Darren Shan: Vampire Mountain

"We could climb the side of one of the mountains," Mr. Crepsley mused, "but Darren is not as strong a climber as us — he could be damaged if he slipped."

"How about going around?" Gavner suggested.

"It would take too long."

"Could we dig a way under?" I asked.

"Again," Mr. Crepsley said, "it would take too long. We will just have to pick our way through as carefully as we can."

He took off his sweatshirt, and so did Gavner.

"What are you getting undressed for?" I asked.

"Our clothes would protect us a little," Gavner explained, "but we'd come out the other end in tattered rags. Best to keep them intact."

When Gavner took off his pants, we saw he was wearing a pair of yellow boxer shorts with pink elephants sewn into them. Mr. Crepsley stared at the shorts incredulously. "They were a present," Gavner mumbled, blushing furiously.

"From a human female you were romantically involved with, I presume," Mr. Crepsley said, the corners of his normally stern mouth twitching upward, threatening to split into a rare unrestrained smile.

"She was a beautiful woman." Gavner sighed, tracing the outline of one of the elephants. "She just had very bad taste in underwear…"

"And in boyfriends," I added impishly. Mr. Crepsley burst into laughter at that and doubled over, tears streaming down his face. I'd never seen the vampire laugh so much — I would never have guessed he could! Even Gavner looked surprised.

It took Mr. Crepsley a long time to recover from his laughing fit. When he'd wiped the tears away and was back to his normal somber self, he apologized (like laughing was a crime). Then he rubbed some awful-smelling lotion into my skin, which sealed the pores, making it harder to cut. Without wasting any more time, we went ahead. The going was slow and painful. No matter how careful I was, every few feet I'd step on a thorn or scratch myself. I protected my face as best as I could, but by the time we were halfway into the valley, my cheeks were specked with shallow red rivulets.

The Little People hadn't taken off their blue robes, even though the cloth was being cut to ribbons. After a while, Mr. Crepsley told them to walk in front, so they endured the worst of the thorns while clearing a path for the rest of us. I almost felt sorry for the silent, uncomplaining pair.

The wolves had the easiest time. They were built for terrain like this, and swiftly slinked through the briars. But they weren't happy. They'd been acting strangely all night, creeping along beside us, low in spirits, sniffing the air suspiciously. We could sense their anxiety, but didn't know what was causing it.

I was watching my feet, stepping carefully over a row of glinting thorns, when I ran into Mr. Crepsley, who'd come to a sudden stop. "What's up?" I asked, peering over his shoulder.

"Gavner!" he snapped, ignoring my question.

Gavner shuffled past me, breathing heavily (we teased him about his heavy breathing a lot). I heard him utter a choked cry as he reached Mr. Crepsley.

"What is it?" I asked. "Let me see." The vampires parted and I saw a tiny piece of cloth snagged on a briar bush. A few drops of dried blood had stained the tips of the thorns.

"What's the big deal?" I asked.

The vampires didn't answer immediately — they were gazing around worriedly, much in the same way that the wolves were.

"Can you smell it?" Gavner finally replied quietly.

"What?"

"The blood."

I sniffed the air. There was only the faintest of scents because the blood was dry. "What about it?" I asked.

"Think back six years," Mr. Crepsley said. He picked the cloth off the briar — the wolves were growling loudly now — and thrust it under my nostrils. "Breathe deeply. Ring any bells?"

It didn't right away — my senses weren't as sharp as a full vampire's — but then I remembered that long-ago night in Debbie Hemlock's bedroom, and the smell of the insane Murlough's blood as he lay dying on the floor. My face turned white as I realized — it was the blood of a vampaneze!

HE MADE GOOD TIME through the rest of the briar patch, taking no notice of the cutting thorns. On the far side we stopped to get dressed, then hurried on without pause. There was a way station nearby that Mr. Crepsley was determined to reach before dawn. The journey would normally have taken several hours, but we made it in two. Once inside and secure, the vampires fell into a heated discussion. They'd never encountered evidence of vampaneze activity in this part of the world before — there was a treaty between the two clans, preventing such acts of trespass.

"Maybe it's a mad wanderer," Gavner suggested.

"Even the most insane vampaneze knows better than to come here," Mr. Crepsley disagreed.

"What other explanation could there be?" Gavner asked.

Mr. Crepsley considered the problem. "He could be a spy."

"You think the vampaneze would risk war?" Gavner sounded doubtful. "What could they learn that would justify such a gamble?"

"Maybe it's us they're after," I said quietly. I didn't want to interrupt but felt like I had to.

"What do you mean?" Gavner asked.

"Maybe they found out about Murlough."

Gavner's face went pale and Mr. Crepsley's eyes narrowed. "How could they have?" he snapped.

"Mr. Tiny knew," I reminded him.

"Mr. Tiny knows about Murlough?" Gavner hissed.

Mr. Crepsley nodded slowly. "But even if he told the vampaneze, how would they know we were coming this way? We could have chosen any number of paths. They could not have predicted our route."

"Maybe they're covering all the paths," Gavner said.

"No," Mr. Crepsley said confidently. "It is too farfetched. Whatever the vampaneze's reason for being here, I am sure it has nothing to do with us. "

"I hope you're right," Gavner grumbled, unconvinced.

We discussed it some more, including the question of whether the vampaneze had killed the vampire in the previous way station, then grabbed a few hours of sleep, taking turns to remain on watch. I barely slept because I was worrying about being attacked by the purple-faced killers.

When night came, Mr. Crepsley said we shouldn't go any farther until we were sure the way was safe. "We cannot risk running into a pack of vampaneze," he said. "We will scout the area, make sure we are not in danger, then carry on as before."

"Do we have time to go scouting?" Gavner asked.

"We must make time," Mr. Crepsley insisted. "Better to waste a few nights than run into a trap."

I stayed in the cave while they went scouting. I didn't want to — I kept thinking about what had happened to that other vampire — but they said I'd be in the way if I came — a vampaneze would hear me coming a hundred yards away.

The Little People, she-wolves, and cub stayed with me. Streak went with the vampires — the wolves sensed the vampaneze presence before we did, so it would be helpful to have one along.

It was lonely without the vampires and Streak. The Little People were aloof like always — they spent a lot of the day sewing their blue robes back into shape — and the she-wolves lay out and snoozed. Only the cub provided me with company. We spent hours playing together, in the cave and among the trees of a nearby small forest. I called the cub Rudi, after Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, because he liked to rub his cold nose into my back while I was asleep.

I caught a couple of squirrels in the forest and cooked them, so they were ready in the morning when the vampires returned. I served hot berries and roots with them — Mr. Crepsley had taught me which wild foods were safe to eat. Gavner thanked me for the food, but Mr. Crepsley was distant and didn't say much. They'd discovered no further trace of the vampaneze, and that worried them — a mad vampaneze couldn't have covered his tracks so expertly. That meant we were dealing with one — or more — in full control of his senses.