Harkat cleared his throat. "These fools don't speak … for me. I'll go." Then he smiled to show he was joking.
Gannen spat between his feet, disgusted. In my arms, Steve stirred and groaned. Gannen studied him for a moment, then looked at his brother again. "Let's try this then," Gannen said. "R.V. and Steve Leonard are close friends. Leonard designed R.V.'s hooks and persuaded us to blood him. I don't think R.V. would kill the woman if it meant Leonard's death, despite his threats. When you leave, you can take Leonard with you. If you escape, perhaps you'll be able to use him to bargain for the woman's life at a later time." He squinted at me warningly. "That is the best I can do — and it's more than you have a right to expect."
I thought it over, realized this was Debbie's only real hope, and nodded imperceptibly.
"Is that a yes?" Gannen asked.
"Yes," I croaked.
"Then go now!" he snapped. "From the moment you start to walk, the clock begins to tick. In fifteen minutes, we come — and if we catch you, you die."
At a signal from Gannen, the vampaneze and vampets drew back and regrouped around him. Gannen stood in front of them all, hands folded across his chest, waiting for us to leave.
I shuffled forward to my three friends, pushing Steve ahead of me. Vancha still had hold of his captured vampet and was gripping him as I gripped Steve. "Is he serious?" I asked in a whisper.
"It seems so," Vancha replied, though I could tell he hardly believed it either.
"Why is he doing this?" Mr Crepsley asked. "He knows it is our mission to kill the Lord of the Vampaneze. By offering us this opportunity, he frees us to perhaps recover and strike again."
"It's crazy," Vancha agreed, "but we'd be just as crazy to look this gift horse in the mouth. Let's get out before he changes his mind. We can debate it later — if we survive."
Keeping his vampet in front of him, as a shield, Vancha retreated. I followed, an arm wrapped around Steve, who was fully conscious now, but too groggy to make a break for freedom. Mr Crepsley and Harkat came after us. The vampaneze and vampets watched us leave. Many of the red or red-rimmed eyes were filled with loathing and disgust — but none pursued us.
We backed up through the tunnel for a while, until we were certain we weren't being followed. Then we stopped and exchanged uncertain looks. I opened my mouth to say something, but Vancha silenced me before I spoke. "Let's not waste time." Turning, he pushed his vampet ahead of him and began jogging. Harkat took off after him, shrugging helplessly at me as he passed. Mr Crepsley pointed at me to go next, with Steve. Shoving Steve in front, I poked him in the back with the tip of my sword, and roughly encouraged him forward at a brisk pace.
Up through the long, dark tunnels we padded, the hunters and their prisoners, beaten, bloodied, bruised and bewildered. I thought about the Vampaneze Lord, the insane R.V. and his hapless prisoner — Debbie. It tore me up inside to leave her behind, but I had no choice. Later, if I lived, I'd return for her. Right now I had to think only of my own life. With a great effort, I thrust all thoughts of Debbie from my head and concentrated on the path ahead. At the back of my mind, unbidden, a clock formed, and with every footstep I could hear the hands ticking down the seconds, cutting away at our period of grace, bringing us relentlessly closer to the moment when Gannen Harst would set the vampaneze and vampets after us — freeing the hounds of hell.
TO BE CONTINUED …
WILL THE HUNTERS SURVIVE THE NIGHT OR BECOME VICTIMS OF THE
KILLERS OF THE DAWN
"A STRONG spotlight was trained on the window to dazzle us. Retreating, Vancha cursed his vilest, while the rest of us glanced uneasily at one another, waiting for someone to propose a plan.
A voice from outside, amplified by a megaphone, cut our thoughts short. "You in there!" it bellowed. "Killers?"
Vancha hurried to the window and nudged the blind aside a fraction. Light from the sun and spotlight flooded the room. Letting the blind fall back into place, Vancha roared, "Turn off the light!"
"Not a chance!" the person with the megaphone laughed in reply.
Vancha stood there a moment, thinking, then nodded at Mr Crepsley and Harkat. "Check the corridors above and below. Find out if they're inside the building. Don't bait them — if that lot outside start firing, they'll cut us to ribbons."
Mr Crepsley and Harkat obeyed without question and returned within a minute.
"They're packed tight two floors … above," Harkat reported.
"The same two floors below," Mr Crepsley said grimly.
"Then we have to talk to them," Vancha said. "Find out where we stand and maybe buy some time to think this through. Anyone want to volunteer?" Nobody replied. "Guess that means I'm the negotiator. Just don't blame me if it all goes wrong." Leaving the blind over the window, he shouted at the humans below. "Who's down there and what do you want?"
There was a pause, then the same voice as before spoke to us via a megaphone. "Who am I talking to?" the person asked. Now that I concentrated on the voice, I realized it was a woman's.
"None of your business!" Vancha roared.
Another pause. Then, "We know your names. Larten Crepsley, Vancha March, Darren Shan and Harkat Mulds. I just want to know which one of you I'm in contact with."
Vancha's jaw dropped.
"Tell them who you are," Harkat whispered. "They know too much. Best to act like we're … co-operating."
Vancha nodded, then shouted through the covered hole in the window, "Vancha March."
"Listen, March," the woman called out. "I'm Chief Inspector Alice Burgess. I'm running this freak show." An ironic choice of words, though none of us commented on it. "If you want to negotiate a deal, you'll be negotiating with me. One warning — I'm not here to play games. I've two hundred men and women out here and inside your building, just dying to put a round of bullets through your hearts. At the first sign that you're messing with us, I'll give the order and they'll open fire. Understand?"
Vancha bared his teeth and snarled, "I understand."
"OK," Chief Inspector Burgess responded. "This is how it works. Come down, one at a time. Any sign of a weapon, or any unexpected moves, and you're history."
"Let's talk about this," Vancha shouted.
A rifle fired and a volley of bullets tore up the outside of the building. We fell to the floor, cursing and yelping, although there was no cause for concern — the marksmen were aiming deliberately high.
When the screams of the bullets died away, the Chief Inspector addressed us again. "That was a warning — your last. Next time we shoot to kill. No talking or bargaining. One minute — then we come in after you."
A troubling silence descended.
"That's that," Harkat muttered after a handful of slow-ticking seconds. "We're finished."
"Not necessarily," Mr Crepsley said softly. "There is a way out."
"How?" Vancha asked.
"The window," Mr Crepsley said. "We jump. They will not expect that."
Vancha considered the plan. "The drop's no problem," he mused. "But what do we do once down there?"
"We flit," Mr Crepsley said. "I will carry Darren. You can carry Harkat. It will not be easy — they might shoot us before we work up to flitting speed — but it can be done. With luck."
"It's crazy," Vancha growled, then winked at us. "I like it!"
"Time's up!" Alice Burgess shouted through her megaphone. "Come out immediately or we open fire!"
Vancha grunted, checked his shuriken belts and wrapped his animal hides tight around him. "Ready?" he asked.
"Ready," we said.
"Harkat jumps with me," Vancha said. "Larten and Darren — you come next. Give us a second or two to roll out of your way."
"Luck, Vancha," Mr Crepsley said.
"Luck," Vancha replied, then grinned savagely, slapped Harkat on the back, and leapt through the window, shattering the blind, Harkat not far behind. Mr Crepsley and I waited the agreed seconds, then jumped through the jagged remains of the window after our fri
ends, and dropped swiftly to the ground like a couple of wingless bats, into the hellish cauldron which awaited us below.
THE SAGA OF DARREN SHAN BOOK 9 KILLERS OF THE DAWN FEBRUARY 2003
Darren Shan, Allies of the Night
(Series: Cirque du Freak # 8)
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