Darren Shan - Vampire War Trilogy

We carried spare bottles of human blood, and fed on wild animals. It had been a long time since I hunted, and I was rusty to begin with, but I soon got back into the swing of it.

“This is the life, isn’t it?” I noted one morning as we chewed on the roasted carcass of a deer. We didn’t light a fire most days – we ate our meat raw – but it was nice to relax around a mound of blazing logs every once in a while.

“It is,” Mr Crepsley agreed.

“I wish we could go on like this forever.”

The vampire smiled. “You are not in a hurry to return to Vampire Mountain?”

I pulled a face. “Being a Prince is a great honour, but it’s not much fun.”

“You have had a rough initiation,” he said sympathetically. “Were we not at war, there would have been time for adventure. Most Princes wander the world for decades before settling down to royal duty. Your timing was unfortunate.”

“Still, I can’t complain,” I said cheerfully. “I’m free now.”

Harkat stirred up the fire and edged closer towards us. He hadn’t said a lot since leaving Vampire Mountain, but now he lowered his mask and spoke. “I loved Vampire Mountain. It felt like home. I never felt so at ease before, even when I … was with the Cirque Du Freak. When this is over, if I have … the choice, I’ll return.”

“There is vampire blood in you,” Mr Crepsley said. He was joking, but Harkat took the statement seriously.

“There might be,” he said. “I’ve often wondered if I was a vampire in … my previous life. That might explain why I was sent to Vampire Mountain … and why I fitted in so well. It could also explain the stakes … in my dreams.”

Harkat’s dreams often involved stakes. The ground would give way in his nightmares and he’d fall into a pit of stakes, or be chased by shadow men who carried stakes and drove them through his heart.

“Any fresh clues as to who you might have been?” I asked. “Did meeting Mr Tiny jog your memory?”

Harkat shook his chunky, neckless head. “No further insights,” he sighed.

“Why did Mr Tiny not tell you the truth about yourself if it was time for you to learn?” Mr Crepsley asked.

“I don’t think it’s as … simple as that,” Harkat said. “I have to earn the truth. It’s part of the … deal we made.”

“Wouldn’t it be weird if Harkat had been a vampire?” I remarked. “What if he’d been a Prince – would he still be able to open the doors of the Hall of Princes?”

“I don’t think I was a Prince,” Harkat chuckled, the corners of his wide mouth lifting in a gaping smile.

“Hey,” I said, “if I can become a Prince, anyone can.”

“True,” Mr Crepsley muttered, then ducked swiftly as I tossed a leg of deer at him.

Once clear of the mountains, we headed south-east and soon reached the outskirts of civilization. It was strange to see electric lights, cars and planes again. I felt as though I’d been living in the past and had stepped out of a time machine.

“It’s so noisy,” I commented one night as we passed through a busy town. We’d entered it to draw blood from humans, slicing them in their sleep with our nails, taking a small amount of blood, closing the cuts with Mr Crepsley’s healing spit, leaving them oblivious to the fact that they’d been fed upon. “So much music and laughter and shouting.” My ears were ringing from the noise.

“Humans always chatter like monkeys,” Mr Crepsley said. “It is their way.”

I used to object when he said things like that, but not any more. When I became Mr Crepsley’s assistant, I’d clung to the hope of returning to my old life. I’d dreamt of regaining my humanity and going home to my family and friends. No longer. My years in Vampire Mountain had rid me of my human desires. I was a creature of the night now – and content to be so.

The itching was getting worse. Before leaving town, I found a pharmacy and bought several anti-itching powders and lotions, which I rubbed into my flesh. The powders and lotions brought no relief. Nothing stopped the itching, and I scratched myself irritably as we journeyed to the cave of Lady Evanna.

Mr Crepsley wouldn’t say much about the woman we were going to meet, where she lived, whether she was a vampire or human, and why we were going to see her.

“You should tell me these things,” I grumbled one morning as we made camp. “What if something happens to you? How would Harkat and me find her?”

Mr Crepsley stroked the long scar running down the left side of his face – after all our years together, I still didn’t know how he got it – and nodded thoughtfully. “You are right. I will draw a map before nightfall.”

“And tell us who she is?”

He hesitated. “That is harder to explain. It might be best coming from her own lips. Evanna tells different people different things. She might not object to you knowing the truth – but then again, she might.”

“Is she an inventor?” I pressed. Mr Crepsley owned a collection of pots and pans which folded up into tiny bundles, making them easier to carry. He’d told me that Evanna had made them.

“She sometimes invents,” he said. “She is a woman of many talents. Much of her time is spent breeding frogs.”

“Excuse me?” I blinked.

“It is her hobby. Some people breed horses, dogs or cats. Evanna breeds frogs.”

“How can she breed frogs?” I snorted sceptically.

“You will find out.” Then he leant forward and tapped my knee. “Whatever you say, do not call her a witch.”

“Why would I call her a witch?” I asked.

“Because she is one – sort of”

“We’re going to meet a witch ?” Harkat snapped worriedly.

“That troubles you?” Mr Crepsley asked.

“Sometimes in my dreams … there’s a witch. I’ve never seen her face – not clearly – and I’m not sure … if she’s good or bad. There are times when I run to her for help, and times … when I run away, afraid.”

“You haven’t mentioned that before,” I said.

Harkat’s smile was shaky. “With all the dragons, stakes and shadow men … what’s one little witch?”

The mention of dragons reminded me of something he’d said when we met Mr Tiny. He’d called him ‘the dragon master’. I asked Harkat about this but he couldn’t remember saying it. “Although,” he mused, “I sometimes see Mr Tiny in my dreams, riding the … backs of dragons. Once he tore the brain out of one and … tossed it at me. I reached to catch it but … woke before I could.”

We thought about that image a long time. Vampires place a lot of importance on dreams. Many believe that dreams act as links to the past or future, and that much can be learnt from them. But Harkat’s dreams didn’t seem to have any bearing on reality, and in the end Mr Crepsley and me dismissed them, rolled over and slept. Harkat didn’t – he stayed awake, green eyes glowing faintly, putting off sleep as long as he could, avoiding the dragons, stakes, witches and other perils of his troubled nightmares.

ONE DUSK I awoke with a feeling of absolute comfort. As I stared up at a red, darkening sky, I tried putting my finger on why I felt so good. Then I realized – the itching had stopped. I lay still a few minutes, afraid it would return if I moved, but when I finally got to my feet, there wasn’t the slightest prickling sensation. Grinning, I headed for a small pond we’d camped by, to wet my throat.

I lowered my face into the cool, clear water of the pond and drank deeply. As I was rising, I noticed an unfamiliar face in the reflecting surface of the water – a long-haired, bearded man. It was directly in front of me, which meant he must be standing right behind me – but I hadn’t heard anyone approach.