Darren Shan - 02 Ocean of Blood

“First things first,” Evanna said, lying on a chaise longue and plucking a grape from a tray. “How has my little Vancha been? Tel Mommy all.”

“ Mommy ?” Larten gasped.

“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that,” Vancha grimaced. “I don’t cal you a witch, do I?”

“With good reason,” Evanna snapped, eyes flashing. “I’ll cut out the tongue of anyone who calls me that. I’m the world’s most powerful sorceress, a priestess of dark arts, mother of the future and Lady of the Wilds. You, on the other hand, will always be my sweet, cuddly Vancha. I still remember feeding you and the way you used to burp when you were done.” She giggled. “That much hasn’t changed.”

“Evanna found me when I was a baby,” Vancha muttered to Larten and Wester. “My parents had been killed and I’d been left to die. She rescued me and carried me with her for a few years before handing me over to… someone else,” he finished vaguely.

Evanna’s smile faded. “You make it sound as if I carried you alone,” she said softly.

“As I remember it, Lady, you did,” Vancha said, and there was an edge to his tone now that surprised the younger pair of vampires.

Evanna held Vancha’s gaze for a few seconds, then shook her head and sighed. “A man should never turn his back on his — ”

“Please!” Vancha snapped. “Let the past lie.”

“The past never lies buried forever,” Evanna muttered. “We cannot hide from those to whom we are bound by nature. But if you wish to keep your silly secrets, so be it. You know that I only ever wished the best for you.”

“And I’m grateful to you for that,” Vancha said, his features softening. Then he spat and winked. “I just wish you didn’t treat me like a damn child.” Evanna laughed. “When you have a few more centuries under your belt, I will consider you an adult. Until then…” She pinched his cheek.

“Charna’s guts!” Vancha roared. “You go too far!” He threw himself at her and they rolled across the floor of the tent. He was punching and kicking at the witch, but she only laughed and tossed him clear. As he landed, he whipped a star from his belt and launched it at her head.

Evanna plucked the deadly throwing star from the air and calmly picked her teeth with one of the prongs. “Still playing with your shurikens?” she mumbled. “I thought you would have found a new toy by now.”

Vancha looked like he would attack again, but in the end he threw back his head and laughed. “By the gods of the vampires, you’re a piece of work! Come, let’s drink toasts to absent friends and sing songs of the old nights.”

“I will drink with you anytime, my dear,” Evanna said. “And with your companions too.” She clicked her fingers at the servants. “Milk for Master March.” Then she looked at the others. “Ale, I suppose?”

“Aye!” Larten and Wester exclaimed.

“Why not?” Seba added with a smile.

Barrels of the finest ale Larten had ever tasted were brought, and the rest of the night was a blur for him from that moment on.

Larten woke in the afternoon with a pounding head.

He was in a hammock, though he had no recollection of getting into it. As he rose, he saw that someone had painted a series of tattoos on his hand with a piece of charcoal or some similar marker. He frowned, thought about making investigations, then decided he was better not knowing. Groaning, he made his way to a barrel of rainwater outside and dunked his head.

When he came up for air, one of Evanna’s assistants — the one with the dark hair and gray eyes — was standing beside him, holding out a mug of something hot and steaming.

“Drink this,” she said.

“It’s not ale, is it?” Larten asked, his face whitening at the thought.

The assistant smiled briefly — she looked quite pretty when she smiled — then shook her head. “A cure of my mistress’s. You will feel better after you drink it.”

Larten had tried a number of hangover cures in the past, none of which had done much for him. But to be polite he took the mug from the woman — not much more than a girl when seen by daylight — and downed half of it. He finished off the rest a few moments later and almost immediately his headache began to lift.

“This is amazing,” he gasped. “What is in it?”

“You’d feel sick again if I told you,” the girl laughed.

She had crooked teeth, Larten noted, but a man could easily ignore a flaw like that.

“I do not think you told me your name,” Larten said smoothly.

“You think wrong,” she answered. “In fact you made up a song about it. Lovely Arra Sails, nectar to all males, how I’d like to spear you like a whaler spears a whale! There was more, but that, sadly, was the best line.”

Larten winced. “I have a habit of making up insulting rhymes when drunk. My apologies.”

“No need. Your songs about my two sisters were worse. But they were nearly as drunk as you, so I doubt they’ll remember.”

“Three sisters working for the same mistress? That is unusual.”

“They’re not my real sisters,” Arra sighed, as if explaining something obvious to an idiot. “That’s just how Evanna refers to us.” She shrugged. “They’re pleasant enough, though I don’t think of them as friends.” Arra squinted at Larten and pursed her lips.

“You’re a vampire, aren’t you?”

“Aye,” Larten said proudly.

“Don’t vampires perish in direct sunlight?”

“Not immediately. I would start to burn if I stayed out, but it would not kill me for a couple of hours. A lot of the myths are false or distortions of the truth.”

“Evanna doesn’t talk much about vampires, except to complain about how you follow her around like dogs.”

Larten scowled at that but said nothing. He headed back inside but Arra blocked his way. “That’s my tent over there.” She nodded at one of the three small tents that stood next to Evanna’s. “If you have no pressing business, I’d like to talk with you and learn more about vampires.”

Larten arched a merry eyebrow.

“When I say talk, I mean talk,” Arra growled, reading his mind. “You tried to kiss me last night.”

“How did you respond?” Larten asked.

Arra smiled. “Let’s just say the next verse of your song began with, Nasty Arra Sails, she has a vicious tongue. ”

Larten managed a laugh, then followed Arra into her tent. Like Evanna’s, it was larger than it looked from the outside, though it was plainly decorated and Arra didn’t have many personal belongings. The pair sat on her bed — Arra making sure there was a discreet distance between them — and Larten spoke for a long time about his life, the clan and Vampire Mountain. Arra listened with silent interest to everything. It was only when he spoke about flitting that she interrupted.

“My mistress can flit too. And she can breathe out a gas to make people faint, although she rarely needs to. Do you think the vampires inherited their magic from Evanna or her father?”

“Have you met Desmond Tiny?” Larten asked.

“No. But I have heard of him through visitors like yourself.”

Larten had always taken the magical talents of the clan for granted, such as their longevity, strength and speed. But now that he thought about it, he realized that such gifts were mysterious. Had their supernatural talents developed naturally, or were they the work of a meddler with more power? Larten made a mental note to ask Seba later, though he had a feeling his master wouldn’t be able to answer the question either.

“Tel me about yourself,” Larten said, changing the subject. “How did you come to work for Evanna? Are you the age you look or are you old like your mistress?”