The Vampire’s Assistant

It was nice, watching the countryside drift away behind us. We ran up hills and across vast plains, faster than the wind. There was complete silence while we were flitting and nobody ever noticed us. It was as if we were surrounded by a magic bubble.

While we flitted I thought about what Mr Crepsley had said, about keeping people’s memories alive by drinking from them. I wasn’t sure how that would work, and made up my mind to ask him more about it at a later date.

Flitting was hard work; the vampire was sweating and I could see him starting to struggle. To help, I took out a bottle of human blood, uncorked it and held it to his lips so he could drink.

He nodded his silent thanks, wiped the sweat from his brow, and continued.

Finally, as the sky was beginning to lighten, he slowed to a halt. I hopped down off his back and looked around. We were in the middle of a country road, fields and trees all around us, not a house to be seen.

“Where’s the Cirque Du Freak?” I asked.

“A few kilometres further ahead,” he said, pointing. He was kneeling down, panting for breath.

“Did you run out of steam?” I asked, unable to keep the giggles out of my voice.

“No,” he glared. “I could have made it, but did not want to arrive looking flushed.”

“You’d better not rest too long,” I warned him. “Morning’s on its way.”

“I know precisely what time it is!” he snapped. “I know more about mornings and dawns than any living human. We have plenty of time on our side. A whole forty-three minutes yet.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” He stood, annoyed, and began to walk. I waited until he was a bit in front, then ran ahead of him.

“Hurry up, old man,” I jeered. “You’re getting left behind.”

“Keep it up,” he growled. “See what it gets you. A clip around the ear and a boot up the pants.”

He started trotting after a couple of minutes, and the two of us jogged along, side by side. I was in good spirits, happier than I’d been for months. It was nice having something to look forward to.

We passed a ragged bunch of campers on our way. They were starting to wake up and move around. A couple waved to us. They were funny looking people: long hair, strange clothes, weighed down with fancy earrings and bracelets.

There were banners and flags all over the camp. I tried reading them, but it was hard to focus while I was jogging, and I didn’t want to stop. From what I could gather, the campers had something to do with a protest against a new bypass.

The road was very curvy. After the fifth bend, we finally spotted the Cirque Du Freak, nestled in a clearing by the banks of a river. It was quiet – everyone was sleeping, I imagined – and, if we’d been in a car and not looking for the vans and tents, it would have been easy to miss.

It was an odd place for the circus to be. There was no hall or big tent for the freaks to perform in. I figured this must be a resting point between two towns.

Mr Crepsley weaved between the vans and cars with confidence. He knew exactly where he was going. I followed, less sure of myself, remembering the night I crept past the freaks and stole Madam Octa.

Mr Crepsley stopped at a long silver van and knocked on the door. It opened almost immediately and the towering figure of Mr Tall was revealed. His eyes looked darker than ever in the dim light. If I hadn’t known better, I would have sworn he had no eyeballs, only two black, empty spaces.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said, voice low, lips hardly moving. “I thought I felt you searching for me.” He craned over Mr Crepsley and looked down to where I was shaking. “I see you’ve brought the boy.”

“May we come in?” Mr Crepsley asked.

“Of course. What is it one is supposed to say to you vampires?” He smiled. “Enter of your own free will?”

“Something like that,” Mr Crepsley replied, and from the smile on his face, I knew it was an old joke between them.

We entered the van and sat. It was pretty bare inside, just a few shelves with posters and leaflets for the Cirque, the tall red hat and gloves I’d seen him wear before, a couple of knick-knacks and a foldaway bed.

“I didn’t expect you back so soon, Larten,” Mr Tall said. Even when he was sitting down he looked enormous.

“A swift return had not been on the agenda, Hibernius.” Hibernius? That was a strange name. Still, it suited him somehow. Hibernius Tall. It had an odd ring to it.

“Did you run into trouble?” Mr Tall asked.

“No,” Mr Crepsley said. “Darren was not happy. I decided he would be better off here, among those of his own kind.”

“I see.” Mr Tall studied me curiously. “You have come a long way since I saw you last, Darren Shan,” he said.

“I preferred it where I was,” I grumbled.

“Then why did you leave?” he asked.

I glared at him. “You know why,” I said coldly.

He nodded slowly.

“Is it OK if we stay?” Mr Crepsley asked.

“Of course,” Mr Tall replied immediately. “Delighted to have you back, actually. We’re a bit under-staffed at the moment. Alexander Ribs, Sive and Seersa, and Gertha Teeth are off on holidays or business. Cormac Limbs is on his way to join us, but is late getting here. Larten Crepsley and his amazing performing spider will be an invaluable addition to the line-up.”

“Thank you,” Mr Crepsley said.

“What about me?” I asked boldly.

Mr Tall smiled. “You are less valuable,” he said, “but welcome all the same.”

I snorted, but said nothing.

“Where shall we be playing?” Mr Crepsley asked next.

“Right here,” Mr Tall told him.

“Here?” I piped up in surprise.

“That puzzles you?” Mr Tall enquired.

“It’s in the middle of nowhere,” I said. “I thought you only played in towns and cities, where you’d get big audiences.”

“We always get a big audience,” Mr Tall said. “No matter where we play, people will come. Usually we stick to more populated areas, but this is a slow time of the year for us. As I’ve said, several of our best performers are absent, as are … certain other members of our company.”

A strange, secretive look passed between Mr Tall and Mr Crepsley, and I felt I was being left out of something.

“So we are resting for a while,” Mr Tall went on. “We shall not be putting on any shows for a few days. We’re relaxing.”

“We passed a road-camp on our way,” Mr Crepsley said. “Are they causing any problems?”

“The foot-soldiers of NOP?” Mr Tall laughed. “They’re too busy defending trees and rocks to interfere with us.”

“What’s NOP?” I asked.

“Nature’s Opposing Protectors,” Mr Tall explained. “They’re Eco Warriors. They run around the country, trying to stop new roads and bridges being built. They’ve been here a couple of months, but are due to move on soon.”

“Are they real warriors?” I asked. “Do they have guns and grenades and tanks?”

The two adults almost laughed their heads off.

“He can be quite silly sometimes,” Mr Crepsley said between fits of laughter, “but he is not as dumb as he seems.”

I felt my face reddening, but held my tongue. I knew from experience that it’s no use getting mad at grown-ups when they laugh at you; it only makes them laugh even harder.

“They call themselves warriors,” Mr Tall said, “but they’re not really. They chain themselves to trees and pour sand into the engines of JCBs and toss nails in the path of cars. That sort of thing.”

“Why—” I started, but Mr Crepsley interrupted.

“We do not have time for questions,” he said. “A few more minutes and the sun will be up.” He rose and shook Mr Tall’s hand. “Thank you for having us back, Hibernius.”

“My pleasure,” Mr Tall replied.

“I trust you took good care of my coffin?”

“Of course.”

Mr Crepsley smiled happily and rubbed his hands together. “That is what I miss most when I am away. It will be nice to bed down in it once more.”

“What about the boy?” Mr Tall asked. “Do you want us to knock together a coffin for him?”

“Don’t even think about it!” I shouted. “You won’t get me in one of those again!” I remembered what it felt like to be in a coffin, when I was buried alive, and shivered.

Mr Crepsley smiled. “Put Darren in with one of the other performers,” he said. “Somebody his own age, if possible.”

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