Darren Shan - Tunnels of Blood

Mr. Crepsley pressed his face against mine and growled: "He has escaped! Because of your damned meddling, an insane killer has waltzed off scot-free! This was my chance to stop him and you… you…"

He couldn't say any more: rage had seized his tongue. Dumping me to the ground, he spun away and sank to his knees, cursing and groaning — at times he seemed to be almost crying — with undisguised disgust.

I looked from the vampire to the sleeping human to the broken window, and realized (it hardly took a genius to figure it out) that I'd made a horrible — perhaps fatal — mistake.

There was a long, edgy period of silence, minutes passing slowly. I felt around my ribs — none were broken. I stood and gritted my teeth as my insides flared with pain. I'd be sore for days.

Making my way over to Mr. Crepsley, I cleared my throat. "Who was that?" I asked.

He glared at me and shook his head. "Idiot!" he growled. "What were you doing here?"

"Trying to stop you from killing him," I said, pointing to the fat man. Mr. Crepsley stared at me. "I heard about those six dead people on the news," I explained. "I thought you were the killer. I trailed —»

"You thought I was a murderer?" Mr. Crepsley roared. I nodded glumly. "You are even dumber than I thought! Do you have so little faith in me that you —»

"What else was I supposed to think?" I cried. "You never tell me anything. You disappeared into the city every night, not saying a thing about where you were going or what you were doing. What was I supposed to think when I heard six people had been found drained of their blood?"

Mr. Crepsley looked startled, then thoughtful. Finally he nodded wearily. "You are right." He sighed. "One must show trust in order to be trusted. I wished to spare you the gory details. I should not have. This is my fault."

"That's okay," I said, taken aback by his gentle manner. "I guess I shouldn't have come after you like I did."

Mr. Crepsley glanced at the knife. "You meant to kill me?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, embarrassed.

To my surprise, he laughed dryly. "You are a reckless young man, Master Shan. But I knew that when I took you on as my assistant." He stood and examined the cut on his arm. "I suppose I should be grateful that I did not come out of this even worse."

"Will you be okay?" I asked.

"I will live," he said, rubbing spit into the cut to heal it.

I looked up at the broken window. "Who was that?" I asked again.

"The question is not 'who, " Mr. Crepsley said. "The question is 'what. He is a vampaneze . His name is Murlough."

"What's a vampaneze?"

"It is a long story. We do not have time. Later, I will —»

"No," I said firmly. "I almost killed you tonight because I didn't know what was going on. Tell me about it now , so there won't be any more mix-ups."

Mr. Crepsley hesitated, then nodded. "Very well," he said. "I suppose here is as good a place as any. I do not think we will be disturbed. But we dare not delay. I must give this unwelcome turn of events much thought and begin planning anew. I will be brief. Try not to ask unnecessary questions."

"I'll try," I promised.

"The vampaneze are…" he searched for words. "In olden nights, humans were looked down upon by many vampires, who fed on them as people feed on animals. It was not unusual for vampires to drink dry a couple of people a week. Over time, we decided this was not acceptable, so laws were established which forbade needless killing.

"Most vampires were content to obey the laws — it is easier for us to pass unnoticed amongst humans if we do not kill them — but some felt our cause had been betrayed. Certain vampires believed humans were put on this planet for us to feed upon."

"That's crazy!" I shouted. "Vampires start off as humans. What sort of —»

"Please," Mr. Crepsley interrupted. "I am only trying to explain how these vampires thought. I am not condoning their actions.

"Seven hundred years ago, events came to a head. Seventy vampires broke away from the rest and declared themselves a separate race. They called themselves the vampaneze and established their own rules and governing bodies.

"Basically, the vampaneze believe it is wrong to feed from a human without killing. They believe there is nobility in draining a person and absorbing their spirit — as you absorbed part of Sam Grest's when you drank from him — and that there is shame in taking small amounts, feeding like a leech."

"So they always kill the people they drink from?" I asked. Mr. Crepsley nodded. "That's terrible!"

"I agree," the vampire said. "So did most of the vampires when the vampaneze broke away. There was a huge war. Many vampaneze were killed. Many vampires were, too, but we were winning. We would have hunted them out of existence, except…" He smiled bitterly. "The humans we were trying to protect got in the way."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Many humans knew about vampires. But, as long as we did not kill them, they let us be — they were afraid of us. But when the vampaneze started slaughtering people, the humans panicked and fought back. Unfortunately they could not tell the difference between vampires and vampaneze, so both were tracked down and killed.

"We could have handled the vampaneze," Mr. Crepsley said, "but not the humans. They were on the verge of wiping us out. In the end, our Princes met with the vampaneze and a truce was agreed to. We would leave them alone if they stopped murdering so freely. They would only kill when they needed to feed and would do all they could to keep their murders secret from humanity.

"The truce worked. When the humans realized they were safe, they stopped hunting us. The vampaneze traveled far away to avoid us — part of the agreement — and we have had virtually nothing to do with them for the last several centuries, apart from occasional clashes and challenges."

" Challenges ?" I asked.

"Vampires and vampaneze live roughly," Mr. Crepsley said. "We are forever testing ourselves in fights and competitions. Humans and animals are interesting opponents, but if a vampire really wants to test himself, he fights a vampaneze. It is common for vampires and vampaneze to seek each other out and fight to the death."

"That's stupid," I said.

Mr. Crepsley shrugged. "It is our way. Time has changed the vampaneze," he went on. "You noticed the red hair and nails and eyes?"

"And lips," I added. "And he had purple skin."

"These changes have come about because they drink more blood than vampires. Most vampaneze are not as colorful as Murlough — he has been drinking dangerously large amounts of blood — but they all have similar markings. Except for young vampaneze — it takes a couple of decades for the colors to set in."

I thought over what I'd been told. "So the vampaneze are evil? They're why vampires have such a bad reputation?"

Mr. Crepsley rubbed his scar thoughtfully. "To say they are evil is not entirely true. To humans, they are, but to vampires they are more misdirected cousins than out-and-out ghouls."

" What ?" I couldn't believe he was defending them.

"It depends on how one looks at it," he said. "You have learned to take no notice of drinking from humans, yes?"

"Yes," I said, "but —»

"Do you remember how against it you were in the beginning?"

"Yes," I said again, "but —»

"To many humans, you are evil," he said. "A young half-vampire who drinks human blood… how long do you think it would be before somebody tried to kill you if your true identity were known?"

I chewed my lower lip and thought about his words.

"Do not get me wrong," Mr. Crepsley said. "I do not approve of the vampaneze and their ways. But nor do I think they are evil."