Cirque du Freak 3 - Tunnels of Blood

by Darren Shan

I offered to wash the dishes when we were finished, but Jesse said he'd do them. "It's my way of unwinding at the end of a hard day," he explained. "Nothing I like better than scrubbing a few dirty dishes, polishing the banister and vacuuming the carpets."

  "Is he kidding?" I asked Debbie.

  "Actually, no," she said. "Okay if we go up to my room?" she asked.

  "Go ahead," Donna told her. "But don't chat for too long. We've got a couple of chapters of The Three Musketeers to finish, remember?"

  Debbie made a face. "All for one and one for all," she groaned. "How exciting — I don't think!"

  "You don't like The Three Musketeers?" I asked.

  "Do you?"

  "Sure. I've seen the movie at least eight times."

  "But did you ever read the book?" she asked.

  "No, but I read a comic book about them once."

  Debbie shared a scornful glance with her mother, and the two burst out laughing.

  "I have to read a little of a so-called classic every night," Debbie grumbled. "I hope you never learn just how boring those books can be."

  "Be down soon," she told her mother, then showed me the way upstairs.

  Her room was on the third floor. A big, pretty-empty room, with large closets and hardly any posters or decorations.

  "I don't like feeling cluttered," Debbie explained when she saw me looking around.

  There was a bare artificial Christmas tree in one corner of the room. There had been one in the living room, too, and I noticed a couple more in other rooms on my way up the stairs.

  "Why all the trees?" I asked.

  "Dad's idea," Debbie said. "He loves Christmas trees, so we get one for every room in the house. The ornaments are in little boxes underneath" — she pointed to a box under the tree — "and we open them on Christmas Eve and decorate the trees. It's a nice way to pass the night, and it tires you out, so you fall asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillows."

  "It sounds like fun," I agreed wistfully, remembering what it had been like to decorate the Christmas tree at home with my family.

  Debbie studied me silently. "You could come over on Christmas Eve," she said. "You and Evra. Your dad, too. You could help us with the trees."

  I stared at her. "You mean that?"

  "Sure. I'd have to check with Mom and Dad first, but I doubt if they'd mind. We've had friends over to help before. It's nicer with more people."

  I was happy that she'd asked me, but I hesitated before accepting.

  "Should I ask them?" she said.

  "I'm not sure if I'll still be here at Christmas. Mr. Cre — Dad is unpredictable. He goes wherever the job takes him, whenever."

  "Well, the offer's there," she said. "If you're here, great. If not," — she shrugged — "we'll manage by ourselves."

  We got talking about Christmas presents. "Are you going to get the CD player for Evra?" Debbie asked.

  "Yeah. And a few CDs, too."

  "That just leaves your dad," she said. "What are you getting him?"

  I thought about Mr. Crepsley and what he might like. I wasn't going to buy him anything — he'd only turn up his nose at presents — but it was interesting to consider what I could buy him. What was there that a vampire could possibly be interested in?

  I started to smile. "I know," I said. "I'll get him a sun lamp."

  "A sun lamp?" Debbie frowned.

  "So he can work up a tan." I began to laugh. "He's pretty pale. He doesn't get much sun."

  Debbie couldn't understand why I was laughing so hard. I would have liked to let her in on the joke — it would be worth buying the sun lamp just to see the disgusted expression on the vampire's face — but didn't dare.

  "You have a weird sense of humor," she muttered, bewildered.

  "Trust me," I said, "if you knew my dad, you'd know why I was laughing." I was going to tell Evra about my idea when I got home: he'd be able to appreciate it.

  We chatted for another hour or so. Then it was time for me to go.

  "Well?" Debbie said, as I stood up. "Don't I get a good-night kiss?"

  I thought I was going to collapse.

  "I… um… I mean… that is…" I became a stuttering wreck.

  "Don't you want to kiss me?" Debbie asked.

  "Yes!" I gasped quickly. "It's just… I… um…"

  "Hey, forget it," Debbie said, shrugging. "I don't care one way or the other." She got up. "I'll show you out."

  We walked quickly down the stairs. I wanted to say goodbye to Jesse and Donna, but Debbie didn't give me the chance. She went straight to the front door and opened it. I was still trying to get back into my coat.

  "Can I come over tomorrow?" I asked, struggling to find the left arm of the coat.

  "Sure, if you want to," she said.

  "Look, Debbie," I said, "I'm sorry I didn't kiss you. I'm just —"

  "Scared?" she asked, smiling.

  "Yeah," I admitted.

  She laughed. "Okay," she said. "You can come over tomorrow. I want you to. Only, next time be a little braver, okay?" And she closed the door behind me.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I lingered on the step for a long time, feeling stupid. I started back for the hotel but was reluctant to return — I didn't want to admit to Evra how dumb I'd been. So I walked around the square a couple of times, letting the cold night air fill my lungs and clear my head.

  I was supposed to meet Debbie the next day, but suddenly I felt like I couldn't wait that long. My mind made up, I stopped in front of her house and looked around to make sure I wasn't being watched. I couldn't see anybody, and with my superior eyesight I was sure no one could see me.

  I slipped off my shoes and climbed the drainpipe that ran down the front of the house. The window to Debbie's room was three or four feet from the pipe, so when I came level with it, I dug my tough nails into the brick of the building and clawed my way across.

  I hung just beneath the window and waited for Debbie to appear.

  About twenty minutes later, the light in Debbie's room clicked on. I knocked softly on the glass with my bare knuckles, then knocked again a little harder. Footsteps approached.

  Debbie opened the curtains a little and stared out, confused. It took her a few seconds to look down and notice me. When she did, she almost collapsed with surprise.

  "Open the window," I said, mouthing the words clearly in case she couldn't hear me. Nodding, she dropped to her knees and shoved up the lower pane of glass.

  "What are you doing?" she hissed. "What are you holding on to?"

  "I'm floating on air," I joked.

  "You're crazy," Debbie said. "You'll slip and fall."

  "I'm totally safe," I assured her. "I'm a good climber."

  "You must be freezing," she said, spotting my feet. "Where are your shoes? Come in, quick, before you —"

  "I don't want to come in," I interrupted. "I climbed up because… well… I…" I took a deep breath. "Is the offer still on?"

  "What offer?" Debbie asked.

  "The offer of a kiss," I said.

  Debbie blinked, then smiled. "You are crazy." She laughed.

  "One hundred percent crazy," I agreed.

  "You went to all this trouble just for that?" she asked.

  I nodded.

  "You could have knocked on the door," she said.

  "I didn't think of that." I smiled. "So — how about it?"

  "I suppose you deserve one," she said, "but quickly, okay?"

  "All right," I agreed.

  Debbie stuck her head out. I leaned forward, heart beating, and pecked her lips.

  She smiled. "Worth coming up for?" she asked.

  "Yes," I said. I was shaking, and it wasn't from the cold.

  "Here," she said. "Here's another one."

  She kissed me sweetly, and I almost lost my grip on the wall.

  When she moved away, she was smiling mysteriously. In the reflection of the dark glass, I saw myself grinning like an idiot.

  "See you tomorrow, Romeo,"
she said.

  "Tomorrow," I sighed happily.

  As the window shut and the curtains closed, I climbed down, delighted with myself. I practically bounced back to the hotel. I was almost at the door before I remembered my shoes. Hurrying back, I retrieved them, shook the snow off, and shoved them on.

  By the time I got to the hotel, I had regained my composure. I opened the door of my room and entered. Evra was watching TV. He was focused on the screen and barely noticed me coming in.

  "I'm back," I said, taking off my coat. He didn't reply. "I'm back!" I repeated, louder.

  "Um," he grunted, waving distractedly at me.

  "That's a great attitude," I said. "I thought you'd be interested in how the night went. I'll know better next time. In the future, I'll just —"

  "Have you seen the news?" Evra asked quietly.

  "It may surprise you to learn, young Evra Von," I said sarcastically, "that they don't show newsreels at the movies anymore. Now do you want to hear about my date or not?"

  "You should watch this," Evra said.

  "Watch what?" I asked, irritated. I walked around behind him and saw it was a news program. "The news?" I laughed. "Turn it off, Evra, and I'll tell you about —"

  "Darren!" Evra snapped in a very unusual tone. He looked up at me, and his face was a mask of worry. "You should watch this," he said again, slowly this time, and I realized he wasn't kidding.

  Sitting down, I studied the TV screen. There was a picture of the outside of a building on it, then the camera dissolved to an interior shot and scanned around the walls. A caption told viewers that the photographs Were from stock footage, which meant they'd been filmed sometime in the past. A reporter was babbling on about the building.

  "What's the big deal?" I asked.

  "This is where they found the bodies," Evra said softly.

  "What bodies?"

  "Watch," he said.

  The camera came to rest in a dark room that looked the same as all the others, held on the scene for a few seconds, then dissolved back to a view of the building's exterior. The caption told us that these new picture had been shot earlier that day. As I watched, several policemen and doctors came out of the building, pushing stretchers, each of which held a motionless object covered by a body bag.

  "Are those what I think they are?" I asked quietly.

  "Corpses," Evra confirmed. "Six so far. The police are still searching the building."

  "What does it have to do with us?" I asked uneasily.

  "Listen." He turned up the sound.

  A reporter was talking into the camera now, live, explaining how the police found the bodies — a couple of teenagers had stumbled over them while they were exploring the deserted building as a dare — and when, and how the search was progressing. The reporter looked pretty stunned.

  An anchorman in the studio asked the reporter a question about the bodies, to which she shook her head.

  "No," she said, "the police aren't giving out names, and won't until the relatives of the deceased have been notified."

  "Have you learned any more about the nature of their deaths?" the anchorman asked.

  "No," the reporter replied. "The police have blocked the flow of information. We only have the early reports to go on. The six people — we don't know if they're men or women — appear to be victims of a serial killer or some sort of sacrificial cult. We don't know about the last two bodies brought up, but the first four all shared the same bizarre wounds and conditions."

  "Could you explain once again what those conditions were?" the anchorman asked.

  The reported nodded. "The victims — at least the first four — have slit throats, which seem to be the means by which they were killed. In addition, the bodies appear — and I must stress that this is an early, unverified report — to have been drained of all their blood."

  "Possibly sucked out or pumped dry?" the anchorman suggested.

  The reporter shrugged. "As of the moment, nobody can answer that, except the police." She paused. "And, of course, the murderer."

  Evra switched the sound off but left the picture on.

  "See?" he said softly.

  "Oh, no," I gasped. I thought of Mr. Crepsley, who'd been out alone every night since we arrived, prowling the city for reasons he wouldn't reveal. I thought of the six bodies and the reporter's and anchorman's comments: "… drained of all their blood."

  "Possibly sucked out or pumped dry."

  "Mr. Crepsley," I said. And for a long time I gazed in silence at the screen, not able to say anything more.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I paced furiously around the hotel room, hands clenched into fists, swearing angrily, Evra watching mutely.

  "I'm going to kill him," I finally muttered. "I'll wait for day, pull back the curtains, drive a stake through his heart, chop his head off, and set him on fire."

  "You don't believe in taking chances, do you?" Evra tried to joke. "I suppose you'll scoop his brains out, too, and stuff the space inside his head with garlic."

  "How can you make jokes at a time like this?" I howled.

  Evra hesitated. "It might not have been him."

  "Come off it!" I barked. "Who else could it have been?"

  "I don't know."

  "The blood was sucked out of them!" I shouted.

  "That's what the reporters think," Evra said. "They weren't certain."

  "Maybe we should wait," I huffed. "Wait for him to kill another five or six, huh?"

  Evra sighed. "I don't know what we should do," he said. "But I think we should have proof before we go after him. Chopping a person's head off is kind of final. If we find out later we were mistaken, there's no going back. We can't glue his head back on and say, 'Sorry, all a big mistake, no hard feelings.'"

  He was right. Killing Mr. Crepsley without proof would be wrong. But it had to be him! Those nights out, acting so strangely, not telling us what he was doing — it all added up.

  "There's something else," Evra said. I glanced down at him. "Let's say Mr. Crepsley is the killer."

  "I have no problem accepting that." I grunted.

  "Why would he do it?" Evra asked. "It's not his style. I've known him longer than you have, and I've never seen or heard of him doing anything like this. He's not a killer."

  "He probably killed when he was a Vampire General," I said. I had told Evra about my conversation with Gavner Purl.

  "Yes," Evra agreed. "He killed evil vampires, who deserved to be killed. What I'm saying is, if he did kill these six people, maybe they had to be killed, too. Maybe they were vampires."

  I shook my head. "He gave up being a Vampire General years ago."

  "Gavner Purl could have persuaded him to join again," Evra said. "We don't know anything about the Vampire Generals or how they work. Maybe that's why Mr. Crepsley came here."

  It sounded halfway reasonable, but I didn't believe it.

  "Six evil vampires on the loose in one city?" I asked. "What are the odds against that?"

  "Who knows?" Evra said. "Do you know how an evil vampire behaves? I don't, maybe they form gangs."

  "And Mr. Crepsley wiped them out by himself?" I said. "Vampires are tough to kill. He'd have no problem killing six humans, but six vampires? No way."

  "Who says he was alone?" Evra asked. "Maybe Gavner Purl was with him. Maybe there's a bunch of Vampire Generals in town."

  "Your argument's getting weaker by the second," I commented.

  "Possibly," Evra said, "but that doesn't mean I'm wrong. We don't know, Darren. You can't kill Mr. Crepsley on a hunch. We have to wait. Think about it and you'll see I'm right."

  I calmed down and thought it over. "Okay," I sighed. "He's innocent until proven guilty. But what should we do? Sit back and pretend nothing's happened? Report him to the police? Ask him straight to his face?"

  "If we were at the Cirque Du Freak," Evra mused, "we could tell Mr. Tall and leave it in his hands."

  "But we're not at the Cirque," I reminded him.

 
"No," he said. "We're on our own." His narrow eyes narrowed even further as he mulled it over. "How about this? We track him every night when he leaves, see where he goes and what he gets up to. If we find out he's the killer, and that these are ordinary humans, then we kill him."

  "You'd do that?" I asked.

  Evra nodded. "I've never killed before," he said quietly, "and I hate the thought of it. But if Mr. Crepsley is murdering without good cause, I'll help you kill him. I'd rather leave it to someone else, but since there isn't anybody…"

  His face was serious, and I knew I could rely on him.

  "But we have to be sure," Evra warned me. "If there's even a glimmer of doubt, we can't do it."

  "Agreed," I said.

  "And it has to be a joint decision," Evra added.

  "You have to promise you won't kill him without my approval."

  "Okay."

  "I'm serious," he told me. "If I think Mr. Crepsley is innocent, and you go after him, I'll do everything I can to stop you. Even if it means…" He left the threat unfinished.

  "Don't worry," I said. "This isn't something I'm looking forward to. I've grown used to Mr. Crepsley. The last thing I want to do is kill him."

  I was telling the truth. I'd love it if my suspicions turned out to be wrong. But I had an awful feeling they wouldn't.

  "I hope we're mistaken about this," Evra said. "Saying we'll kill him is easy, but doing it would be a lot harder. He's not the kind to just lie there and do nothing while being attacked."

  "We'll worry about that later," I said. "For the moment, let's turn the sound back up. If we're lucky, the police will solve the case and it'll be nothing more than a crazy human who's seen one too many Dracula movies."

  I sat down beside Evra, and we spent the rest of night watching the news, rarely speaking, waiting for the vampire — the killer? — to return.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Shadowing Mr. Crepsley wasn't easy. The first night we lost him after a couple of minutes: he shot up a fire escape and by the time we got to the top he was nowhere to be seen. We wandered around the city for a few hours, hoping to stumble upon him, but saw neither hide nor hair of him for the rest of the night.