Killers of the Dawn

by Darren Shan

  "I fetched them!" he shouted gleefully. "When I left yesterday, I flitted to Vampire Mountain and told them what was going on. They flitted back with me. They had to tread cautiously — I told them not to interfere until we'd killed the Vampaneze Lord — but they've been here all along, waiting."

  "But … I don't … its…"

  I stopped before my babbling got the better of me. I couldn't understand how they'd crept up so quietly, or how Vancha had reached Vampire Mountain and got back so quickly — even flitting, it should have taken him a few nights — but what did that matter? They were here, they were kicking ass, Mr Crepsley was alive and Steve Leopard and the Lord of the Vampaneze were dead. Why question it?

  As I spun around like a child on Christmas Day surrounded by a room full of the most amazing presents, I saw a fabulously familiar figure pushing through the fighting, orange hair flecked with blood, a few new scars to add to the long one which carved up the left side of his face, limping on his sore ankle, but otherwise unbowed.

  "Mr Crepsley!" I roared, throwing myself into his arms.

  "Master Shan!" he laughed, hugging me tight to his chest. "Did you think I was finished?"

  "Yes!" I sobbed.

  "Hah!" he chuckled. "You do not get rid of me that easily! You still have much to learn about our ways and customs. Who but I would have the patience to teach you?"

  "Vain old git!" I snuffled.

  "Rude young brat!" he retorted, then pushed me back to study my face. Raising a hand, he thumbed tears and dirt away from my cheeks and then … then … then …

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  NO. THAT'S not how it happened.

  I wish it was. With all my heart and soul, I wish he'd been rescued and our foes defeated. In that terrible, impossibly long moment of his fall, I imagined half a dozen fantastic scenarios, where Mika or Arrow or Mr Tall intervened to divert the course of fate, and we all walked away smiling. But it wasn't to be. There was no last-minute cavalry charge. No miraculous rescue. Vancha hadn't flitted to Vampire Mountain. We were alone, as we had to be, as destiny willed it.

  Mr Crepsley dropped. He was impaled on the stakes. He died.

  And it was awful.

  I can't even say that it was quick and merciful, as it was for the Lord of the Vampaneze, because he didn't die straightaway. The stakes didn't kill him instantly, and though his soul didn't linger long, his cries while he writhed there, bleeding and dying, burning and screaming, will stay with me till I die. Maybe I'll even carry them with me when I go.

  Debbie wept bitterly. Vancha howled like a wolf. Green tears trickled from Harkat's round green eyes. Even the Chief Inspector turned away from the scene and sniffed miserably.

  Not me. I couldn't. My eyes stayed dry.

  Stumbling forward, I stopped at the edge of the pit and stared down at the stakes and the two bodies being quickly stripped bare of their flesh by the flames. I stood as though on guard, not budging or looking away, paying no attention as the vampaneze and vampets filed silently out of the cavern. They could have executed us, but their leader was dead, their dreams had been dashed, and they were no longer interested in battle — not even in revenge.

  I was barely aware of Vancha, Debbie, Harkat and Alice Burgess as they came to stand by my side.

  "We should go now," Vancha muttered after a while.

  "No," I replied dully. "I'm taking him with us, to bury him properly."

  "It'll be hours before the fire dies out," Vancha said.

  "I'm in no rush. The hunt's over. We've all the time in the world."

  Vancha sighed deeply, then nodded. "Very well. We'll wait.

  "Not me," Debbie sobbed. "I can't. It's too horrible. I can't stay and …" She broke down in tears. I wanted to comfort her, but couldn't. There was nothing I could think to say to make her feel better.

  "I'll look after her," Burgess said, taking charge. "We'll walk up the tunnel and wait for you in the smaller cavern."

  "Thanks, Alice," Vancha said.

  Burgess paused before leaving. "I'm still not sure about you guys," she said, "if you're really vampires or not. And I haven't a clue what I'm going to tell my people about this. But I know evil when I see it, and I like to think I know good too. I won't stand in your way when it's time for you to leave. And if you need any help, you only have to call."

  "Thanks," Vancha said again, and this time he managed a thin, grateful smile.

  The women left, Debbie crying, Burgess supporting her. They pushed through the departing ranks of vampaneze and vampets, who gave way meekly to the pair who'd helped bring about the downfall of their Lord.

  Minutes passed. The flames flickered on. Mr Crepsley and the Lord of the Vampaneze burned.

  Then a strange-looking pair hobbled up to confront us. One had no hands, although he carried a pair of hook-hands slung around his neck. The other had only half a face and was moaning piteously. R.V. and Morgan James.

  "We'll get you swine!" R.V. snarled, pointing threateningly with his left stump. "Gannen gave his word that he'd let you go, so we can't harm you now, but we'll hunt you down later and make you sorry you were born."

  "You'd better come well prepared, Hooky," Vancha commented dryly. "You'll find us a real handful!'

  R.V. hissed at the joke and made to attack the Prince. Morgan held him back, mumbling through teeth — half of which had been shattered by Burgess' bullet — "Curhm awahy! Thuy ahn't wurth iht!"

  "Hah," Vancha chuckled spitefully. "That's easy for you to say!"

  This time R.V. had to push Morgan James back as he struggled to get his hands on Vancha. Cursing and fighting with each other, they backed off, joined the ranks of their numbed colleagues, and drifted away to patch themselves up and plot mean-spirited revenge.

  Again we were alone at the pit. The cavern was quieter now. Almost all the vampaneze and vampets had exited. Only a last few stragglers remained. Among them were Gannen Harst and a grinning Steve Leopard, who couldn't resist ambling over for one last mocking laugh.

  "What's that cooking on the fire, boys?" he asked, putting up his hands as if to warm them.

  "Go away," I said blankly, "or I'll kill you."

  Steve's face dropped and he glared at me. "It's your own fault," he pouted. "If you hadn't betrayed me—"

  I swung my sword up, meaning to cut him in two.

  Vancha swatted it aside with the flat of his hand before I drew blood. "No," he said, stepping between us. "If you kill him, the others will return and kill us. Let it drop. We'll get him later."

  "Wise words, brother," Gannen Harst said, stepping up beside Vancha. His face was drawn. "There's been enough killing. We—"

  "Get lost!" Vancha snapped.

  Harst's expression darkened. "Don't speak to me like—"

  "I won't warn you again," Vancha growled.

  The ex-protector of the Vampaneze Lord bristled angrily, then raised his hands peacefully and backed away from his brother.

  Steve didn't follow.

  "I want to tell him," the half-vampaneze said, eyes pinned on me.

  "No!" Gannen Harst hissed. "You mustn't! Not now! You—"

  "I want to tell him," Steve said again, more forcefully this time.

  Harst cursed beneath his breath, glanced from one of us to the other, then nodded tensely. "Very well. But over to one side, where nobody else can hear."

  "What are you up to now?" Vancha asked suspiciously.

  "You'll find out," Steve giggled, taking hold of my left elbow.

  I shrugged him off. "Keep away from me, monster!" I spat.

  "Now, now," he said. "Don't be hasty. I've news I'm bursting to tell you."

  "I don't want to hear it."

  "Oh, but you do," he insisted. "You'll kick yourself from here to the moon if you don't come and listen."

  I wanted to tell him what he could do with his news, but there was something in his wicked eyes which made me pause. I hesitated a moment, then stomped away out of earshot of the others. Steve followed me, Ganne
n Harst hot on his heels.

  "If you hurt him …" Vancha warned them.

  "We won't," Harst promised, then stopped and shielded us with his body from the view of the rest.

  "Well?" I asked, as Steve stood smirking at me.

  "We've come a long way, haven't we, Darren?" he remarked. "From the classroom at home to this Cavern of Retribution. From humanity to vampirism and vampanizm. From the day to the night."

  "Tell me something I don't know," I grunted.

  "I used to think it could have been different," he said softly, eyes distant. "But now I think it was always meant to be this way. It was your destiny to betray me and form an alliance with the vampires, your fate to become a Vampire Prince and lead the hunt for the Vampaneze Lord. Just as it was my destiny to find my own path into the night and …"

  He stopped and a sly expression crept over his face. "Hold him," he grunted, and Gannen Harst grabbed my arms and held me rooted to the spot. "Are you ready to send him sleepy-byes?"

  "Yes," Harst said. "But hurry, before the others intervene."

  "Your wish is my command," Steve smiled, then put his lips close to my right ear and whispered something terrible … something dreadful … something that turned my world on its head and would haunt my every waking and sleeping moment from that instant on.

  As he drew away, having tormented me with his devastating secret, I opened my mouth wide to shout the news to Vancha. Before I could utter a syllable, Gannen Harst breathed over me, the knockout gas of the vampires and vampaneze. As the fumes filled my lungs, the world around me faded, and then I was falling, unconscious, into the tortured sleep of the damned.

  The last thing I heard before I blacked out was Steve, laughing hysterically — the sound of a victorious demon cackling.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I DIDN'T know where I was when I awoke. I opened my eyes and saw a ceiling high above me, with lots of panels ripped out of it, three chandeliers burning dimly now that their candles were mere waxen stumps. I couldn't think where I might be. I sat up, groaning, and looked for Mr Crepsley, to ask him what was going on.

  That's when I remembered.

  Moaning as the painful memories returned, I clambered to my feet and looked around in desperation. The fire in the pit of stakes had almost burnt itself out. Mr Crepsley and the half-vampaneze were charred, unrecognizable collections of brittle, blackened bones. Vancha and Harkat were sitting by the edge of the pit, faces glum, silently mourning.

  "How long was I out?" I shouted, lurching towards the tunnel leading out of the cavern, falling clumsily to my knees in my frenzied haste.

  "Take it easy," Vancha said, helping me back to my feet.

  I swiped his hands away and spun fiercely on him. "How long?" I roared.

  Vancha eyeballed me, bemused, then shrugged. "Three hours, maybe more."

  My eyelids closed hopelessly and I let myself collapse again. Too long. They'd be halfway to the other side of the world by now.

  "What happened?" I asked. "The gas should have only knocked me out for fifteen or twenty minutes."

  "You were exhausted," Vancha said. "It's been a long night. I'm surprised you woke this soon. It's dawn outside. We didn't expect you to stir until dusk."

  I shook my head mutely, disgusted.

  "Are you OK, Darren?" Harkat asked, hobbling over to join us.

  "No!" I snapped. "I'm not OK. None of us is."

  Rising, I brushed past the puzzled-looking pair, and made my slow, painful way to the pit, where I gazed once more upon the smouldering remains of my dearest friend and mentor.

  "He's in a state of shock," I heard Vancha mutter softly to Harkat. "Go easy on him. It'll take him a while to recover."

  "Recover!" I shrieked, sitting down and laughing maniacally.

  Vancha and Harkat sat beside me, Vancha to my left, Harkat to my right. Each laid a hand on mine in a silent show of support. My throat grew tight and I thought I was going to cry at last. But after a few seconds the tears still wouldn't come, so I let my gaze drift back to the pit, while my thoughts returned to Steve's chilling revelation.

  The flames grew lower and the cavern cooled. It also darkened, as the candles overhead quenched themselves one by one.

  "We'd better get up there and … relight the candles," Harkat said, "or else we won't be able to … see clearly when we go down to … collect Mr Crepsley's bones."

  "Leave him there," I said sullenly. "This is as good a resting place as any."

  Harkat and Vancha stared at me uncertainly.

  "But you were the one who wanted to bury him," Vancha reminded me.

  "That was before Steve took me aside," I sighed. "It doesn't matter where we leave him now. Nothing matters any more."

  "How can you say that?" Vancha snapped angrily. "We won, Darren! We killed the Lord of the Vampaneze! The price we paid was high, but it was worth it."

  "You think so?" I asked bitterly.

  "Of course!" he shouted. "What's one life judged against thousands? We knew the odds coming into this. We'd have sacrificed all our lives if we had to. I feel Larten's loss as much as you — he was my friend long before he was yours. But he died honourably, and gave his life for a cause that was just. If his spirits looking down on us, he'll be willing us to celebrate his great victory, not bemoan his—"

  "You remember our first run-in with the Vampaneze Lord?" I interrupted. "You recall how he masqueraded as a servant, so we paid no notice to him and attacked the others, allowing him to escape?"

  Vancha nodded warily. "Aye. What of it?"

  "They tricked us then, Vancha," I said, "and they've done it again. We've won nothing. Mr Crepsley died in vain."

  Vancha and Harkat gawped at me.

  "What …? I don't … Are you saying …? What?" Harkat gasped eventually.

  "The cloaked half-vampaneze on the platform was a decoy," I sighed. "He wasn't the same person we saw in the glade. Steve told me the truth before he left. That was his parting present."

  "No!" Vancha wheezed, his face ashen. "He lied! That was their Lord. The look of despair on their faces when we killed him—"

  "—was genuine," I said. "Most of the vampaneze and vampets in the cavern believed he was their Lord. They were tricked just like we were. Only Gannen Harst and a handful of others knew the truth."

  "Then we're back where we were at the start?" Vancha moaned. "He's alive? We've no idea what he looks like? No way of knowing where he'll turn next?"

  "Not exactly," I said with a crooked half-smile. "There are only two hunters left now. That much has changed." I let out a long, disparaging breath, and gazed down into the pit again. I didn't want to tell them the rest, not coming so hot on the heels of Mr Crepsley's death and news of the Vampaneze Lord's escape. I'd have spared them this extra blow if I could.

  But they had to be warned. In case something happened to me, they had to be told, so they could spread the word and carry on without me if necessary.

  "I know who he is," I whispered emotionlessly. "Steve told me. He broke the big secret. Harst didn't want him to, but he did it anyway, to hurt me that little bit more, as if Mr Crepsley's death wasn't bad enough."

  "He told you who the … Vampaneze Lord is?" Harkat gasped.

  I nodded.

  "Who?" Vancha shouted, leaping to his feet. "Which one of those scum sends others to do his dirty work for him? Tell me and I'll—"

  "It's Steve," I said, and Vancha's strength deserted him. Slumping to the floor, he gazed at me in horror. Harkat too. "It's Steve," I said again, feeling empty and scared inside, knowing I'd never feel any different until — unless — he was killed, even if I lived to be a thousand. Wetting my lips, focusing on the flames, I said the whole terrible truth out loud. "Steve Leopard is the Lord of the Vampaneze!'

  After that there was only silence, burning and despair.

  TO BE CONTINUED …

  EXPLORE A NEW WORLD AND FISH FOR THE DEAD IN

  THE LAKE OF SOULS

  IT WAS on t
he edge of the camp when I spotted Mr Tiny and Harkat, standing in an open field. In front of the pair stood a shimmering, arched doorway, unconnected to anything else. The edges of the doorway glowed red, and Mr Tiny also glowed, his suit, hair and skin a dark, vibrant, crimson shade. The space between the edges of the doorway was a dull grey colour.

  Mr Tiny heard me coming, looked over his shoulder and smiled like a shark. "Ah — Master Shan! I thought you might turn up."

  "Darren!" Harkat snapped furiously. "I told you not to come! I won't take you with … me. You'll have to—"

  Mr Tiny laid a hand on the Little Person's back and shoved him through the doorway. There was a grey flash, then Harkat disappeared. I could see the field through the grey veil of the doorway — but no sign of Harkat.

  "Where's he gone?" I shouted, afraid.

  "To search for the truth," Mr Tiny smiled, stepping to one side and gesturing towards the glowing doorway. "Care to search with him?"

  I stepped up to the doorway, gazing uneasily at the glowing red edges and the grey sheen between. "Where does this lead?" I asked.

  "Another place," Mr Tiny answered obscurely, then laid a hand on my right shoulder and looked at me intently. "If you step through after Harkat, you might never come back. Think seriously about this. If you follow and die, you won't be here to face Steve Leonard when the time comes, and your absence might have terrible repercussions for vampires everywhere. Is your short, grey-skinned friend worth such an enormous risk?"

  I didn't have to think twice about that. "Yes," I answered simply, and stepped through into unnatural, other-worldly greyness.

  THE SAGA OF DARREN SHAN BOOK 10 THE LAKE OF SOULS OCTOBER 2003