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It was what I needed most, but also what I feared most. If I drank a human’s blood, there was no going back. I’d be a vampire for life. If I avoided it, I might become a human again. Perhaps the vampire blood in my veins would wear out. Maybe I wouldn’t die. Maybe only the vampire in me would die, and then I could return home to my family and friends.
It wasn’t much of a hope – Mr Crepsley had said it was impossible to become human again, and I believed him – but it was the only dream I had to cling to.
CHAPTER FIVE
DAYS AND nights passed, and we moved on. We wandered from towns to villages to cities. I wasn’t getting on very well with Mr Crepsley. Nice as he was, I couldn’t forget that he was the one who’d pumped vampire blood into my veins and made it impossible for me to stay with my family.
I hated him. Sometimes, during the day, I’d think about driving a stake through his heart while he was sleeping, and hitting off on my own. I might have, too, except I knew I couldn’t survive without him. For the moment I needed Larten Crepsley. But when the day came that I could look after myself …
I was in charge of Madam Octa. I had to find food for her and exercise her and clean out her cage. I didn’t want to – I hated the spider almost as much as I hated the vampire – but Mr Crepsley said I was the one who’d stolen her, so I could look after her.
I practised a few tricks with her every now and then, but my heart wasn’t in it. She didn’t interest me any more and as the weeks passed I played with her less and less.
The one good thing about being on the road was being able to visit loads of places I hadn’t been before, seeing all sorts of sights. I loved travelling. But, since we travelled at night, I didn’t get to see much of our surroundings!
One day, while Mr Crepsley was sleeping, I got tired of being indoors. I left a note on the TV, in case I wasn’t back when he woke, then set off. I had very little money, and no idea where I would go, but that didn’t matter. Just getting out of the hotel and spending some time by myself was wonderful.
It was a large town but fairly quiet. I checked out a few toy stores and played some free computer games in them. I’d never been very good on computers before, but with my new reflexes and skills, I was able to do pretty much anything I wanted.
I raced through levels of speed games, knocked out every opponent in martial arts tournaments, and zapped all the aliens from the skies in sci-fi adventures.
After that I toured the town. There were plenty of fountains and statues and parks and museums, all of which I examined with interest. But going around the museums reminded me of Mum – she loved taking me to museums – and that upset me: I always felt lonely and miserable when I thought of Mum, Dad or Annie.
I spotted a group of boys my age playing hockey on a tarmac quad. There were eight players on each side. Most had plastic sticks, though a few had wooden ones. They were using an old white tennis ball as a puck.
I stopped to watch and, after a few minutes, one of the boys came to size me up.
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“Out of town,” I said. “I’m staying at a hotel with my father.” I hated calling Mr Crepsley that but it was the safest thing to say.
“He’s from out of town,” the boy called back to his mates, who had stopped playing.
“Is he part of the Addams Family?” one of them shouted back, and they all laughed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, offended.
“Have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately?” the boy said.
I glanced down at my dusty suit and knew why they were laughing: I looked like something out of Oliver Twist.
“I lost the bag with my normal clothes,” I lied. “These are all I have. I’m getting new stuff soon.”
“You’d want to,” the boy smiled, then asked if I could play hockey. When I said I could, he invited me to play with them.
“You can be on my team,” he said, handing me a spare stick. “We’re six-two down. My name’s Michael.”
“Darren,” I said in reply, testing the stick.
I rolled up the legs of my trousers and checked my laces were tied properly. While I was doing that, the opposition scored another goal. Michael cursed loudly and dragged the ball back to the centre.
“You want to help touch-off?” he asked me.
“Sure.”
“Come on, then,” he said, tapped the ball to me and moved ahead, waiting for me to pass back.
It had been a long time since I’d played hockey – at school, in PE, we’d usually have to choose between hockey and football, and I never passed up a chance for a game of footie – but with the stick in my hands and the ball at my feet, it seemed like only yesterday.
I knocked the ball from left to right a few times, making sure I hadn’t forgotten how to control it, then looked up and focused on the goal.
There were seven players between me and the goalkeeper. None of them rushed to tackle me. I guess they felt there was no need, being five goals up.
I set off. A big kid – the other team’s captain – tried blocking me, but I slipped around him easily. I was past another two before they could react, then dribbled round a fourth. The fifth player slid in with his stick at knee level, but I jumped over him with ease, dummied the sixth and shot before the seventh and final defender could get in the way.
Even though I hit the ball quite softly, it went much harder than the goalie was expecting and flew into the top right-hand corner of the goal. It bounced off the wall and I caught it in the air.
I turned, smiling, and looked back at my team-mates. They were still in their own half, staring at me in shock. I carried the ball back to the halfway line and set it down without saying a word. Then I turned to Michael and said, “Seven-three.”
He blinked slowly, then smiled. “Oh yes!” he chortled softly, then winked at his team-mates. “I think we’re going to enjoy this!”
I had a great time for a while, controlling the course of play, rushing back to defend, picking players out with pin-point passes. I scored a couple of goals and set up four more. We were leading nine-seven, and coasting. The other team hated it, and had made us give them two of our best players, but it made no difference. I could have given them everybody except our goalkeeper and still knocked the stuffing out of them.
Then things got nasty. The captain of the other team – Danny – had been trying to foul me for ages, but I was too quick for him and danced around his raised stick and stuck-out legs. But then he began to punch my ribs and stand on my toes and slam his elbows into my arms. None of it hurt me, but it annoyed me. I hate sore losers.
The crunch came when Danny pinched me in a very painful place! Even vampires have their limits. I gave a roar and crouched down, wincing from the pain.
Danny laughed and sped away with the ball.
I rose after a few seconds, mad as hell. Danny was halfway down the pitch. I set off after him. I brushed the players between us aside – it didn’t matter if they were on his team or mine – then slid in behind him and swiped at his legs with my stick. It would have been a dangerous tackle if it had come from a human. Coming from a half-vampire …
There was a sharp snapping sound. Danny screamed and went down. Play stopped immediately. Everybody in the quad knew the difference between a yell of pain and a scream of real agony.
I got to my feet, already sorry for what I’d done, wishing I could take it back. I looked at my stick, hoping to find it broken in two, hoping that had been what made the snapping noise. But it wasn’t.
I’d broken both of Danny’s shin-bones.
His lower legs were bent awkwardly and the skin around the shins was torn. I could see the white of bone in amongst the red.
Michael bent to examine Danny’s legs. When he rose, there was a horrified look in his eyes.
“You’ve cracked his legs wide open!” he gasped.
“I didn’t mean to,” I cried. “He squeezed my …” I pointed to the spot beneath my waist.
“You broke his legs!” Michael shouted, then backed away from me. Those around him backed away as well.
They were afraid of me.
Sighing, I dropped my stick and left, knowing I’d make matters worse if I stayed and waited for grown-ups to arrive. None of the boys tried to stop me. They were too scared. They were terrified of me … Darren Shan … a monster.
CHAPTER SIX
IT WAS dark when I got back. Mr Crepsley was up. I told him we should skip town straight away, but didn’t tell him why. He took one look at my face, nodded and started gathering our belongings.
We said little that night. I was thinking how rotten it was to be a half-vampire. Mr Crepsley sensed there was something wrong with me, but didn’t bother me with questions. It wasn’t the first time I’d been sulky. He was getting used to my mood-swings.
We found an abandoned church to sleep in. Mr Crepsley lay out on a long pew, while I made a bed for myself on a pile of moss and weeds on the floor.
I woke early and spent the day exploring the church and the small cemetery outside. The headstones were old and many were cracked or covered with weeds. I spent several hours cleaning a patch of them, pulling weeds away and washing the stones with water I fetched from a nearby stream. It kept my mind off the hockey game.
A family of rabbits lived in a nearby burrow. As the day went by, they crept closer, to see what I was up to. They were curious little fellows, especially the young ones. At one point, I pretended to be asleep and a couple edged closer and closer, until they were only half a metre away.
When they were as close as they were likely to get, I leapt up and shouted “Boo!” and they went running away like wildfire. One fell head over heels and rolled away down the mouth of its burrow.
That cheered me up greatly.
I found a shop in the afternoon and bought some meat and veg. I set a fire when I returned to the church, then fetched the pots and pans bag from beneath Mr Crepsley’s pew. I searched among the contents until I found what I was looking for. It was a small tin-shaped pot. I carefully laid it upside-down on the floor, then pressed the metal bulge on the top.
The tin mushroomed out in size, as folded-in panels opened up. Within five seconds it had become a full-sized pot, which I filled with water and stuck on the fire.
All the pots and pans in the bag were like this. Mr Crepsley got them from a woman called Evanna, long ago. They weighed the same as ordinary cookware, but because they could fold up small, they were easier to carry around.
I made a stew, as Mr Crepsley had taught me. He believed everybody should know how to cook.
I took leftover bits of the carrots and cabbage outside and dropped them by the rabbit burrow.
Mr Crepsley was surprised to find dinner – well, it was breakfast from his point of view – waiting for him when he awoke. He sniffed the fumes from the bubbling pot and licked his lips.
“I could get used to this,” he smiled, then yawned, stretched and ran a hand through the short crop of orange hair on his head. Then he scratched the long scar running down the left side of his face. It was a familiar routine of his.
I’d often wanted to ask how he got his scar, but I never had. One night, when I was feeling brave, I would.
There were no tables, so we ate off our laps. I got two of the folded-up plates out of the bag, popped them open and fetched the knives and forks. I served up the food and we tucked in.
Towards the end, Mr Crepsley wiped around his mouth with a silk napkin and coughed awkwardly.
“It is very nice,” he complimented me.
“Thank you,” I replied.
“I … um … that is …” He sighed. “I never was very good at being subtle,” he said, “so I will come right out and say it: what went wrong yesterday? Why were you so upset?”
I stared at my almost empty plate, not sure if I wanted to answer or not. Then, all of a sudden, I blurted out the whole story. I hardly took a breath between the start and finish.
Mr Crepsley listened carefully. When I was done, he thought about it for a minute or two before speaking.
“It is something you must get used to,” he said. “It is a fact of life that we are stronger than humans, faster and tougher. If you play with them, they will be hurt.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” I said. “It was an accident.”
Mr Crepsley shrugged. “Listen, Darren, there is no way you can stop this happening again, not if you mix with humans. No matter how hard you try to be normal, you are not. There will always be accidents waiting to happen.”
“What you’re saying is, I can’t have friends any more, right?” I nodded sadly. “I’d figured that out by myself. That’s why I was so sad. I’d been getting used to the idea of never being able to go back home to see my old friends, but it was only yesterday that I realized I’d never be able to make new ones either. I’m stuck with you. I can’t have any other friends, can I?”
He rubbed his scar and pursed his lips. “That is not true,” he said. “You can have friends. You just have to be careful. You—”
“That’s not good enough!” I cried. “You said it yourself; there will always be an accident waiting to happen. Even shaking hands is dangerous. I could cut their wrists open with my nails!”
I shook my head slowly. “No,” I said firmly. “I won’t put people’s lives in danger. I’m too dangerous to have friends any more. Besides, it’s not like I can make a true friend.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“True friends don’t keep secrets from one another. I could never tell a human that I was a vampire. I’d always have to lie and pretend to be someone I’m not. I’d always be afraid he’d find out what I was and hate me.”
“It is a problem every vampire shares,” Mr Crepsley said.
“But every vampire isn’t a child!” I shouted. “What age were you when you were changed? Were you a man?” He nodded. “Friends aren’t that important to adults. My dad told me that grown-ups get used to not having loads of friends. They’ve work and hobbies and other stuff to keep them busy. But my friends were the most important thing in my life, apart from my family. Well, you took my family away when you pumped your stinking blood into me. Now you’ve ruined the chances of my ever having a proper friend again.
“Thanks a lot,” I said angrily. “Thanks for making a monster out of me and wrecking my life.”
I was close to tears, but didn’t want to cry, not in front of him. So I stabbed at the last piece of meat on my plate with my fork and rammed it into my mouth, where I chewed upon it fiercely.
Mr Crepsley was quiet after my outburst. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or sorry. For a while, I thought I’d said too much. What if he turned around and said, “If that is the way you feel, I will leave you”? What would I do then?
I was thinking of apologizing when he spoke in a soft voice and surprised me.
“I am sorry,” he said. “I should not have blooded you. It was a poor call. You were too young. It has been so long since I was a boy, I had forgotten what it was like. I never thought of your friends and how much you would miss them. It was wrong of me to blood you. Terribly wrong. I …”
He trailed off into silence. He looked so miserable, I almost felt sorry for him. Then I remembered what he’d done to me and I hated him again. Then I saw wet drops at the corners of his eyes, which might have been tears, and felt sorry for him once more.
I was very confused.
“Well, there’s no use moaning about it,” I finally said. “We can’t go back. What’s done is done, right?”
“Yes,” he sighed. “If I could, I would take back my terrible gift. But that is not possible. Vampirism is for ever. Once somebody has been changed, there is no changing back.
“Still,” he said, mulling it over, “it is not as bad as you think. Perhaps …” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
“Perhaps what?” I asked.
“We can find friends for you,” he said. “You do not have to be stuck with me all the time.”
“I don’t understand.” I frowned. “Didn’t we just agree it wasn’t safe for me to be around humans?”
“I am not talking about humans,” he said, starting to smile. “I am talking about people with special powers. People like us. People you can tell your secrets to …”
He leant across and took my hands in his.
