First Bites

by Darren Shan

  “It must have been something nice,” the woman pressed.

  “Um. Yes. It was.” Larten knew that he must sound like a simpleton and he felt his blush deepen.

  The woman swung her hands slightly and tilted her head. She wanted Larten to ask her to sit, but he had no idea that she was interested in him. He thought she was a waitress. He downed his ale and held out the mug, grinning awkwardly.

  The lady frowned. “I don’t work here,” she said.

  “No?” Larten stared at the mug, not sure what to do with it. In the end he raised it to his lips again, as if there were a few drops still in it. He held the mug over his face until the lady shook her head, bemused, and turned away. Then he lowered it and breathed out heavily. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like he’d been running very fast.

  Larten caught the lady’s eye a few times after that—she was with some friends in a corner, working on garlands of flowers for the festival. He wanted to smile at her and invite her over, tell her he liked her hair, that the flowers were nice and he was sorry for acting so foolishly earlier. But every time he thought of speaking to her, his stomach clenched and his mouth went dry. In the end he stayed where he was, kept his head low, and drank in silence, trying hard to convince himself that he enjoyed being alone.

  * * *

  Larten didn’t want to go hunting when Seba and Wester came to fetch him at sunset. He hadn’t said much to Seba since their argument in the stream. He’d tried to avoid the elderly vampire altogether, but that was hard when you were traveling in a small pack. Tonight he had a good excuse to give his master the cold shoulder.

  “I want to stay and enjoy the festival,” he said. “You can hunt without me.”

  Seba’s eyes narrowed, and he thought about forcing Larten to accompany him. But then Wester said, “I’d like to stay too. Please, Master. It will be fun. I had a good time last night, but the festivities were almost over when we arrived.”

  “Vampires should not mix with humans at times like this,” Seba said. “We are hunters. We should hunt.”

  “Even hunters need a break now and then,” Larten growled, gearing up for an argument.

  Seba prepared a retort, but then he caught sight of somebody familiar walking past outside. He paused, put a name to the face, and realized that this might be the stroke of luck he had been waiting for. He shrugged. “Very well. I will hunt by myself. Enjoy your night off.”

  Larten and Wester stared at each other as Seba let himself out.

  “That was too easy,” Wester said suspiciously.

  “He must be getting soft in his old age,” Larten sniffed, and ordered a mug of ale for Wester. They ate some food, then wandered out to explore the town.

  The festival was hitting full swing as they strolled. People danced and sang. A pig roasted on a spit, and young children watched it with hungry, impatient eyes, squealing with delight when drops of fat dripped into the flames and sizzled.

  A street magician entertained a mesmerized crowd, but Larten wasn’t impressed. He could have put on a much better show. He almost volunteered, but that would have drawn attention, and it was better for vampires to keep a low profile.

  Wester insisted they stop and watch a puppet show. He laughed with delight as two male puppets fought over an ugly stick woman who was actually a crocodile in disguise. She ended up eating both of the men. It was the sort of crude act that never would have been approved at the Cirque Du Freak, but Larten had to admit that the puppeteer was quite skilled, and his lips twitched at a few of the jokes.

  “That was great,” Wester chortled as they moved on.

  “It was passable,” Larten murmured.

  “The puppets looked like something Mr. Tall might have carved.”

  “No,” Larten said. “He creates realistic masterpieces. Those were just—”

  An excited roar silenced him. They were passing an alley. He hadn’t been paying attention, but when he heard the roar, he glanced up. A group of people crowded around two men, cheering them on. Larten caught glimpses of fists flying. “A boxing match,” he noted.

  “Shall we go and observe?” Wester asked.

  “Why not?” Larten grinned. “It is fun to watch humans beating each other up.”

  The pair moved into the alley and pressed through the throng. When they got to the front, they were confronted with a peculiar sight. Both boxers were large men, but one was massive–tall and broad–with hands that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a giant. It should have been a one-sided contest, but the larger man wasn’t defending himself. He just stood, letting his opponent punch him. And all the time he was laughing.

  “Come on!” the bigger man shouted as his opponent panted and wiped blood from his hands. The blood hadn’t come from the giant, but from the other man’s knuckles, the skin of which had been torn up. “You can do better than that.”

  “I think he’s tiring, Yebba,” somebody else said. “Perhaps he would appreciate a rest.”

  “To hell with rest!” The boxer snarled and started hitting the larger man again, blow after blow to his chin and cheeks, without any noticeable effect.

  Larten looked for the man who had spoken and found him sitting on a barrel, smoking a delicate pipe, surrounded by a handful of pretty, giggling women. The man was tall and thin, dressed in the finest clothes Larten had ever seen. His hair was carefully swept back, and his face had been artfully painted. He was the person Seba had recognized earlier, and Larten remembered him too.

  “You are Tanish Eul, are you not?” Larten said softly, slipping up behind the man on the barrel.

  The vampire half-turned and glanced at Larten and Wester. His gaze flickered to their fingers, and when he spotted the scars on the tips he relaxed. “You have the advantage of me, good sirs. I don’t believe we’ve met….”

  “You invited me to join you in a game of cards some years back,” Larten said. “We were in a rather infamous mountain at the time.”

  Tanish squinted, then nodded. “Actually I do remember, which is a miracle, given the amount of ale I drank at Council. You were in a foul mood and turned down my offer. You’re Seba Nile’s assistant, aren’t you?”

  “Aye. Larten Crepsley. And this is Wester Flack.”

  “Seba’s other assistant,” Wester clarified.

  “A pleasure to meet you both.” The cultured vampire held out his pipe to them. “Do you smoke?”

  “No,” Larten said.

  “A shame. Perhaps I can introduce you to the pleasures of the pipe later. Are you here with your master on business?”

  “We’re with Seba,” Larten scowled. “But not on business. He’s off hunting. We decided to enjoy the festival.”

  “Men after my own heart,” Tanish cooed, and slid off of the barrel. “Ladies, I’d like to introduce you to some good friends of mine.” The women around Tanish all curtsied and fluttered their eyelashes. Larten found himself blushing, as he had in the inn.

  “Yebba!” Tanish yelled. “I’m bored. Let’s move on.”

  The giant boxer groaned. “But it was just getting interesting.”

  “You can stay if you like.” Tanish sniffed. “I’m going.”

  Yebba scowled, then eyed his opponent. He thought about hitting the human, but in the end just picked him up and held him over his head while the people around them jeered. “Do you surrender?” Yebba asked politely. The man cursed loudly. Yebba shook him hard, then asked again if he was ready to yield.

  “Yes,” the man moaned, his face having turned a pale green shade.

  Yebba set down his defeated foe, then accepted a towel from one of the ladies and wiped sweat and blood from his face. “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “Wherever there is fun, frivolity, and lakes of ale.” Tanish laughed and led the small group of vampires and their admiring ladies off into the night.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Larten’s head was throbbing when he woke. He groaned, tried to get out of bed, but collapsed and lay on the
floor in a huddle, shivering like a wet dog. “I’m dying,” he whimpered.

  “You’re lucky,” Wester croaked. “I think I’m already dead.”

  Larten looked up and spotted Wester sitting in a corner, holding a bucket, his face as white as flour.

  “Have we been poisoned?” Larten asked.

  “Hangovers,” Wester whispered.

  “I thought vampires did not get hangovers,” Larten said.

  “You thought wrong,” Wester replied, then thrust his head over the bucket.

  “My fine, sensible, hard-drinking assistants!” Seba bellowed, opening the door and stepping into the room. He was grinning wickedly.

  “Not so loud,” Larten begged, jamming his hands over his ears.

  “What was that?” Seba roared.

  Larten scrunched his eyes shut and took deep breaths, trying hard not to be sick. “I’m never drinking again,” he vowed.

  “I am,” Seba chuckled. “But beware of making promises you cannot keep. I am sure you will find your way back to the barrel once your head clears.”

  “Barrel?” Larten echoed.

  “You each had a barrel of ale on your shoulder when you staggered home this morning,” Seba said. “You were swigging from them, laughing about puny humans who could only drink from mugs. I put them out in the Hall when I got up. I can fetch them for you if you would like some more.”

  “No!” Larten and Wester yelled.

  “I need that bucket,” Larten gasped.

  “Get your own,” Wester snapped.

  Seba laughed again, then sat on Larten’s bed and picked a flower from his groggy assistant’s orange hair. “Where did this come from?” he asked.

  Larten stared at the flower and shrugged.

  “Have you been courting pretty maids?” Seba pressed.

  “I can’t remember,” Larten said.

  “I did not have you pegged for a romantic,” Seba hummed, “but perhaps there is hope for you yet.” He cocked an eyebrow at Wester. “Did you come home bearing flowers too, Master Flack?”

  “I don’t think so,” Wester said, running a hand through his hair just in case.

  “Perhaps it fell into your bucket,” Seba said. “Have a look.”

  Wester almost got sick again at the thought of that.

  “You are loving this,” Larten snarled.

  “Aye,” Seba beamed. “You will too when you are my age. One of the few joys for old men is being able to relish the suffering of the young when they overindulge. Now, who would like a hearty breakfast? Bacon? Sausages? A leg of lamb? Runny eggs?”

  Larten lurched to his feet, darted across the room, and snatched the bucket from Wester just in time. When he sank back, wiping drool from his lips, Seba said, “While I would happily stay and watch you suffer for several more hours, time is against us. Get ready, gentlemen. We depart in five minutes.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Larten groaned.

  “I couldn’t leave this room even if I wanted to,” Wester agreed.

  “Never mind your hangovers,” Seba barked. “I gave you your freedom last night with the understanding that it would be a one-off. You have had your fun. Now it is time to resume training. We will hunt, and then I will set a fresh test for you.”

  “To hell with your tests!” Larten shouted.

  Seba’s features darkened. “Do not take that tone with me,” he growled. “I am your master and I demand respect.”

  “Then earn it!” Larten challenged him. “If you showed us some compassion and understanding, maybe we would return it.”

  “Compassion for a pair of self-pitying drunkards?” Seba snorted. “You acted like fools, so it is only fitting that you suffer. As for understanding… I understand all too well. You would rather stay here, recover from your hangovers, and go out carousing for flowers again, aye?”

  “Aye!” Larten shouted. “Flowers and more ale, that’s what we’re after. Do you have a problem with that, old man?”

  “No,” Seba said calmly. “I will leave you to it. Good luck, gentlemen.”

  Seba started for the door.

  “Wait!” Wester cried. “Where are you going?”

  “To explore the night.”

  “But you’re coming back, aren’t you?”

  Seba looked around at the crumpled sheets, the bedraggled vampires, the bucket of vomit. “What is worth coming back for?”

  “But… you can’t mean… you’re abandoning us?”

  Seba stared at Wester, who looked distraught, then at Larten, who was trying unsuccessfully to look as if he couldn’t care less.

  “I assume you crossed paths with Tanish Eul last night?” Seba said softly.

  Wester blinked. “How did you know about Tanish?”

  “Vampires usually bump into one another in towns like this. I was certain you would root out Master Eul sooner or later and that when you did, you would face a choice—come with me to continue your education, or stay and run wild with him. It seems that you have chosen the latter option.”

  “But it can’t end like this,” Wester protested, struggling to his feet. “We’ll come with you. Give us a minute. We didn’t mean what we said. Tanish isn’t—”

  “Peace, Wester,” Seba said kindly. “This is not the end of your apprenticeship, merely a pause. You are aware of the Cubs, vampires who break from the clan for a few years or decades to enjoy life in the world of humans before committing themselves to the demands of the night. You and Larten need to spend some time with others of your age and attitude, to drink and chase women and do whatever it is that you long to do.

  “When you have had your fun and wish to return to the clan, I will be waiting, assuming the luck of the vampires is with me and I am still alive. We can resume where we left off.”

  “What if we do not want to return?” Larten asked quietly, not looking up at his master.

  “That is your choice too,” Seba said. “I make no demands of either of you.” He stretched and smiled. “To be honest, I am glad to be rid of you for a while. I want to run by myself again. I have been a tutor for too long.

  “I will keep in touch,” he promised. “This is a small world, and we will never be that far from one another. If you need me, I will come. If you wish to study by my side again, I will accept you back. And if you choose to leave the clan, I will wave you on your way and bear you no ill wishes.

  “Even in death may you be triumphant.”

  With that Seba turned and let himself out, leaving a very sick and bewildered pair of young vampires to stare in silence at the door and wonder what on earth they were going to do next.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Larten and Wester spent the next few hours recovering. Their heads slowly began to clear, and by late evening they were even feeling peckish and slipped downstairs to find some food. They ate hesitantly, wincing whenever somebody laughed or yelled.

  “Wine for these good men!” someone shouted as they were finishing their meal. Tanish Eul slumped beside Wester and punched his arm. “How are your heads?”

  “Awful,” Wester groaned.

  “I thought as much,” Tanish chuckled, spearing a slice of meat from Larten’s plate. “You drank like fish last night, which is fine as long as you’re used to it.”

  “How come you’re so cheerful?” Larten asked. “You drank even more than us.”

  “I’ve had lots of experience,” Tanish said proudly. “In the end it all boils down to how dedicated you are. If you spend decades training in Vampire Mountain, you become a keenly honed fighting machine. But if you spend those decades working on your drinking skills instead…” He winked.

  The wine arrived, and Tanish poured three generous measures. Larten and Wester stared at their glasses as if they were filled with sour milk.

  “To your good health,” Tanish toasted them, and downed his wine with one gulp.

  Wester and Larten shared an uncertain look, then Larten picked up his glass and drank half of it. He shivered but forced
a grin. Wester didn’t want to look out of place, so he had a few sips and smiled shakily too.

  “Excellent,” Tanish said, pouring more for them. “We can’t let these things get the better of us. It’s like fighting a bear—if you suffer a beating, you have to bounce back and find an even bigger, tougher bear to pit yourself against. You drank a lot last night, but tonight we’ll pump even more down your throats. We’ll branch out a bit too. Have you ever sampled absinthe?”

  “I don’t know about that,” Wester said sheepishly. “I don’t think my head can take another lengthy session.”

  “Of course it can,” Tanish hooted. “You’ll feel worse than this tomorrow, believe it or not, but give it a few weeks and you’ll start to find your feet.”

  “What makes you think we will be spending that long with you?” Larten asked.

  “I saw Seba leaving town,” Tanish said. “He didn’t look like he was planning to return. He’s left you to your own devices, hasn’t he?”

  Larten nodded glumly. “He told us we had to fend for ourselves, to join the Cubs, and—”

  “Wonderful news!” Tanish exclaimed. “He’s handed you your freedom. So why are you looking miserable?”

  “We don’t know what we want to do,” Wester sniffed.

  “Our future was mapped out for us when we were training with Seba,” Larten said. “We knew what to expect of the coming nights and years. Now…” He shifted uneasily. “Perhaps we could catch up with him if we set off immediately.”

  Tanish snorted. “Are you children or men? Do you want to be led around by your noses all your lives or stand up for yourselves?”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” Larten snapped. “This is new to us. We did not plan it, nor do we know where to go from here.”

  “Go where the excitement is,” Tanish said, then lowered his voice. “This is a thrilling, stimulating world for those willing to embrace it, especially those like us. We’re stronger than humans, sharper, faster. We can drink and eat more than them. Beat them easily in contests. Earn the respect of any man, win the heart of any woman.”

  “But it’s wrong to use our powers that way,” Wester protested.