Lord of the Shadows (2 page)

Jekkus took the knife from his nose and snarled at the intruder. “Get off the stage, or I’ll cut you up into tiny pieces!”

“You don’t worry me,” the man snorted, taking a couple of large paces over to Jekkus, so they were eyeball to eyeball. “You’re wasting our time and money. I want a refund.”

“Insolent scum!” Jekkus roared, then lashed out with his knife and cut off the man’s left arm just below the elbow! The man screamed and grabbed for the falling limb. As he was reaching for his lost forearm, Jekkus struck again and cut off the man’s other arm in the same place!

People in the audience erupted with panic and surged to their feet. The man with the jagged stumps beneath his elbows tottered towards the edge of the stage, desperately waving his half arms around, face white with apparent shock. But then he stopped — and laughed.

The people in the front rows heard the laughter and stared up at the stage suspiciously. The man laughed again. This time his laughter carried farther, and people all around relaxed and faced the stage. As they watched, tiny hands grew out of the stumps of the man’s arms. The hands continued to grow, followed by wrists and forearms. A minute later, the man’s arms had returned to their natural length. He flexed his fingers, grinned, and took a bow.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Mr. Tall boomed, appearing suddenly on stage. “Put your hands together for the fabulous, the amazing, the incredible
Cormac Limbs
!”

Everybody realized they’d been the victims of a practical joke — the man who’d stepped out of the audience was a performer. They clapped and cheered as Cormac sliced off his fingers one by one, each of which grew back quickly. He could cut off any part of his body — though he’d never tried chopping of his head! Then the show finished for real and the crowd poured out, babbling with excitement, wildly discussing the mystical mysteries of the sensational Cirque Du Freak.

Inside, Harkat and I helped with the cleaning up. Everyone involved was vastly experienced, and we could normally clear everything away within half an hour, sometimes less. Mr. Tall stood in the shadows while we worked. That was odd — he normally retired to his van after a show — but we took little notice of it. You grew used to oddness when you worked with the Cirque Du Freak!

As I was stacking several chairs, to be removed to a truck by other hands, Mr. Tall stepped forward. “A moment, please, Darren,” he said, removing the tall red hat he wore whenever he went onstage. He took a map out of the hat — the map was much larger than the hat, but I didn’t question how he’d fit it inside — and unrolled it. He held one end of the map in his large left hand and nodded for me to take the other end.

“This is where we are now,” Mr. Tall said, pointing to a spot on the map. I studied it curiously, wondering why he was showing me. “And this is where we will be going next,” he said, pointing to a town a hundred miles away.

I looked at the name of the town. My breath caught in my throat. For a moment I felt dizzy and a cloud seemed to pass in front of my eyes. Then my expression cleared. “I see,” I said softly.

“You don’t have to come with us,” Mr. Tall said. “You can take a different route and meet up with us later, if you wish.”

I started to think about it, then made a snap gut decision instead. “That’s OK,” I said. “I’ll come. I want to. It . . . it’ll be interesting.”

“Very well,” Mr. Tall said briskly, taking back the map and rolling it up again. “We depart in the morning.”

With that, Mr. Tall slipped away. I felt he didn’t approve of my decision, but I couldn’t say why, and I didn’t give much thought to it. Instead I stood by the stacked-up chairs, lost in the past, thinking about all the people I’d known as a child, especially my parents and younger sister.

Harkat limped over eventually and waved a grey hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my daze. “What’s wrong?” he asked, sensing my disquiet.

“Nothing,” I said, with a confused shrug. “At least, I don’t think so. It might even be a good thing. I . . .” Sighing, I stared at the ten little scars on my fingertips and muttered without looking up, “I’m going home.”

CHAPTER TWO

A
LEXANDER RIBS STOOD
, rapped his rib cage with a spoon, and opened his mouth. A loud musical note sprang out and all conversation ceased. Facing the boy at the head of the table, Alexander sang, “He’s green, he’s lean, snot he’s never seen, his name is Shancus — happy birthday!”

Everybody cheered. Thirty performers and helpers from the Cirque Du Freak were seated around a huge oval table, celebrating Shancus Von’s eighth birthday. It was a chilly April day, and most people were wrapped up warmly. The table was overflowing with cakes, sweets, and drinks, and we were digging in happily.

When Alexander Ribs sat down, Truska — a woman who could grow her beard at will — stood and sung another birthday greeting. “The only things he fears is his mother’s flying ears, his name is Shancus — happy birthday!”

Merla snapped one of her ears off when she heard that and flicked it at her son. He ducked and it flew high over his head, then circled back to Merla, who caught it and reattached it to the side of her head. Everyone laughed.

Since Shancus had been named in my honor, I guessed I’d better chip in with a verse of my own. Thinking quickly, I stood, cleared my throat, and chanted, “He’s scaly and he’s great, today he has turned eight, his name is Shancus — happy birthday!”

“Thanks, godfather.” Shancus smirked. I wasn’t really his godfather, but he liked to pretend I was — especially when it was his birthday and he was looking for a cool present!

A few others took turns singing birthday greetings to the snake-boy, then Evra stood and wrapped up the song with, “Despite the pranks you pull, your mom and I love you, pesky Shancus — happy birthday!”

There was lots of applause, then the women at the table shuffled over to hug and kiss Shancus. He pulled a mortified expression, but I could see he was delighted by the attention. His younger brother, Urcha, was jealous and sat a little way back from the table, sulking. Their sister, Lilia, was rooting through the piles of presents Shancus had received, seeing if there was anything of interest to a five-year-old girl.

Evra went to try and cheer up Urcha. Unlike Shancus, and Lilia, the middle Von child was an ordinary human and he felt he was the odd one out. Evra and Merla had a tough time making him feel special. I saw Evra slip a small present to Urcha, and heard him whisper, “Don’t tell the others!” Urcha looked much happier after that. He joined Shancus at the table and tucked into a pile of small cakes.

I made my way over to where Evra was beaming at his family. “Eight years,” I remarked, clapping Evra on his left shoulder (some of his scales had been sliced away from his right shoulder a long time ago, and he didn’t like people touching him there). “I bet it feels like eight weeks.”

“You don’t know how right you are.” Evra smiled. “Time flies when you have kids. You’ll find out yourself one —” He stopped and grimaced. “Sorry. I forgot.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. As a half-vampire, I was sterile. I could never have children. It was one of the drawbacks to being part of the clan.

“When are you going to show the snake to Shancus?” Evra asked.

“Later.” I grinned. “I gave him a book earlier. He thinks that’s his real present — he looked disgusted!

I’ll let him enjoy the rest of the party, then hit him with the snake when he thinks the fun is over.”

Shancus already owned a snake, but I’d bought a new one for him, larger and more colorful. Evra helped me choose it. His old snake would be passed on to Urcha, so both boys would have cause to celebrate tonight.

Merla called Evra back to the party — Lilia had got stuck in wrapping paper and needed to be rescued. I watched my friends for a minute or two, then turned my back on the festivities and walked away. I wandered through the maze of vans and tents of the Cirque Du Freak, coming to a halt near the Wolf Man’s cage. The savage man-beast was snoring. I took a small jar of pickled onions out of my pocket and ate one, smiling sadly as I remembered where my taste for pickled onions had come from.

That memory led to others, and I found myself looking back over the years, recalling major events, remarkable triumphs, and sickening losses. The night of my blooding, when Mr. Crepsley pumped his vampiric blood into me. Slowly coming to terms with my appetite and powers. Sam Grest — the original pickled onion connoisseur. My first girlfriend, Debbie Hemlock. Learning about the vampaneze. The trek to Vampire Mountain. My Trials, where I’d had to prove myself worthy of being a child of the night. Failing and running away. The revelation that a Vampire General — Kurda Smahlt — was a traitor, in league with the vampaneze. Exposing Kurda. Becoming a Prince.

The Wolf Man stirred and I walked on, not wanting to wake him. My mind continued to turn over old memories. Kurda telling us why he’d betrayed the clan — the Lord of the Vampaneze had arisen and stood poised to lead his people into war against the vampires. The early years of the War of the Scars, when I’d lived in Vampire Mountain. Leaving the safety of the fortress to hunt for the Vampaneze Lord, accompanied by Mr. Crepsley and Harkat. Meeting Vancha March, the third hunter — only he, Mr. Crepsley, or I could kill the Vampaneze Lord. Traveling with a witch called Evanna. Clashing with the Lord of the Vampaneze, unaware of his identity until afterwards, when he’d escaped with his protector, Gannen Harst.

I wanted to stop there — the next set of memories was the most painful — but my thoughts raced on. Returning to the city of Mr. Crepsley’s youth. Running into Debbie again — an adult now, a teacher. Other faces from the past — R.V. and Steve Leopard. The former used to be an eco-warrior, a man who blamed me for the loss of his hands. He’d become a vampaneze and was part of a plot to lure my allies and me underground, where the Lord of the Vampaneze could kill us.

Steve was part of that plot too, though at first I thought he was on our side. Steve was my best friend when we were kids. We went to the Cirque Du Freak together. He recognized Mr. Crepsley and asked to be his assistant. Mr. Crepsley refused — he said Steve had evil blood. Later, Steve was bitten by Mr. Crepsley’s poisonous tarantula. Only Mr. Crepsley could cure him. I became a half-vampire to save Steve’s life, but Steve didn’t see it that way. He thought I’d betrayed him and taken his place among the vampires. He became hell-bent on revenge.

Underground in Mr. Crepsley’s city. Facing the vampaneze in a chamber Steve had named the Cavern of Retribution. Me, Mr. Crepsley, Vancha, Harkat, Debbie, and a police officer called Alice Burgess. A huge fight. Mr. Crepsley faced the man we thought was the Lord of the Vampaneze. He killed him. But then Steve killed Mr. Crepsley by knocking him into a pit of stakes. A gut-churning blow, made all the worse when Steve revealed the shocking truth —
he
was the real Lord of the Vampaneze!

I reached the last of the tents and stopped, gazing around, half-dazed. We’d set up camp in an abandoned football stadium. It used to be the home field of the local football team, but they’d moved to a new, purpose-built stadium some years ago. The old stadium was due to be demolished — apartment blocks were to be built over the ruins — but not for several months yet. It was an eerie feeling, staring around at thousands of empty seats in the ghost stadium.

Ghosts . . . That put me in mind of my next, bizarre quest with Harkat, in what we now knew was a shade of the future. Once again I began to wonder if that ruined future world was unavoidable. Could I prevent it by killing Steve, or was it destined to come no matter who won the War of the Scars?

Before I got too worked up about it, someone stepped up beside me and said, “Is the party over?”

I looked around and saw the scarred, stitched-together grey-skinned face of Harkat Mulds. “No.” I smiled. “It’s winding down, but it hasn’t finished yet.”

“Good. I was afraid I’d miss it.” Harkat had been out on the streets most of the day, handing out fliers for the Cirque Du Freak — that was one of his regular jobs every time we arrived at a new venue. He stared at me with his round, green lidless eyes. “How do you feel?” he asked.

“Strange. Worried. Unsure of myself.”

“Have you been out there yet?” Harkat waved a hand at the town beyond the walls of the stadium. I shook my head. “Are you going to go, or do you plan . . . to hide here until we leave?”

“I’ll go,” I said. “But it’s hard. So many years. So many memories.” This was the real reason I was so fixed on the past. After all these years of travel, I’d returned home to the town where I was born and had lived all my human life.

“What if my family’s still here?” I asked Harkat. “Your parents?” he replied.

“And Annie, my sister. They think I’m dead. What if they see me?”

“Would they recognize you?” Harkat asked. “It’s been a long time. People change.”

“Humans do,” I snorted. “But I’ve only aged four or five years.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing to . . . see them again,” Harkat said. “Imagine their joy if they learned that . . . you were still alive.”

“No,” I said forcefully. “I’ve been thinking about that ever since Mr. Tall told me we were coming here. I
want
to track them down. It would be wonderful for me — but terrible for them. They buried me. They’ve done their grieving and have hopefully moved on with their lives. It wouldn’t be fair to bring back all those old pains and torments.”

“I’m not sure I agree with that,” Harkat said, “but it’s . . . your decision. So stay here with the Cirque. Lay low. Hide.”

“I can’t,” I sighed. “This is my hometown. I’ve got an itch to walk the streets again, see how much has changed, look for old faces that I used to know. I want to find out what happened to my friends. The wise thing would be to keep my head down — but when did
I
ever do the wise thing?”

“And maybe trouble would find you . . . even if you did,” Harkat said.

“What do you mean?” I frowned.

Harkat glanced around uneasily. “I have a strange feeling about . . . this place,” he croaked.