Lord of the Shadows (14 page)

James swung at me with the butt of his rifle. It struck my right shoulder, where I’d been shot by Darius. I roared with pain but didn’t falter. I stabbed at James with my knife, aiming for his half-mangled face. He ducked, and Darius punched me in the ribs as I slid past. I swatted the boy aside and stabbed at James again. He laughed and grabbed me tight, wrestling me to the ground.

My face was pressed up close to the left side of Morgan James’s head. The skin was wrinkled and red, his teeth exposed behind the thin flesh of his lips, his eye a horrible glob in the middle of a ruined, scarred mess.

“Lyhk iht?” James gurgled.

“Lovely!” I sneered, rolling on top of him, poking for his eyes with my thumbs.

“Uh’m gonna duh the shahm tuh yuh!” James vowed, breaking my grip and driving his knee up into my stomach.

“We’ll see!” I grunted, falling away slightly, then coming back at him. I managed to stick my knife in, but only into his arm. I was aware of the boy battering me with his arrow-gun, trying to beat me off. I ignored him and focused on Morgan James. I was stronger than the vampet, but he was larger and a seasoned fighter. He wriggled beneath me, digging his knees and elbows into the flesh of my stomach and groin, spitting into my eyes. There was a painful white light building inside my head. I felt like screaming and clapping my hands over my ears. But instead I bit into the flesh of James’s upper left arm and ripped a chunk away.

James screeched like a cat and shoved me off, lent strength by his pain. As I fell aside, Darius kicked me hard in the head and I lost my bearings for a second or two. When I recovered, James was on top of me. He pushed my head back with his left hand and brought up my own knife — which I’d dropped in the fight — with his right, meaning to slit my throat.

I grabbed for the knife. Missed. Grabbed again. Knocked it aside. Grabbed a third time — then stopped, tensed my muscles, and shut my eyes. James gave a little shiver of delight. He thought I’d given up. What he didn’t realize was that I’d caught sight of Harkat behind him, swinging his axe.

There was a whishing sound — Darius started to shout a warning — then a heavy thud. My eyes opened. I caught a glimpse of Morgan James’s head rolling away into darkness, severed from its body by one powerful blow of Harkat’s axe. Then blood gushed from the stump of James’s neck. I shut my eyes again as I was drenched in a burst of hot red liquid. James fell over lifelessly. I pushed myself up, opened my eyes, wiped blood from my face, and slid out from beneath the beheaded body of Morgan James.

Darius was standing next to me, staring numbly at his felled companion. Blood had hit the boy also, drenching his pants. I stood. My legs were trembling. My head was filled with white noise. Blood congealed in my hair and dripped from my face. I wanted to be sick. But I knew what I must do. Hatred motivated me.

Snatching my knife from Morgan James’s lifeless hand, I pressed the blade to the flesh of Darius’s throat and grabbed his hair with my free hand. I was snarling as I pressed down hard on the knife, neither human nor vampire. I’d become a savage animal set on taking a young boy’s life.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

D
EBBIE STOPPED ME.
“No!”
she screamed, racing up behind me. There was such terror in her voice that even in the midst of my bloodlust, I paused. She pulled up beside me, panting hard, eyes wide with horror. “No!” she wheezed, shaking her head desperately.

“Why not?” I snarled.

“He’s a child!” she cried.

“No — he’s Steve Leopard’s son,” I contradicted her. “A killer, like his father.”

“He hasn’t killed anyone,” Debbie objected. “Morgan James killed Mr. Tall. Now he’s dead, you’re even. You don’t have to kill the boy too.”

“I’ll kill them all!” I screamed madly. It was like I’d become a different person, a bloodthirsty reaper. “Every vampaneze must die! Every vampet! Everyone who aids them!”

“Even the children?” Debbie asked sickly.

“Yes!” I roared. My headache was the worst it had ever been. It was like red-hot pins were being pushed through my skull from the inside out. Part of me knew this was wrong, but a larger part had seized on the hatred and urge to kill. That merciless part was screaming for revenge.

“Harkat,” Debbie appealed to the Little Person. “Make him see sense!”

Harkat shook his neckless head. “I don’t think I can stop him,” he said, staring at me as if he didn’t know me.

“You have to try!” Debbie shrieked.

“I don’t know if I . . . have the right,” Harkat muttered.

Debbie turned to me again. She was crying. “You mustn’t do this,” she wept.

“It’s my duty,” I said stiffly.

She spat at my feet. “That’s what I think of your
duty
! You’ll become a monster if you kill that boy. You’ll be no better than Steve.”

I stopped. Her words had sparked a memory deep within me. I found myself thinking about Mr. Crepsley and his last words to me before he died. He warned me not to devote my life to hatred. Kill Steve Leopard if the chance presented itself — but don’t give myself over to some insane revenge quest.

What would he have done in my place? Kill the boy? Yes, if necessary. But
was
it? Did I want to kill Darius because I feared him and felt he had to be eliminated for the good of us all — or because I wanted to hurt Steve?

I gazed into the boy’s eyes. They were fearful, but behind the fear there was . . . sorrow. In Steve’s eyes, evil lurked deep down. Not in Darius. He was more human than his father.

My knife was still pressed to his throat. It had sliced thinly into his flesh. Little rivulets of blood trickled down his neck.

“You’ll destroy yourself,” Debbie whispered hoarsely. “You’ll be worse than Steve.
He
can’t tell the difference between right and wrong.
You
can. He can live with his wickedness because he doesn’t know any better, but it will eat you away. Don’t do it, Darren. We don’t wage war on children.”

I stared at her, tears in my eyes. I knew she was right. I wanted to take the knife away. I couldn’t believe I’d even tried to kill the boy. But still there was part of me that wanted to take his life. Something had awoken within me, a Darren Shan I’d never known existed, and he wasn’t going to lie down without a fight. My fingers shook as they held the knife, but the furious angel of revenge inside me wouldn’t let me lower them.

“Go ahead and kill me,” Darius snarled suddenly. “It’s what your kind does. You’re murderers. I know all about you, so stop pretending you give a damn.”

“What are you talking about?” I said. He only smiled sickly in reply.

“He’s Steve’s son,” Debbie said softly. “He’s been raised on lies. That’s not his fault.”

“My father doesn’t lie!” Darius shouted.

Debbie moved around behind Darius so she could look me straight in the eye. “He doesn’t know the truth. He’s innocent, in spite of anything he’s been tricked into doing. Don’t kill an innocent, Darren. Don’t become what you despise.”

I groaned deeply. More than ever I wanted to take the knife away, but still I wavered, fighting an inner battle that I didn’t completely understand. “I don’t know what to do!” I moaned.

“Then think of this,” Harkat said. “We might need the boy to swap . . . for Shancus. It makes sense not to kill him.”

The fire within me died away. I lowered my knife, feeling a great weight lift from my heart. I smiled crookedly. “Thanks, Harkat.”

“You shouldn’t have needed that,” Debbie said as I spun Darius around and tied his hands behind him with a strip of cloth that Harkat had ripped from his robes. “You should have spared him because it was the right thing to do — not because you might need him.”

“Maybe,” I agreed, ashamed of my reaction but not wanting to admit it. “But it doesn’t matter. We can debate it later. First, let’s find out what’s happening with Shancus. Where’s your phone?”

A minute later she was deep in conversation with Alice Burgess. They were still in pursuit of R.V. and Shancus. Vancha asked to speak to me. “We have a choice to make,” he said. “I have R.V. in my sights. I can cut him down with a shuriken and rescue Shancus.”

“Then why don’t you?” I frowned.

“I think he’s leading us to Steve Leonard,” Vancha said.

I groaned softly and gripped the phone tightly. “What does Evra say?” I asked.

“This is our call, not his,” Vancha responded with a whisper. “He’s thinking only of his son. We have other concerns to consider.”

“I’m not prepared to sacrifice Shancus to get to Steve,” I said.

“I am,” Vancha said quietly. “But I doubt it will come to that. I think we can retrieve the boy
and
get a shot at Leonard. But it’s a risk. If you want me to play it safe and kill R.V. now, I will. But I believe we should chance it, let him lead us to Leonard, and take it from there.”

“You’re the senior Prince,” I said. “You decide.” “No,” Vancha retorted. “We’re equals. Shancus means more to you than he does to me. I’ll follow your lead on this one.”

“Thanks,” I said bitterly.

“Sorry,” Vancha said, and even over the phone I could tell his regret was genuine. “I’d take responsibility if I could, but on this occasion I can’t. Do I kill R.V. or follow?”

My eyes flicked to Darius. If I’d killed him, I’d have told Vancha to bring R.V. down and save Shancus — otherwise Steve would surely slaughter the snake-boy in revenge. But if I turned up with Darius captive, Steve would have to trade. Once we had Shancus back, we’d be free to pursue Steve later.

“OK,” I said. “Let him run. Tell me where you are and we’ll catch up.”

A few minutes later we were on the move again, cutting across town, Debbie on the phone to Alice, taking directions. I could feel her eyes burning into my back — she didn’t approve of the risk we were taking — but I didn’t look around. As I ran, I kept reminding myself, “I’m a Prince. I have a duty to my people. The Lord of the Vampaneze takes priority over all.” But it was a slim comfort, and I knew my sense of guilt and shame would be overwhelming if the gamble backfired.

CHAPTER TWENTY

W
E WERE HURRYING
through the streets with Darius, taking back alleys to avoid the police patrols, when Harkat slowed, came to a stop, and turned. He cocked his head sideways, raising one of the ears stitched beneath his grey skin.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Footsteps . . . behind us. Can’t you hear?”

“My ears are plugged up,” I reminded him. “Are you certain?”

“Yes. I think it’s just one person, but I . . . could be wrong.”

“We can’t fight and hold on to Darius at the same time,” Debbie said. “If we’re to make a stand, we should either tie him up or let him go.”

“I’m not letting him go anywhere,” I muttered. “You two proceed. If R.V. leads the others to Steve, you need to be there with Darius, to trade for Shancus. I’ll stay and deal with this. If I can, I’ll catch up.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Debbie hissed. “We’ve got to stick together.”

“Do what I say!” I snapped, harsher than necessary. I was very confused — hatred for Steve, fear that I might become the monstrous Lord of the Shadows, the pain of the purge — and in no mood to argue.

“Come on,” Harkat said to Debbie. “We can’t talk to him when he’s . . . like this. Besides, he’s right. It makes more sense this way.”

“But the danger —” Debbie began.

“He’s a Vampire Prince,” Harkat said. “He knows all about danger.”

Harkat jerked Darius ahead, limping forward as quickly as he could. Debbie had no choice but to follow, though she looked back imploringly at me before turning a corner out of sight. I felt sorry for the way I’d snapped at her, and hoped I’d have a chance to apologize later.

I removed the cotton buds from my ears and nose and took a firm grip on my knife. By concentrating hard, I could dim the noise within my head and focus on the street sounds and scents. I heard footsteps approaching, soft, steady, coming straight towards me. I crouched low and readied myself for battle. Then a figure came into sight and I relaxed, stood, and lowered my knife arm.

“Evanna,” I greeted the witch.

“Darren,” she replied calmly, stopping close by, studying me with an unreadable expression.

“Why aren’t you with your father?” I asked.

“I will join him again presently,” she said. “My place is here now, with you and your allies. Let us hurry after them, for fear we miss the confrontation.”

“I’m going nowhere,” I said, standing my ground. “Not until you give me some answers.”

“Indeed?” Evanna purred archly. “I will need to hear some questions first.”

“It’s about the Lord of the Shadows.”

“I don’t think this is the time —”

“I don’t care what you think!” I interrupted. “You told me years ago that the Lord of the Shadows would be either the Vampaneze Lord — Steve — or
me.
Mr. Tall, before he died, said that the Lord of the Shadows would rise no matter who won the War of the Scars.”

“Did he?” Evanna sounded surprised. “It was not like Hibernius to be so revealing. He was always the more secretive one.”

“I want to know what it means,” I pressed on, before she got sidetracked talking about her dead brother.

“According to Mr. Tall, the Lord of the Shadows will be a monster, and he’ll kill Vancha.”

“He told you that too?” Evanna was angry now. “He went too far. He should not have —”

“But he did,” I stopped her, then took a step nearer. “He was wrong. He must have been. You too. I’m no monster. I would never harm Vancha, or any vampire.”

“Don’t be too sure of that,” she said softly, then hesitated, choosing her next words carefully. “Usually there are many paths between the present and future, dozens of options and outcomes. But sometimes there are only a few, or even just two. That is the case here. A Lord of the Shadows will come — this is definite. But he can be one of two people, you or Steve Leonard.”

“But —” I began.

“Silence,” she said commandingly. “Since we are so close to the time of choosing, I can reveal certain facts that before I could not. I wouldn’t have spoken of this, but it seems my brother wished to inform you of your fate, perhaps to give you time to prepare for it. It is only right that I honor his final wishes.