KILLERS OF THE DAWN

Book 9: Cirque Du Freak

by Darren Shan

Genres: YA Paranormal

Synopsis

Outnumbered, outsmarted and desperate, the hunters are on the run, pursued by the vampaneze, the police, and an angry mob. With their enemies clamoring for blood, the vampires prepare for a deadly battle. Is this the end for Darren and his allies?

Release date: August 1, 2008

Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers

Print pages: 224

Sample

Prologue

IT WAS AN AGE of deceit. Everyone was suspicious of everyone else — and with good reason! You never knew when a trusted ally would turn, bare his fangs, and rip you to pieces.

The vampires and vampaneze were at war — the War of the Scars — and the result hinged upon finding and killing the Lord of the Vampaneze. If the vampires did that, victory would be theirs. Otherwise, the night would belong to their purple-skinned blood-cousins, who would drive the vampires to extinction.

Three vampires were sent by Mr. Desmond Tiny to hunt the Vampaneze Lord — Vancha March, Larten Crepsley, and me, Darren Shan. I’m a half-vampire.

Mr. Tiny told us that other vampires couldn’t assist us in our hunt, but non-vampires could. Thus, the only one to accompany us was a Little Person called Harkat Mulds, though a witch known as Lady Evanna also traveled with us for a short time during our quest.

After unwittingly letting the Vampaneze Lord slip through our fingers in the first of four predicted encounters, we traveled to the city of Mr. Crepsley’s birth. We didn’t expect to find the Lord of the Vampaneze there — we came to track down and stop a gang of vampaneze who were murdering humans.

We attracted two more companions in the city — my ex-girlfriend, Debbie Hemlock, and Steve Leopard. Steve used to be my best friend. He said he’d become a vampaneze-hunter, and swore he’d help us put an end to the killer vampaneze. Mr. Crepsley was suspicious of Steve — he believed Steve had evil blood — but I persuaded him to grant my old friend the benefit of the doubt.

Our target was an insane, hook-handed vampaneze. It turned out he was another of my ex-associates — R.V., which originally stood for Reggie Veggie, though he now claimed it was short for Righteous Vampaneze. He was once an eco-warrior, until his hands had been bitten off by the Wolf-Man at the Cirque Du Freak. He blamed me for the accident, and had teamed up with the vampaneze in order to exact revenge.

We could have killed R.V., but we knew he was in league with other vampaneze, and we chose instead to trick him into leading us to them. What we didn’t know was that we were actually the flies in the trap, not the spiders. Deep beneath the streets of the city, dozens of vampaneze were waiting for us. Among them stood the Lord of the Vampaneze and his protector, Gannen Harst — Vancha March’s estranged brother.

In an underground cavern, Steve Leopard revealed his true colors. He was a half-vampaneze and had plotted with R.V. and the Vampaneze Lord to lure us to our doom. But Steve underestimated us, and I over came him and would have killed him — except R.V. captured Debbie and threatened to murder her in retaliation.

While this was happening, my allies pursued the Vampaneze Lord, but the odds were stacked against them and he escaped. The vampaneze could have slaughtered us all, but we would have killed many of them in the process. To avoid the bloodshed, Gannen Harst let us go and gave us a fifteen-minute head start — it would be easier for the vampaneze to kill us in the tunnels.

With me holding Steve Leopard hostage, and Vancha clutching a vampet — a human who’d been trained in the ways of the vampaneze — we retreated, leaving R.V. free to do all the terrible things he wanted to Debbie. Through the tunnels we hurried, exhausted and distraught, knowing the vampaneze would soon swarm after us and cut us down dead if they caught up. . . .

Chapter One

WE SCURRIED through the tunnels, Mr. Crepsley leading the way, Vancha and I in the middle with our prisoners, Harkat bringing up the rear. We said as little as possible, and I cuffed Steve into silence whenever he started to speak — I wasn’t in the mood to listen to his threats or insults.

I didn’t have a watch, but I’d been ticking off the seconds inside my head. About ten minutes or so had passed by my reckoning. We’d moved out of the modern tunnels and were back in the warren of old, damp tunnels. There was still a long way to go — plenty of time for the vampaneze to run us down.

We came to a junction and Mr. Crepsley took the left turn. Vancha started to follow him, then stopped. “Larten,” he called him back. When Mr. Crepsley returned, Vancha crouched low. He was almost invisible in the darkness of the tunnels. “We have to try and shake them off,” he said. “If we make straight for the surface, they’ll be upon us before we’re halfway there.”

“But we could lose ourselves if we detour,” Mr. Crepsley said. “We do not know this area. We might run into a dead end.”

“Aye,” Vancha sighed, “but it’s a chance we’ll have to take. I’ll act as a decoy and go back the way we came. The rest of you try and find an alternative route out. I’ll work my way back to you later, if the luck of the vampires is with me.”

Mr. Crepsley thought about that a moment, then nodded quickly. “Luck, Sire,” he said, but Vancha was already gone, disappearing into the gloom in an instant, moving with the almost perfect silence of the vampires.

We rested a moment, than took the right tunnel and pressed on, Harkat now in charge of the vampet Vancha had kidnapped. We moved quickly but carefully, trying not to leave any signs that we’d passed this way. At the end of the tunnel, we branched off, again to the right. As we entered a fresh stretch of tunnel, Steve coughed loudly. Mr. Crepsley was on him in a flash. “Do that again and you die!” he snapped, and I sensed the blade of his knife pressing against Steve’s throat.

“It was a real cough — not a signal,” Steve snarled in reply.

“It matters not!” Mr. Crepsley hissed. “The next time, I will kill you.”

Steve was silent after that, as was the vampet. We marched steadily upward, instinctively navigating the tunnels, wading through water and waste. I felt terrible, tired and drawn, but I didn’t slow down. It must be daylight above ground, or very close to it. Our only hope was to get clear of the tunnels before the Vampaneze found us — the sunlight should prevent them from pursuing us any further.

A short while later, we heard the vampaneze and vampets. They were coming up the tunnels at great speed, not having to worry about stealth. Mr. Crepsley dropped back a bit, to check if they were following us, but they didn’t seem to have found our trail — all of them appeared to have gone after Vancha.

We continued to climb, working our way closer to the surface. Our pursuers kept passing in and out of earshot. By the sounds they made, they’d realized we weren’t following the shortest route back, and had stopped and fanned out in search of us. I guessed that we were at least half an hour from ground level. If they located us anytime soon, we were certainly doomed. The tunnels were as tight as they were dark — a lone, well-placed vampet would have no difficulty mowing us down with a rifle or arrow-gun.

We were picking our way over a heap of rubble in a crumbling tunnel when we were eventually spotted. A vampet with a torch entered the tunnel at the far end, picked us out with a strong beam of light, and roared triumphantly. “I’ve found them! They’re here! They —”

He got no further. A figure stepped out of the shadows behind him, grabbed his head and twisted sharply, left then right. The vampet dropped to the ground. His assailant paused just long enough to turn off the torch, then hurried over. I knew without having to see him that it was Vancha.

“Good timing,” Harkat muttered as the scraggly Prince joined us.

“I’ve been shadowing you for a while,” Vancha said. “He’s not the first one I’ve picked off. He just got a bit closer to you than the others.”

“Any idea how far we are from the surface?” I asked.

“No,” Vancha said. “I was ahead of you earlier, but I’ve been bringing up the rear for the last quarter of an hour, covering you and laying a few false trails.”

“What about the vampaneze?” Mr. Crepsley said. “Are they close?”

“Aye,” came Vancha’s reply, and then he slipped away again, to provide more cover.

Slightly further ahead, we found ourselves in familiar tunnels. We’d explored a vast slice of the city’s infrastructure when hunting for the vampaneze, and had been in this section three or four times. We were no more than six or seven minutes from safety. Mr. Crepsley whistled loudly, signaling to Vancha. The Prince swiftly joined us and we pushed on vigorously, finding a new lease on life.

“There they go!”

The shout came from a tunnel to our left. We didn’t stop to check how many were nearby — putting our heads down, we pushed Steve and the vampet in front and ran.

The vampaneze weren’t long surging after us. Vancha dropped back and kept them at bay with his shurikens — sharp, multi-edged throwing stars that were lethal when thrown by one as experienced as Vancha March. By the hysterical voices, I knew most — if not all — of the vampaneze and vampets had now converged behind us, but the tunnel we were in ran straight ahead, with hardly any side-tunnels opening out of it. Our enemies weren’t able to sneak around and attack us from the side or in front — they were forced to follow behind.

As we got closer to street level, the tunnels grew brighter, and my half-vampire eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light. I was now able to see the vampaneze and vampets trailing behind — and they were able to see us! The vampaneze, like vampires, had sworn not to use any missile-firing weapons such as guns or bows, but the vampets weren’t limited by that oath. They began firing as soon as they had a clear line of sight, and we had to run doubled-over. If we’d had to cover a long distance in that uncomfortable crouch, they’d have surely picked us off one by one, but within a minute of them opening fire, we arrived at a steel ladder leading up to a manhole.

“Go!” Vancha barked, unleashing a hail of shurikens at the vampets.

Mr. Crepsley grabbed me and shoved me up the ladder. I didn’t protest at being first. It made the most sense — if the vampaneze pressed forward, Mr. Crepsley was better equipped to fight them off.

At the top of the ladder I braced myself, then heaved against the manhole cover with my shoulders. It flew off, clearing the way up. I hauled myself out and quickly checked my surroundings. I was in the middle of a small street; it was early in the morning and nobody was about. Leaning back over the man-hole, I yelled, “It’s clear!”

Seconds later, Steve Leopard crawled out of the manhole, grimacing in the sunlight (almost blinding after being down the tunnels so long). Then Harkat came, followed by the vampet. There was a short delay after that. The tunnel underneath echoed with angry gun retorts. Fearing the worst, I was about to climb back down the ladder to check on Mr. Crepsley and Vancha when the orange-haired vampire burst out of the manhole, gasping wildly. Almost immediately, Vancha shot out after him. The pair must have jumped, one directly after the other.

As soon as Vancha was clear of the man. . .