because the lights were being trained on us from above the stage, but I gradually brought the scene into focus. Dozens of tall, thick logs dotted the stage, placed vertically, ideal cover. Sticking out from behind one log near the front was the grinning face of Steve Leopard.

  When Vancha saw Steve, he drew a shuriken and threw it at him. But Steve had picked his spot carefully and the throwing star ended up buried in the wood of the log behind which he was standing.

  “Bad luck, Sire,” Steve laughed. “Care to make it the best throw out of three?”

  “Maybe I can get him,” Alice muttered, stepping up past Vancha. She raised her pistol and fired, but the bullet penetrated no deeper than the shuriken.

  “Is that the preliminaries out of the way, or do you want to take a few more potshots?” Steve called.

  “I could possibly leap the pit,” Vancha said dubiously, studying the rows of stakes between him and the stage.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I grunted. Even vampires had their limits.

  “I don’t see anybody else,” Debbie whispered, casting her eyes around the auditorium. The balcony above us — where I’d spied on Steve and Mr. Crepsley — could have been swarming with vampaneze and vampets, but I didn’t think so. I could hear nothing overhead, not even a single heartbeat.

  “Where’s your army?” Vancha shouted at Steve. “Around and about,” Steve replied sweetly. “Didn’t you bring them with you?” Vancha challenged him.

  “Not tonight,” Steve said. “I don’t need them. The only people sharing the stage with me are my fairy godfather — a.k.a. Gannen Harst — a certain Righteous Vampaneze, and a very scared young snake-boy. What’s his name again, R.V.?”

  “Shancus,” came the reply from behind a log to Steve’s left.

  “Shancus!” Evra roared. “Are you all right?” There was no reply. My heart sank. Then R.V. pushed Shancus out from behind the log, and we saw although his hands were tied behind his back and he was gagged, he was still very much alive, and he looked unharmed.

  “He’s a spirited lad,” Steve laughed. “A bit loud though, hence the gag. Some of the language he uses . . . Shocking! I don’t know where kids today pick up such filthy words.” Steve paused. “By the way, how’s my own beloved flesh and blood doing? I can’t see too well from here.”

  “I’m fine, Dad!” Darius shouted. “But they killed Morgan! The grey one cut off his head with an axe!”

  “How grisly.” Steve didn’t sound the least bit upset. “I told you they were savages, son. No respect for life.”

  “It was revenge!” Harkat yelled. “He killed Mr. Tall.”

  There was silence on the stage. Steve seemed at a loss for words. Then, from a log close by Steve, I heard Gannen Harst call out to R.V., “Is this true?”

  “Yes,” R.V. mumbled. “He shot him.”

  “How do you know he killed him?” Steve asked. “Tall might have simply been wounded.”

  “No,” Evanna answered, her first word of the encounter. “He is dead. Morgan James murdered him.”

  “Is that you, Lady Evanna?” Steve asked uncertainly.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Not up to any mischief, I hope, like siding with the vampires?” He said it flippantly, but his anxiety was evident — he didn’t fancy a clash with the Lady of the Wilds.

  “I have never taken sides between the vampires and vampaneze, and have no intention of starting now,” Evanna said coolly.

  “That’s OK then,” Steve chuckled, confidence returning. “Interesting about Mr. Tall. I alway
s thought he couldn’t be killed by ordinary weapons. I’d have gone after him a long time ago if I’d known he could be so easily bumped off.”

  “Gone after him for what?” I shouted. “Harboring criminals,” Steve giggled.

  “You’re the only criminal here,” I retorted.

  Steve sighed theatrically. “See how they slander me, son? They soil this world with their murderous presence, then point the finger of blame elsewhere. That’s always been the vampire way.”

  I started to respond, then decided I’d be wasting my time. “Let’s cut the crap,” I called instead. “You didn’t lead us here for a war of words. Are you coming out from behind that log or not?”

  “Not!” Steve cackled. “Do you think I’m insane? You’d cut me down dead!”

  “Then why did you bring us here?” I looked around again, nervous. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t laid a trap, that there weren’t dozens of vampaneze or vampets slithering up on us as we talked. Yet I didn’t sense a threat. I could see Vancha was confused too.

  “I want to chat, Darren,” Steve said. “I’d like to discuss a peace treaty.”

  I had to laugh at that — it was such a ludicrous notion. “Maybe you want to become my blood-brother,” I jeered.

  “In a way, I already am,” Steve said cryptically. Then his eyes narrowed slyly. “You missed Tommy’s funeral while you were recovering.”

  I cursed fiercely but quietly. “Why kill Tommy?” I snarled. “Why drag him into your warped web of revenge? Did he ‘betray’ you too?”

  “No,” Steve said. “Tommy was my friend. Even while others were bad-mouthing me, he stuck by me. I had nothing against him. A great goalkeeper too.”

  “Then why have him killed?” I screamed.

  “What are you talking about?” Darius cut in. “You killed Tom Jones. Morgan and R.V. tried to stop you, but . . . That’s right, isn’t it, Dad?” he asked, and I saw the first flickers of doubt stir in the boy’s eyes.

  “I told you, son,” Steve replied, “you can’t believe anything a vampire says. Pay no attention to him.” Then, to me, he said, “Didn’t you wonder how Tommy got his ticket to the Cirque Du Freak?”