dull as you appear,” he complimented me in his usual sarcastic manner.
“Do it again,” I said. This time I didn’t look at the cross: I watched the vampire. I wasn’t able to track his movements – he was too fast – but I caught brief snaps of him as he darted forward, snatched up the cross and leapt back.
“So you’re not able to move things with your mind?” I asked.
“Of course not,” he laughed.
“Then why the click of the fingers?”
“To distract the eye,” he explained.
“Then it’s a trick,” I said. “It’s got nothing to do with being a vampire.”
He shrugged. “I could not move so fast if I were human, but yes, it is a trick. I dabbled with illusions before I became a vampire and I like to keep my hand in.”
“Could I learn to do it?” I asked.
“Maybe,” he said. “You cannot move as fast as I can, but you could get away with it if the object was close to hand. You would have to practise hard – but if you wish, I can teach you.”
“I always wanted to be a magician,” I said. “But… hold on…” I remembered a couple of occasions when Mr Crepsley had opened locks with a click of his fingers. “What about locks?” I asked.
“Those are different. You understand what static energy is?” My face was a blank. “Have you ever brushed a comb through your hair and held it up to a thin sheet of paper?”
“Yeah!” I said. “The paper sticks to it.”
“That is static energy,” he explained. “When a vampire flits, a very strong static charge builds up. I have learned to harness that charge. Thus I am able to force open any lock you care to mention.”
I thought about that. “And the click of your fingers?” I asked.
“Old habits die hard,” he smiled.
“But old vampires die easy!” a voice growled behind us, and before I knew what was happening, someone had reached around the two of us and pressed a pair of razor-sharp knives to the soft flesh of our throats!
CHAPTER TWO
I FROZE at the touch of the blade and the threatening voice, but Mr Crepsley didn’t even blink. He gently pushed the knife away from his throat, then tossed the silver cross to me.
“Gavner, Gavner, Gavner,” Mr Crepsley sighed. “I always could hear you coming from half a mile away.”
“Not true!” the voice said peevishly, as the blade drew back from my throat. “You couldn’t have heard.”
“Why not?” Mr Crepsley said. “Nobody in the world breathes as heavily as you. I could pick you out blindfolded in a crowd of thousands.”
“One night, Larten,” the stranger muttered. “One night I’ll catch you out. We’ll see how smart you are then.”
“Upon that night I shall retire disgracefully,” Mr Crepsley chuckled.
Mr Crepsley cocked an eyebrow at me, amused to see I was still stiff and half-afraid, even though I’d figured out our lives weren’t in danger.
“Shame on you, Gavner Purl,” Mr Crepsley said. “You have frightened the boy.”
“Seems all I’m good for,” the stranger grunted. “Scaring children and little old ladies.”
Turning slowly, I came face to face with the man called Gavner Purl. He wasn’t very tall but he was wide, built like a wrestler. His face was a mass of scars and dark patches, and the rims around his eyes were extremely black. His brown hair was cut short and he was dressed in an ordinary pair of jeans and a baggy white jumper. He had a broad smile and glittering yellow teeth.
It was only when I glanced down at his fingertips and spotted ten scars that I realized he was a vampire. That’s how most vampires are created: vampire blood is pumped into them through the soft flesh at the ends of their fingers.
“Darren, this is Gavner Purl,” Mr Crepsley introduced us. “An old, trusted, rather clumsy friend. Gavner, this is Darren Shan.”
“Pleased to meet you,” the vampire said, shaking my hand. “You didn’t hear me coming, did you?”
“No,” I answered honestly.
“There!” he boomed proudly. “See?”
“Congratulations,” Mr Crepsley said dryly. “If you are ever called upon to sneak into a nursery, you should have no problems.”
Gavner grimaced. “I see time hasn’t sweetened you,” he noted. “As cutting as ever. How long has it been? Fourteen years? Fifteen?”
“Seventeen next February,” Mr Crepsley answered promptly.
“Seventeen!” Gavner whistled. “Longer than I thought. Seventeen years and as sour as ever.” He nudged me in the ribs. “Does he still complain like a grumpy old woman when he wakes up?” he asked.
“Yes,” I giggled.
“I could never get a positive word out of him until midnight. I had to share a coffin with him once for four whole months.” He shivered at the memory. “Longest four months of my life.”
“You shared a coffin?” I asked incredulously.
“Had to,” he said. “We were being hunted. We had to stick together. I wouldn’t do it again though. I’d rather face the sun and burn.”
“You were not the only one with cause for complaint,” Mr Crepsley grunted. “Your snoring nearly drove me to face the sun myself.” His lips were twitching and I could tell he was having a hard time not smiling.
“Why were you being hunted?” I asked curiously.
“Never mind,” Mr Crepsley snapped before Gavner could answer, then glared at his ex-partner.
Gavner pulled a face. “It was nearly sixty years ago, Larten,” he said. “I didn’t realize it was classified information.”
“The boy is not interested in the past,” Mr Crepsley said firmly. (I most certainly was!) “You are on my soil, Gavner Purl. I would ask you to respect my wishes.”
“Stuffy old bat,” Gavner grumbled, but gave in with a nod of his head. “So, Darren,” he said, “what do you do at the Cirque Du Freak?”
“Odd jobs,” I told him. “I fetch food for the Little People and help the performers get ready for—”
“The Little People still travel with the Cirque?” Gavner interrupted.
“More of them than ever,” Mr Crepsley answered. “There are twenty with us at the moment.”
The vampires shared a knowing glance but said no more about it. I could tell Gavner was troubled by the way his scars knit together into a fierce-looking frown.
“How goes it with the Generals?” Mr Crepsley enquired.
“Usual old routine,” Gavner said.
“Gavner is a Vampire General,” Mr Crepsley told me. That sparked my interest. I’d heard of the Vampire Generals, but nobody had told me exactly who or what they were.
“Excuse me,” I said, “but what’s a Vampire General? What do they do?”
“We keep an eye on rogues like this,” Gavner laughed, nudging Mr Crepsley. “We make sure they don’t get up to mischief.”
“The