Shan, Darren - Cirque Du Freak 03 - Tunnels Of Blood

"You can't know that for sure," I said. "He might have only been down there today in order to follow me."

"If he was," Mr. Crepsley said, "we are sunk. But if hehas made his base down there, we stand a chance. Space is not so plentiful beneath the ground. Noises are easier to detect. It will not be easy, but there is hope. Last night, we did not even have that.

"If all else fails," he added, "and we end up empty-handed…" His face hardened. "I will call to our murderous cousin and offer him the deal which you yourself put to him earlier."

"You mean… ?"

"Yes," he said darkly. "If we do not find Evra in time, I will trademy life for his."

There was more space beneath the ground than Mr. Crepsley had predicted. It was an endless, twisting maze down there. The pipes seemed to go everywhere, like they were thrown down at random. Some were big enough to stand in, others barely large enough to crawl through. Many of them were in use, half full of streams of water and waste. Others were old and dried-up and cracked.

The stench was terrible. One thing was certain: we might happen to hear or glimpse Murlough or Evra, but we'd definitely never be able to sniff them out!

The place was awash with rats and spiders and insects. But I soon discovered that if you ignored them, they generally ignored you back.

"I do not understand why they need so many tunnels," Mr. Crepsley said grimly, after several hours of fruitless searching. We seemed to have walked halfway across the city, but when he stuck his head above ground to check our position, he discovered we'd gone less than three-quarters of a mile.

"I guess different tunnels were made at different times," I said. My dad used to work for a construction company and had explained a little about underground systems to me. "They wear out in places, eventually, and it's usually easier to dig new shafts than go back and patch up the old ones."

"What a waste," Mr. Crepsley grumbled disdainfully. "You could fit a small town into the space these damned pipes are taking up." He looked around. "There seem to be more holes than concrete," he said. "I am surprised the city has not fallen in upon itself."

After a while, Mr. Crepsley stopped and cursed.

"Do you want to stop?" I asked.

"No," he sighed. "We shall continue. It is better to search than sit back and wait. At least this way we are exerting some sort of control over our destiny."

We used torches in the tunnels. We needed some kind of light: even vampires can't see in total darkness. The beams increased the chances of Murlough's spotting us before we spotted him, but that was a risk we had to take.

"There's no way of hunting him down telepathically, is there?" I asked as we paused for a break. All this crawling and crouching was exhausting. "Couldn't you search for his thoughts?"

The vampire shook his head. "I have no connection with Murlough," he said. "Tuning into a person's mental signals requires radarlike emissions on both sides." He held up his two index fingers about a foot apart. "Say this is me." He wiggled his right finger. "This is Mr. Tall." He wiggled the left. "Many years ago, we learned to recognize each other's mental waves. Now, if I want to find Mr. Tall, I emit a radar-like series of waves." He bent his right finger up and down. "When these signals connect with Hibernius, part of his mind automatically signals back, even if his conscious mind remains unaware of it."

"You mean you could find him even if he didn't want to be found?"

Mr. Crepsley nodded. "That is why most people refuse to share their wave identity. You should only reveal it to one you truly trust. Less than ten people on Earth can find me that way, or I them." He smiled thinly. "Needless to say, none of those ten is a vampaneze."

I wasn't sure I understood completely about mental waves, but I'd taken in enough information to know Mr. Crepsley couldn't use it to find Evra.

One more hope struck from the list.

But the conversation made me start thinking. I was sure there must be some way of bettering the odds. Mr. Crepsley's plan — to roam the tunnels and pray we fell upon the vampaneze — was weak. Was there nothing else we could do? No way to prepare a trap and lure Murlough into it?

I focused my immediate thoughts on the search — if we stumbled upon the crazy vampaneze, I didn't want to be caught with my head in the clouds — but devoted the rest to serious thinking.

Something the vampaneze had said was poking away at the back of my brain, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I went back over everything he'd said. We'd talked about Evra and Mr. Crepsley and Debbie and making a deal and…

Debbie.

He'd teased me about her, said he was going to kill her and drink from her. At the time I didn't think it was a serious threat, but the more I thought about it, the more I began to wonder how much he really was interested in her.

He would be hungry, down here in the depths. He was used to feeding regularly. We'd ruined his schedule. He'd said he was looking forward to drinking Evra's blood, butwas he? Vampires couldn't drink from snakes and I was willing to bet vampaneze couldn't, either. Maybe Evra's blood would prove to be undrinkable. Maybe Murlough would only be able to kill the snake-boy on Christmas Day, not drink from him as he planned. He'd commented a couple of times on how tasty Debbie looked. Was that a clue that Evradidn't look tasty?

As the time ticked by, thoughts turned over in my head. I didn't say anything when Mr. Crepsley told me we should return to the surface (he had a natural built-in clock), in case Murlough was shadowing us and listening to our every word. I kept quiet as we climbed out of the tunnel and trudged through the streets and then went up to the roofs again. I held my tongue as we snuck through our hotel window and sank into chairs, tired, miserable, and gloomy.

But then, hesitantly, I coughed to attract the vampire's attention. "I think I have a plan," I said, and slowly spelled it out for him.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Jesse answered the phone when I called Debbie's house. I asked if I could speak to her. "You could if she was up." He laughed. "Do you know what time it is?"

I checked my watch: a few minutes before seven A.M. "Oh," I said, crestfallen. "Sorry. I didn't realize. Did I wake you?"

"No," he said. "I have to head into the office, so it's business as usual for me. You just caught me, in fact — I was on my way out the door when the phone rang."

"You're working on Christmas Eve?"

"No rest for the wicked." He laughed. "But I'll only be there a couple of hours. Tying up some loose ends before the Christmas break. I'll be back in plenty of time for dinner. Speaking of which, are we to expect you or not?"

"Yes, please," I said. "That's why I was calling, to say I could come."

"Great!" He sounded genuinely pleased. "How about Evra?"

"Can't make it," I said. "He's still not feeling well."

"Too bad. Listen, do you want me to wake Debbie? I can —"

"That's okay," I said quickly. "Just let her know I'll be there. Two o'clock?"

"Two's fine," Jesse said. "See you later, Darren."

"Bye, Jesse."

I hung up and went straight to bed. My head was still buzzing from all the talking me and Mr. Crepsley had been doing, but I forced my eyes shut and concentrated on sweet thoughts. A few minutes later, my tired body drifted off to sleep and I slept like a baby until one in the afternoon, when the alarm clock went off.

My ribs were aching as I got up, and my stomach was purple and blue with bruises where Murlough had head-butted me. It wasn't too bad after a few minutes of walking around, but I was careful not to make any sudden movements and bent down as little as possible.

I had a good shower, then sprayed deodorant all over myself when I was dry — the smell of the sewers was hard to get rid of. I dressed and picked up a bottle of wine Mr. Crepsley had bought for me to give to Debbie's parents.