Vampire Rites Trilogy

“How come they’re so friendly?” I asked. “I thought wolves shied away from people.”

“From humans,” Mr Crepsley said. “Vampires are different. Our scent is similar to their own. They recognize us as kindred spirits. Not all wolves are amiable – these must have had dealings with our kind before – but none would ever attack a vampire, not unless they were starving.”

“Did you see any more of them?” Gavner asked. I shook my head. “Then they’re probably journeying towards Vampire Mountain to join up with other packs.”

“Why would they be going to Vampire Mountain?” I asked.

“Wolves come whenever there’s a Council,” he explained. “They know from experience that there will be plenty of scraps for them to feed on. The guardians of Vampire Mountain spend years stocking up for Councils. There’s always food left over, which they dump outside for the creatures of the wild to dispose of.”

“It’s a long way to go for a few scraps,” I commented.

“They go for more than food,” Mr Crepsley said. “They gather for company, to salute old friends, find new mates and share memories.”

“Wolves can communicate?” I asked.

“They are able to transmit simple thoughts to one another. They do not actually talk – wolves have no words – but can share pictures and pass on maps of where they have been, letting others know where hunting is plentiful or scarce.”

“Talking of which, we’d better make ourselves scarce,” Gavner said. “The sun’s sinking and it’s time we got a move on. You chose a long, roundabout route to come by, Larten, and if we don’t pick up the pace, we’ll arrive late for Council.”

“There are other paths?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said. “There are dozens of ways. That’s why – except for the remains of the dead one – we haven’t run into other vampires – each comes by a different route.”

We rolled up our blankets and departed, Mr Crepsley and Gavner keeping a close eye on the trail, scouring it for signs of whoever had killed the vampire in the cave. The wolves followed us through the trees and ran beside us for a couple of hours, keeping clear of the Little People, before vanishing ahead of us into the night.

“Where are they going?” I asked.

“To hunt,” Mr Crepsley replied.

“Will they come back?”

“It would not surprise me,” he said, and, come dawn, as we were making camp, the four wolves re-appeared like ghosts out of the snow and made their beds beside and on top of us. For the second day running, I slept soundly, disturbed only by the cold nose of the cub when he snuck in under the blanket during the middle of the day to cuddle up beside me.

CHAPTER SIX

WE PROCEEDED with caution for the first few nights after finding the blood-spattered cave. But when we encountered no further signs of the vampire killer, we put our concerns on hold and enjoyed the rough pleasures of the trail as best we could.

Running with wolves was fascinating. I learnt lots by watching them and asking questions of Mr Crepsley, who fancied himself something of a wolf expert.

Wolves aren’t fast, but they’re tireless, sometimes roaming forty or fifty kilometres a day. They usually pick on small animals when hunting, but occasionally go after larger victims, working as a team. Their senses – sight, hearing, smell – are strong. Each pack has a leader, and they share food equally. They’re great climbers, able to survive any sort of conditions.

We hunted with them often. It was exhilarating to race alongside them on bright star-speckled nights, over the gleaming snow – chasing a deer or fox and sharing the hot, bloody kill. Time passed quicker with the wolves around, and the kilometres slipped by almost unnoticed.

One cold, clear night, we came upon a thick briar patch which covered the floor of a valley sheltered between two towering mountains. The thorns were extra thick and sharp, capable of pricking the skin of even a full-vampire. We paused at the mouth of the valley while Mr Crepsley and Gavner decided how to proceed.

“We could climb the side of one of the mountains,” Mr Crepsley mused, “but Darren is not as strong a climber as us – he could be damaged if he slipped.”

“How about going around?” Gavner suggested.

“It would take too long.”

“Could we dig a way under?” I asked.

“Again,” Mr Crepsley said, “it would take too long. We will just have to pick our way through as carefully as we can.”

He removed his jumper and so did Gavner.

“What are you getting undressed for?” I asked.

“Our clothes would protect us a bit,” Gavner explained, “but we’d come out the other end in tattered rags. Best to keep them intact.”

When Gavner took off his trousers, we saw he was wearing a pair of yellow boxer shorts with pink elephants stitched into them. Mr Crepsley stared at the shorts incredulously. “They were a present,” Gavner mumbled, blushing furiously.

“From a human female you were romantically involved with, I presume,” Mr Crepsley said, the corners of his normally stern mouth twitching upwards, threatening to split into a rare unrestrained smile.

“She was a lovely woman,” Gavner sighed, tracing the outline of one of the elephants. “She just had very poor taste in underwear…”

“And in boyfriends,” I added impishly. Mr Crepsley burst into laughter at that and doubled over, tears streaming down his face. I’d never seen the vampire laugh so much – I’d never guessed he could! Even Gavner looked surprised.

It took Mr Crepsley a long time to recover from his laughing fit. When he’d wiped the tears away and was back to his normal sombre self, he apologized (as though laughing were a crime). He then rubbed some foul-smelling lotion into my skin, which sealed the pores, making it harder to cut. Without wasting any more time, we advanced. The going was slow and painful. No matter how careful I was, every few metres I’d step on a thorn or scratch myself. I protected my face as best I could, but by the time we were halfway into the valley, my cheeks were specked with shallow red rivulets.

The Little People hadn’t removed their blue robes, even though the cloth was being cut to ribbons. After a while, Mr Crepsley told them to walk in front, so they endured the worst of the thorns while beating a path for the rest of us. I almost felt sorry for the silent, uncomplaining pair.

The wolves had the easiest time. They were built for terrain like this, and slinked through the briars swiftly. But they weren’t happy. They’d been acting strangely all night, creeping along beside us, low of spirit, sniffing the air suspiciously. We could sense their anxiety, but didn’t know what was causing it.

I was watching my feet, stepping carefully over a row of glinting thorns, when I ran into Mr Crepsley, who’d come to a sudden stop. “What’s up?” I asked, peering over his shoulder.

“Gavner!” he snapped, ignoring my question.

Gavner shuffled past me, breathing heavily (we often teased him about his heavy breathing). I heard him utter a choked cry as he reached Mr Crepsley.

“What is it?” I asked. “Let me see.” The vampires parted and I saw a tiny piece of cloth snagged on a briar bush. A few drops of dried blood had stained the tips of the thorns.

“What’s the big deal?” I asked.

The vampires didn’t answer immediately – they were gazing around worriedly, much the same way that the wolves were.

“Can’t you smell it?” Gavner finally replied quietly.

“What?”

“The blood.”

I sniffed the air. There was only the faintest of scents because the blood was dry. “What about it?” I asked.

“Think back six years,” Mr Crepsley said. He picked the cloth off the briar – the wolves were growling loudly now – and thrust it under my nostrils. “Breathe deeply. Ring any bells?”

It didn’t straightaway – my senses weren’t as sharp as a full-vampire’s – but then I recalled that long-ago night in Debbie Hemlock’s bedroom, and the smell of the insane Murlough’s blood as he lay dying on the floor. My face turned white as I realized – it was the blood of a vampaneze!

CHAPTER SEVEN

WE MADE quick time through the remainder of the briar patch, taking no notice of the cutting thorns. On the far side we stopped to get dressed, then hurried on without pause. There was a way-station nearby that Mr Crepsley was determined to reach before the break of day. The journey would normally have taken several hours but we made it in two. Once inside and secure, the vampires fell into a heated discussion. They’d never encountered evidence of vampaneze activity in this part of the world before – there was a treaty between the two clans, preventing such acts of trespass.

“Maybe it’s a mad wanderer,” Gavner suggested.

“Even the most insane vampaneze knows better than to come here,” Mr Crepsley disagreed.

“What other explanation could there be?” Gavner asked.

Mr Crepsley considered the problem. “He could be a spy.”

“You think the vampaneze would risk war?” Gavner sounded dubious. “What could they learn that would justify such a gamble?”

“Maybe it’s us they’re after,” I said quietly. I didn’t want to interrupt but felt I had to.

“What do you mean?” Gavner asked.

“Maybe they found out about Murlough.”

Gavner’s face paled and Mr Crepsley’s eyes narrowed. “How could they have?” he snapped.

“Mr Tiny knew,” I reminded him.

“Mr Tiny knows about Murlough?” Gavner hissed.

Mr Crepsley nodded slowly. “But even if he had told the vampaneze, how would they know we were coming this way? We could have chosen any number of paths. They could not have second-guessed us.”

“Perhaps they’re covering all the paths,” Gavner said.

“No,” Mr Crepsley said confidently. “It is too far-fetched. Whatever the vampaneze’s reason for being here, I am sure it has nothing to do with us.”

“I hope you’re right,” Gavner grumbled, unconvinced.

We discussed it some more, including the question of whether the vampaneze had killed the vampire in the previous way-station, then grabbed a few hours of shut-eye, taking turns to remain on watch. I barely slept as I was worrying about being attacked by the purple-faced killers.

When night came, Mr Crepsley said we should progress no further until we were sure the way was safe. “We cannot risk running into a pack of vampaneze,” he said. “We will scout the area, make sure we are not in danger, then carry on as before.”

“Have we time to go scouting?” Gavner asked.

“We must make time,” Mr Crepsley insisted. “Better to waste a few nights than run into a trap.”

I stayed in the cave while they went scouting. I didn’t want to – I kept thinking about what had happened to that other vampire – but they said I’d be in the way if I came – a vampaneze would hear me coming a hundred metres away.

The Little People, she-wolves and cub stayed with me. Streak went with the vampires – the wolves had sensed the vampaneze presence before we did, so it would be helpful for them to have one along.

It was lonely without the vampires and Streak. The Little People were aloof as always – they spent a lot of the day stitching their blue robes back into shape – and the she-wolves lay out and snoozed. Only the cub provided me with company. We spent hours playing together, in the cave and among the trees of a nearby small forest. I’d called the cub Rudi, after Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer, because of his fondness for rubbing his cold nose into my back while I was asleep.

I caught a couple of squirrels in the forest and cooked them, so they were ready in the morning when the vampires returned. I served hot berries and roots with them – Mr Crepsley had taught me which wild foods were safe to eat. Gavner thanked me for the food but Mr Crepsley was distant and didn’t say much. They’d discovered no further trace of the vampaneze, and that worried them – a mad vampaneze couldn’t have covered his tracks so expertly. That meant we were dealing with one – or more – in full control of his senses.

Gavner wanted to flit ahead to consult with the other vampires, but Mr Crepsley wouldn’t let him – the laws against flitting on the way to Vampire Mountain were more important than our safety, he insisted.

It was strange how Gavner went along with most of what Mr Crepsley said. As a General, he could have ordered us to do whatever he pleased. But I’d never seen him pull rank on Mr Crepsley. Maybe it was because Mr Crepsley had once been a General of high ranking. He’d been on the verge of becoming a Vampire Prince when he quit. Perhaps Gavner still considered Mr Crepsley his superior.

After a full day’s sleep, the vampires set off to scout the land ahead again. If the way was clear, we’d start back on the trail to Vampire Mountain the next night.

I ate a simple breakfast, then Rudi and me headed down to the forest to play. Rudi loved being away from the adult wolves. He was able to explore freely, with no one to snap at him or cuff him round the head if he misbehaved. He tried climbing trees but was too short for most. Finally he found one with low-hanging branches and he clambered halfway up. Once there, he looked down and whimpered.

“Come on,” I laughed. “You’re not that high up. There’s no need to be afraid.” He ignored me and went on whimpering. Then he bared his fangs and growled.

I stepped closer, puzzled by his behaviour. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Are you stuck? Do you want help?” The cub yapped. He sounded genuinely frightened. “OK, Rudi,” I said, “I’m coming up to –”

I was silenced by a bone-shattering roar. Turning, I saw a huge dark bear lurching over the top of a snow-drift. It landed heavily, shook its snout, snarled, fixed its gaze upon me – then lunged, teeth flashing, claws exposed, intent on cutting me down!

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE BEAR would have killed me, if not for Rudi. The cub leapt from the tree, landing on top of the bear’s head, momentarily blinding it. The bear roared and swiped at the cub, who ducked and bit one of its ears. The bear roared again and shook its head viciously from side to side. Rudi held on for a couple of seconds, before he was sent flying into a thicket.

The bear resumed its attack on me, but in the time the cub had bought, I’d ducked round the tree and was racing for the cave as fast as I could. The bear lurched after me, realized I was too far ahead, bellowed angrily, turned and went looking for Rudi.

I stopped when I heard frightened yapping. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that the cub had made it back up the tree, the bark of which the bear was now ripping to pieces with its claws. Rudi was in no immediate danger, but sooner or later he’d slip or the bear would shake him down, and that would be the end of him.

I paused no more than a second, then turned, picked up a rock and the thickest stick I could find, and sped back to try and save Rudi.

The bear let go of the tree when it saw me coming, dropped to its haunches and met my challenge. It was a huge beast, maybe a metre and a half high; it had black fur, a white quarter-moon mark across its chest and a whitish face. Foam flecked its jaws and its eyes were wild, as though touched by rabid madness.

I stopped in front of the bear and whacked the ground with my stick. “Come on, Grizzly,” I growled. It snarled and tossed its head. I glanced up at Rudi, hoping he’d have enough sense to slink down the tree and retreat to the cave, but he stayed where he was, petrified, unable to let go.

The bear swiped at me but I ducked out of the way of its massive paw. Rearing up on its hind legs, it collapsed flat upon me, trying to crush me with the weight of its body. I avoided it again, but it was a closer call this time.

I was prodding at the bear’s face with the end of the stick, aiming for its eyes, when the she-wolves rushed on to the scene – they must have heard Rudi’s yapping. The bear howled as one of the wolves leapt and bit deep into its shoulder, while the other attached herself to its legs, tearing at them with her teeth and claws. It shook off the uppermost wolf and bent to deal with the lower one, which was when I darted in with my stick and jabbed at its left ear.

I must have hurt it, because it lost interest in the wolves and hurled itself at me. I ducked out of the way of its body but one of its burly forelegs connected with the side of my head and knocked me to the ground.

The bear rolled to its feet and made for me, scattering the wolves with swipes of its claws. I scrabbled backwards, but not fast enough. Suddenly the bear was above me, standing erect, bellowing triumphantly – it had me exactly where it wanted! I slammed the stick against its stomach, then the rock, but it took no notice of such feeble blows. Leering, it started to fall…

…which was when the Little People barrelled into its back and knocked it off balance. Their timing couldn’t have been any sweeter.

The bear must have thought the entire world was conspiring against it. Every time it had me in its sights, something new got in the way. Roaring loudly at the Little People, it threw itself at them madly. The one with the limp stepped out of its way but the other got trapped beneath it.

The Little Person raised his short arms, jammed them against the bear’s torso and tried to shove it aside. The Little Person was strong, but he stood no chance against such a massive foe, and the bear came crashing down and flattened him. There was a horrible crunching sound and when the bear got to its feet, I saw the Little Person lying in pieces, broken bones jutting out of his body at crooked red angles.

The bear lifted its head and bellowed at the sky, then fixed its eyes on me and leered hungrily. Dropping to all fours, it advanced. The wolves leapt at it but it shook them loose as though they were fleas. I was still dazed from the blow, not able to get to my feet, I began crawling through the snow.

As the bear closed in for the kill, the second Little Person – the one I called Lefty – stepped in front of it, caught it by its ears, and head-butted it! It was the craziest thing I’d ever seen, but it did a remarkably effective job. The bear grunted and blinked dumbly. Lefty head-butted it again and was rearing his head back for a third blow when the bear struck at him with its right paw, like a boxer.

It hit Lefty in the chest and knocked him down. His hood had fallen off during the struggle and I could see his grey stitched-together face and round green eyes. There was a mask over his mouth, like the sort doctors wear during surgery. He stared up at the bear, unafraid, waiting for the killer blow.

“No!” I screamed. Stumbling to my knees, I threw a punch at the bear. It snarled at me. I punched it again, then grabbed a handful of snow and threw it into the beast’s eyes.

While the bear cleared its vision, I looked for a weapon. I was desperate – anything was better than my bare hands. At first I saw nothing I could use, but then my eyes fell on the bones sticking out of the dead Little Person’s body. Acting on instinct, I rolled across to where the Little Person lay, took hold of one of the longer bones, and pulled. It was covered in blood and my fingers slipped off. Trying again, I got a firmer hold and worked it from side to side. After a few tugs it snapped near the base and suddenly I wasn’t defenceless any longer.

The bear had regained its sight and was pounding towards me. Lefty was still on the ground. The wolves were barking furiously, unable to do anything to deter the charging bear. The cub yapped from its perch in the tree.

I was on my own. Me against the bear. No one could help me now.

Spinning, using all my extra-sharp vampire abilities, I rolled beneath the clutching claws of the bear, jumped to my feet, picked my spot, and rammed the tip of the bone deep into the bear’s unprotected neck.

The bear came to a halt. Its eyes bulged. Its forelegs dropped by its sides. For a moment it stood, gasping painfully, the bone sticking out of its neck. Then it crashed to the ground, shook horribly for a few seconds – and died.

I fell on top of the dead bear and lay there. I was shaking and crying, more from fright than pain. I’d looked death in the eye before, but never had I been involved in a fight as savage as this.

Eventually, one of the she-wolves – the normally shy one – cuddled up to me and licked around my face, making sure I was all right. I patted her to show I was OK, and buried my face in her neck, drying my tears on her hair. When I felt able, I stood and gazed at the area around me.

The other she-wolf was by the tree, coaxing Rudi down – the cub was even more shaken than me. The dead Little Person lay not far away, his blood seeping into the snow, turning it crimson. Lefty was sitting up, checking himself for injuries.

I made my way over to Lefty to thank him for saving my life. He was incredibly ugly without his hood: he had grey skin, and his face was a mass of scars and stitches. He had no ears or nose that I could see, and his round green eyes were set near the top of his head, not in the middle of his face like they are with most people. He was completely hairless.

Any other time I might have been frightened, but this creature had risked his life to save mine, and all I felt was gratitude. “Are you OK, Lefty?” I asked. He looked up and nodded. “That was a close call,” I half-laughed. Again he nodded. “Thanks for coming to my rescue. I’d have been a goner if you hadn’t stepped in.” I sank to the ground beside him and gazed at the bear, then at the dead Little Person. “Sorry about your partner, Lefty,” I said softly. “Shall we bury him?”

The Little Person shook his large head, started to rise, then paused. He stared into my eyes and I stared back questioningly. By the expression on his face, I almost expected him to speak.

Reaching up, Lefty gently tugged down the mask which covered the lower half of his face. He had a wide mouth full of sharp, yellow teeth. He stuck out his tongue – which was a strange grey colour, like his skin – and licked his lips. When they were wet, he flexed and stretched them a few times, then did the one thing I was sure the Little People could never do. In a creaky, slow, mechanical tone – he spoke.

“Name … not Lefty. Name … Harkat … Harkat Mulds.” And his lips spread into a jagged gash which was as close to a smile as he could come.

CHAPTER NINE

MR CREPSLEY, Gavner and Streak had been checking a maze of cliff-top tunnels when they heard faint echoes of the fight. They raced back, arriving fifteen minutes or so after I’d killed the bear. They were stunned when I explained what had happened and told them about Harkat Mulds. The Little Person had replaced his robes and hood, and when they asked him if it was true that he could talk, there was a long moment of silence during which I thought he wasn’t going to say anything. Then he nodded and croaked, “Yes.”

Gavner actually jumped back a few steps when he heard the Little Person speak. Mr Crepsley shook his head, amazed. “We will discuss this later,” he said. “First there is the bear to deal with.” He crouched beside the dead bear and studied it from top to bottom. “Describe how it attacked you,” he said, and I told of the bear’s sudden appearance and savage attack. “It makes no sense,” Mr Crepsley frowned. “Bears do not behave in such a fashion unless agitated or starving. It was not hunger which motivated it – look at its round stomach – and if you did nothing to upset it…”

“It was foaming at the mouth,” I said. “I think it had rabies.”

“We shall soon see.” The vampire used his sharp nails to cut open the bear’s belly. He stuck his nose close to the cut and sniffed the blood that was oozing out. After a few seconds he pulled a face and stood up.

“Well?” Gavner asked.

“The bear was mad,” Mr Crepsley said, “but not with rabies – it had consumed the blood of a vampaneze!”