Cirque du Freak 3 - Tunnels of Blood Page 8

  "The truce worked. When the humans realized they were safe, they stopped hunting us. The vampaneze traveled far away to avoid us — part of the agreement — and we have had virtually nothing to do with them for the last several centuries, apart from occasional clashes and challenges."

  "Challenges?" I asked.

  "Vampires and vampaneze live roughly," Mr. Crepsley said. "We are forever testing ourselves in fights and competitions. Humans and animals are interesting opponents, but if a vampire really wants to test himself, he fights a vampaneze. It is common for vampires and vampaneze to seek each other out and fight to the death."

  "That's stupid," I said.

  Mr. Crepsley shrugged. "It is our way. Time has changed the vampaneze," he went on. "You noticed the red hair and nails and eyes?"

  "And lips," I added. "And he had purple skin."

  "These changes have come about because they drink more blood than vampires. Most vampaneze are not as colorful as Murlough — he has been drinking dangerously large amounts of blood — but they all have similar markings. Except for young vampaneze — it takes a couple of decades for the colors to set in."

  I thought over what I'd been told. "So the vampaneze are evil? They're why vampires have such a bad reputation?"

  Mr. Crepsley rubbed his scar thoughtfully. "To say they are evil is not entirely true. To humans, they are, but to vampires they are more misdirected cousins than out-and-out ghouls."

  "What?" I couldn't believe he was defending them.

  "It depends on how one looks at it," he said. "You have learned to take no notice of drinking from humans, yes?"

  "Yes," I said, "but —"

  "Do you remember how against it you were in the beginning?"

  "Yes," I said again, "but —"

  "To many humans, you are evil," he said. "A young half-vampire who drinks human blood… how long do you think it would be before somebody tried to kill you if your true identity were known?"

  I chewed my lower lip and thought about his words.

  "Do not get me wrong," Mr. Crepsley said. "I do not approve of the vampaneze and their ways. But nor do I think they are evil."

  "You're saying it's okay to kill humans?" I asked warily.

  "No," he disagreed. "I am saying I can see their point. Vampaneze kill because of their beliefs, not because they enjoy it. A human soldier who kills in war is not evil, is he?"

  "This isn't the same thing," I said.

  "But it falls along similarly murky lines. To humans, vampaneze are evil, plain and simple. But for vampires — and you belong to the vampire clan now — it is not so easy to judge. They are kin.

  "Also," he added, "the vampaneze have their noble points. They are loyal and brave. And they never break their word — when a vampaneze makes a promise, he sticks by it. If a vampaneze lies and his kinsmen find out, they will execute him, no questions asked. They have their faults, and I have no personal liking for them, but evil?" He sighed. "That is hard to say."

  I frowned. "But you were going to kill this one," I reminded him.

  Mr. Crepsley nodded. "Murlough is not ordinary. Madness has invaded his mind. He has lost control and kills indiscriminately, feeding his lunatic lust. Were he a vampire, he would have been judged by the Generals and executed. The vampaneze, however, look more kindly upon their less fortunate members. They are loath to kill one of their own.

  "If a vampaneze loses his mind, he is ejected from the ranks and set loose. If he keeps clear of his kind, they make no move to hinder or harm him. He is —"

  A groan made us jump. Looking behind, we saw the fat man stirring.

  "Come," Mr. Crepsley said. "We will continue our discussion on the way to the roof."

  We let ourselves out of the refrigerated room and started back.

  "Murlough has been roaming the world for several years," Mr. Crepsley said. "Normally, mad vampaneze do not last that long. They make silly mistakes and are soon caught and killed by humans. But Murlough is craftier than most. He still has sense enough to kill quietly and to hide the bodies. You know the myth about vampires not being able to enter a house unless they are invited inside?"

  "Sure," I said. "I never believed it."

  "Nor should you. But, like most myths, it has its roots in fact. The vampaneze almost never kill humans at home. They catch their prey outside, kill and feed, then hide the bodies, or disguise the wounds to make the death look accidental. Mad vampaneze normally forget these fundamental rules, but Murlough has remembered. That is how I knew he would not attack the man at home."

  "How did you know he was going to attack him at all?" I asked.

  "The vampaneze are traditionalists," Mr. Crepsley explained. "They select their victims in advance. They sneak into their houses while the humans are sleeping and mark them — three small scratches on the left cheek. Did you notice such marks on the fat man?"

  I shook my head. "I wasn't looking."

  "They are there," Mr. Crepsley assured me. "They are small — he probably thought he scratched himself while sleeping — but unmistakable once one knows what to look for: always in the same spot and always the same length.

  "That is how I latched onto this man. Until that night I had been searching blindly, scouring the city, hoping to stumble across Murlough's trail. I spotted the fat man by chance and followed him. I knew the attack would come either here or on his way home from work, so it was just a matter of sitting back and waiting for Murlough to make his move." The vampire's face darkened. "Then you arrived on the scene." He was unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

  "Will you be able to find Murlough again?" I asked.

  He shook his head. "Discovering the marked human was a stroke of incredible good fortune. It will not happen twice. Besides, though Murlough is mad, he is no fool. He will abandon any humans he has already marked and flee this city." Mr. Crepsley sighed unhappily. "I suppose I will have to settle for that."

  "Settle for it?" I asked. "Aren't you going to follow him?" Mr. Crepsley shook his head. I stopped on the landing — we were almost at the door of the room with the pipes — and stared at him, aghast. "Why not?" I barked. "He's crazy! He's killing people! You've got to —"

  "It is not my business," the vampire said gently. "It is not my place to worry about creatures such as Murlough."

  "Then why get involved?" I cried, thinking of all the people the mad vampaneze was going to kill.

  "The hands of the Vampire Generals are tied in matters such as these," Mr. Crepsley said. "They dare not take steps to eliminate mad vampaneze, for fear of sparking an all-out war. As I said, vampaneze are loyal. They would seek revenge for the murder of one of their own. We can kill vampaneze in a fair fight, but if a General killed a mad vampaneze, his allies would feel compelled to strike back.

  "I got involved because this is the city where I was born. I lived here as a human. Though everyone I knew then has long since died, I feel attached — this city, more than any other place, is where I consider home.

  "Gavner Purl knew this. When he realized Murlough was here, he set about tracking me down. He guessed — correctly — that I would not be able to sit back and let the mad vampaneze wreak havoc. It was a sly move on his part, but I do not blame him — in his position, I would have done the same."

  "I don't get it," I said. "I thought the Vampire Generals wanted to avoid a war."

  "They do."

  "But if you'd killed Murlough, wouldn't —"

  "No," he interrupted. "I am not a General. I am a mere vampire, with no connection to any others. The vampaneze would have come after me if they learned I had killed him, but the Generals would not have been implicated. It would have been personal. It would not have led to war."

  "I see. So, now that your city is safe, you don't care about him anymore?"

  "Yes," Mr. Crepsley said simply.

  I couldn't agree with the vampire's position — I'd have hunted Murlough down to the ends of the Earth — but I could understand it. He'd been protec
ting "his" people. Now that the threat against them had been removed, he no longer considered the vampaneze his problem. It was a typical piece of vampire logic.

  "What happens now?" I asked. "We go back to the Cirque Du Freak and forget about this?"

  "Yes," he said. "Murlough will avoid this city in the future. He will slope away into the night and that will be that. We can return to our lives and get on with them."

  "Until next time," I said.

  "I have only one home," the vampire responded. "In all likelihood, there will be no next time. Come," he said. "If you have further questions, I will answer them later."

  "Okay." I paused. "What we said earlier — about no more holding important stuff back — is that still on? Will you trust me now and tell me things?"

  The vampire smiled. "We will trust each other," he said.

  I returned his smile and followed him into the room with the pipes.

  "How come I didn't spot Murlough's footsteps earlier?" I asked, retracing the marks we'd made on our way into the building.

  "He entered via a different route," Mr. Crepsley said. "I did not want to get close to him until he made his move, in case he saw me."

  I was on my way out of the window when I remembered Evra.

  "Hold on!" I called Mr. Crepsley back. "We've got to get Evra."

  "The snake-boy knew about this, too?" Mr. Crepsley laughed. "Hurry and get him. But do not expect me to tell the story again on his behalf. I will leave such details to you."

  I cast around for my friend.

  "Evra," I called quietly. When there was no response I shouted a little louder. "Evra!" Where was he hiding? I glanced down and found a lone pair of footprints in the dust, leading away under a mass of pipes.

  "Evra!" I shouted again, starting after his trail. He'd probably seen me talking with the vampire and wasn't sure what was going on. "It's okay," I yelled. Mr. Crepsley isn't the killer. It's another —"

  There was a sharp crunching noise as my foot came down on something and crushed it. Taking a step back, I bent and picked up the object for a closer look. With a sinking feeling in my gut, I realized what it was — the broken remains of a cellular phone.

  "Evra!" I screamed, rushing forward. I saw signs of a scuffle farther on — the dust in this area had been severely disturbed, like somebody had been thrashing around in it. Thousands of dust particles were drifting in unsettled clouds through the air.

  "What is it?" Mr. Crepsley asked, approaching warily. I showed him the crushed phone. "Evra's?" he guessed.

  I nodded. "The vampaneze must have got him," I said, horrified.

  Mr. Crepsley sighed and hung his head. "Then Evra is dead," he said bluntly, and kept his gaze lowered as I started to cry.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Mr. Crepsley checked us out of the hotel as soon as we got back, in case the staff noticed Evra's disappearance, or the vampaneze forced him to reveal our location.

  "What if he escapes?" I asked. "How will he know where to find us?"

  "I do not believe he will escape," Mr. Crepsley said regretfully.

  We checked into a new hotel not far from the old one. If the man behind the desk was surprised to find a solemn-looking man with a scar and a distraught young boy in a pirate costume checking in at such a strange hour, he kept his suspicions to himself.

  I begged Mr. Crepsley to tell me more about the vampaneze. He said they never drank from vampires — our blood was poisonous to other vampires and vampaneze. They lived slightly longer than vampires, though the difference was minimal. They ate very little food, preferring to keep going on blood. They only drank from animals as a last resort.

  I listened closely. It was easier not to think about Evra if I had something else to focus on. But when dawn came and Mr. Crepsley headed for bed, I was left alone to think about what had happened.

  I watched the sunrise. I was tired, but I couldn't sleep. How could I face the nightmares that must be waiting for me? I fixed a huge breakfast, but my appetite was gone after one small mouthful and I ended up tossing it. I turned on the TV and flicked between channels, barely noticing what was on.

  Every so often I'd think it must have been a dream. Evra couldn't be dead. I must have fallen asleep on the roof while watching Mr. Crepsley and dreamt it all. Any minute now, Evra would shake me awake. I'd tell him about my dream and we'd both laugh. "You won't get rid of me that easily," he'd say.

  But it wasn't a dream. I had come face to face with the vampaneze. He had abducted Evra. He had either killed him or was preparing to. These were facts and had to be faced.

  The trouble was, I didn't dare face them. I was afraid I might go crazy if I did. So, rather than accept the truth and deal with it, I buried it deep, where it couldn't bother me — then went to see Debbie. Maybe she could cheer me up.

  Debbie was playing in the square when I arrived. It had snowed heavily during the night and she was building a snowman with some of the local kids. She was surprised but happy to see me so early. She introduced me to her friends, who looked at me inquisitively.

  "Want to come for a walk?" I asked.

  "Can it wait till I finish the snowman?" she replied.

  "No," I said. "I'm restless. I need to walk. I can come back later if you want."

  "That's all right. I'll come." She looked at me weirdly. "Are you okay? Your face is as white as a sheet, and your eyes… have you been crying?"

  "I was peeling onions earlier," I lied.

  Debbie turned to her friends. "See you later," she said, and took my arm. "Anywhere special you want to go?"

  "Not really," I said. "You lead. I'll tag along."

  We didn't say much while we were walking, until Debbie tugged my arm and said, "I've got some good news. I asked Mom and Dad if you could come over on Christmas Eve to help put up the decorations and they said you could."

  "Great," I said, forcing a smile.

  "They've invited you for dinner, too," she said. "They were going to ask you over for Christmas Day, but I know you've made plans to spend it in the hotel. Besides, I don't think your dad would want to come, would he?"

  "No," I said softly.

  "But Christmas Eve's okay, isn't it?" she asked. "Evra can come, too. We'll be eating early, at about two or three in the afternoon, so there'll be plenty of time for decorating the trees. You can —"

  "Evra won't be able to come," I said shortly.

  "Why not?"

  I found myself struggling to think up a good lie. Finally, I said, "He's got the flu. He's in bed and can't move."

  "He seemed fine yesterday." Debbie frowned. "I saw the two of you going out last night. He looked —"

  "How did you see us?" I asked.

  "Through the window," she said. "It's not the first time I've noticed you going out after dark. I never said anything about it before, because I thought you would have told me what you were up to if you'd wanted me to know."

  "It's not nice to spy on people," I snapped.

  "I wasn't spying!" Debbie looked hurt by my accusation and tone. "I just happened to see you. And if that's going to be your attitude, you can forget Christmas Eve." She turned to leave.

  "Wait," I said, catching her arm (careful not to grab too hard). "I'm sorry. I'm in a really bad mood. I don't feel so good. Maybe I've picked up something from Evra."

  "You do look under the weather," she agreed, her face softening.

  "As for where we go at night, it's just to meet our dad," I said. "We join him after work and go out for something to eat, or to see a movie. I would have invited you along, but you know how things stand with my dad."

  "You should introduce us," Debbie said. "I bet I'd be able to get him to like me, if I only had the chance."

  We started walking again.

  "So, how about Christmas Eve?" she asked.

  I shook my head. Sitting down to dinner with Debbie and her parents was the last thing I wanted to think about. "I'll have to get back to you on that one." I said. "I'm not sure if we'll be h
ere. We might be moving on."

  "But Christmas Eve is tomorrow!" Debbie exclaimed. "Your dad must have told you his plans by now."

  "He's strange," I said. "He likes to leave things till the very last minute. I could arrive back after this walk and find him packed and ready to go."

  "He can't leave if Evra's sick," she said.

  "He can and will, if he wants," I told her.

  Debbie frowned and stopped walking. There was a street vent a foot or so away, and warm air was blowing out of it. She moved closer and stood on the bars. "You won't leave without telling me, will you?" she asked.

  "Of course not," I said.

  "I'd hate it if you disappeared into thin air without a word," she said, and I could see tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.

  "I promise," I said. "When I know I'm leaving, you'll know, too. Word of honor." I crossed my heart.

  "Come here," she said, and pulled close and gave me a big hug.

  "What was that for?" I asked.

  "Does there have to be a reason?" she smiled, then pointed ahead. "Let's turn at the next corner. That'll lead us back to the square."

  I took Debbie's arm, meaning to walk her back, then remembered I'd changed hotels. If I returned to the square, she'd expect me to go in the hotel. She might get suspicious if she spotted me sneaking away.

  "I'll keep walking," I said. "I'll call tonight or in the morning to let you know whether I can come over or not."

  "If your dad wants to leave, try twisting his arm to get him to stay," she suggested. "I'd really love to have you over."

  "I'll try," I vowed, and watched through sad eyes as she walked to the corner and turned out of sight.

  It was then that I heard a soft chuckling noise beneath my feet. Glancing down through the bars of the vent I saw nobody and thought I must have been hearing things. But then a voice came up out of the shadows.