Darren Shan - Cirque Du Freak 10 - The Lake Of Souls

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DARREN SHAN

THE LAKE OF SOULS

THE SAGA OF DARREN SHAN

BOOK 10

Darren Shan

THE SAGA OF DARREN SHAN

1 Cirque Du Freak

2 The Vampire's Assistant

3 Tunnels of Blood

4 Vampire Mountain

5 Trials of Death

6 The Vampire Prince

7 Hunters of the Dusk

8 Allies of the Night

9 Killers of the Dawn

10 The Lake of Souls

DARREN SHAN

THE LAKE OF SOULS

THE SAGA OF DARREN SHAN

BOOK 10

Collins

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers

Fish for Darren Shan on the web atwww.darrenshan.com

First published in Great Britain by Collins 2003

Collins is an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishersLtd,

77-85 Fulham Palace Road, Hammersmith,

London, W6 8IB

The HarperCollins website address is: www.harpercollins.co.uk

ISBN 0 00 715919 6

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of the work.

Printed and bound in England by Clays Ltd, St Ives plc

For:

Bas — you steer my vaparetto!

OBE's

(Order of the Bloody Entrails) to:

Nate - the Sheffield Shanster Seer!

Banshee Babes:

Zoë Clarke & Gillie Russell

Global Grotesques:

the Christopher Little Clan

PROLOGUE

DEATH WAS on the cards that day, but would it be ours or the panther's?

Black panthers are really leopards. If you look closely, you can see faint spots blended into their fur. But

trust me — unless it's in a zoo, you don't ever want to be that close to a panther! They're one of nature's

greatest killers. They move silently and speedily. In a one-on-one fight they'll almost always come out on

top. You can't outrun them, since they're faster than you, and you can't out-climb them, because they can

climb too. The best thing is to stay out of their way completely, unless you're an experienced big game

hunter and have come packing a rifle.

Harkat and I had never hunted a panther before, and our best weapons were a few stone knives and a

long, round-ended stick that served as a club. Yet there we were, on the edge of a pit which we'd dug

the day before, watching a deer we'd captured and were using as bait, waiting for a panther.

We'd been there for hours, hidden in a bush, clutching our humble weapons close to our sides, when I

spotted something long and black through the cover of the surrounding trees. A whiskered nose stuck out

from around a tree and sniffed the air testingly — the panther. I nudged Harkat gently and we watched it,

holding our breath, stiff with fright. After a few seconds the panther turned and padded away, back into

the gloom of the jungle.

Harkat and I discussed the panther's retreat in whispers. I thought the panther had sensed a trap and

wouldn't return. Harkat disagreed. He said it would come back. If we withdrew further, it might advance

fully the next time. So we wriggled backwards, not stopping until we were almost at the end of the long

stretch of bush. From here we could only vaguely see the deer.

A couple of hours passed. We said nothing. I was about to break the silence and suggest we were

wasting our time, when I heard a large animal moving. The deer was jumping around wildly. There was a

throaty growl. It came from the far side of the pit. That was great — if the panther attacked the deer

from there, it might fall straight into our trap and be killed in the pit. Then we wouldn't have to fight it at

all!

I heard twigs snap as the panther crept up on the deer. Then there was a loud snapping sound as a

heavy body crashed through the covering over the pit and landed heavily on the stakes we'd set in the

bottom. There was a ferocious howl, followed by silence.

Harkat slowly got to his feet and stared over the bush at the pit. I stood and stared with him. We

glanced at each other. I said uncertainly, "It worked."

"You sound like you didn't… expect it to," Harkat grinned.

"I didn't," I laughed, and started towards the pit.

"Careful," Harkat warned. "It could still be alive."

Stepping in front of me, he moved off to the left and signalled for me to go right. Raising my knife, I

circled away from Harkat, then we slowly closed on the pit from opposite directions.

Harkat was a few steps ahead of me, so he saw into the pit first. He stopped, confused. A couple of

seconds later, I saw why. A body lay impaled on the stakes, blood dripping from its many puncture

wounds. But it wasn't the body of a panther — it was a red baboon.

"I don't understand," I said. "That was a panther's growl, not a monkey's."

"But how did…" Harkat stopped and gasped. "The monkey's throat! It's been ripped open! The panther

must—'

He got no further. There was a blur of movement in the upper branches of the tree closest to me.

Whirling, I caught a very brief glimpse of a long, thick, pure black object flying through the air with

outstretched claws and gaping jaws — then the panther was upon me, roaring triumphantly.

Death was on the cards that day.

CHAPTER ONE

Six months earlier.

THE WALK up the tunnels, coming off the back of our battle with the vampaneze, was slow and

exhausting. We left Mr Crepsley's charred bones in the pit where he'd fallen. I'd meant to bury him, but I

hadn't the heart for it. Steve's revelation — that he was the Lord of the Vampaneze — had floored me,

and now nothing seemed to matter. My closest friend had been killed. My world had been torn asunder.

I didn't care whether I lived or died. Harkat and Debbie walked beside me, Vancha and Alice Burgess

slightly in front. Debbie used to be my girlfriend, but now she was a grown woman, whereas I was stuck

in the body of a teenager — the curse of being a half-vampire who only aged one year for every five that

passed. Alice was a police chief inspector. Vancha had kidnapped her when we'd been surrounded by

police. She and Debbie had taken part in the fight with the vampaneze. They'd both fought well. A shame

it had been for nothing.

We'd told Alice and Debbie all about the War of the Scars. Vampires exist, but not the murderous

monsters of myth. We don't kill when we feed. But other night creatures do — the vampaneze. They

broke away from the vampires six hundred years ago. They always drain their victims dry. Their skin has

turned purple over the centuries, and their eyes and fingernails are red.

For a long time there'd been peace between the two clans. That ended when the Lord of the

Vampaneze emerged. This vampaneze leader was destined to lead them into war against the vampires

and destroy us. But if we found and killed him before he became a full-vampaneze, the war would go our

way instead.

Only three vampires could hunt for the Vampaneze Lord (according to a powerful meddler called

Desmond Tiny, who could see into the future). Two were Vampire Princes, Vancha March and me. The

other had been Mr Crepsley, the vampire who'd blooded me and been like a father to me. He'd faced

the person we thought was the Vampaneze Lord earlier that night and killed him. But then Steve sent Mr

Crepsley tumbling to his death in a pit of flame-tipped stakes — shortly before he let me know that the

person Mr Crepsley killed was an impostor, and that Steve himself was the Vampaneze Lord.

It didn't seem possible that Mr Crepsley was dead. I kept expecting a tap on my shoulder, and the tall

orange-haired vampire to be standing behind me when I turned, grinning wickedly, his long facial scar

glinting as he held up a torch, asking where we thought we were going without him. But the tap never

came. It couldn't. Mr Crepsley was dead. He'd never come back.

Part of me wanted to go mad with rage, seize a sword and storm off after Steve. I wanted to track him

down and drive a stake through his rotten excuse for a heart. But Mr Crepsley had warned me not to

devote myself to revenge. He said it would warp and destroy me if I gave in to it. I knew in my soul that

there was unfinished business between Steve and me, that our paths would cross again. But for the time

being I pushed him from my thoughts and mourned for Mr Crepsley.

Except I couldn't really mourn. Tears wouldn't come. As much as I wanted to howl and sob with grief,

my eyes remained dry and steely. Inside, I was a broken, weeping wreck, but on the outside I was cold,

calm and collected, as though I hadn't been affected by the vampire's death.

Ahead, Vancha and Alice came to a halt. The Prince looked back, his wide eyes red from crying. He

looked pitiful in his animal skins, with his filthy bare feet and wild hair, like an overgrown, lost child.

"We're almost at the surface," he croaked. "It's still day. Will we wait here for dark? If we're spotted…"

"Don't care," I mumbled.

"I don't want to stay here," Debbie sobbed. "These tunnels are cruel."

"And I have to inform my people that I'm alive," Alice said, then frowned and picked dried blood flecks

from her pale white hair. "Though I don't know how I'm going to explain it to them!"

"Tell the truth," Vancha grunted.

The Chief Inspector grimaced. "Hardly! I'll have to think up some—" She stopped. A figure had

appeared out of the darkness ahead of us, blocking the path.

Cursing, Vancha ripped loose a shuriken — throwing stars he kept strapped in belts around his chest —

and prepared to launch it.

"Peace, Vancha," the stranger said, raising a hand. "I am here to help, not harm."

Vancha lowered his shuriken and muttered in disbelief, "Evanna?"

The woman ahead of us clicked her fingers and a torch flared into life overhead, revealing the ugly witch

we'd travelled with earlier in the year, while we were searching for the Lord of the Vampaneze. She

hadn't changed. Short thick muscles, long untidy hair, pointed ears, a tiny nose, one brown eye and one

green (the colours kept shifting from left to right), hairy body, long sharp nails and yellow ropes tied tight

around her body instead of clothes.

"What are you doing… here?" Harkat asked, his large green eyes filled with suspicion — Evanna was a

neutral in the War of the Scars, but could help or hinder those on either side, depending on her mood.

"I came to bid Larten's spirit farewell," the witch said. She was smiling.

"You don't look too cut up about it," I remarked without emotion.

She shrugged. "I foresaw his death many decades ago. I did my crying for him then."

"You knew he'd die?" Vancha growled.

"I wasn't certain, but I guessed he would perish," she said.

"Then you could have stopped it!"

"No," Evanna said. "Those with the ability to sense the currents of the future are forbidden to interfere.

To save Larten, I'd have had to abandon the rules I live by, and if that happened, all chaos would break

loose."

The witch stretched out a hand, and even though she was many metres away from Vancha, her fingers

cupped his chin tenderly. "I was fond of Larten," she said softly. "I hoped I was wrong. But I couldn't

take it upon myself to spare him. His fate wasn't mine to decide."

"Then whose was it?" Vancha snapped.

"His own," Evanna replied steadily. "Hechose to hunt for the Lord of the Vampaneze, to enter the

tunnels, to fight on the platform. He could have walked away from his responsibilities — but he chose not

to."

Vancha glared at the witch a moment longer, then lowered his gaze. I saw fresh tears splash in the dust

at his feet. "My apologies, Lady," he muttered. "I don't blame you. I'm just so fired up with hatred.

"I know," the witch said, then studied the rest of us. "You must come with me. I have things to tell you,

and I'd rather talk on the outside — the air here is rank with treachery and death. Will you spare me a

few hours of your time?" She glanced at Alice Burgess. "I promise I won't keep you long."

Alicesniffed. "I guess a few hours can't make much of a difference."

Evanna looked at Harkat, Debbie, Vancha and me. We shared a glance, then nodded and followed the

witch up the last stretch of the tunnels, leaving the darkness and the dead behind.

Evanna gave Vancha a thick deer hide to drape over his head and shoulders, to block out the rays of the

sun. Trailing after the witch, we moved quickly through the streets. Evanna must have cast a spell to hide

us, because people didn't notice us, despite our blood-stained faces and clothes. We ended up outside

the city, in a small forest, where Evanna had prepared a camp amidst the trees. At her offer, we sat and

tucked into the berries, roots and water she'd set out for us.

We ate silently. I found myself studying the witch, wondering why she was here — if she'd really come

to say goodbye to Mr Crepsley, she'd have gone down to where his body lay in the pit. Evanna was Mr

Tiny's daughter. He had created her by mixing the blood of a vampire with that of a wolf. Vampires and

vampaneze were barren — we couldn't have children — but Evanna was supposed to be able to bear a

child by a male of either clan. When we met her shortly after setting out to hunt the Vampaneze Lord,

she'd confirmed Mr Tiny's prophecy — that we'd have four chances to kill the Lord — and added the

warning that if we failed, two of us would die.

Vancha finished eating first, sat back and burped. "Speak," he snapped — he wasn't in the mood for

formalities.

"You're wondering how many chances you've used up," Evanna said directly. "The answer is — three.

The first was when you fought the vampaneze in the glade and let their Lord escape. The second, when

you discovered Steve Leonard was a half-vampaneze and took him hostage — although you had several

opportunities to kill him, they count as one. The third chance was when Larten faced him on the platform

above the pit of stakes."

"That means we still have a shot at him!" Vancha hissed excitedly.

"Yes," Evanna said. "Once more the hunters will face the Vampaneze Lord, and on that occasion the

future will be decided. But that confrontation will not come in the near future. Steve Leonard has

withdrawn to plot anew. For now, you may relax."

The witch turned to me and her expression softened. "It might not lighten your load," she said kindly,

"but Larten's soul has flown to Paradise. He died nobly and earned the reward of the righteous. He is at

rest."

"I'd rather he was here," I said miserably, gazing at the leaves of an overhanging tree, waiting for tears

which still wouldn't come.

"What about the rest of the vampaneze?" Alice asked. "Are any of them still in my city?"

Evanna shook her head. "All have fled."

"Will they return?" Alice asked, and by the glint in her eyes I saw she was half hoping they would, so she

could settle a few scores.

"No." Evanna smiled. "But I think it's safe to say that you will run into them again."

"I'd better," Alice growled, and I knew she was thinking of Morgan James, an officer of hers who'd

joined the vampets. They were human allies of the vampaneze, who shaved their heads, daubed blood

around their eyes, sported V tattoos above their ears, and dressed in brown uniforms.

"Is the nightmare over then?" Debbie asked, wiping her dark cheeks clean. The teacher had fought like a

tigress in the tunnels, but the events of the night had caught up with her and she was shivering helplessly.

"For you — for now," Evanna answered cryptically.

"What does that mean?" Debbie frowned.

"You and the Chief Inspector can choose to distance yourselves from the War of the Scars," Evanna

said. "You can return to your ordinary lives and pretend this never happened. If you do, the vampaneze

won't come after you again."

"Of course we'll return to our lives," Alice said. "What else can we do? We're not vampires. We don't

have any further part to play in their war."

"Perhaps," Evanna said. "Or perhaps you'll think differently when you've had time to reconsider. You'll

return to the city — you need time to reflect, and you have affairs to put in order — but whether or not

you'll choose to stay…" Evanna's eyes flicked over Vancha, Harkat and me. "And where do you three

wish to go?"

"I'm continuing after that monster, Leonard," Vancha said immediately.

"You may if you wish," Evanna shrugged, "but you'll be wasting your time and energy. Moreover, you

will jeopardize your position. Although you are fated to confront him again, it's not written in stone — by

pursuing him now, you might miss the final destined showdown."

Vancha cursed bitterly, then asked Evanna where she suggested he should go.

"Vampire Mountain," she said. "Your clan should be told about the Vampaneze Lord. They must not kill

him themselves — that rule still applies — but they can scout for him and point you in the right direction."

Vancha nodded slowly. "I'll call a temporary end to the fighting and set everyone searching for him. I'll

flit for Vampire Mountain as soon as night falls. Darren — are you and Harkat coming?"

I looked at my fellow Prince, then down at the hard brown earth of the forest floor. "No," I said softly.

"I've had all I can take of vampires and vampaneze. I know I'm a Prince and have duties to attend to. But

I feel like my head's about to explode. Mr Crepsley meant more to me than anything else. I need to get

away from it all, maybe for a while — maybe for ever."

"It's a dangerous time to cut yourself off from those who care for you," Vancha said quietly.

"I can't help that," I sighed.

Vancha was troubled by my choice, but he accepted it. "I don't approve — a Prince should put the

needs of his people before his own — but I understand. Ill explain it to the others. Nobody will trouble

you." He cocked an eyebrow at Harkat. "I suppose you'll be going with him?"

Harkat lowered the mask from his mouth (air was poisonous to the grey-skinned Little People) and

smiled thinly. "Of course." Mr Tiny had resurrected Harkat from the dead. Harkat didn't know who he

used to be, but he believed he could find out by sticking with me.

"Where will you go?" Vancha asked. "I can find you using the Stone of Blood, but it'll be easier if I have

a rough idea of where you're heading."

"I don't know," I said. "I'll just pick a direction and…" I stopped as a picture flashed through my

thoughts, of circus vans, snake-boys and hammocks. "The Cirque Du Freak," I decided. "It's the nearest

place outside Vampire Mountain that I can call home."

"A good choice," Evanna said, and by the way her lips lifted at the edges, I realized the witch had known

all along that I'd choose to return to the Cirque.

We went our separate ways as the sun was setting, even though we hadn't slept and were ready to drop

with exhaustion. Vancha departed first, on his long trek to Vampire Mountain. He said little when leaving,

but hugged me hard and hissed in my ear, "Be brave!"

"You too," I whispered back.

"We'll kill Leonard next time," he vowed.

"Aye," I grinned weakly.

He turned and ran, hitting flitting speed seconds later, vanishing into the gloom of the dusk.

Debbie and Alice left next, to return to the city. Debbie asked me to stay with her, but I couldn't, not as

things stood. I needed to be by myself for a while. She wept and clutched me close. "Will you come

back later?" she asked.

"I'll try," I croaked.

"If he doesn't," Evanna said, "you can always go looking for him." She handed a folded-up piece of

paper to Alice Burgess. "Hold on to that. Keep it closed. When the two of you decide upon your course,

open it."

The Chief Inspector asked no questions, just tucked the paper away and waited for Debbie to join her.

Debbie looked at me pleadingly. She wanted me to go with her — or ask her to come with me — but

there was a huge ball of grief sitting cold and hard in my gut. I couldn't think of anything else right now.

"Take care," I said, turning aside and breaking eye contact.

"You too," she croaked, then sobbed loudly and stumbled away. With a quick "Goodbye", Alice hurried

after her, and the two women slipped through the trees, back to the city, supporting one another as they

went.

That left just me, Harkat and Evanna.

"Any idea where the Cirque's playing?" the witch asked. We shook our heads. "Then it's lucky that I do

and am going there," she smiled. Standing between us, she looped her arms around my left arm and

Harkat's right, and led us through the forest, away from the city and its underground caverns of death,

back to where my voyage into the night first started — the Cirque Du Freak.

CHAPTER TWO

ALEXANDER RIBS was sleeping in a large tyre hanging from a tree. He always slept curled up — it

kept his body supple and made it easier for him to twist and contort when he was performing. Normally

he kept the tyre on a special stand in his caravan, but occasionally he'd drag it outside and sleep in the

open. It was a cold night for sleeping outdoors — the middle of a wintry November — but he had a

thick, fur-lined body-bag to keep the chill out.

As Alexander snored musically a young boy crept towards him, a cockroach in his right hand, with the

intention of dropping it into Alexanders mouth. Behind him, his older brother and younger sister looked

on with impish glee, urging him forward with harsh hand gestures whenever he paused nervously.

As the boy neared the tyre and held up the cockroach, his mother — always alert to mischief — stuck

her head out of a nearby tent, ripped her left ear off and threw it at him. It spun through the air like a

boomerang and knocked the cockroach from the boy's pudgy fingers. Yelping, he raced back to his

brother and sister, while Alexander slept on, unaware of his narrow escape.

"Urcha!" Merla snapped, catching her ear as it circled back, then reattaching it to her head. "If I catch

you bothering Alexander again, I'll lock you in with the Wolf Man until morning!"

"Shancus made me do it!" Urcha whined, receiving a dig in the ribs from his older brother.

"I don't doubt he put you up to it," Merla growled, "but you're old enough to know better. Don't do it

again. Shancus!" she added. The snake-boy looked at his mother innocently. "If Urcha or Lilia get into

trouble tonight, I'll hold you responsible."

"I didn't do anything!" Shancus shouted. "They're always—"

"Enough!" Merla cut him short. She started towards her children, then saw me sitting in the shadow of

the tree next to the one Alexander Ribs was hanging from. Her expression softened. "Hello, Darren," she

said. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for cockroaches," I said, managing a short smile. Merla and her husband, Evra Von — a

snake-man and one of my oldest friends — had been very kind to me since Id arrived a couple of weeks

earlier. Though I found it hard to respond to their kindness in my miserable mood, I made as much of an

effort as I could.

"It's cold," Merla noted. "Shall I fetch you a blanket?"

I shook my head. "It takes more than a slight frost to chill a half-vampire."

"Well, would you mind keeping an eye on these three as long as you're outside?" she asked. "Evra's

snake is moulting. If you can keep the kids out of the way, it'd be a real help."

"No problem," I said, rising and dusting myself down as she went back inside the tent. I walked over to

the three Von children. They gazed up at me uncertainly. I'd been unusually solemn since returning to the

Cirque Du Freak, and they weren't quite sure what to make of me. "What would you like to do?" I

asked.

"Cockroach!" Lilia squealed. She was only three years old, but looked five or six because of her rough,

coloured scales. Like Shancus, Lilia was half-human, half-snake. Urcha was an ordinary, human, though

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摘要：

DARRENSHANTHELAKEOFSOULSTHESAGAOFDARRENSHANBOOK10byDarrenShan THESAGAOFDARRENSHAN1 CirqueDuFreak2 TheVampire'sAssistant3 TunnelsofBlood4 VampireMountain5 TrialsofDeath6 TheVampirePrince7 HuntersoftheDusk8 AlliesoftheNight9 KillersoftheDawn10TheLakeofSouls DARRENSHANTHELAKEOFSOULSTHESAGAOFD...

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