Hunters of the Dusk (11 page)

“Will you tell us how we are to find him?” Mr. Crepsley asked. “And when?”

“I cannot,” Evanna said. “If I told, I would change the course of the future, and that’s not allowed. You must search for him yourselves. I will accompany you on the next leg of your journey, but I cannot —”

“You’re coming with us?” Vancha shouted in astonishment.

“Yes. But only as a traveling companion. I’ll play no part in the quest to find the Vampaneze Lord.”

Vancha and Mr. Crepsley exchanged uneasy looks. “You have never traveled with vampires before, Lady,” Mr. Crepsley said.

Evanna laughed. “I know how important I am to your people, and for that reason I’ve avoided too much contact with the children of the night — I tire of vampires pleading with me to mate with them and have their babies.”

“Then why come with us now?” Vancha asked bluntly.

“There’s someone I wish to meet,” she answered. “I could seek him alone, but I prefer not to. My reasons will become clear in time.”

“Witches are so bloody secretive,” Vancha grumbled, but Evanna ignored him.

“If you prefer to travel without me, you may,” she said. “I will not impose my presence upon you.”

“We would be honored to have you as an escort, Lady Evanna,” Mr. Crepsley assured her. “And please do not take offense if we appear suspicious or unwelcoming — these are troublesome, confusing times, and we bark where sometimes we should whisper.”

“Well put, Larten,” she said with a smile. “If that’s settled, I’ll pack my things and we’ll take to the road.”

“So soon?” Mr. Crepsley blinked.

“Now is as good a time as ever.”

“I hope the frogs aren’t coming,” Vancha huffed. “I wasn’t going to bring them,” Evanna said, “but now that you mention it . . .” She laughed at his expression. “Don’t worry — my frogs will stay and keep things tidy for when I return.” She started to leave, paused, turned slowly, and squatted. “One more thing,” she said, and by her serious expression we knew something bad was coming. “Desmond should have told you this, but he obviously chose not to — playing mind games, no doubt.”

“What is it, Lady?” Vancha asked when she paused.

“It concerns the hunt for the Vampaneze Lord. I don’t know whether you’ll succeed or fail, but I have seen into the future of each possible outcome and gleaned some facts of what lies in store.

“I will not speak of the future where you succeed — it is not for me to comment on that — but if you fail . . .” Again she stalled. Reaching out, she took both of Vancha’s hands in her left — it seemed to have grown incredibly large — and Mr. Crepsley’s in her right. While she held hands with them, she locked gazes with me, and spoke. “I tell you this because I think you should know. I don’t say it to frighten you, but to prepare you, should matters come to the worst.

“Four times your paths are fated to cross with that of the Vampaneze Lord. If they do cross, on each occasion you will have it within your powers to make an end of him. If you fail, the vampaneze are destined to win the War of the Scars. This you already know.

“But what Desmond didn’t tell you is — by the end of the hunt, if you have faced the Vampaneze Lord four times and failed to kill him, only one of you will be alive to witness the fall of the vampire clan.” Lowering her gaze and removing her hands from Mr. Crepsley’s and Vancha’s, she said in something less than a whisper, “The other two will be
dead.
”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

W
E SOLEMNLY FILED OUT
of Evanna’s cave and circled the pond, each of us thinking about the witch’s prophecy. We’d known from the start that this would be a dangerous quest, with death never far from us. But it’s one thing to anticipate your possible end, quite another to be told it’s a certainty if you fail.

We followed no particular direction that first night, only walked aimlessly through the darkness, saying nothing, barely taking note of our surroundings. Harkat hadn’t been included in Evanna’s prophecy — he wasn’t one of the hunters — but he was as disturbed as the rest of us.

Toward dawn, as we were making camp, Vancha suddenly burst out laughing. “Look at us!” he hooted, as we stared at him uncertainly. “We’ve been moping all night like four sad souls at a funeral. What idiots we’ve been!”

“You think it amusing to have a death sentence imposed on us, sire?” Mr. Crepsley asked.

“Charna’s guts!” Vancha cursed. “The sentence has been there since the start — all that’s changed is that we know about it!”

“A little knowledge is a . . . dangerous thing,” Harkat muttered.

“That’s a human way of thinking,” Vancha chided him. “I’d rather know what lies ahead, good or bad. Evanna has done us a favor by telling us.”

“Why do you think that?” I asked.

“She confirmed that we’ll have four chances to kill the Vampaneze Lord. Think about it — four times his life will be ours to take. Four times we’ll face him and do battle. He might get the better of us once. Perhaps twice. But do you really think he’ll get away from us four times in a row?”

“He will not be alone,” Mr. Crepsley said. “He travels with guards, and all vampaneze in the area will rush to his aid.”

“What makes you think that?” Vancha challenged him.

“He is their Lord. They will sacrifice their lives to protect him.”

“Will our fellow vampires back us up if
we
run into trouble?” Vancha responded.

“No, but that is because . . .” Mr. Crepsley stopped.

“. . . Mr. Tiny’s told them not to,” Vancha said, grinning. “And if he’s picked just three vampires to go head-to-head with the Vampaneze Lord, maybe —”

“— he has only picked three vampaneze to help their Lord!” Mr. Crepsley finished, excited.

“Right.” Vancha beamed. “So the odds against us besting him are, in my view, better than even. Do you agree?” All three of us nodded thoughtfully. “Now,” he continued, “let’s say we make a mess of it. We face him four times, we blow it, and our chance to defeat him passes. What happens then?”

“He leads the vampaneze into war against the vampires and wins,” I said.

“Exactly.” Vancha’s smile faded. “By the way, I don’t believe that. I don’t care how powerful their Lord is, or what Des Tiny says — in a war with the vampaneze, I’m certain we’ll win. But if we don’t, I’d rather die beforehand, fighting for our future, than be there to watch the walls of our world come crashing down.”

“Brave words,” I grumbled sourly.

“The truth,” Vancha insisted. “Would you prefer to die at the hands of the Vampaneze Lord, when hope is still on our side, or survive and bear witness to the downfall of the clan?” I didn’t reply, so Vancha went on. “If the predictions are true, and we fail, I don’t want to be around for the end. It would be a terrible tragedy, and would drive to madness anyone who saw it.

“Believe me,” Vancha said, “the two who die in that eventuality will be fortunate. We shouldn’t worry about dying — it’s
living
we have to fear if we fail!”

I didn’t get much sleep that day, thinking about what Vancha had said. I doubt if any of us slept much, except Evanna, who snored even louder than the Prince.

Vancha was right. If we failed, the one who survived would have the worst time of all. He’d have to watch the vampires perish, and bear the blame. If we were to fail, death along the way was the best any of us could hope for.

Our spirits lifted when we got up that evening. We were no longer afraid of what lay ahead, and instead of talking negatively, we discussed our route. “Mr. Tiny said to follow our hearts,” Mr. Crepsley reminded us. “He said fate would lead us if we placed ourselves in its hands.”

“You don’t think we should try tracking down the Vampaneze Lord?” Vancha asked.

“Our people have spent six years seeking him, without success,” Mr. Crepsley said. “Of course we must keep our eyes peeled, but otherwise I believe we should go about our business as if he did not exist.”

“I don’t like it,” Vancha grumbled. “Fate’s a cruel mistress. What if destiny doesn’t lead us to him? Do you want to report back in a year and say, ‘Sorry, we didn’t run into the scoundrel, bad luck’?”

“Mr. Tiny said to follow our hearts,” Mr. Crepsley repeated stubbornly.

Vancha threw his hands into the air. “OK — we’ll do it your way. But you two will have to pick the course — as many women have attested, I’m a boundless cad who doesn’t have a heart.”

Mr. Crepsley smiled thinly. “Darren? Where do you want to go?”

I started to say I didn’t care, then stopped as an image flashed through my thoughts — a picture of a snake-boy sticking an extra long tongue up his nose. “I’d like to see how Evra’s doing,” I said.

Mr. Crepsley nodded approvingly. “Good. Just last night I was wondering what my old friend Hibernius Tall was up to. Harkat?”

“Sounds good to me,” Harkat agreed.

“So be it.” Facing Vancha, Mr. Crepsley said in as commanding a tone as he could manage, “Sire, we head for the Cirque Du Freak.”

And so our direction was decided and the dice of destiny were cast.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

M
R. CREPSLEY WAS ABLE TO ENTER
Mr. Tall’s thoughts and pinpoint the position of the Cirque Du Freak. The traveling circus was relatively near, and it would take us only three weeks to catch up with it if we hurried.

After a week, we reached civilization again. As we passed a small town one night, I asked Mr. Crepsley why we didn’t hop on a bus or train, which would get us to the Cirque Du Freak much quicker. “Vancha does not approve of human modes of transport,” he said. “He has never been in a car or on a train.”

“Never?”
I asked the barefooted Prince.

“I wouldn’t even spit on a car,” he said. “Awful things. The shape, the noise, the smell.” He shivered.

“What about planes?”

“If the gods of the vampires meant for us to fly,” he said, “they’d have given us wings.”

“What about you, Evanna?” Harkat asked. “Have you ever flown?”

“Only on a broomstick,” she said. I didn’t know if she was joking or not.

“And you, Larten?” Harkat asked.

“Once, long ago, when the Wright brothers were just getting going.” He paused. “It crashed. Luckily, it had not been flying very high, so I was not seriously injured. But these new contraptions, which soar above the clouds . . . I think not.”

“Afraid?” I said, smirking.

“Once bitten, twice shy,” he replied.

We were a strange group, no doubt about it. We had almost nothing in common with humans. They were creatures of the technological age, but we belonged to the past — vampires knew nothing of computers, satellite dishes, microwave ovens, or any other modern conveniences; we traveled by foot most of the time, had simple tastes and pleasures, and hunted like animals. Where humans sent airplanes to wage their wars and fought by pressing buttons, we battled with swords and hands. Vampires and humans might share the same planet, but we lived in different worlds.

I awoke one afternoon to the sound of Harkat’s moans. He was having another nightmare and was tossing feverishly on the grassy bank where he’d fallen asleep. I leaned over to wake him. “Hold,” Evanna said. The witch was in the lower branches of a tree, observing Harkat with unusual interest. A squirrel was exploring her head of long hair, and another was chewing on the ropes she used as clothes.

“He’s having a nightmare,” I said.

“He has them often?”

“Almost every time he sleeps. I’m supposed to wake him if I hear him having one.” I bent to shake him awake.

“Hold,” Evanna said again, jumping down. She shuffled over and touched the three middle fingers of her right hand to Harkat’s forehead. She closed her eyes and stood there a minute, then opened them and let go. “Dragons,” she said. “Bad dreams. His time of insight is upon him. Did Desmond say nothing about revealing who Harkat was in his previous life?”

“Yes, but Harkat chose to come with us, to search for the Vampaneze Lord.”

“Noble but foolish,” she mused.

“If you told him who he was, would that ease his nightmares?”

“No. He must learn the truth himself. I’d make things worse if I meddled. But there is a way to temporarily ease his pain.”

“How?” I asked.

“One who speaks the language of the dragons could help.”

“Where will we find someone like that?” I scoffed, then paused. “Can you . . . ?” I left the question hanging.

“Not I,” she said. “I can talk to many animals, but not dragons. Only those who have bonded with the flying reptiles can speak their language.” She stood. “
You
could help.”

“Me?” I frowned. “I haven’t bonded with a dragon. I’ve never even seen one. I thought they were imaginary.”

“In this time and place, they are,” Evanna agreed. “But there are other times and places, and bonds can be formed unknown.”

That didn’t make sense, but if I could somehow help Harkat, I would. “Tell me what I have to do,” I said.

Evanna smiled approvingly, then told me to lay my hands on Harkat’s head and close my eyes. “Focus,” she said. “We need to find an image for you to fix upon. How about the Stone of Blood? Can you picture it, red and throbbing, the blood of the vampires flowing through its mysterious veins?”

“Yes,” I said, bringing the stone effortlessly to mind.

“Keep thinking of it. In a few minutes you’ll experience unpleasant sensations, and maybe catch glimpses of Harkat’s nightmares. Ignore them and stay focused on the Stone. I will do the rest.”

I did as she said. At first it was easy, but then I began to feel strange. The air around me seemed to get hotter and it became harder to breathe. I heard the beating of immense wings, then caught a glimpse of something dropping from a blood-red sky. I cringed, almost let go of Harkat, but remembered Evanna’s advice and forced myself to focus on the image of the Stone of Blood.

I sensed something huge land behind me, and felt hot eyes boring into my back, but I didn’t turn or shrink away. I reminded myself that this was a dream, an illusion, and thought about the Stone.

Harkat appeared before me in the vision, stretched on a bed of stakes, which impaled him all over. He was alive but in incredible pain. He couldn’t see me — the tips of two stakes poked out of the sockets where his eyes should have been.