Darren Shan - Volumes 5 and 6 - Blood Beast/Demon Apocalypse

“Fine,” I lie as my brain throbs with a splitting headache and my stomach gives a sickly rumble.

“I heard howling last night,” Bill-E says. “After we’d gone to bed. It woke me. A few others too. There was some talk of it this morning but not much—most people were still trying to figure out how you pulled off the trick with the bottle.”

I grunt, saying nothing.

“Grubbs,” Bill-E says hesitantly, “I know we’ve never discussed the family curse. You filled me in on the basics in Slawter, but you’ve never offered more information and I haven’t pushed.”

For a long time Bill-E thought Dervish was the one who’d almost changed into a werewolf. I finally told him the truth in Slawter, neglecting only the part about Dervish being his uncle, not his father. I’ve never told Bill-E that we share the same dad. I want to, but he feels a special bond with Dervish, believing him to be his real father. I’ve never had the heart to shatter his illusion.

“Well,” Bill-E continues after an uncomfortable pause, “I know I almost turned into a werewolf and that you and Dervish saved me. You faced Lord Loss and won back my humanity. But is the cure definitely permanent?”

“Yes.”

“I’m safe? For certain?”

“One hundred per cent,” I smile.

“What about…?” He hesitates again. “Your magic… the howling… Are you safe too?”

I don’t answer for a second. Then, quietly, I lie. “Yes.”

“I won’t have to lock you up in the cage in the secret cellar?”

“No,” I laugh edgily. I hate that cellar. I’ve only been there once since we defeated Lord Loss, when Dervish’s nightmares were threatening to destroy his sanity. “I’m fine. That wasn’t me howling. Probably just a big dog that got loose. Now stop worrying—you’re getting on my nerves.”

Loch returns, wiping his hands dry on his trousers, and the questions stop, though I sense Bill-E doesn’t fully believe me. He knows something’s wrong, that I’m not coming clean. But he doesn’t suspect the worst or anything near it. He trusts me. Thinks of me as his closest friend. Doesn’t believe I’d lie point-blank to him about something this serious.

How little he knows.

→A long, anticlimactic Sunday. Lounging around the house, all three of us bored, flicking through TV channels in search of something decent to watch, sticking CDs on, turning them off just a few tracks in. Loch makes cutting remarks about Bill-E, winding him up. I worry about lycanthropy and magic.

“This is crap,” Loch mutters, switching the TV and CD player to stand-by. He jumps up and rubs his hands together. “Let’s wrestle.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“C’mon!” he prods, slapping my face lightly, trying to sting me into action.

“No,” I yawn.

Loch scowls, then switches his attention to Bill-E. “How about you, Spleenio?” He grabs the shorter boy by the waist and swings him round.

“Let go!” Bill-E shouts, kicking out.

“We’ve got a live one,” Loch laughs. He throws Bill-E to the ground, then falls on him and starts to tickle.

“No!” Bill-E gasps, face red, slapping at Loch like a girl, half-laughing from the tickling, half-crying.

“Leave him alone,” I mutter angrily—the noise is worsening my headache.

Loch stops and stands. “Sorry, Bill-E,” he says. “Let me help you up.” He lowers his right hand. Bill-E reaches for it and Loch whips the hand away. “You’re the sultan of suckers, Spleen,” he chortles, strolling towards the kitchen, shaking his head with amused disgust.

Bill-E glares daggers at Loch, then at me. “Gossel’s scum,” he hisses. “I don’t care if he is your new best friend. He’s the scum of the earth. Shame on you for hanging out with him.”

“Don’t take it out on me,” I snap. “You want to get Loch off your back? Then face him like a man, not a little girl. He bullies you because you let him.”

“No, he bullies me because he’s a bully,” Bill-E retorts, furious tears in his eyes.

I shrug, too exhausted and sore-headed to argue. “Whatever.”

Loch returns and Bill-E shuts up, but he glowers like an old man whose pipe’s been stolen, then storms off and returns with his coat.

“Going home?” I ask as he buttons it up.

“No,” he snarls. “I’m doing what I originally planned to do.”

“Huh?”

“You remember. My original plan. If there hadn’t been a party.” I stare at him blankly and he nods in the direction of the forest.

“Oh,” I chuckle. “Lord Sheftree.”

“What’s that?” Loch asks.

“Nothing,” Bill-E says quickly, shooting me a warning look which I ignore, still sore at him for having a go at me. (And sore at myself too, for not being the friend – the brother – he deserves.)

“You know the stories of Lord Sheftree, the guy who used to own this place?” I ask Loch.

“The baby and the piranha, yeah, sure.”

“Grubbs…” Bill-E growls, not wanting to share our secret with an outsider.

“There’s a legend about his treasure.” I take grim satisfaction from Bill-E’s enraged expression.

“Treasure?” Loch echoes, interest piqued.

“Apparently he had hoards of gold and jewels which nobody ever found. They say he buried it somewhere around here. That it’s still sitting there, underground, waiting…”

Loch squints at me, then at Bill-E. “This true, Spleenio?”

“Get stuffed.”

Loch’s face stiffens. “I asked if it was true,” he says, taking a menacing step forward.

“Yeah, maybe, so what?” Bill-E squeaks, shrinking away from Loch.

“Any idea where the treasure is?” Loch asks.

“Up your butt,” I chip in, and both Loch and Bill-E laugh, the tension vanishing in an instant.

“Nah, come on, really,” Loch says, facing me again. “Is this on the level or is Spleen-boy paying me back for all those false handshakes?”

“The legend’s real,” I tell him. “I don’t know about the treasure. We’ve been all over the forest, dug more holes than a pair of rabbits and found nothing. Right, Bill-E?”

“Yeah,” Bill-E sighs, resigning himself to sharing our secret with Loch. “But you bury treasure because you want it to be hard to find. There wouldn’t have been much point in Lord Sheftree sticking it where any passer-by could find it. It’s out there, I’m sure, and one day, if we keep trying…” He trails off into silence, eyes distant.

“I thought you were rich anyway,” Loch says to me. “Why are you bothered about a pile of buried treasure?”

“I’m not. But it would be exciting if it did exist and we found it. Bill-E and I used to spend a lot of our weekends searching for it. Even though we never found anything, the searching was fun.”

“You’ve given up?” Loch asks.

I shrug. “Bill-E goes looking every so often, but it’s been a while since I bothered.”

“He’s been too busy wrestling with lunk-heads,” Bill-E says sourly, but Loch lets the remark pass.

“I’ve never searched for treasure,” Loch says. “How do you do it—with a metal detector?”

“No,” Bill-E says. “We walk around with shovels looking for likely spots. Then we make trial holes. If nothing turns up, we fill in the holes and move on.”

“Sounds amateurish,” Loch says dubiously.

Bill-E laughs. “Like Grubitsch said, the searching is fun. You’d need proper, expensive equipment to go after it seriously. For us it’s always been a game.”

“What about it?” Loch asks, casting an eye at me.

“You want to go on a treasure hunt?” I groan, wishing I could just go back to bed for a few hours.

“It’d beat sitting around here doing nothing,” Loch says.