Darren Shan - Vampire War Trilogy

Finally, after six weeks, the turmoil ceased. I stopped growing. I didn’t have to shave any more (though the hair on my head remained – I was no longer bald!). I removed the cloth and grass balls, and my taste returned, although patchily to begin with.

I was about seven centimetres taller than I’d been when the purge hit me, and noticeably broader. The skin on my face had hardened, giving me a slightly older appearance – I looked like a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old now.

Most importantly – I was still a half-vampire. The purge hadn’t eliminated my human blood cells. The downside of that was I’d have to undergo the discomfort of the purge again in the future. On the plus side I could continue to enjoy sunlight for the time being, before having to abandon it forever in favour of the night.

Although I was keen to become a full-vampire, I’d miss the daytime world. Once my blood turned, there was no going back. I accepted that, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. This way, I had months – perhaps a year or two – to prepare myself for the change.

I’d outgrown my clothes and shoes, so I had to stock up at a small human outpost (we were leaving civilization behind again). In an army surplus shop, I chose gear similar to my old stuff, adding a couple of purple shirts to my blue ones, and a dark green pair of trousers. As I was paying for the clothes, a tall, lean man entered. He was wearing a brown shirt, black trousers and a baseball cap. “I need supplies,” he grunted at the man serving behind the counter, tossing a list at him.

“You’ll need a licence for the guns,” the shopkeeper said, running an eye over the scrap of paper.

“I’ve got one.” The man was reaching into a shirt pocket when he caught sight of my hands and stiffened. I was holding my new clothes across my chest, and the scars on my fingertips – where I’d been blooded by Mr Crepsley – were clear.

The man relaxed instantly and turned away – but I was sure he’d recognized the scars and knew what I was. Hurrying from the shop, I found Mr Crepsley and Harkat on the edge of town and told them what had happened.

“Was he nervous?” Mr Crepsley asked. “Did he follow when you left?”

“No. He just went stiff when he saw the marks, then acted as though he hadn’t seen them. But he knew what the marks meant – I’m certain of it.”

Mr Crepsley rubbed his scar thoughtfully. “Humans who know the truth about vampire marks are uncommon, but some exist. In all probability he is an ordinary person who has simply heard tales of vampires and their fingertips.”

“But he might be a vampire hunter,” I said quietly.

“Vampire hunters are rare – but real.” Mr Crepsley thought it over, then decided. “We will proceed as planned, but keep our eyes open, and you or Harkat will remain on watch by day. If an attack comes, we shall be ready.” He smiled tightly and touched the handle of his knife. “And waiting!”

BY DAWN we knew we had a fight on our hands. We were being followed, not just by one person, but three or four. They’d picked up our trail a few kilometres outside the town and had been tracking us ever since. They moved with admirable stealth, and if we hadn’t been anticipating trouble, we might not have known anything was amiss. But when a vampire is alert to danger, not even the most fleet-footed human can sneak up on him.

“What’s the plan?” Harkat asked as we were making camp in the middle of a small forest, sheltered from the sun beneath the intertwining branches and leaves.

“They will wait for full daylight to attack,” Mr Crepsley said, keeping his voice low. “We will act as though all is normal and pretend to sleep. When they come, we deal with them.”

“Will you be OK. in the sun?” I asked. Though we were sheltered where we were, a battle might draw us out of the shade.

“The rays will not harm me during the short time it will take to deal with this threat,” Mr Crepsley replied. “And I will protect my eyes with cloth, as you did during your purge.”

Making beds amid the moss and leaves on the ground, we wrapped ourselves in our cloaks and settled down. “Of course, they might just be curious,” Harkat muttered. “They could simply want to see … what a real-life vampire looks like.”

“They move too keenly for that,” Mr Crepsley disagreed. “They are here on business.”

“I just remembered,” I hissed. “The guy in the shop was buying guns !”

“Most vampire hunters come properly armed,” Mr Crepsley grunted. “Gone are the nights when the fools toted only a hammer and wooden stake.”

There was no more talk after that. We lay still, eyes closed (except for Harkat, who covered his lidless eyes with his cloak), breathing evenly, feigning sleep.

Seconds passed slowly, taking an age to become minutes, and an eternity to become hours. It had been six years since my last taste of vicious combat. My limbs felt unnaturally cold, and stiff, icy snakes of fear coiled and uncoiled inside the walls of my stomach. I kept flexing my fingers beneath the folds of my cloak, never far from my sword, ready to draw.

Shortly after midday – when the sun would be most harmful to a vampire – the humans moved in for the kill. There were three of them, spread out in a semicircle. At first I could only hear the rustling of leaves as they approached, and the occasional snap of a twig. But as they closed upon us, I became aware of their heavy breathing, the creak of their tense bones, the pacy, panicked pounding of their hearts.

They came to a standstill ten or twelve metres away, tucked behind trees, preparing themselves to attack. There was a long, nervous pause – then the sound of a gun being slowly cocked.

“ Now! ” Mr Crepsley roared, springing to his feet, launching himself at the human nearest him.

While Mr Crepsley closed in on his assailant at incredible speed, Harkat and me targeted the others. The one I’d set my sights on cursed loudly, stepped out from behind his tree, brought his rifle up and got a snap shot off A bullet whizzed past, missing me by several centimetres. Before he could fire again, I was upon him.

I wrenched the rifle from the human’s hands and tossed it away. A gun went off behind me, but there was no time to check on my friends. The man in front of me had already drawn a long hunting knife, so I quickly slid my sword out.

The man’s eyes widened when he saw the sword – he’d painted the area around his eyes with red circles of what looked like blood – then narrowed. “You’re just a kid,” he snarled, slashing at me with his knife.

“No,” I disagreed, stepping out of range of his knife, jabbing at him with my sword. “I’m much more.”

As the human slashed at me again, I brought my sword up and out in a smooth arcing slice, through the flesh, muscles and bones of his right hand, severing three of his fingers, disarming him in an instant.

The human cried out in agony and fell away from me. I took advantage of the moment to see how Mr Crepsley and Harkat were faring. Mr Crepsley had already despatched his human, and was striding towards Harkat, who was wrestling with his opponent. Harkat appeared to have the advantage of his foe, but Mr Crepsley was moving into place to back him up should the battle take a turn for the worse.

Satisfied that all was going in our favour, I switched my attention back to the man on the ground, psyching myself up for the unpleasant task of making an end of him. To my surprise, I found him grinning horribly at me.

“You should have taken my other hand too!” he growled.

My eyes fixed on the man’s left hand and my breath caught in my throat – he was clutching a hand grenade close to his chest!