Vampire Mountain

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

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PROLOGUE

“PACK YOUR bags,” Mr Crepsley said late one night, as he was heading for his coffin. “We leave for Vampire Mountain tomorrow.”

I was used to the vampire making declarations out of the blue – he didn’t believe in consulting me when making up his mind – but this was extraordinary, even for him.

“Vampire Mountain?” I shrieked, racing after him. “Why are we going there?”

“To present you to the Council,” he said. “It is time.”

“The Council of Vampire Generals?” I asked. “Why do we have to go? Why now?”

“We go because it is proper,” he said. “And we go now because the Council only meets once every twelve years. If we miss this year’s gathering, we will have a long wait until the next.”

And that was all he’d say about it. He turned a deaf ear to the rest of my questions and tucked himself into his coffin before the sun rose, leaving me to fret the day away.

My name’s Darren Shan. I’m a half-vampire. I used to be human until eight or so years ago, when my destiny clashed with Mr Crepsley’s and I reluctantly became his assistant. I had a hard time adapting to the vampire and his ways – especially when it came to drinking human blood – but finally I resigned myself, accepted my lot, and got on with the business of living.

We were part of a travelling band of amazing circus performers, led by a man called Hibernius Tall. We toured the world, putting on incredible shows for customers who appreciated our strange and magical talents.

Six years had passed since Mr Crepsley and me had last been separated from the Cirque Du Freak. We’d left to put a stop to a mad vampaneze by the name of Murlough, who was terrorizing the vampire’s home city. The vampaneze are a breakaway group of vampires who kill humans when they feed on them. Vampires don’t — we just take a bit of blood and move on, leaving those we sup from unharmed. Most of the vampire myths you read about in books or see in films actually originated with the vampaneze.

They’d been a good six years. I’d become a regular performer at the Cirque, going on with Madam Octa – Mr Crepsley’s poisonous spider – every night to amaze and frighten audiences. I’d also learnt a few magic tricks, which I’d worked into the act. I got on well with the rest of the Cirque troupe. I’d grown accustomed to the wandering lifestyle and had been enjoying myself.

Now, after six years of stability, we were about to journey into the unknown again. I knew a small bit about the Council and Vampire Mountain. Vampires were ruled by soldiers called Vampire Generals who made sure their laws were enforced. They killed mad or evil vampires and kept the rest of the walking un-dead in line. Mr Crepsley used to be a Vampire General, but quit long ago, for reasons he’d never revealed.

Every so often – I now knew it was twelve years – the Generals gathered at a secret fortress to discuss whatever it was that blood-sucking creatures of the night discussed when they got together. Not only Generals attended – I’d heard that ordinary vampires could go as well – but they made up the majority. I didn’t know where the fortress was, or how we’d get there, or why I had to be presented to the Council — but I was about to find out!

CHAPTER ONE

I WAS excited but anxious about the journey – I was venturing into the unknown, and I’d a feeling it wouldn’t prove to be a smooth trip – so I spent the day busily packing rucksacks for myself and Mr Crepsley, to make the time pass faster. (Full-vampires will die if exposed to the sun for more than a few hours, but half-vampires aren’t affected by it.) Since I didn’t know where we were going, I didn’t know what to take or leave. If Vampire Mountain was icy and wintry, I’d need thick clothes and boots; if it was somewhere hot and tropical, T-shirts and shorts would be more in order.

I asked some of the Cirque people about it but they knew nothing, except Mr Tall, who said I should pack for snow. Mr Tall was one of those people who seem to know something about everything.

Evra agreed about the snow. “I doubt if sun-shy vampires would make their base in the Caribbean!” he snorted.

Evra Von was a snake-boy, with scales instead of skin. Rather, he used to be a snake-boy — now he was a snake-man. Evra had grown these last six years, got taller and broader and older-looking. I hadn’t. As a half-vampire, I aged at one-fifth the normal rate. So, though eight years had passed since Mr Crepsley blooded me, I only looked a year or so older.

I hated not being able to grow normally. Evra and me used to be best buddies, but not any more. We were still good friends and shared a tent, but he was a young man now, more interested in people – particularly women! – his own age. In reality I was only a couple of years younger than Evra, but I looked like a kid, and it was difficult for him to treat me as an equal.

There were benefits to being a half-vampire – I was stronger and faster than any human, and would live longer – but I’d have given them all up if it meant looking my real age and being able to lead an ordinary life.

Even though Evra and me were no longer as close as we’d once been, he was still my friend, and was worried about me heading off for Vampire Mountain. “From what I know, that journey’s no joke,” he warned in the deep voice which hit him a few years ago. “Maybe I should come with you.”

I’d have loved to jump at his offer, but Evra had his own life to lead. It wouldn’t be fair to drag him away from the Cirque Du Freak. “No,” I told him. “Stay and keep my hammock warm. I’ll be OK. Besides, snakes don’t like the cold, do they?”

“That’s true,” he laughed. “I’d most likely fall asleep and hibernate till spring!”

Even though Evra wouldn’t be coming, he helped me pack. I didn’t have much to take: spare clothes, a thick pair of boots, special cooking utensils which folded up neatly so they were easier to carry, my diary – that went everywhere with me – and other bits and pieces. Evra told me to take a rope — he said it might come in handy, especially when it came to climbing.

“But vampires are great climbers,” I reminded him.

“I know,” he said, “but do you really want to hang off the side of a mountain with only your fingertips for support?”

“Of course he does!” someone boomed behind us before I could answer. “Vampires thrive on danger.”

Turning to see who it was, I found myself face to face with the sinister being known as Mr Tiny, and my insides instantly froze with fright.

Mr Tiny was a small, plump man, with white hair, thick glasses and a pair of green wellies. He often toyed with a heart-shaped watch. He looked like a kindly old uncle but was in fact a cruel, dark-hearted man, who’d cut your tongue out as soon as say “hello”. Nobody knew much about him, but everyone was afraid of him. His first name was Desmond, and if you shortened it and put it together with his surname you got Mr Destiny.

I hadn’t seen Mr Tiny since shortly after joining the Cirque Du Freak, but I’d heard many tales about him – how he ate children for breakfast, and burned down towns to warm his feet. My heart tightened when I saw him standing a few metres away, eyes twinkling, hands wrapped behind his back, eavesdropping on Evra and me.

“Vampires are peculiar creatures,” he said, stepping forward, as though he’d been part of the conversation all along. “They love a challenge. I knew one once who walked himself to death in sunlight, merely because someone had sneered at him for only being able to come out at night.”

He stuck out a hand and, scared as I was, I automatically shook it. Evra didn’t — when Mr Tiny extended his hand to the snake-man, he stood, quivering, shaking his head furiously. Mr Tiny merely smiled and withdrew the hand.

“So, you’re off to Vampire Mountain,” he said, picking up my rucksack and peering inside without asking. “Take matches, Master Shan. The way is long and the days are cold. The winds that gust around Vampire Mountain would cut even a tough-skinned young man like you to the bone.”

“Thanks for the advice,” I said.

That was the confusing thing about Mr Tiny: he was always polite and amiable, so even if you knew he was the sort of man who wouldn’t blink in the face of great evil, you couldn’t help liking him at least some of the time.