Darren Shan - Cirque Du Freak 02 - The Vampire's Assistant

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Cirque Du Freak Book 2
THE SAGA OF DARREN SHAN
THE VAMPIRE'S
ASSISTANT
Darren Shan
CONTENTS
Introduction
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Copyright © 2001 by Darren Shan
Little, Brown and Company
Boston New York London
First U.S. Edition
The characters and events portrayed in this book are
fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is
coincidental and not intended by the author.
First published in Great Britain by Collins in 2000
ISBN 0-316-60610-3
Printed in the United States of America
For:
Granny and Grandad — tough old fogeys
OBEs (Order of the Bloody Entrails) to:
Caroline "Tracker" Paul
Paul "The Pillager" Litherland
Heads off to:
Biddy "Jekyll" and Liam "Hyde"
Gillie "Grave Robber" Russell
The hideously creepy HarperCollins gang
and
Emma and Chris (from "Ghouls Are Us")
INTRODUCTION
My name is Darren Shan. I'm a half-vampire.
I wasn't born that way. I used to be ordinary. I lived at
home with my parents and younger sister, Annie. I enjoyed
school and had lots of friends.
I liked reading horror stories and watching scary
movies. When this freak show came to town, my best
friend, Steve Leopard, got tickets, and we went together. It
was great, really spooky and weird. A super night out.
But the weirdest part came after the show. Steve
recognized one of the characters from the show. He'd seen
a drawing of him in an old book and knew he was — a
vampire. Steve stuck around after the show and asked the
vampire to turn him into one, too! Mr. Crepsley — the
vampire — would have, but he found out Steve's blood
was evil, and that was the end of that.
Or it would have been the end, except I stuck around,
too, to see what Steve was up to.
I wanted nothing to do with vampires, but I'd always
loved spiders — I used to keep them as pets — and Mr.
Crepsley had a poisonous performing tarantula, Madam
Octa, who could do all sorts of great tricks. I stole her and
left a note for the vampire, saying I'd tell people about him
if he came after me.
To make a long story short, Madam Octa bit Steve and
he ended up in the hospital. He would have died, so I went
to Mr. Crepsley and asked him to save Steve. He agreed,
but in return I had to become a half-vampire and travel
with him as his assistant!
I ran away after he'd turned me into a half - vampire (by
pumping part of his own horrible blood into me) and saved
Steve. But then I realized I was hungry for blood, and was
afraid I'd do something terrible (like bite my sister) if I
stayed at home.
So Mr. Crepsley helped me fake my death. I was buried
alive, and then, in the dead of night, with no one around, he
dug me up and we took off together. My days as a human
were over. My nights as a vampire's assistant had begun.
CHAPTER ONE
It was a dry, warm night, and Stanley Collins had
decided to walk home after the Boy Scouts meeting. It
wasn't a very long walk — less than a mile — and though
the night was dark, he knew every step of the way as surely
as he knew how to tie a reef knot.
Stanley was a scoutmaster. He loved the Scouts. He'd
been one when he was a boy and kept in contact when he
grew up. He'd turned his own three sons into first-rate
Scouts, and now that they'd grown up and left home, he
was helping the local kids.
Stanley walked quickly to keep warm. He was only
wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and even though it was a nice
night, his arms and legs were soon covered in
goosebumps. He didn't mind. His wife would have a
delicious cup of hot chocolate and cookies waiting for him
when he got home. He'd enjoy them all the more after a
good, brisk walk.
Trees grew along both sides of the road home, making it
very dark and dangerous for anyone who wasn't used to it.
But Stanley had no fears. On the contrary, he loved the
night. He enjoyed listening to the sound of his feet
crunching through the grass and briars.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
He smiled. When his sons were young, he'd often
pretended there were monsters lying in wait up in the trees
as they walked home. He'd make scary noises and shake
the leaves of low-hanging branches when the boys weren't
looking. Sometimes they'd burst into screams and run for
home at top speed, and Stanley would follow after them,
laughing.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
Sometimes, if he was having trouble getting to sleep at
night, he would imagine the sounds of his feet as they
made their way home, and that always helped him drift off
into a happy dream.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
It was the nicest sound in the world, as far as Stanley
was concerned. It was a great feeling, to know you were all
alone and safe as can be.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
Snap.
Stanley stopped and frowned. That had sounded like a
stick breaking — but how could it have been? He would
have felt it if he'd stepped on a twig. And there were no
cows or sheep in the nearby fields.
He stood still for about half a minute, listening curiously.
When there were no more sounds, he shook his head and
smiled. It had been his imagination playing tricks on him,
that was all. He'd tell the wife about it when he got home
and they'd have a good old laugh.
He started walking again.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
There. Back to the familiar sounds. There was nobody
else around. He would have heard more than a single
branch snapping if there was. Nobody could creep up on
Stanley J. Collins. He was a trained scoutmaster. His ears
were as sharp as a fox's.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Cru —
Snap.
Stanley stopped again and, for the first time, the fingers
of fear began to squeeze around his beating heart.
That hadn't been his imagination. He'd heard it, clear as
a bell. A twig snapping, somewhere overhead. And before
it snapped — had there been the slightest rustling sound,
like something moving?
Stanley gazed up at the trees but it was too dark to see.
There could have been a monster the size of a car up there
and he wouldn't have been able to spot it. Ten monsters! A
hundred! A thou—
Oh, that was silly. There were no monsters in the trees.
Monsters didn't exist. Everyone knew that. Monsters
weren't real. It was a squirrel or an owl up there, something
ordinary like that.
Stanley raised a foot and began to bring it down.
Snap.
His foot hung in the air, midstep, and his heart pounded
quickly. That was no squirrel! The sound was too sharp.
Something big was up there. Something that shouldn't be
up there. Something that had never been up there before.
Something that —
Snap!
The sound was closer this time, lower down, and
suddenly Stanley could stand it no longer.
He began to run.
Stanley was a large man, but pretty fit for his age. Still, it
had been a long time since he'd run this fast, and after a
hundred yards he was out of breath and had a cramp in his
side.
He slowed to a halt and bent over, gasping for air.
Crunch.
His head shot up.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
There were footsteps coming toward him! Slow, heavy
footsteps. Stanley listened, terrified, as they came closer
and closer. Had the monster leaped ahead of him through
the trees? Had it climbed down? Was it coming to finish
him off? Was it… ?
Crunch. Crunch.
The footsteps stopped and Stanley was able to make
out a figure in the darkness. It was smaller than he'd
expected, no bigger than a boy. He took a deep breath,
straightened up, got his courage up, and stepped forward
for a better look.
It was only a boy! A small, frightened-looking boy,
dressed in a dirty suit.
Stanley smiled and shook his head. What a fool he'd
been! The wife would have a field day when he told her
about this.
"Are you okay, son?" Stanley asked him.
The boy didn't answer.
Stanley didn't recognize the youngster, but there were a
lot of new families around these days. He no longer knew
every child in the neighborhood.
"Can I help you?" he asked. "Are you lost?"
The boy shook his head slowly. There was something
strange about him. Something that suddenly made Stanley
feel uneasy. It might have been the effect of the darkness
and the shadows… but the boy looked very pale, very thin,
very… hungry.
"Are you all right?" Stanley asked again, stepping
closer. "Can I —"
Snap!
The sound came from directly overhead, loud and
menacing. The boy leaped back quickly, out of the way.
Stanley just had time to glance up and see a huge red
shape, which might have been some sort of bat, falling
through the branches of the trees, almost faster than his
eyes could follow.
And then the red thing was on him. Stanley opened his
mouth to scream, but before he could, the monster's hands
— claws? — clamped over his mouth. There was a brief
struggle, then Stanley was sliding onto the ground,
unconscious, unseeing, unknowing.
Above him, the two creatures of the night moved in for
the feed.
CHAPTER TWO
"Imagine a man his age wearing a Scout's uniform," Mr.
Crepsley snorted as he turned our victim over.
"Were you ever in the Scouts?" I asked.
"They did not have them in my day," he replied.
He patted the man's meaty legs and grunted. "Plenty of
blood in this one," he said.
I watched as Mr. Crepsley searched the leg for a vein,
then cut it open — a small slice — using one of his
fingernails. As soon as blood oozed out, he clamped his
mouth around the cut and sucked. He didn't believe in
wasting any of the "precious red mercury," as he
sometimes called it.
I stood uncertainly by his side as he drank. This was the
third time I'd taken part in an attack, but I still wasn't used
to the sight of the vampire sucking blood from a helpless
human being.
It had been almost two months since my "death," but I
was having a tough time adjusting to the change. It was
hard to believe my old way of life was finished, that I was a
half-vampire and could never go back. I knew I had to
eventually leave my human side behind. But it was easier
said than done.
Mr. Crepsley lifted his head and licked his lips.
"A good vintage," he joked, shuffling back from the
body. "Your turn," he said.
I took a step forward, then stopped and shook my
head.
"I can't," I said.
"Do not be stupid," he growled. "You have shied away
twice already. It is time you drank."
"I can't!" I cried.
"You have drunk animal blood," he said.
"That's different. This is a human."
"So what?" Mr. Crepsley snapped. "We are not. You
have to start treating humans the same as animals, Darren.
Vampires cannot live on animal blood alone. If you do not
start drinking human blood, you will grow weak. If you
continue to avoid it, you will die."
"I know," I said miserably. "You've explained it to me.
And I know we don't hurt those we drink from, not unless
we drink too much. But…" I shrugged unhappily.
He sighed. "Very well. It is hard, especially when you
are only a half-vampire and the hunger is not so great. I will
let you abstain this time. But you must feed soon. For your
own sake."
He returned to the cut and cleaned away the blood —
which had been leaking out while we were talking — from
around the man's leg. Then he worked up a mouthful of
spit and slowly let it dribble over the cut. He rubbed it in
with a finger, then sat back and watched.
The wound closed and healed. Within a minute there
was nothing left besides a small scar that the man probably
wouldn't notice when he awoke.
That's how vampires protect themselves. Unlike in the
movies, they don't kill people when they drink, not unless
they are starving or get carried away and go too far. They
drink in small doses, a little here, a little there. Sometimes
they attack people out in the open, as we had just done.
Other times, they creep into bedrooms late at night or into
hospital wards or police cells.
The people they drink from hardly ever know they've
been fed on by a vampire. When this man woke, he would
remember only a falling red shape. He wouldn't be able to
explain why he'd passed out or what had happened to him
while he was unconscious.
If he found the scar, he'd be more likely to think it was
the mark of aliens than a vampire.
Hah. Aliens! Not many people know that vampires
started the UFO stories. It was the perfect cover. People
all over the world were waking up to find strange scars on
their bodies and were blaming it on imaginary aliens.
Mr. Crepsley had knocked the scoutmaster out with his
breath. Vampires can breathe out a special kind of gas,
which makes people faint. When Mr. Crepsley wanted to
put someone to sleep, he breathed into a cupped fist, then
held his hand over the person's nose and mouth. Seconds
later they were down for the count, and wouldn't wake for
at least twenty or thirty minutes.
Mr. Crepsley examined the scar and made sure it had
healed correctly. He took good care of his victims. He
seemed to be a nice guy, from what I'd seen of him —
apart from the fact that he was a vampire!
"Come," he said, standing. "The night is young. We will
go find a rabbit or a fox for you."
"You don't mind me not drinking from him?" I asked.
Mr. Crepsley shook his head. "You will drink
eventually," he said. "When you are hungry enough."
"No," I said silently behind him, as he turned to walk
away. "I won't. Not from a human. I'll never drink from a
human. Never!"
CHAPTER THREE
I woke up early in the afternoon, as usual. I'd gone to
bed shortly before dawn, the same time as Mr. Crepsley.
But while he had to stay asleep until night came again, I
was free to rise and move around in the daylight world. It
was one of the advantages of being only a half-vampire.
I made a late breakfast of butter on a bagel — even
vampires have to eat normal food; blood alone won't keep
us going — and plopped down in front of the hotel TV.
Mr. Crepsley didn't like hotels. He usually slept out in the
open, in an old barn or a ruined building or a large crypt,
but I was having no part of that. I told him point blank after
a week of sleeping in the cold that I'd had enough of it. He
grumbled a bit, but finally gave in.
The last two months had passed pretty quickly, because
I'd been so busy learning about being a vampire's assistant.
Mr. Crepsley wasn't a good teacher and didn't like
repeating himself, so I had to pay attention and learn fast.
I was really strong now. I could lift huge weights and
crush marbles to pieces with my fingers. If I shook hands
with a human I had to be careful not to break the bones in
his fingers. I could do chin-ups all night long and throw a
baseball farther than any grown-up. (I measured my throw
one day, then checked in a book and discovered I'd set a
new world record! I was excited at first, but then realized I
couldn't tell anybody about it. Still, it was nice to know I
was a world champion.)
My fingernails were really thick, and the only way I
could cut them was with my teeth; clippers and scissors
were no good on my new, tough nails. They were a pain: I
kept ripping my clothes when I was putting them on or
taking them off and digging holes in my pockets when I
stuck my hands in.
We'd covered a lot of distance since that night in the
cemetery. First we'd fled at top vampire speed, me on Mr.
Crepsley's back, invisible to human eyes, gliding across the
land like a couple of high-speed ghosts. That's called
flitting. But flitting is tiring work, so after a couple of
nights we began taking trains and buses.
I don't know where Mr. Crepsley got the money for our
travel and hotels and food. He had no wallet that I could
see and no bank cards, but every time he had to pay for
something, out came the cash.
I hadn't grown fangs. I'd been expecting them to sprout
and had been checking my teeth in the mirror every night
for three weeks before Mr. Crepsley caught me.
摘要：

CirqueDuFreakBook2THESAGAOFDARRENSHANTHEVAMPIRE'SASSISTANTDarrenShanCONTENTSIntroductionChapterOneChapterTwoChapterThreeChapterFourChapterFiveChapterSixChapterSevenChapterEightChapterNineChapterTenChapterElevenChapterTwelveChapterThirteenChapterFourteenChapterFifteenChapterSixteenChapterSeventeenCha...

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