The Twilight Circus (20 page)

“
Mum
!” he cried urgently. “Where did you get this cheese from?”

“I
know
.” Jude smiled apologetically. “It
is
a bit strong, isn't it?”

“No … yes … never mind that,” said Nat, his eyes glowing topaz.

“I'm sure that thing you do with your eyes isn't good for them,” said Jude worriedly. “I really think—”

“It doesn't
hurt
!” cried Nat. “
Where did the cheese come from
?”

1500 hours—three o'clock in the afternoon. According to the local almanac, sunset was estimated at 1700 hours—five
p.m.
The snow had stopped falling at last and the sun was shyly peeping from behind pinky-gray clouds when the chosen group of vampire slayers marched grimly toward the town. Behind Nat and Woody came Maccabee Hammer, shrouded in his coat, and Fish. Bringing up the rear were Nat's dad and his grandpa, JC. Jude had protested at being left behind, but Fish had persuaded her to
stay and nurse Del, whose condition had worsened. It was later than Fish would have liked—the journey had taken them much longer than anticipated because the snow was so deep in some parts of town that it was impossible to walk through it at any great pace. According to her guidebook, there were a few shops that sold the stinky cheese, but only one place where it was actually made. She was directing them to a little factory on the outskirts of the town where the most stench-ridden of cheeses was produced.
Vieux fromage à la croûte croustillante
roughly translated as “old crusty rind cheese,” which even to Woody at his hungriest sounded gut-churningly unappetizing. Nat prayed that his hunch would pay off and they would do what they needed to by dusk. Up above them, the weak winter sun still rode between clouds, teasing them with light.

“I dunno if I'll be able to … you know … stake 'em,” said Woody nervously, his breath pluming out in front of him.

“We've got to find them first,” said Fish, her voice muffled slightly through her scarves.

“We're nearly there,” said Nat, wrinkling his nose. “Can't you smell it?”

In fact, both Woody and Nat were suffering an olfactory overload. The stink emanating from the factory was a cocktail of the worst smells in the world. Rotting vegetables, dirty rabbit cages, and sweaty socks. Nat didn't know if it was the cold weather or the searing stench that made his eyes water.

“They're here,” he said through gritted teeth, “I'm sure of it.”

Woody stopped suddenly. “I got a joke,” he said.

“Why is it you always feel the need to tell a joke at times like this?” inquired Nat, smiling slightly.

“I dunno,” said Woody shyly. “It's like our tradition, isn't it? It just makes me feel good to laugh.”

“Go on, then,” said Evan shakily. “We could do with a laugh.”

Woody grinned. “There's these two nuns goin' through Transylvania in their car. It's the dead of night and they stop at a red traffic light. They're just about to drive off when a vampire jumps onto the hood of their car and hisses at 'em through the windshield.

“‘Quick!' shouts the passenger nun. ‘Turn the
windshield wipeys on. That'll get rid of the terrible ab … abomination.'

“The driving nun turns on the switch, making the horrible old vampire go to and fro, but still he hangs on, baring his teef.

“‘Quick!' says the passenger nun. ‘Switch on the windshield washer. I filled it up with holy water, just in case this sort of fing happened.'

“The first nun turns on the windshield washer. The vampire screams as the water burns holes in his skin, but he clings on and keeps hissin' at the nuns.

“‘Now what?' shouts the second nun.

“‘Show him your cross!' cries the first nun.

“‘Right I will, Sister,' says the second nun, windin' down the passenger window, and she shouts crossly,
‘Get lost, you ugly git!'
”‘

There was silence for a split second while they all digested the punch line, and then they all laughed long and hard—probably much louder than if they had been told the joke in normal circumstances. Best of all, the laughter echoed in the still air and had an almost magical
effect on them all, warming them and lifting their spirits as they all laughed together. Fish felt heartily glad to be one of them. She cast her mind back to the cheerless destruction of the Threadneedle Street Hive with Agent Tully. She was struck by Nat and Woody's bravery and teamwork and knew that whatever happened, it was going to be difficult to work with anyone else again. Woody was right—laughter was the best medicine. It made them feel
stronger
somehow.

When they finally reached the deserted factory, they all solemnly hugged each other and wished each other luck. Bravely, Woody walked over to the reception entrance and gingerly tried the door. As he expected, it was locked. Taking a deep breath, he kicked it once with such force that the lock broke and the door flew across the floor in an instant. Warily, the others followed him across the threshold, expecting a vampire to knock into them at any minute.

“We need to split up,” whispered Fish.

“No way,” said Nat, horrified. “Splitting up is asking for trouble! Don't you ever watch any horror movies?”

“I vote we stick together, too,” said Evan. “Likely the vampires'll be together if they're here at all.”

“Oh, they're here all right,” said Maccabee grimly.

Fish shrugged and they all moved nervously down the corridor. There were doors on either side and Fish and JC opened each one, everyone else standing well back in case anything sprang out. The first-floor corridor was clean. Deeper into the building they went, until they could hear the low hum of the refrigeration units.

“They're here,” agreed Woody, “I can feel 'em
and
smell 'em.”

The underlying stink of cheese and vampire was much stronger in this corridor. Fish shrugged off her rucksack and took out a red velvet pouch, which she opened almost reverently. Inside the soft velvet there lay fifteen or so beautifully carved stakes. Their pointed ends looked lethal, but everyone was thinking the same thing. It wasn't much of an artillery to face who knew how many bloodsucking vampires. And the thought of all that black gunk sploshing everywhere when the vampires were staked wasn't doing much to enhance their mood, either. The doors on this corridor looked as though they were reinforced with steel. There were no visible handles or locks on the front, just cold, flat metal.

“
Great
,” said Fish, “reinforced fire doors. There's not even a bloomin' lock we can pick. How're we going to get in?”

Nat listened. All he could hear was the insidious buzz of refrigerators. Carefully, he put his hand on the nearest door, laying it flat.

“What're you
doing
?” hissed Fish impatiently. “Let's go.”

“Shhhh,” hissed back Nat, “sometimes I can feel vibrations, feel stuff through my fingers.”

“
And
?” said Fish. “Can you feel anything?”

Nat's fingers tingled. He closed his eyes. It was as though his fingers had turned into radio antennae and were converting the energy of whatever was behind the door into information.
Whispering. Sleep talking. Dreaming
. Nat smiled grimly to himself. The vampires
were
behind this steel door. And he could tell by their thought patterns that they were fast asleep.
They think they're safe
, thought Nat.

Come on
. Woody's voice was in his head. He, too, had picked up the vibes from the undead behind the door.
Let's do it
!

Nat nodded at Woody, smiling. Without a word the others watched in wonder as both boys backed up and
loped back the way they had come. Fish watched them in confusion.

Now what
? she thought irritably. Something had passed between them; they'd done the two-way thing and now they seemed to be legging it.

“
Chaaaaaaaaaaarge!
!”

Fish and the others watched as Nat and Woody turned around at the end of the corridor and shot back toward the door, their faces and bodies a blur as the door caved in beneath their combined strength. Fish rushed in afterward as both boys skidded across the floor and landed in a heap. The room was windowless and the darkness that greeted them inside felt thick and oily. Leaping to their feet, Nat and Woody could see they were surrounded. At first, Nat thought he was seeing meat hanging from hooks, like in a butcher's shop. He was right in one sense—but it was
undead
meat. The things hanging from the ceiling like great sides of beef were vampires. And there were definitely more than fifteen.
More like fifty
.

“We're going to need more stakes,” breathed Nat.

He stared at the sleeping vampires. The vampire legends
and folklore seemed to be right about this, at least. They still slept peacefully; not even the door being broken down had so much as made them stir. Nat looked at his watch. Sunset was coming and they had to act now—cleanse the entire hive before dark came and the vampires awoke.
Were they going to have enough time
? Nat shuddered as he watched the nearest vampire sleep. It slept in the form it had been when it had first been made into a vampire—not quite human, but not the monster it could morph into when it was awake. It was hanging by its bare, elongated toes, rather like those of one of Mac's aye-ayes. Its face was a dead, bluish color and its evil teeth protruded from its cruel lips, which were curved into a humorless smile. It didn't appear to need to breathe, and not for the first time Nat asked himself,
How do you kill something that's already dead
?

“After you,” said Mac, holding out a wicked-looking stake.

Nat stared at it. It was one thing being able to stake the vampires when they were attacking, but this was another. This creature was defenseless.

Nat looked at it miserably. “I don't think I can do it,” he said, shaking his head.

“I'll go first,” said Fish, grabbing the stake. “Watch and learn.”

The others watched as she raised the stake high above her head. With a sharp cry of effort, she brought the stake down and punctured the vampire's heart, making it shatter inside its chest. In the split second before it exploded in a rain of gore, the vampire opened its eyes and stared straight at Nat, its red gaze burning as it cried out in pain and hate.

“There,” said Fish triumphantly. “That's how you do it.”

But Fish had made it look too easy. The others tried their best to stake the vampires quickly and efficiently. But it was grim and filthy work, hampered by the way the vampires were roosting; it was difficult to aim the stake properly while they were hanging.
It was taking too long
!

“What time is it?” asked Fish through gritted teeth.

“Time to worry,” said Mac. “I can feel them getting ready to wake up.”

“Keep going,” yelled Fish. “We've got no choice.”

“There's always a choice,” said Mac mysteriously, putting down his stake.

The others watched as he leaped like a scraggy cat onto a large refrigerator. Lifting his spindly arms, he pushed upward. To Nat's surprise, he started smashing through the ceiling with his fists. The noise was atrocious, but Mac worked like a machine, his vampire strength making short work of the demolition.

“What're you doing?” shouted Woody. “They'll wake up!”

“Plan B,” yelled back Mac. “Help me to smash the ceiling out!”

Still not knowing why, Nat and Woody used their enhanced strength to help Mac smash through the ceiling, shielding him from the sun as he broke through the roof tiles. When they had pulled off the tiles and the sky above was exposed, beams of watery sunlight shone through the massive hole. Sunlight: Plan B!

As the weak beams fell on the vampires, they started to wail: a thin but desperate caterwauling that set everyone's teeth on edge.

Nat put both hands over his ears to protect them from the noise. Everyone watched as the vampires fell from their roosts, squirming on the floor like weird snakes
to get away from the rays of weak but deadly sunlight. Nat saw Fish's triumphant grin as the sun did its job. Writhing in agony, the vampires burned in the rich blue flame, leaving nothing but a scorch mark on the floor. As JC and Evan made the hole bigger, more vampires got torched. Confusion reigned as the monsters tried to get away from the burning light, many of them pushing others into the sun-filled space as they tried to escape.

“Up here, Nat!” shouted Fish. “We can get out through the roof!”

Nat looked toward her just in time to see Fish's triumphant smile turn to horror as the sun disappeared behind a cloud, plunging the windowless room into darkness again.

The vampires came again from the shadows with a horrid stealth. They were making a nasty guttural sound in their throats, their hands outstretched and their lip-less mouths gaping to show their vicious incisors. Nat found himself cornered. As the snarling vampires approached him, Nat had a sudden crazy thought. He wished he had something more substantial than a handful of flimsy wooden stakes—maybe a .44 Magnum with silver bullets! Then
KAAAAABOOM
! They'd be
history. His granddad Mick's fourth-favorite Clint Eastwood movie was
Dirty Harry
. Dirty Harry Callahan was a tough American cop who had little time for rules, but always got results—which was mainly, Nat always suspected, because of the sheer size of his gun. He stood up straight and looked the vampires sternly in the eye.

“I know what you're thinking,” he drawled in his best Dirty Harry voice. “Does he have six stakes or only five? Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kinda lost track myself. But being as this is a very sharp stake, the most powerful stake in the world and would blow your filthy hearts clean open, you've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punks?”