Darren Shan - Allies Of The Night

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.

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.