Hunters of the Dusk (16 page)
Mr. Tall shared an uneasy glance with Evanna. She hesitated, then said grudgingly, “He has the power to influence the quest.”
“But I failed,” Vancha said, bewildered.
“Once,”
I agreed. “But who’s to say you won’t have another chance? Nobody said we’d have one chance each. For all we know, all four opportunities are destined to fall to
you!
”
Vancha blinked, and his mouth slowly opened. “Even if the chances are to be shared evenly,” Mr. Crepsley chipped in, “there are a further three to go, and Darren and I are only two — therefore one of us must be destined to face the Vampaneze Lord twice if it goes down to the final encounter.”
Vancha wavered on his feet, considering our words, then dropped the bottle and stumbled toward me. I caught and steadied him. “I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I?” he groaned.
“Yes,” I agreed, smiling, then led him back into the shade, where he joined us in sleep until the darkening of night.
We rose with the sinking of the sun and gathered in Mr. Tall’s van. As dusk deepened, and Vancha drank mug after mug of steaming hot coffee to cure his hangover, we debated our next move and decided it would be for the best if we left the Cirque Du Freak. I would have liked to stay on longer, and so would Mr. Crepsley, but our destiny lay elsewhere. Besides, Gannen Harst might return with an army of vampaneze, and we didn’t want to find ourselves cornered, or bring the anger of our foes on the circus folk.
Evanna would not be traveling with us. The witch told us she was returning to her cave and frogs, to prepare for the tragedies to come. “And there
will
be tragedies,” she said, a sparkle in her brown and green eyes. “Whether for the vampires or vampaneze, I don’t yet know. But it must end in tears for one side, that much is certain.”
I can’t say I missed the short, hairy, ugly witch when she left — her dark predictions had brought nothing but gloom into our lives, and I thought we were better off without her.
Vancha would also be departing by himself. We’d agreed that he should return to Vampire Mountain and tell the others of our encounter with the Lord of the Vampaneze. They needed to know about Gannen Harst. Vancha would catch up with us again later, by tracking Mr. Crepsley’s mental waves.
We bid short farewells to our friends at the Cirque Du Freak. Evra was sad that I had to leave so soon, but he knew my life was complicated. Shancus was even sadder — it would be his birthday soon and he’d been anticipating a wonderful present. I told the snake-boy I’d find something exciting on the road and send it to him — although I couldn’t guarantee it would reach him in time for his birthday — and that cheered him up.
Truska asked if I wanted to take my newly tailored pirate costume with me. I told her to hang on to it — it would only get stained and torn during my travels. I swore I’d be back to try it out. She said I’d better, then treated me to a long goodbye kiss that had Vancha seething with jealousy.
Mr. Tall met us at the edge of camp as we were about to leave. “Sorry I couldn’t come earlier,” he said. “Business to deal with. The show must go on.”
“Take care, Hibernius,” Mr. Crepsley said, shaking the tall man’s hand. For once Mr. Tall didn’t shrink away from the contact.
“You too, Larten,” he replied, a grave expression on his face. Looking around at us, he said, “Dark times lie ahead, regardless of the outcome of your quest. I want you to know that there will always be a home for you —
all
of you — here at the Cirque Du Freak. I can’t play as active a part in the deciding of the future as I wish, but I
can
offer sanctuary.”
We thanked him for his offer, then watched as he walked away and was swallowed by the shadows of his beloved circus camp.
Facing each other, we hesitated, reluctant to part. “Well!” Vancha boomed eventually. “Time I was off. It’s a long trek to Vampire Mountain, even when flitting.” Vampires weren’t supposed to flit on the way to the mountain fortress, but the rules had been relaxed during wartime to allow for quicker communication between Generals and Princes.
Each of us shook Vancha’s hand. I felt miserable at the thought of parting with the red-skinned, sunfighting Prince. “Cheer up,” he said, laughing at my gloomy expression. “I’ll be back in time to lead the second charge against the Vampaneze Lord. You have my word, and Vancha March never broke . . .” He paused. “‘March’ or ‘Harst’?” he mused aloud, then spat into the dirt at his feet. “Charna’s guts! I’ve gone this long as Vancha March — I’ll stick with it.”
Saluting, he turned abruptly and jogged away. Soon he was running. Then, in a flash, he hit flitting speed and was lost to sight.
“And then there were three,” Mr. Crepsley muttered, gazing at Harkat and me.
“Back where we started six years ago,” I said. “But we had a destination then,” Harkat noted. “Where are we going . . . this time?”
I looked to Mr. Crepsley for an answer.
He shrugged. “We can decide later. For now, let us simply walk.”
Hoisting our bags onto our backs, we spared the Cirque Du Freak one last, lingering glance, then faced the cold, unwelcoming darkness and set forth, surrendering ourselves to the forces of destiny and future terrors of the night.
TO BE CONTINUED . . .
J
OIN
T
HE
H
UNTERS AS
T
HEY
P
URSUE
T
HEIR
F
OE
. . .
S
OMETHING STRUCK THE BACK
of my head, hard, and I fell into the garbage. I cried out as I fell, then rolled away defensively, clutching the back of my head between my hands. As I rolled, a silver object came crashing down on the ground where my head had been, and sparks flew.
Ignoring my wounded head, I scrambled to my knees and looked for something to defend myself with. The plastic top of a garbage can lay nearby. It wouldn’t be much good but it was all I could find. Stooping swiftly, I snatched it up and held it in front of me like a shield, turning to meet my attacker, who was streaking toward me at a speed no human could have matched.
Something gold flashed and swung down on my makeshift shield, cutting the lid in half. Somebody chuckled, and it was the sound of pure, insane evil.
“I’ll cut you to pieces!” my attacker boasted, circling me warily. There was something familiar about his voice, but try as I might, I couldn’t place it.
I studied his outline as he swung around me. He was wearing dark clothes and his face was masked by a hood. The ends of a beard jutted out from underneath it. He was large and chunky and I could see two blood-red eyes glinting above his snarling teeth. He had no hands, just two metallic attachments — one of gold, the other of silver — at the ends of his arms. There were three hooks on each, sharp, curved, deadly.
The vampaneze — the eyes and speed gave him away — struck. He was fast, but I avoided the killer hooks, which dug into the wall behind me and gouged out a sizable crater when he pulled free. It took less than a second for my attacker to free his hand, but I used that time to strike, kicking him in the chest. But he’d been expecting it and brought his other arm down on my shin, cruelly knocking my leg aside.
I yelped as pain shot up the length of my leg. Hopping madly, I threw the two halves of the useless garbage lid at the vampaneze. He ducked out of the way, laughing. I tried to run — no good. My injured leg wouldn’t support me, and after a couple of strides I collapsed to the floor, helpless.
I whirled over onto my back and stared up at the hook-handed vampaneze as he took his time approaching. He swung his arms back and forth as he got closer, the hooks making horrible screeching noises as they scraped together. “Going to cut you,” the vampaneze hissed. “Slow and painful. I’ll start on your fingers. Slice them off, one at a time. Then your hands. Then your toes. Then —”
There was a dull boom, followed by the hiss of parted air. Something shot by the vampaneze’s head, only narrowly missing. It struck the wall and stuck — a short, thick, steel-tipped arrow. The vampaneze cursed and crouched, hiding in the shadows of the alley.
Moments ticked by like spiders scuttling up my spine. The vampaneze’s angry breath and my gasping sobs filled the air. There was no sight or sound of the person who’d fired the arrow. Shuffling backward, the vampaneze locked gazes with me and bared his teeth. “I’ll get you later,” he vowed. “You’ll die slowly, in great agony. I’ll cut you. Fingers first. One at a time.” Then he turned and sprinted. A second arrow was fired after him, but he ducked low and again it missed, burying in a large bag of garbage. The vampaneze exploded out of the end of the alley and vanished quickly into the night.
There was a lengthy pause. Then footsteps. A man of medium height appeared out of the gloom. He was dressed in black, with a long scarf looped around his neck, and gloves covering his hands. He had grey hair — though he wasn’t old — and there was a stern set to his features. He was holding a gun-shaped weapon, out of the end of which jutted a steel-tipped arrow. Another of the arrow-firing guns was slung over his left shoulder.
I sat up, grunting, and tried to rub some life back into my right leg. “Thanks,” I said as the man got closer. He didn’t answer, just proceeded to the end of the alley, where he scanned the area beyond for signs of the vampaneze.
Turning, the grey-haired man came back and stopped a couple of feet away. He was holding the arrow-gun in his right hand, but it wasn’t pointed harmlessly down at the ground — it was pointing at
me.
“Mind lowering that?” I asked, forcing a sheepish smile. “You just saved my life. Be a shame if that went off by accident and killed me.”
He didn’t reply immediately. Nor did he lower the gun. There was no warmth in his expression. “Does it surprise you that I spared your life?” he asked. As with the vampaneze, there was something familiar about this man’s voice, but again I couldn’t place it.
“I . . . guess,” I said weakly, nervously eyeing the arrow-gun.
“Do you know why I saved you?”
I gulped. “Out of the goodness of your heart?” “Maybe.” He took a step closer. The tip of the gun was now aimed directly at my heart. If he fired, he’d create a hole the size of a soccer ball in my chest. “Or maybe I was saving you for myself!” he hissed.
L
OOK FOR
ALLIES OF THE NIGHT,
COMING
S
EPTEMBER 2004
.
