important one too,” Gavner said. “He was on the verge of being voted a Vampire Prince when he stood down.”
“A prince?” I asked sceptically. It was hard to imagine Mr Crepsley with a crown and royal cloak.
“That’s what we call our leaders,” Gavner said. “There are very few of them. Only the noblest and most respected vampires are elected.”
“And Mr Crepsley almost became one?” I said. Gavner nodded. “What happened?” I asked. “How did he end up travelling with the Cirque Du Freak?”
“He resigned,” Gavner said. “He was a couple of years shy of being invested – we call the process of Prince-making an investiture – when one night he declared he was sick of the business and wanted nothing more to do with the Generals.”
“Why?” I asked.
Gavner shrugged. “Nobody knows. Larten never gave much away. Maybe he just got tired of the fighting and killing.”
I wanted to ask who it was the Vampire Generals had to fight, but at that moment we cleared the last of the town houses and Gavner Purl smiled and stretched his arms.
“A clear run,” he grunted happily.
“You’re leaving?” I asked.
“Have to,” he said. “A General’s schedule is a busy one. I only dropped by because it was on my way. I’d like to stay and chat over old times with Larten, but I can’t. Anyway, I think Larten will be on the move soon himself.”
My ears perked up. “Where’s he going?” I asked.
Gavner shook his head and grinned. “Sorry. He’d scalp me alive if I told. I’ve already said more than I should. You won’t tell him I told you about his being a General, will you?”
“Not if you don’t want me to,” I said.
“Thanks.” Gavner crouched down and faced me. “Larten’s a pain in the butt sometimes. He plays his cards too close to his chest, and getting information out of him can be like prying teeth from a shark. But he’s a good vampire, one of the best. You couldn’t hope for a better teacher. Trust him, Darren, and you won’t go wrong.”
“I’ll try,” I smiled.
“This can be a dangerous world for vampires,” Gavner said softly. “More dangerous than you know. Stick with Larten and you’ll be in a better position to survive than many of our kind. You don’t live as long as he has without learning more than your fair share of tricks.”
“How old is he?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” Gavner said. “I think about a hundred and eighty or two hundred.”
“How old are you?” I asked.
“I’m a whippersnapper,” he said. “Barely past the hundred mark.”
“A hundred years old!” I whistled softly.
“That’s nothing for a vampire,” Gavner said. “I was barely nineteen when first blooded and only twenty-two when I became a full-vampire. I could live to be a good five hundred years old, the gods of the vampires permitting.”
“Five hundred…!” I couldn’t imagine being so old.
“Picture trying to blow out the candles on that cake!” Gavner chuckled. Then he stood. “I must be off. I’ve fifty kilometres to make before dawn. I’ll have to slip into overdrive.” He grimaced. “I hate flitting. I always feel sick afterwards.”
“Will I see you again?” I asked.
“Probably,” he replied. “The world’s a small place. I’m sure our paths will cross again one fine gloomy night.” He shook my hand. “So long, Darren Shan.”
“Until next time, Gavner Purl,” I said.
“Next time,” he agreed, and then he was off. He took several deep breaths and started to jog. After a while he broke into a sprint. I stood where I was, watching him run, until he hit flitting speed and disappeared in the snapping of an eyelid, at which point I turned and headed back to camp.
I found Mr Crepsley in his van. He was sitting by the window (it was completely covered with strips of dark sticky tape, to block out the sun during the day), staring moodily off into space.
“Gavner’s gone,” I said.
“Yes,” he sighed.
“He didn’t stay long,” I remarked.
“He is a Vampire General,” Mr Crepsley said. “His time is not his own.”
“I liked him.”
“He is a fine vampire and a good friend,” Mr Crepsley agreed.
I cleared my throat. “He said you might be leaving too.”
Mr Crepsley regarded me suspiciously. “What else did he say?”
“Nothing,” I lied quickly. “I asked why he couldn’t stay longer and he said there was no point, as you’d probably be moving on soon.”
Mr Crepsley nodded. “Gavner brought unpleasant news,” he said carefully. “I will have to leave the Cirque for a while.”
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“To a city,” he responded vaguely.
“What about me?” I asked.
Mr Crepsley scratched his scar thoughtfully. “That is what I have been contemplating,” he said. “I would prefer not to take you with me but I think I must. I may have need of you.”
“But I like it here,” I complained. “I don’t want to leave.”
“Nor do I,” Mr Crepsley snapped. “But I must. And you have to come with me. Remember: we are vampires, not circus performers. The Cirque Du Freak is a means of cover, not our home.”
“How long will we be away?” I asked unhappily.
“Days. Weeks. Months. I cannot say for sure.”
“What if I refuse to come?”
He studied me ominously. “An assistant who does not obey orders has no purpose,” he said quietly. “If I cannot rely on your cooperation, I will have to take steps to remove you from my employ.”
“You mean you’d sack me?” I smiled bitterly.
“There is only one way to deal with a rebellious half-vampire,” he answered, and I knew what that way was – a stake through the heart!
“It’s not fair,” I grumbled. “What am I going to do by myself all day in a strange city while you’re asleep?”
“What did you do when you were a human?” he asked.
“Things were different,” I said. “I had friends and a family. I’m going to be alone again if we leave, like when I first joined up with you.”
“It will be hard,” Mr Crepsley said compassionately, “but we have no choice. I must be away with the coming of dusk – I would leave now, were we not so near to dawn – and you must come with me. There is no other…”
He stopped as a thought struck him. “Of course,” he said slowly, “we could bring another along.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“We could take Evra with us.”
I frowned as I considered it.
“The two of you are good friends, yes?” Mr Crepsley asked.
“Yes,” I said, “but I don’t know how he’d feel about leaving. And there’s his snake: