Vampire War Trilogy. Darren Shan

but that is because…” Mr Crepsley stopped.

      “…Mr Tiny’s told them not to,” Vancha grinned. “And if he’s picked just three vampires to go head to head with the Vampaneze Lord, maybe –”

      “ – he has only picked three vampaneze to help their Lord!” Mr Crepsley finished, excited.

      “Right,” Vancha beamed. “So the odds against us besting him are, in my view, better than even. Do you agree?” All three of us nodded thoughtfully. “Now,” he continued, “let’s say we make a pig’s ear of it. We face him four times, we blow it, and our chance to defeat him passes. What happens then?”

      “He leads the vampaneze into war against the vampires and wins,” I said.

      “Exactly.” Vancha’s smile faded. “By the way, I don’t believe that. I don’t care how powerful their Lord is, or what Des Tiny says – in a war with the vampaneze, I’m certain we’ll win. But if we don’t, I’d rather die beforehand, fighting for our future, than be there to watch the walls of our world come crashing down.”

      “Brave words,” I grunted sourly.

      “The truth,” Vancha insisted. “Would you prefer to die at the hands of the Vampaneze Lord, when hope is still on our side, or survive and bear witness to the downfall of the clan?” I didn’t reply, so Vancha went on. “If the predictions are true, and we fail, I don’t want to be around for the end. It would be a terrible tragedy, and would madden anyone who saw it.

      “Believe me,” Vancha said, “the two who die in that eventuality will be fortunate. We shouldn’t worry about dying – it’s living we have to fear if we fail!”

      I didn’t get much sleep that day, thinking about what Vancha had said. I doubt if any of us slept much, except Evanna, who snored even louder than the Prince.

      Vancha was right. If we failed, the one who survived would have the worst time of all. He’d have to watch the vampires perish, and bear the burden of blame. If we were to fail, death along the way was the best any of us could hope for.

      Our spirits had lifted when we rose that evening. We were no longer afraid of what lay ahead, and instead of talking negatively, we discussed our route. “Mr Tiny said to follow our hearts,” Mr Crepsley reminded us. “He said fate would lead us if we placed ourselves in its hands.”

      “You don’t think we should try tracking down the Vampaneze Lord?” Vancha asked.

      “Our people have spent six years seeking him, without success,” Mr Crepsley said. “Of course we must keep our eyes peeled, but otherwise I believe we should go about our business as if he did not exist.”

      “I don’t like it,” Vancha grumbled. “Fate’s a cruel mistress. What if destiny doesn’t lead us to him? Do you want to report back in a year and say, ‘Sorry, we didn’t run into the blighter, bad luck, what?’”

      “Mr Tiny said to follow our hearts,” Mr Crepsley repeated stubbornly.

      Vancha threw his hands into the air. “OK – we’ll do it your way. But you two will have to pick the course – as many women have attested, I’m a boundless cad who doesn’t have a heart.”

      Mr Crepsley smiled thinly. “Darren? Where do you want to go?”

      I started to say I didn’t care, then stopped as an image flashed through my thoughts – a picture of a snake-boy sticking an extra long tongue up his nose. “I’d like to see how Evra’s doing,” I said.

      Mr Crepsley nodded approvingly. “Good. Just last night I was wondering what my old friend Hibernius Tall was up to. Harkat?”

      “Sounds good to me,” Harkat agreed.

      “So be it.” Facing Vancha, Mr Crepsley said in as imperious a tone as he could muster, “Sire, we head for the Cirque Du Freak.”

      And so our direction was decided and the dice of destiny were cast.