Ocean of Blood. Darren Shan

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СКАЧАТЬ had been travelling the world for almost twenty years since their first time at Council. Both had learned a lot, not just about the ways of vampires, but about ladies too. Larten had been a slow starter, but was making up for lost time, dazzling maidens with his smile, confidence and agility wherever he went.

      The pair occasionally met with their master, Seba Nile, but spent most of the time by themselves or with others their age, vampires in their thirties, forties, fifties or sixties. They were youths by vampire standards and had been cut loose by their masters to explore the world of humans one final time before pledging themselves to the demands of the clan.

      The door to their room crashed open. Wester whirled defensively, then relaxed as a large vampire with long blond hair staggered in. It was Yebba. He had been travelling with them for the past month, though it had been a few nights since they’d last seen him.

      “I’m thirsty,” Yebba roared, kicking Larten’s bed. “Up, cur, and come keep me company.”

      “Wester says the sun hasn’t set yet,” Larten yawned.

      “I don’t give a damn,” the massive vampire said, then collapsed like a bear and sat on the floor, blinking dumbly.

      “A heavy night’s drinking?” Wester smiled.

      “Aye,” Yebba said morosely. “A woman broke my heart. What else could I do but drown my sorrows in ale?”

      “Another broken heart?” Wester tsked. “That must be the fourth this year.”

      “Aye.” Tears welled in Yebba’s eyes. “Vampires weren’t made for love.”

      “What happened this time?” Wester asked slyly. “Did you bite her?”

      “That only happened once,” Yebba scowled. “And it was an accident.”

      “It has happened to us all,” Larten said, propping himself on an elbow.

      “I don’t remember you biting any of your lady friends,” Wester frowned.

      “No, but there was one time…” He coughed and blushed. “Never mind.”

      “Tell us,” Wester hooted. “Come on, Quicksilver, you can’t leave Yebba to bare his soul alone.”

      “Well, do you recall a night a couple of years ago when I didn’t return to our inn?”

      “That happens at least once a month,” Wester said.

      “This was different,” Larten snapped. “I’d been out with a lady and drank more than was good for me. I felt hungry on the way home, so I popped into a room to feed. But I made too much noise and woke the woman up. She screamed blue murder and I tumbled out of her room without silencing her.”

      “Why didn’t you breathe on her and knock her out?” Wester asked.

      Larten shrugged. “I was drunk. I forgot about my vampiric breath. Before I knew it, a mob had formed and I was chased out of town. I was almost trapped in the open and burnt alive.”

      When Wester and Yebba had stopped laughing, Yebba said, “Why didn’t you flit? They couldn’t have troubled you once you hit top speed and vanished from sight.”

      Larten’s blush deepened and Wester had to answer for him. “He can’t flit when he’s drunk — he loses his sense of coordination and can’t run that fast.”

      The pair fell apart with laughter. Larten sniffed angrily, but his lips were twitching at the corners. Eventually he burst out laughing too. When their fit had passed, Wester trudged down to order food and ale, then the three of them waited for the sun to set, so that they could again seek excitement in the inns, taverns and gaming halls of the humans they had once been.

      CHAPTER TWO

      After a few drinks downstairs, the three young vampires went in search of whatever pleasures they could find. They were adept at sniffing out all of the hidden delights of a town.

      The trio gained admittance to a boxing match that they enjoyed greatly, wagering heavily on the outcome. Vampires usually didn’t bother with money, but Cubs often stole from sleeping humans when they fed. Superstitious people thought that vampires were fanged beasts who ripped open the throats of their targets. In reality they normally slipped into a bedroom, made a small cut on the arm or leg of a sleeping human, drank just enough blood to sate their hunger, then used their spit to close the wound.

      Larten studied the scars on his fingertips during a rest between rounds. He had been blooded the traditional way. Seba sliced the tips of Larten’s fingers with his hard, sharp nails, then cut his own and pumped blood into his assistant. Larten was proud of the scars, though sometimes when he studied them he felt a stab of guilt. They reminded him of Seba and he wondered what his master would think of his student’s recent behaviour.

      Larten and Seba had parted on bad terms, but had made their peace since then. Larten worried that by gambling, drinking and stealing, he and Wester were soiling their master’s good name. Wester often had to remind him (especially when Larten had drunk too much and was in a maudlin mood) that Seba had told them to work their human interests out of their system. There were lots of other vampires going through the same thing. They were called Cubs by the older members of the clan.

      The fight recommenced and the burly men closed in on one another. Larten looked up from his fingers and focused on the boxers. This was the thirty-second round and it had been a long time since he’d seen so engaging a battle. He cheered on the stout-hearted warriors as they clashed, weary and unsteady on their feet, but determined to keep going.

      The flesh of their bare fists had been torn to pieces and blood splattered every time one of them landed a blow. The ruby-red drops made Larten’s mouth water – Wester and Yebba were staring hungrily too – and he had to warn himself to stay by the side, not dart forward and latch on to the delicious wounds.

      All around, men were betting and roaring encouragement or abuse. They all had the same greedy, heated look in their eyes.

      “My one’s winning,” Yebba whooped as one of the brutes landed a blow.

      “You didn’t bet on him,” Wester retorted. “You bet on the other one.”

      “Did not!” Yebba shouted.

      “Yes you did. He has that mark on his left arm, remember?”

      Yebba squinted at the boxers, then cursed. “These humans all look the same to me,” he growled. Larten and Wester laughed and passed the disgruntled vampire another mug of ale — that was guaranteed to settle him down.

      After the fight, Larten and Wester collected their winnings and took Yebba to a tavern where they found ladies to dance with. Small towns lacked the dance halls of big cities, but you could always sort out something if you splashed enough money around.

      They joined a card game later. All three were drunk and they lost heavily, even Larten, who rarely tasted defeat at the gambling tables. But they didn’t mind. Money was easy to come by if you were a creature of the night.

      Larten wanted to do his knife-catching trick again, but Wester wouldn’t let him. He took his friend’s knife away and held it out of reach as Larten tried to snatch it back. СКАЧАТЬ