Sons of Destiny Read online

  Debbie threw her arms around me before leaving. "How could he do it?" she cried. "Even a monster couldn't… wouldn't…"

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  "Steve's more than a monster," I replied numbly. I wanted to return her embrace, but my arms wouldn't work. Alice pried her away from me. She gave Debbie a handkerchief and whispered something to her.

  Debbie sniffed miserably, nodded, gave Alice a hug, then went to stand beside Evra.

  I wanted to talk with Evra before he left, but I could think of nothing to say. If he'd confronted me, maybe I'd have responded, but he had eyes only for his lifeless son. Dead people often look like they're sleeping. Shancus didn't. He'd been a vibrant, buzzing, active child. All that vitality was lost now. Nobody could have looked upon him and thought he was anything but dead.

  I remained standing until Evra, Debbie and Harkat had departed, Harkat carrying Shancus's body tenderly in his thick, grey arms. Then I slid to the floor and sat there for ages, staring around in a daze, thinking about the past and my first visit here, using the theatre and my memories as a barrier between me and my grief.

  Eventually Vancha and Alice approached. I don't know how long the pair had been talking together, but when they came to stand before me they'd wiped their faces clean of tears and looked ready for business.

  "Will I talk to the boy or do you want to?" Vancha asked gruffly.

  "I don't care," I sighed. Then, glancing at Darius, who still stood alone with Evanna in the vastness of the auditorium, I said, "I'll do it."

  "Darius," Alice called. His head rose immediately. "Come here."

  Darius went straight to the plank, climbed up and walked across. He had an excellent sense of balance. I found myself thinking that was probably a by-product of his vampaneze blood — Steve had pumped some of his own blood into his son, turning him into a half-vampaneze. Thinking that, I began to hate the boy again. My fingers twitched in anticipation of grabbing him by the throat and…

  But then I recalled his face when he'd learnt he was my nephew — shock, terror, confusion, pain, remorse — and my hatred for the boy died away.

  Darius walked directly up to us. If he was afraid — and he must have been — he masked it bravely.

  Stopping, he stared at Vancha, then at Alice, finally at me. Now that I studied him closely, I saw a certain family resemblance. Thinking about that, I frowned.

  "You're not the boy I saw before," I said. Darius looked at me uncertainly. "I went to my old home when we first came to town," I explained. "I watched from behind the fence. I saw Annie. She was bringing in laundry. Then you arrived and came out to help her. Except it wasn't you . It was a chubby boy with fair hair."

  "Oggy Bas," Darius said after a second's thought. "My friend. I remember that day. He came home with me. I sent him out to help Mum while I was taking my shoes off. Oggy always does what I tell him."

  Then, licking his lips nervously, he looked around at all of us again and said, "I didn't know." It wasn't an apology, just a statement of fact. "Dad told me vampires were evil. He said you were the worst of the lot.

  'Darren the cruel, Darren the mad, Darren the baby-killer.' But he never mentioned your surname."

  Evanna had crossed the plank after Darius and was circling us, studying us as if we were chess pieces. I ignored her — there'd be time for the witch later.

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  "What did Steve tell you about the vampaneze?" I asked Darius.

  "That they wanted to stop vampires killing humans. They broke away from the clan several hundred years ago and had battled to stop the slaughter of humans ever since. They drank only small amounts of blood when they fed, just enough to survive."

  "You believed him?" Vancha snorted.

  "He was my dad," Darius answered. "He was always kind to me. I never saw him like I saw him tonight.

  I'd no reason to doubt him."

  "But you doubt him now," Alice noted wryly.

  "Yes. He's evil." As soon as he said it, Darius burst into tears, his brave front collapsing. It can't have been easy for a child to admit his father was evil. Even in the midst of my grief and fury, I felt pity for the boy.

  "What about Annie?" I asked when Darius had recovered enough to speak again. "Did Steve feed her the same sort of lies?"

  "She doesn't know," Darius said. "They haven't spoken since before I was born. I never told her I was meeting him."

  I breathed a small sigh of relief. I'd had a sudden, terrifying flash of Annie as Steve's consort, having grown up as bitter and twisted as him. It was good to know she wasn't part of this dark insanity.

  "Do you want to tell him the truth about vampires and vampaneze, or will I?" Vancha asked.

  "First things first," Alice interrupted. "Does he know where his father is?"

  "No," Darius said sadly. "I always met him here. This is where he was based. If he has another hideout, I don't know about it."

  "Damn!" Alice snarled.

  "No ideas at all?" I asked. Darius thought for a moment, then shook his head. I glanced at Vancha. "Will you set him straight?"

  "Sure." Vancha quickly filled Darius in on the truth. He told him that the vampaneze were the ones who killed when they drank, though he was careful to describe their ways in detail — they kept part of a person's spirit alive within themselves when they drained a human dry, so they didn't look upon it as murder. They were noble. They never lied. They weren't deliberately evil.

  "Then your father came along," Vancha said, and explained about the Lord of the Vampaneze, the War of the Scars, Mr Tiny's prediction and our part in it.

  "I don't understand," Darius said at the end, forehead creased. "If the vampaneze don't lie, how come Dad lied all the time? And he taught me how to use an arrow-gun, but you said they can't use such weapons."

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  "They're not supposed to," Vancha said. "I haven't seen or heard of any others breaking those rules. But their Lord's above such laws. They worship him so much — or fear what will happen if they disobey him

  — that they don't care what he does, as long as he leads them to victory over the vampires."

  Darius thought about that in silence for a long time. He was only ten years old, but he had the expression and manner of someone much older.

  "I wouldn't have helped if I'd known," he said in the end. "I grew up thinking vampires were evil, like in the movies. When Dad came to me a few years ago and said he was on a mission to stop them, I thought it was a great adventure. I thought he was a hero. I was proud to be his son. I'd have done anything for him. I did …"

  He looked like he was about to cry again. But then his jaw firmed and he stared at me. "But how did you get involved in this?" he asked. "Mum told me you died. She said you broke your neck."

  "I faked my death," I said, and gave him a very brief rundown of my early life as a vampire's assistant, sacrificing everything I held dear to save Steve's life.

  "But why does he hate you if you saved him?" Darius shouted. "That's crazy!"

  "Steve sees things differently," I shrugged. "He believes it was his destiny to become a vampire. He thinks I stole his rightful place. He's determined to make me pay."

  Darius shook his head, confused. "I can't understand that," he said.

  "You're young." I smiled sadly. "You've a lot to learn about people and how they operate." I fell silent, thinking that those were some of the many things poor Shancus would never learn.

  "So," Darius said a while later, breaking the silence.

  "What happens now?"

  "Go home," I sighed. "Forget about this. Put it behind you."

  "But what about the vampaneze?" Darius cried. "Dad's still out there. I want to help you find him."

  "Really?" I looked at him icily. "You want to help us kill him? You'd lead us to your own father and watch wh
ile we cut his rotten heart out?"

  Darius shifted uneasily. "He's evil," he whispered.

  "Yes," I agreed. "But he's still your father. You're better off out of this."

  "And Mum?" Darius asked. "What do I tell her?"

  "Nothing," I said. "She thinks I'm dead. Let her go on thinking that. Say nothing of this. The world I live in isn't a fit world for children — and as a child who's lived in it, I should know! Take back your ordinary life. Try not to dwell on what's happened. In time you might be able to dismiss all this as a horrible dream." I placed my hands on his shoulders and smiled warmly. "Go home, Darius. Be good to Annie.

  Make her happy."

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  Darius wasn't pleased, but I could see him making up his mind to accept my advice. Then Vancha spoke. "It's not that easy."

  "What?" I frowned.

  "He's in. He can't opt out."

  "Of course he can!" I snapped.

  Vancha shook his head stubbornly. "He was blooded. The vampaneze blood is thin in him, but it will thicken. He won't age like normal children, and in a few decades the purge will strike and he'll become a full-vampaneze." Vancha sighed. "But his real problems will start long before then."

  "What do you mean?" I croaked, though I sensed what he was getting at.

  " Feeding," Vancha said. He turned his gaze on Darius. "You'll need to drink blood to survive."

  Darius stiffened, then grinned shakily. "So I'll drink like you guys," he said. "A drop here, a drop there. I don't mind. It'll be kind of cool, in a way. Maybe I'll drink from my teachers and—"

  "No," Vancha growled. "You can't drink like us. In the beginning, vampaneze were the same as vampires, except in their customs. But they've changed. The centuries have altered them physically. Now a vampaneze must kill when he feeds. They're driven to it. They have no choice or control. I was once a half-vampaneze, so I know what I'm speaking about."

  Vancha drew himself up straight and spoke sadly but firmly. "In a few months the hunger will grow within you. You won't be able to resist. You'll drink blood because you have to, and when you drink, because you're a half-vampaneze — you'll kill !"

  CHAPTER TWO

  We marched in silence, in single file, Darius leading the way like Oliver Twist at the head of a funeral procession. Following the massacre at the stadium after the football match, a series of road blocks had been set in place around the town. But there weren't many in this area, so we made good time, having to take only a couple of short detours. I was at the back of the line, a few metres behind the others, worrying about the meeting to come. I'd agreed to it easily enough in the theatre, but now that we were getting closer, I was having second thoughts.

  While I was running through my words, thinking of all the things I could and should say, Evanna slipped back to walk along beside me. "If it helps, the snake-boy's soul has flown straight to Paradise," she said.

  "I never thought otherwise," I replied stiffly, glaring at her hatefully.

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  "Why such a dark look?" she asked, genuine surprise in her mismatched green and brown eyes.

  "You knew it was coming," I growled. "You could have warned us and saved Shancus."

  "No," she snapped, irritated. "Why do you people level the same accusations at me over and over? You know I have the power to see into the future, but not the power to directly influence it. I cannot act to change that which is to be. Nor could my brother."

  "Why not?" I snarled. "You always say that terrible things will happen if you do, but what are they?

  What could be worse than letting an innocent child die at the hands of a monster?"

  Evanna was quiet a moment, then spoke softly, so that only I could hear. "There are worse monsters than Steve Leonard, and worse even than the Lord of the Shadows — be he Steve or you. These other monsters wait in the timeless wings around the stage of the world, never seen by man, but always seeing, always hungering, always eager to break through.

  "I am bound by laws older than mankind. So was my brother and so, to a large extent, is my father. If I took advantage of the present, and tried to change the course of a future I knew about, I'd break the laws of the universe. The monsters I speak of would then be free to cross into this world, and it would become a cauldron of endless, bloody savagery."

  "It seems that way already," I said sourly.

  "For you, perhaps," she agreed. "But for billions of others it is not. Would you have everyone suffer as you have — and worse?"

  "Of course not," I muttered. "But you told me they were going to suffer anyway, that the Lord of the Shadows will destroy mankind."

  "He will bring it to its knees," she said. "But he will not crush it entirely. Hope will remain. One day, far in the future, humans might rise again. If I interfered and unleashed the real monsters, hope would become a word without meaning."

  I didn't know what to think about these other monsters of Evanna's — it was the first time she'd ever spoken of such creatures — so I brought the conversation back to centre on the monster I knew all too much about. "You're wrong when you say I can become the Lord of the Shadows," I said, trying to change my destiny by denying it. "I'm not a monster."

  "You would have killed Darius if Steve hadn't said he was your nephew," Evanna reminded me.

  I recalled the hateful fury which had flared to life inside me when I saw Shancus die. In that moment I became like Steve. I didn't care about right or wrong. I only wanted to hurt my enemy by killing his son.

  I'd seen a glimpse of my future then, the beast I could become, but I didn't want to believe it was real.

  "That would have been in revenge for Shancus," I said bitterly, trying to hide from the truth. "It wouldn't have been the act of an out-of-control beast. I wouldn't become a monster just because of a single executioning."

  "No?" Evanna challenged me. "There was a time when you thought differently. Do you remember when you killed your first vampaneze, in the caves of Vampire Mountain? You wept afterwards. You thought killing was wrong. You believed there were ways to resolve differences other than through violence."

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  "I still do," I said, but my words sounded hollow, even to me.

  "You would not have tried to take the life of a child if you did," Evanna said, stroking the hairs of her beard. "You have changed, Darren. You're not evil like Steve, but you carry the seeds of evil within you.

  Your intentions are good, but time and circumstance will see you become that which you despise. This world will warp you and, despite your noble wishes, the monster within you will grow. Friends will become enemies. Truths will become lies. Beliefs will become sick jokes."

  "The path of revenge is always lined with danger. By following the ways of those you hate, you risk turning into them. This is your destiny, Darren Shan. You cannot avoid it. Unless Steve kills you and he becomes the Lord of the Shadows instead."

  "What about Vancha?" I hissed. "What if he kills Steve? Can't he become your bloody Lord of the Shadows?"

  "No," she said calmly. "Vancha has the power to kill Steve and decide the fate of the War of the Scars.

  But moving beyond that, it's either you or Steve. There is no other. Death or monstrosity. Those are your options."

  She moved ahead of me then, leaving me with my troubled, frantic thoughts. Was there truly no hope for me or the world? And if not, if I was trapped between death at the hands of Steve or replacing him as the Lord of the Shadows, which was preferable? Was it better to live and terrorize the world — or die now, while I was still halfway human?

  I couldn't decide on an answer. There didn't seem to be one. And so I trudged along miserably and let my thoughts return to the more pressing issue — what to say to my grown-up sister who'd buried me as a child.

  Twenty minutes later, Da
rius opened the back door and held it ajar. I paused, staring at the house, filled with a sense of foreboding. Vancha and Alice were behind me, and Evanna further behind them. I looked back at my friends pleadingly. "Do I really have to do this?" I croaked.

  "Yes," Vancha said. "It would be wrong to risk his life without informing his mother first. She must decide."

  "OK," I sighed. "You'll wait out here till I call?"

  "Aye."

  I gulped, then stepped over the threshold into the house where I'd lived as a boy. After eighteen long years of wandering, I'd finally come home.

  Darius guided me to the living room, though I could have found my way blindfolded. Much had changed within the house — new wallpaper and carpets, furniture and light fittings — but it felt the same, warm and comfy, layered with memories of the distant past. It was like walking through a ghost house —

  except the house was real and I was the ghost.

  Darius pushed the living-room door open. And there was Annie, her brown hair tied up in a bun, sitting in a chair in front of the TV, sipping hot chocolate, watching the news. "Decided to come home at last, did you?" she said to Darius, catching sight of him out of the corner of her eye. She laid the cup of hot Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

  chocolate down. "I was worried. Have you seen the news? There's—"

  She saw me entering the room after Darius. "Is this one of your friends?" she asked. I could see her thinking I looked too old to be his friend. She was instantly suspicious of me.

  "Hello, Annie," I said, smiling nervously, advancing into the light.

  "Have we met before?" she asked, frowning, not recognizing me.

  "In a way," I chuckled drily.

  "Mum, it's—" Darius started to say.

  "No," I interrupted. "Let her see for herself. Don't tell her."

  "Tell me what?" Annie snapped. She was squinting at me now, uneasy.