Darren Shan - Volumes 3 and 4 - Slawter/Bec

“But she can’t have,” Juni says. “Their contract…”

“They tore it up,” Dervish says softly. “Allegedly.”

Juni’s frown deepens. Then she looks at me, expression clearing. “That explains the bag. You think this confirms what you suspected. You’re getting out before the demons kill you too.”

“Damn straight.”

Juni nods slowly. “And if I try to convince you that Emmet hasn’t been killed… that demons aren’t real… would you think I was part of a conspiracy?”

I hesitate, not wanting to offend her if she’s innocent.

“I don’t know anything about a fight between Nora and Tump, or why Nora would have been allowed to leave,” Juni says steadily. “And it’s strange that it happened so quickly, without them saying goodbye to anyone. You might be right. The demon could have been real. Maybe it did kill Emmet.”

Juni reaches inside the light jacket that she’s wearing and pulls a pink mobile phone out of a pocket. She holds it towards me. As I take it, suspicious, she says, “I have contact numbers for everyone connected to the children working on this film. Nora’s number is in there. I’d like you to call her.”

I glance up sharply. “No tricks,” Juni says. “I don’t know what will happen when you dial that number. I’m making no promises. I think Nora will answer, or if she doesn’t, you can leave a message and she’ll phone back shortly. But short of us getting a car and tearing after them in hot pursuit, I think this is the only way to determine the truth.”

I stare at the buttons. I don’t want to do this. I want to pass the phone back to Juni, finish packing and get the hell out.

But I can’t. Because maybe – just maybe – I called this wrong. Maybe the fear dates back to my fight with Lord Loss and my mind’s playing tricks on me. I’m pretty sure it isn’t. But if I refuse to dial, I’ll look like a crackpot.

I unlock the phone. Thumb up the list of names. “Is it under E or N?” I ask.

“N for Nora,” Juni says.

I search for the Ns. There’s a lot of them. I scroll down. There it is—Nora Eijit. I hit the dial button. It rings. Once. Twice. Three times. Four. Fi –

“I don’t want to talk about it!” a woman’s voice snaps. “Kooniart can fry in the fires of hell! You tell him –”

“Mrs Eijit?” I interrupt.

A pause. “Who’s this?”

“Grubbs Grady. Emmet’s friend.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I saw Juni’s name come up, so I assumed…”

“I’m ringing from her phone.”

“I see. Do you want to speak to Emmet?”

“Yes please.” Speaking mechanically, figuring this could be any woman—I don’t know Mrs Eijit’s voice well enough to make a definite identification. Waiting for the kicker, for her to say he’s asleep, or he doesn’t want to talk to me, or –

“I’ll pass you over.”

The sound of her phone being handed across. The noise of a car engine in the background. Then—Emmet. “Hi, Grubbs,” he says quietly, miserably.

“Hi,” I reply weakly.

“I can’t talk now. I’m sorry I split without saying goodbye. I’m hoping we can come back later, when –”

“No way!” Emmet’s mum shrieks. “Not unless that fat fool Kooniart gets down on his knees and –”

“I’ll have to call you back,” Emmet says quickly and disconnects.

I look at the little red button on Juni’s phone. Slowly, reluctantly, I press it. Hand the phone back to Juni. Raise my eyes. And smile like a fool, silently admitting to Juni and the others that I was wrong—even though, inside, part of me still insists the demon was real.

→“I can’t believe you thought Emmet had been killed,” Bill-E chuckles. It’s the morning after. We’re on our way to class.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I mutter.

“I just don’t see how you could –”

“Enough!” I snap. Then, softly, “Remember what I told you about my parents? How they died?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Bill-E’s face drops. “Grubbs, I didn’t mean –”

“It’s OK. Just don’t say anything about it. Please? To the others?”

“Of course not,” Bill-E smiles. “This stays between us. I’ll never breathe a word of it to anyone, especially not Bo Kooniart and her mob. They’d have to torture it out of me.”

“Thanks. Because if they knew…”

“Like I said, your secret’s safe with me,” Bill-E promises. “Dervish won’t say anything either, or Juni. Nobody will ever find out. It’ll be coolio.”

→“Look out!” Bo screams as we walk into class. “It’s a demon!”

Bo, Abe, Vanalee, Salit – even Kuk and Kik – howl theatrically, then burst out laughing. Miss Jaun blinks at them, astonished. I groan and raise my eyebrows at Bill-E, who can only shrug, bewildered.

“My dad was in the corridor outside your room,” Bo says smugly. “He heard you talking. He heard everything .” She laughs again and I know I’m in for a long few months.

→The joke doesn’t wear thin for Bo. Every day she drags it out, mocking and ridiculing me, keeping the story of my hysterics alive. She tells anyone who’ll listen, the other actors, the crew, Davida. Most smile and dismiss it, too busy to bother about such trivial matters. But knowing they know causes me to blush fiercely every time somebody even glances at me.

Emmet never rang back and I’m too shamefaced to call him. I doubt if he’ll have heard about my panic attack, but there’s no telling how far Bo might have decided to spread the joke.

The person I’m angriest with – apart from myself, for being such an idiot – is Tump Kooniart. I can’t blame Bo for wringing such wicked pleasure out of my embarrassment—it would be hard for any kid to ignore such a juicy bit of bait if it fell into their lap. But why was her father sneaking around outside our room? And why didn’t he keep his big mouth shut? If Dervish had heard something like this about Bo, he wouldn’t have told me. Tump Kooniart should have kept quiet. He didn’t. So now it’s payback time!

→I spend a lot of hours thinking about ways to get even with Bo’s father. Itching powder in his clothes? Rat droppings in his soup? Human droppings in his stew or chocolate ice cream?!? Shave him bald or glue his lips together while he sleeps?

All good stuff, but basic. I want something that’ll give him a fright, that I can use to humiliate him. Like, if he’s scared of rats, borrow one of the trained rats which are being used in the film, drop it down the back of his shirt when there’s a crowd around, laugh my head off as he writhes and screams. But to do that, I’ll have to find out more about him and what he’s scared of.

So I start shadowing him. I do it when I’m not in class. I don’t tell Bill-E. He’d happily join in if he knew what I was up to, but I don’t want him getting into trouble if this backfires. Tump Kooniart’s a powerful player. If I humble him in public, I might end up being booted off the set. I don’t mind that, but there’s no need for Bill-E to suffer too.

Tump’s easy to follow. Tall and wide, always dressed in a drab brown suit. He walks with a slow waddle, mopping sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief which rarely leaves his hand. He usually talks loudly as he strolls, to himself if no one’s with him. He doesn’t seem to be able to keep silent, except when a scene is being filmed. I bet he even talks in his sleep. If I was blind, I could probably follow him by sound alone.

I don’t learn much about Tump, except he loves to talk and eat. He has a trailer on the western edge of Slawter, separate trailers beside it for Bo and Abe. Three of the biggest trailers on the set. When he’s not on the prowl, making sure his actors are happy or pigging out in one of the canteens, he spends most of his time in the trailer. He makes lots of phone calls. There are no personal computers allowed in Slawter – no video mobiles either – so he has to work from a huge Filofax in which he keeps all his contact details and other info. I think about stealing the Filofax and burning it, but that’s hardly going to leave him a trembling wreck!