Hunters of the Dusk (13 page)

“You look pensive,” Evra noted.

“I’m thinking about how much things have changed,” I sighed. “You married and with kids. Me with worries of my own. Life used to be much simpler.”

“It always is for the young,” Evra agreed. “I keep telling Shancus that, but he doesn’t believe me, any more than we did when we were growing up.”

“We’re getting old, Evra.”

“No we aren’t,” he said. “We’re getting
older.
It’ll be decades before I hit old age — centuries for you.”

That was true, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d somehow grown ancient overnight. For more than twenty-five years I’d lived and thought as a child — Darren Shan, the boy Prince! — but now I didn’t feel I was a child anymore.

Mr. Crepsley tracked us down as we were devouring hot sausages around a campfire. Truska had cooked them and was handing them out. The vampire took one, thanked her, and swallowed it in two quick bites. “Savory,” he said, licking his lips, then turned to me with a gleam in his eye. “Would you care to take to the stage tonight? Hibernius has said we may perform.”

“What would we do?” I asked. “We don’t have Madam Octa any longer.”

“I can perform magic tricks, as I did when I first joined the Cirque Du Freak, and you can be my assistant. With our vampiric speed and strength, we can pull off some truly remarkable conjuring feats.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s been a long time. I might get stage fright.”

“Nonsense. You are doing it. I will not take no for an answer.”

“If you put it that way . . .” I grinned.

“You will need some grooming if we are to present ourselves to the public,” Mr. Crepsley said, eyeing me critically. “A haircut and manicure are in order.”

“I take care of that,” Truska said. “I also am having Darren’s old pirate costume. I could fix up it to fit him again.”

“You still have that old thing?” I asked, remembering how cool I’d felt when Truska dressed me up as a pirate not long after I’d joined the Cirque Du Freak. I had to leave the fancy clothes behind when I left to travel to Vampire Mountain.

“I am a good holder-on to things.” She smiled. “I fetch it and measure you. The suit might not be ready this tonight, but tomorrow I have it in shape. Come to me an hour now from, for measuring.”

Vancha was jealous when he heard we were going to be performing. “What about me?” he grumbled. “I know a bit of magic. Why can’t I go on too?”

Mr. Crepsley stared at the green-haired Prince, with his bare feet, muddy legs and arms, his animal hides and shurikens. He sniffed the air — Vancha had showered in rainfall about six nights earlier, but hadn’t washed since — and crinkled his nose. “You are not the essence of presentability, sire,” he remarked rather carefully.

“What’s wrong with me?” Vancha asked, looking down, seeing nothing amiss.

“One must be elegant when one takes to the stage,” Mr. Crepsley said. “You lack a certain
je ne sais quoi.
”

“I don’t know about that,” I said. “I think there’s a perfect part for him in the show.”

“There!” Vancha beamed. “The boy has a keen eye.”

“He could go on at the start, with the Wolf Man,” I said, barely managing to keep a straight face. “We could pretend they were brothers.”

Vancha glared at me as Mr. Crepsley, Harkat, Evra, and Shancus fell apart with laughter. “You’re getting too smart by far!” he snapped, then stormed off to find someone to shout at.

At the appointed time I went to be measured and get my hair cut by Truska. Evra and Shancus also went to prepare for the show, while Harkat helped Mr. Crepsley search for props to use in his act.

“Is life being good to you?” Truska asked, snipping my newly-grown bangs.

“It could be worse,” I said.

“Vancha told me you now are being a Prince.” “He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone,” I complained.

“Do not fear. I keep news myself to. Vancha and me old friends. He knows I can a secret keep.” She lowered the pair of scissors and looked at me oddly. “Have you seen anything of Mr. Tiny since leaving?” she asked.

“That’s a strange question,” I replied warily.

“He here was, many months ago. Came see Hibernius.”

“Oh?” That must have been before his trip to Vampire Mountain.

“Hibernius was troubled after visit. He told me dark times are out in front of us. He said I might be wanting to think of going home to my people. Said I might be safer there.”

“Did he say anything about —” I lowered my voice “— the Lord of the Vampaneze or a Master of Shadows?”

She shook her head. “He said only that we was all in for rough nights, and that there much fighting and dying would be before it became over.” Then she started clipping again, and after that she measured me for the suit.

I was thinking hard about our conversation when I left Truska’s van and went in search of Mr. Crepsley. It might be that, because of my worries, my feet led me on purpose to Mr. Tall’s van, or maybe it was accidental. Either way, I found myself waiting outside a few minutes later, thinking about the situation and whether I should ask him about it.

As I stood, wondering, the door opened and Mr. Tall and Evanna came out. The witch was clad in a black cloak, almost invisible in the darkness of the cloudy night.

“I wish you would not do this,” Mr. Tall said. “The vampires have been good friends to us. We should help them.”

“We cannot take sides, Hibernius,” Evanna replied. “It is not our place to decide the twists of fate.”

“Still,” he muttered, his long face creased, “to meet these others and talk with them . . . I don’t like it.”

“We must remain neutral,” she insisted. “We have neither allies nor foes among the creatures of the night. If you or I took sides, we could destroy everything. As far as we’re concerned, both must be equal, neither good nor bad.”

“You are correct,” he said with a sigh. “I have spent too long with Larten. I’m letting my friendship for him cloud my judgment.”

“There’s nothing wrong with befriending these beings,” Evanna said. “But we must not get personally involved, not until the future unravels and we have to.”

With that, she kissed Mr. Tall on the cheek — I don’t know how one so short reached all the way up to one so tall, but she did — and slipped away out of camp. Mr. Tall watched her go, an unhappy look on his face, then closed the door and went about his business.

I remained where I was a moment, replaying the strange conversation. I wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, but I gathered that Evanna was about to do something that Mr. Tall didn’t like — something that seemed to be bad news for vampires.

As a Prince, I should have waited for Evanna to come back and challenged her openly about the conversation. It wasn’t proper for one of my standing to eavesdrop, and it would be rude to sneak out of camp after her. But politeness and good manners had never been high on my list of priorities. I’d rather have Evanna think less of me — even punish me for my insolence — and know what she was up to, than let her slip away and face a nasty surprise later on.

Kicking off my shoes, I hurried out of camp, saw the top of her hooded head vanishing behind a tree in the distance — she was moving fast — and set off after her as quickly and quietly as I could.

It was hard keeping up with Evanna. She was swift and sure-footed, leaving almost no trace of her passage. If the chase had lasted, I’d have lost her, but she stopped after two or three miles, stood breathing in the air a moment, then walked to a small copse of trees, whistled loudly, and entered.

I waited a few minutes to see if she’d come out. When she didn’t, I followed her to the edge of the copse and stood listening. When I heard nothing I slipped between the trees and advanced cautiously. The ground was damp and masked the sounds of my footsteps, but I took no chances: Evanna’s sense of hearing was at least as sharp as a vampire’s — one snapped twig would be enough to alert her to my presence.

As I progressed, the sound of soft talking reached me. There were several people up ahead, but they were speaking in hushed tones and I was too far away to hear what they were saying. With increasing unease I crept forward, and finally I was near enough to identify a group of shadowy figures at the heart of the copse.

I didn’t move any closer, for fear I’d give myself away, but squatted, watched, and listened. Their voices were muffled and only the occasional disconnected word or half-sentence came across. Their voices rose from time to time when they laughed, but even then they were careful not to laugh too loud.

My eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness and I was able to make some sense of the shapes. Apart from Evanna — whose shadow was impossible to mistake — I counted eight people, sitting, squatting, or lying down. Seven were large and muscular. The eighth was slight, dressed in a hood and robes, serving drinks and food to the others. They all appeared to be men.

I could be no more certain than that, given the distance and darkness. Either I’d have to get a lot closer to learn more about them, or the moon would have to shine. Glancing up at the cloudy sky through the dense branches of the trees, I figured there wasn’t much chance of that. Rising silently, I started to back away.

That’s when the servant in the robes lit a candle. “Put that out, fool!” one of the others barked, and a strong hand knocked the candle to the floor, where a foot roughly stamped it out.

“Sorry,” the servant squeaked. “I thought we were safe with Lady Evanna.”

“We’re never safe,” the burly man snapped. “Remember that, and don’t make such a mistake again.”

The men fell back into conversation with Evanna, their voices low and impenetrable, but I was no longer interested in what they had to say. During the few seconds of candlelight, I’d glimpsed purple skin, red eyes and hair, and knew who and what the men were, and why Evanna had been so secretive — she’d come to meet with a group of
vampaneze!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

R
ETREATING STEALTHILY,
I
LEFT THE COPSE
. Seeing no guards, I rushed back to the Cirque Du Freak, pausing neither for breath nor thought. I reached the campsite ten minutes later, having raced as fast as my powers allowed.

The show had begun and Mr. Crepsley was standing in what used to be the church’s vestry, watching Rhamus Twobellies eat a tire. He looked handsome in his red suit, and he’d rubbed blood along the scar down the left side of his face, drawing attention to it, making him look more mysterious than usual.

“Where have you been?” he snapped as I entered, panting. “I have looked all over for you. I thought I would have to perform alone. Truska has your pirate costume ready. If we hurry, we can —”

“Where’s Vancha?” I gasped.

“Off sulking somewhere.” Mr. Crepsley chuckled. “He still has not —”

“Larten,” I interrupted. He stopped, alerted to the danger by my rare use of his first name. “Forget the show. We have to find Vancha.
Now!
”

He asked no questions. Telling a stagehand to inform Mr. Tall of his withdrawal from the bill, he led me out to search for Vancha. We found him with Harkat in the tent I was sharing with the Little Person. He was teaching Harkat how to throw shurikens. Harkat was finding it difficult — his fingers were too large to easily grasp the small stars.

“Look who it is,” Vancha jeered as we entered. “The king of the clowns and his head assistant. How’s show business, boys?”

I pulled the flap of the tent closed and sank to my knees. Vancha saw the serious expression in my eyes and put his shurikens away. Quickly and calmly, I told them what had happened. There was a pause when I finished, broken by Vancha, who let fly with a stream of curses.

“We shouldn’t have trusted her,” he snarled. “Witches are treacherous by nature. She’s probably selling us out to the vampaneze even as we speak.”

“I doubt that,” Mr. Crepsley said. “Evanna would hardly require the aid of the vampaneze if she meant to do us harm.”

“You think she’s gone over there to discuss frogs?” Vancha barked.

“I do not know what they are discussing, but I do not believe she is betraying us,” Mr. Crepsley said stubbornly.

“Maybe we should ask Mr. Tall,” Harkat suggested. “From what Darren says, he knows what Evanna . . . is up to. Perhaps he would tell us.”

Vancha looked at Mr. Crepsley. “He’s your friend. Should we try?”

Mr. Crepsley shook his head. “If Hibernius knew we were in danger, and was capable of warning or aiding us, he would have.”

“Very well.” Vancha smiled grimly. “We’ll have to take them on ourselves.” He stood and checked his supply of shurikens.

“We’re going to fight them?” I asked, insides tightening.

“We’re hardly going to sit here and wait for them to attack!” Vancha replied. “The element of surprise is vital. While we have it, we must make use of it.”

Mr. Crepsley looked troubled. “Perhaps they do not mean to attack,” he said. “We only arrived last night. They could not have known we were coming. Their being here might have nothing to do with us.”

“Nonsense!” Vancha howled. “They’re here to kill, and if we don’t strike first, they’ll be on us before —”

“I’m not so sure,” I muttered. “Now that I think about it, they weren’t on guard or nervous, as they would have been if they were preparing for a fight.”

Vancha cursed some more, then sat down again. “OK. Let’s say they aren’t after us. Perhaps it’s coincidence and they don’t know we’re here.” He leaned forward. “But they will when Evanna’s finished filling them in!”

“You think she’ll tell them about us?” I asked. “We’d be fools to chance it.” He cleared his throat. “In case you’ve forgotten, we’re at war. I’ve nothing personal against our blood-cousins, but for the time being they’re our enemies, and we must show them no mercy. Let’s say these vampaneze and their servant have nothing to do with our being here. So what? It’s our duty to engage them in battle and cut them down.”

“That’s murder, not self-defense,” Harkat said softly.

“Aye,” Vancha agreed. “But would you rather we let them go on to murder some of our own? Our quest to find the Vampaneze Lord takes precedence over all else, but when the chance to cull a few stray vampaneze drops our way, we’d be fools — traitors! — not to seize it.”