Allies of the Night. Darren Shan
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Название: Allies of the Night
Автор: Darren Shan
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Детская проза
isbn: 9780007435333
isbn:
I nearly fell asleep sitting on the end of the bed. The last three months had been long and arduous. Every night we roamed the roofs and tunnels of the city, searching for vampaneze, avoiding the police, soldiers and frightened humans, many of whom had taken to carrying guns and other weapons. It was taking its toll on all of us, but eleven people had died – that we knew of – and more would follow if we didn’t stick to our task.
Standing, I walked around the room, trying to stay awake long enough to get into the bath. Sometimes I didn’t, and would wake the following night stinking, sweaty and filthy, feeling like something a cat had coughed up.
I thought about my previous visit to this city. I’d been much younger, still learning what it meant to be a half-vampire. I’d met my first and only girlfriend here — Debbie Hemlock. She’d been dark-skinned, full-lipped and bright-eyed. I would have loved to get to know her better. But duty called, the mad vampaneze was killed, and the currents of life swept us apart.
I’d walked by the house where she’d lived with her parents several times since returning, half-hoping she still lived there. But new tenants had moved in and there was no sign of the Hemlocks. Just as well, really — as a half-vampire I aged at a fifth the human rate, so although nearly thirteen years had passed since I last kissed Debbie, I only looked a few years older. Debbie would be a grown woman now. It would have been confusing if we’d run into one another.
The door connecting the bedrooms opened and Harkat entered, drying himself with a huge hotel towel. “The bath’s free,” he said, wiping around the top of his bald, grey, scarred head with the towel, careful not to irritate his round green eyes, which had no eyelids to protect them.
“Cheers, ears,” I grinned, slipping by him. That was an in-joke — Harkat, like all the Little People, had ears, but they were stitched under the skin at the sides of his head, so it looked as if he hadn’t any.
Harkat had drained the bath, put the plug back in and turned on the hot tap, so it was almost full with fresh water when I arrived. I tested the temperature, added a dash of cold, turned off the taps and slid in — heavenly! I raised a hand to brush a lock of hair out of my eyes but my arm wouldn’t lift all the way — I was too tired. Relaxing, I decided to just lie there a few minutes. I could wash my hair later. To simply lie in the bath and relax … for a few minutes … would be…
Without finishing the thought, I fell soundly asleep, and when I awoke it was night again, and I was blue all over from having spent the day in a bath of cold, grimy water.
CHAPTER TWO
WE RETURNED to the hotel at the end of another long, disappointing night. We’d stayed at the same hotel since coming to the city. We hadn’t meant to – the plan had been to switch every couple of weeks – but the search for the vampaneze had left us so exhausted, we hadn’t been able to muster the energy to go looking for fresh accommodation. Even the sturdy Harkat Mulds, who didn’t need to sleep very much, was dozing off for four or five hours each day.
I felt better after a hot bath and flicked on the TV to see if there was any news about the killings. I learnt it was early Thursday morning – days melted into one another when you lived among vampires, and I rarely took any notice of them – and no new deaths had been reported. It had been almost two weeks since the last body was discovered. There was the slightest hint of hope in the air — many people thought the reign of terror had come to an end. I doubted we’d be that lucky, but I kept my fingers crossed as I turned the set off and headed for the welcome hotel bed.
Sometime later I was roughly shaken awake. A strong light was shining through the thin material of the curtains and I knew instantly that it was midday or early afternoon, which was way too soon to be even thinking about getting out of bed. Grunting, I sat up and found an anxious-looking Harkat leaning over me.
“Wassup?” I muttered, rubbing the grains of sleep from my eyes.
“Someone’s knocking at … your door,” Harkat croaked.
“Tell them to please go away,” I said — or words to that effect!
“I was going to, but…” He paused.
“Who is it?” I asked, sensing trouble.
“I don’t know. I opened the door of my room a crack … and checked. It’s nobody connected with the hotel, although … there’s a staff member with him. He’s a small man, carrying a big … briefcase, and he’s…” Again Harkat paused. “Come see for yourself.”
I got up as there was a round of fresh knuckle raps. I hurried through to Harkat’s room. Mr Crepsley was sleeping soundly in one of the twin beds. We tiptoed past him and opened the door ever so slightly. One of the figures in the corridor was familiar – the day manager of the hotel – but I’d never seen the other. He was small, as Harkat had said, and thin, with a huge black briefcase. He was wearing a dark grey suit, black shoes and an old-fashioned bowler hat. He was scowling and raising his knuckles to knock again as we closed the door.
“Think we should answer?” I asked Harkat.
“Yes,” he said. “He doesn’t look like the sort who’ll … go away if we ignore him.”
“Who do you think he is?”
“I’m not sure, but there’s something … officious about him. He might be a police officer or in … the army.”
“You don’t think they know about…?” I nodded at the sleeping vampire.
“They’d send more than one man … if they did,” Harkat replied.
I thought about it for a moment, then made up my mind. “I’ll go see what he wants. But I won’t let him in unless I have to — I don’t want people snooping around in here while Mr Crepsley’s resting.”
“Shall I stay here?” Harkat asked.
“Yes, but keep close to the door and don’t lock it — I’ll call if I run into trouble.”
Leaving Harkat to fetch his axe, I quickly pulled on a pair of trousers and a shirt and went to see what the man in the corridor wanted. Pausing by the door, not opening it, I cleared my throat and called out innocently, “Who is it?”
In immediate response, in a voice like a small dog’s bark, the man with the briefcase said, “Mr Horston?”
“No,” I replied, breathing a small sigh of relief. “You have the wrong room.”
“Oh?” The man in the corridor sounded surprised. “This isn’t Mr Vur Horston’s room?”
“No, it’s—” I winced. I’d forgotten the false names we’d given when registering! Mr Crepsley had signed in as Vur Horston and I’d said I was his son. (Harkat had crept in when no one was watching.) “I mean,” I began again, “this is my room, not my dad’s. I’m Darren Horston, his son.”
“Ah.” I could sense his smile through the door. “Excellent. You’re the reason I’m here. СКАЧАТЬ