Darren Shan: The Vampire's Assistant

Sam screamed, scrambled to his feet, and sprinted for the woods, never once looking back.

I watched him go, heavyhearted, certain my ploy had worked. He'd never be back. I wouldn't see him again. Our paths had separated, and we would never meet again.

If I'd known how wrong I was — if I'd had any idea of the awful night that lay ahead — I'd have run after him and never returned to that disgusting circus of blood, that revolting circus of death.

Iwas moping around when one of the Little People tapped me on the back. It was the one with the limp.

"What do you want?" I asked.

The tiny man — if it was a man — in the blue-hooded robe rubbed his stomach with his hands. This was the sign that he and his brothers were hungry.

"You just had breakfast," I said.

He rubbed his stomach again.

"It's too early for lunch."

He rubbed his stomach again.

I knew that this would go on for hours if I let it. He would patiently follow me around, rubbing his stomach, until I agreed to go hunt for food for him.

"All right," I snapped. "I'll see what I can find. But I'm on my own today, so if I don't come back with a full bag, tough."

He rubbed his stomach again.

I spit on the ground and took off.

I shouldn't have gone hunting. I was really weak. I could still run faster than a human, and I was stronger than most kids my age, but I wasn't superfit or extrastrong anymore. Mr. Crepsley had said I'd be dead within a week if I didn't drink human blood, and I knew he'd spoken the truth. I could feel myself wasting away. A few more days and I wouldn't be able to pull myself out of bed.

I tried catching a rabbit but wasn't fast enough. I worked up a sweat chasing it and had to sit down for a few minutes. Next, I went looking for roadkill but couldn't find any dead animals. Finally, because I was tired and half afraid of what would happen if I returned to camp empty-handed (the Little People might decide to eat me!) , I headed for a field full of sheep.

They were grazing peacefully when I arrived. They were used to humans and barely lifted their heads when I entered the field and walked among them.

I was looking for an old sheep, or one that looked sick. That way I wouldn't have to feel so lousy about killing it. I finally found one with skinny, trembling legs and a dazed expression, and decided she'd do. She looked as though she didn't have long to live, anyway.

If I'd had my full powers, I would have snapped her neck and she would have been dead in an instant, without any pain. But I was weak and clumsy and didn't twist hard enough the first time.

The sheep began to bleat with agony.

She tried running away, but her legs wouldn't carry her. She fell to the ground, where she lay bleating miserably.

I tried breaking her neck again but couldn't. In the end I grabbed a stone and finished the job. It was a messy, horrible way to kill an animal, and I felt ashamed of myself as I grabbed its back legs and hauled it away from the flock.

I'd almost reached the fence before I realized somebody was sitting on top of it, waiting for me. I dropped the sheep and looked up, expecting an angry farmer.

But it wasn't a farmer.

It was R.V.

And he was mad as hell.

"How could you?" he shouted. "How could you kill a poor, innocent animal so cruelly?"

"I tried killing her quickly," I said. "I tried snapping her neck, but I couldn't. I was going to leave her when I couldn't do it, but she was in pain. I thought it was better to finish her off than leave her to suffer."

"That's real big of you, man," he said sarcastically.

"Do you think you'll get the Nobel Peace Prize for that?"

"Come on, R.V.," I said. "Don't be angry. She was sick. The farmer would have killed her anyway. Even if she'd lived she would have been sent to a butcher in the end."

"That don't make it right," he said angrily. "Just because other people are nasty, it don't mean you should be nasty, too."

"Killing animals isn't nasty," I said. "Not when it's for food."

"What's wrong with vegetables?" he asked. "We don't need to eat meat, man. We don't need to kill."

" Some people need meat," I disagreed. "Some can't live without it."

"Then they should be left to die!" R.V. roared. "That sheep never did any harm to anyone. As far as I'm concerned, killing her is worse than killing a human. You're a murderer, Darren Shan."

I shook my head sadly. There was no point arguing with somebody this stubborn.

"Look, R.V.," I said. "I don't enjoy killing. I'd be psyched if every person in the world was a vegetarian. But they're not. People eat meat, and that's a fact of life. I'm only doing what I have to."

"Well, we'll see what the police have to say about it," R.V. said.

"The police?" I frowned. "What do they have to do with it?"

"You've killed somebody else's sheep." He laughed cruelly. "Do you think they'll let you get away with that? They won't arrest you for murdering rabbits and foxes, but they'll charge you for killing a sheep. I'll have the police and health inspectors come down on you like a ton of bricks." He grinned.

"You won't!" I gasped. "You don't like the police. You're always fighting against them."

"When I have to," he agreed. "But when I can get them on my side…" He laughed again. "They'll arrest you first, then turn your camp upside down. I've been studying the goings-on there. I've seen the way you treat that poor hairy man."

"The wolf-man?"

"Yeah. You keep him locked away like an animal."

"He is an animal," I said.

"No," R.V. disagreed. " You are the animal, man."

"R.V., listen," I said. "We don't have to be enemies. Come back to camp with me. Talk to Mr. Tall and the others. See how we live. Get to know and understand us. There's no need to —"

"Save it," he snapped. I'm getting the police. Nothing you can say will stop me."

I took a deep breath. I liked R.V. but knew I couldn't allow him to destroy the Cirque Du Freak.

"All right, then," I said. "If nothing I say can stop you, maybe you'll respond to something I do. "

Summoning all my remaining strength, I threw the dead body of the sheep at R.V. It struck him in the chest and knocked him flying from the fence. He yelled with surprise, then with pain as he landed heavily on the ground.

I leaped over the fence and was on him before he could move.

"How did you do that, man?" he whispered.

"Never mind," I snapped.

"Kids can't throw sheep," he said. "How did —"

"Shut up!" I shouted, and slapped his bearded face. He stared up at me, shocked. "Listen, Reggie Veggie," I growled, using the name he hated, "and listen good. You won't go to the police or the health inspectors. Because if you do, the sheep won't be the only dead body I drag back to the Cirque Du Freak today."

"What are you?" he asked. His voice was trembling, and his eyes were filled with terror.

"I'm the end of you if you screw with me," I swore.

I dug my fingernails into the soil at either side of his face and squeezed his head between my hands, just enough to let him know how strong I was.

"Get out of here, Reggie," I said. "Go find your friends in NOP Stick to protesting against new roads and bridges. You're in over your head here. Me and my friends in the Cirque are freaks, and freaks don't obey the same laws as other people. Understand?"

"You're crazy," he whimpered.

"Yes," I said. "But not as crazy as you'll be if you stay and interfere."

I stood and draped the sheep over my shoulders.

"Going to the police would be useless, anyway," I said. "By the time they reach the camp, this sheep will be long gone, bones and all."