Lord of the Shadows (13 page)

“Let me get this straight,” Vancha growled, breaking the silence and disrupting my train of thought. “No matter what happens between us and Steve Leonard — or in the war with the vampaneze — a Lord of the Shadows is going to come along and destroy the world?”

“Yes,” Mr. Tall said. “Humans are soon to lose control of this planet. The reins of power will be handed over. This is written. What remains to be seen is whether the reins pass to a vampaneze or . . . to a vampire.” He didn’t look at me when he said that. It might have been my imagination, but I got the feeling he had deliberately avoided making eye contact with me.

“But regardless of who wins, I’m for the chop?” Vancha pressed.

“Yes.” Mr. Tall smiled. “But do not fear death, Vancha, for it comes for us all.” His smile dimmed. “For some of us, it comes very soon.”

“What are you talking about?” Vancha snapped. “You’re not part of this. No vampire or vampaneze would raise a hand against you.”

“That might be true,” Mr. Tall chuckled, “but there are others in this world who do not hold me in such high esteem.” He cocked his head sideways and his expression mellowed. “And to prove my point . . .”

A woman screamed. We all sprang to our feet and rushed to the door, except Mr. Tall, who slowly rose behind us.

Alice was the first to the door. Flinging it open, she dived out, drew a gun, rolled when she hit the ground, then came to her knees. Vancha was next. He leapt out, pulling a couple of shurikens free, jumping high to launch them from a height if he had to. I was third. I had no weapons, so I sprang over to where Alice was, guessing she’d be able to supply me with something. Harkat and Debbie moved at the same time, Harkat brandishing his axe, Debbie pulling a pistol like Alice’s. Behind them, Mr. Tall stood in the doorway, gazing up at the sky. Then he stepped down.

There was nobody in sight, but we heard another scream, this time a child’s. Then a man gave a shout of panic — it was Evra.

“A weapon!” I yelled at Alice as she got to her feet. With one hand she reached down and produced a short hunting knife from a pouch on her left leg.

“Stay behind me,” Alice commanded, homing in on the screams. “Vancha to my left, Debbie and Harkat to my right.”

We obeyed the ex–chief inspector, fanned out, and advanced. I could sense Mr. Tall following, but I didn’t look back.

A woman screamed again — Merla, Evra’s wife. People spilled out of the caravans and tents around us, performers and staff, eager to help. Mr. Tall roared at them to keep out of this. His voice was thunderous and they quickly bolted back inside. I glanced over my shoulder, stunned by his fierceness. He smiled apologetically. “This is our fight, not theirs,” he said by way of explanation.

The “our” surprised me — was Mr. Tall finally abandoning his neutrality? — but I didn’t have time to dwell upon it. Ahead of me, Alice had cleared the end of a tent and come into sight of the disturbance. A second later, I was on the scene too.

The Vons — except Lilia, who wasn’t present — were under attack. Their assailants — R.V., Morgan James, and Steve Leopard’s son, Darius! R.V. had killed Evra’s snake and was in the process of chopping up Shancus’s. Evra was fighting with the hook-handed madman, trying to drag him off. Shancus was in a wrestling lock with Darius. Merla had hold of Urcha, who was gripping his snake for dear life, sobbing pitifully. They were backing away from Morgan James. He was following slowly, smiling a jagged half-faced smile, red circles of blood highlighting his evil little eyes. The nose of his rifle was aimed at Merla’s stomach.

Vancha reacted quickest. He sent a shuriken flying at Morgan James’s rifle, knocking it off target. James’s finger tightened on the trigger at the contact and the rifle exploded — but the bullet shot wide. Before he could fire again, Merla released Urcha, ripped her right ear loose, and sent it flying at James’s face. The ear struck him between the eyes and he fell back, grunting with surprise.

Alerted to our presence, R.V. knocked Evra out of the way and dove after Shancus. He grabbed him from Darius and held him up, laughing, daring us to risk the snake-boy’s life.

“I don’t have a clear shot!” Alice yelled.

“I’ve got Morgan James covered!” Debbie shouted back.

“Then take him out!” Alice roared.

“The boy dies if you hurt Morgan!” R.V. retorted, pressing the three blades of his hooked left hand up into the scaly flesh of Shancus’s throat. Shancus either didn’t realize the danger he was in, or didn’t care, because he kept kicking and punching R.V. But we saw the killer’s intent and paused.

“Let him go, Hooky,” Vancha snarled, moving ahead of the rest of us, hands spread wide. “I’ll fight you man to man.”

“You’re no man,” R.V. replied scornfully. “You’re scum like all your race. Morgan! Are you OK?”

“Uh’m fuhn,” Morgan James groaned. He picked up his rifle and aimed it at Merla again.

“Not this time!” Harkat shouted, stepping in front of Merla and swinging at James with his axe. James leapt clear of the deadly blade. Across from him, Darius drew a small arrow-gun and fired at Harkat. But he fired too hastily and the arrow flew high of its mark.

I threw myself at Darius, meaning to grab and hold him, as R.V. was holding Shancus. But Shancus’s snake was thrashing wildly in its death throes, and I tripped over it before I could bring my hands together around Darius’s throat. Flying forward, I crashed into Evra, who was rushing to his son’s aid. We both fell over, wrapped in the dying snake’s coils.

During the confusion, Morgan James and Darius regrouped around R.V.

Alice, Debbie, Harkat, and Vancha hung back, unable to pursue them for fear that R.V. would kill Shancus.

“Let him go!” Merla screamed, eyes filled with tears of desperation.

“Make me!” R.V. jeered.

“You can’t get out of here,” Vancha said as R.V. backed away.

“Who’s going to stop us?” R.V. mocked him. Evra was back on his feet and he made to run after the retreating trio. R.V. dug his hooks deeper into Shancus’s throat. “No you don’t!” he sang, and Evra froze.

“Please,” Debbie said, lowering her pistol. “Release the boy and we’ll let you leave unharmed.”

“You’re in no position to make deals,” R.V. laughed.

“What do you want?” I shouted.

“The snake-boy,” R.V. giggled.

“He’s no good to you.” I took a determined step forward. “Take me instead. I’ll swap for Shancus.”

I expected R.V. to leap at my offer, but he only shook his head slyly, red eyes shining. “Stuff it, Shan,” he said. “We’re taking the boy. If you get in our way, he dies.”

I glanced around at my allies — nobody was reacting. The vampaneze had us in a bind. Vancha could move with the speed of a full-vampire, and Debbie and

Alice both had guns. But R.V. could kill Shancus before any of us could stop him.

R.V., Morgan James, and Darius continued to back away. R.V. and James were grinning, but Darius looked the same way he’d looked after shooting me — scared and slightly sickened.

Then, as the rest of us hesitated, Mr. Tall spoke. “I cannot allow this.”

R.V. paused uncertainly. “This is none of your business!” he shouted. “Keep your nose out of it.”

“You have made it my business,” Mr. Tall disagreed quietly. “This is my home. These are my people. I must intervene.”

“Don’t be a —” R.V. yelled, but before he got any further, Mr. Tall was upon him. He moved at a supernatural speed that even a vampire couldn’t match. In less than a flash of an eye he was in front of R.V., his hands on the lunatic’s hooks. He wrenched them away from Shancus’s throat, tearing two of the hooks off the left hand, and one off the right.

“My hands!” R.V. screamed in agony, as though the gold and silver hooks were part of his flesh. “Leave my hands alone, you —”

Whatever foul name he shouted was lost in the burst of a gun retort. Morgan James, who’d been standing next to R.V., had jammed the tip of his rifle hard into Mr. Tall’s ribs and pulled the trigger. A bullet fired down the chamber of the rifle at a merciless speed — then ripped through the rib cage of the defenseless Hibernius Tall!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

M
R. TALL’S MIDRIFF ERUPTED
in a fountain of dark red blood and white chips of bone. For a moment he stood, gripping R.V.’s hooks, as though nothing had happened. Then he collapsed, blood pumping out of the hole, his stomach torn to shreds.

R.V. and Darius stared numbly at Mr. Tall as he fell. Then Morgan James screamed at them to run. In a ragged unit they fled, R.V. clutching Shancus, James firing wildly at us over his shoulder.

Nobody followed. Our eyes were all on Mr. Tall. He was blinking rapidly, hands exploring the hole in his middle, lips torn back over his small black teeth. I don’t think anybody knew how old Mr. Tall was, or where he’d come from. But he was older than any vampire, a being of immense magic and power. It was mind-boggling to think that he could have been brought low in so simple and violent a manner.

Debbie snapped to her senses first and rushed towards Mr. Tall, dropping her pistol, meaning to go to his aid. The rest of us took a step after her —

— and stopped instantly when somebody spoke from the shadows of a nearby van. “Your concern is commendable, but utterly worthless. Keep back, please.”

A small man waddled forward, smiling glibly. He was dressed in a sharp yellow suit and green rain boots. He had white hair, thick glasses, and a heart-shaped watch that he was twirling in his left hand.
Desmond Tiny!
Behind him came his daughter, the witch Evanna — short, muscular, hairy, clad in ropes instead of clothes. She had a small nose, pointed ears, a thin beard, and mismatched eyes, one brown, one green.

We gaped at the strange pair as they stopped beside the gasping Mr. Tall and gazed down at him. Evanna’s face was strained. Mr. Tiny looked only curious. With his right foot, he nudged Mr. Tall where he’d been shot. Mr. Tall hissed with pain.

“Leave him alone!” Debbie shouted.

“Shut up, please, or I’ll kill you,” Mr. Tiny replied. Though he said it sweetly, I’ve no doubt he would have struck Debbie down dead if she’d said another word. Fortunately, she realized that too, and she held her tongue, trembling.

“So, Hibernius,” Mr. Tiny said. “Your time here comes to an end.”

“You knew it would,” Mr. Tall replied, and his voice was remarkably firm.

“Yes.” Mr. Tiny nodded. “But did
you
know?”

“I guessed.”

“You could have turned aside from it. Your fate was never directly linked to these mortals.”

“For me, it was,” Mr. Tall said. He was shivering badly, a dark pool of blood spreading out around him. Evanna took a step aside to avoid the blood, but Mr. Tiny let it flow around his boots, staining the soles.

“Tiny!” Vancha snapped. “Can you save him?” “No,” Mr. Tiny replied simply. Then he bent over Mr. Tall and spread the fingers of his right hand. He placed his middle finger in the center of Mr. Tall’s forehead, the adjoining fingers over his eyes, and held the thumb and little finger out at the sides. “Even in death, may you be triumphant,” he said with surprising softness, then removed his fingers.

“Thank you, father,” Mr. Tall said. He glanced up at Evanna. “Goodbye, sister.”

“I will remember you,” the witch answered as the rest of us looked on, stunned by the revelation. I’d known about Evanna’s twin brother, born, as she was, of a union between Mr. Tiny and a wolf. I’d just never guessed it was Mr. Tall.

Evanna bent and kissed her brother’s forehead. Mr. Tall smiled, then his body shook, his eyes went wide, his neck stiffened — and he died.

Mr. Tiny stood and turned. There was one round tear of blood in the corner of each eye. “My son is dead,” he said, in the same tone he’d have used to comment on the weather.

“We didn’t know!” Vancha gasped.

“He never cared to speak of his parentage.” Mr. Tiny chuckled and kicked the dead Mr. Tall’s head aside with the heel of his left foot. “I don’t know why.”

I growled when he kicked Mr. Tall, and started towards him angrily. Harkat and Vancha did the same.

“Gentlemen,” Evanna said quietly. “If you waste time picking a fight with my father, the killers will escape with the young Von boy.”

We stopped short. I’d momentarily forgotten about Shancus and the danger he was in. The others had too. Now that we’d been reminded, we shook our heads and snapped out of our daze.

“We have to chase them,” Vancha said.

“But what about Mr. Tall?” Debbie cried.

“He’s dead,” Vancha sniffed. “Let his
family
care for him.”

Mr. Tiny laughed at that, but we couldn’t afford to pay him any further heed. Grouping together without discussing it, the five of us set off. “Wait!” Evra shouted. I looked back and saw him exchange a wordless look with Merla. She half-nodded and he ran after us. “I’m coming too,” he said.

Nobody argued. Accepting Evra into our ranks, we raced away from Merla, Urcha, Mr. Tiny, Evanna, and the dead Mr. Tall, and hurried through the campsite in pursuit of Shancus and his kidnappers.

As soon as we cleared the tunnel leading out of the stadium, we saw that our quarry had split. To our right, R.V. was running away with Shancus, headed into the heart of town. To our left, Morgan James and Darius fled down the hill towards a river that flowed close by the stadium.

Vancha took charge and made a swift decision. “Alice and Evra — with me. We’ll go after R.V. and Shancus. Darren, Harkat, and Debbie — take Morgan James and the boy.”

I’d rather have gone to Shancus’s rescue, but Vancha was more experienced than me. Nodding obediently, I swung left with Harkat and Debbie and we set off after the killer and his apprentice. My headache had flared up savagely and I was half-blind as I flailed down the hill. Also, the sounds of my feet on the pavement as I ran were torture on my ears. Still, as a half-vampire I could run faster than Harkat or Debbie, and I’d soon pulled ahead and was rapidly closing the gap on Morgan James and Darius.

James and Darius stopped when they heard me coming and spun to face my charge. I should have waited for Harkat and Debbie, rather than face them on my own, armed only with a knife. But rage had taken hold of me. I forged on heedlessly as they fired, James with his rifle, Darius with his arrow-gun. By the luck of the vampires, their bullets and arrows missed, and seconds later I was upon them, wild with fury, intent on revenge.