Darren Shan: Hunters Of The Dusk

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

As I stood, deliberating, the door opened and Mr. Tall and Evanna emerged. 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 embrace these others and parlay 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 sighed. "I have spent too long with Larten. I'm letting my friendship for him cloud my judgement."

"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 which Mr. Tall didn't like — something that seemed to bode ill 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 positively 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 further down the line.

Kicking off my shoes, I hurried out of camp, spotted 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 surefooted, leaving almost no trace of her passage. If the chase had endured, I'd have lost her, but she drew to a halt after three or four kilometres, 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 emerge. 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 an increasing sense of 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 quenched it.

"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 !

RETREATING STEALTHILY, I cleared 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 commenced and Mr. Crepsley was standing in what used to be the church's vestry, watching Rhamus Twobellies eat a tyre. He looked very dashing 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 sunk to my haunches. 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 barbed 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."