Ocean of Blood. Darren Shan

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СКАЧАТЬ the deadly sunlight. Like vampires, he couldn’t comfortably stand exposure to the sun. But fights between children of the night seldom lasted more than a minute or two. One way or the other, he wouldn’t have to tolerate the irritation for long.

      The squat, ugly Zula followed Randel into the clearing. He went calmly, eyes clear and steady, ready to accept whatever came his way. In that moment he was a true vampire, nobler than any of the Cubs watching him, and all of them felt humbled.

      “What is your choice of weapon?” Zula asked as they squared up to each other.

      “Hands are fine by me,” Randel said, flexing his fingers.

      “As you wish.”

      Zula lashed out, five sharp nails guaranteed to cut through almost any material on Earth, including the flesh of a vampaneze’s throat. But Randel blocked Zula’s arm and kicked him in the stomach. Zula grunted and fell back. Randel could have pressed after him, but he held his ground and waited for the vampire to attack again.

      Flushed, Zula darted at his foe, then stopped and took a deep breath, regaining his composure. When he was in control of himself, he advanced slowly, studying Randel’s eyes for warning signs of what his intentions might be. Larten had thought that Zula was doomed when he accepted the challenge, but watching him now, he believed that maybe the Cub had a chance.

      When Zula was within reach, Randel swung a fist at him. Zula blocked it and kicked at Randel’s shin. He connected and Randel went down. The vampires roared with excitement, but their cheers were shortlived. As Randel fell, he caught Zula and twisted him around and down. Zula realised too late that his opponent had anticipated his strike. Before he could adjust, he landed heavily on his back — and on the outstretched fingers of one of Randel’s hands, which the vampaneze had slyly slid beneath him.

      Zula cried out as the vampaneze’s nails ripped into his lungs. Then he stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. His legs spasmed, but his arms were strangely still by his sides. He gulped a few times, blood exploding from his mouth, eyes widening, staring at the sun. He had always thought that he would die by the light of the moon. It seemed unfair that a child of the night should perish this way, before the sun had set. He wished Randel had come a few hours later, so he could at least have counted the stars one last time.

      And then he wished no more.

      Randel shoved the dead vampire away, wiped his hand clean on the grass and stood. He didn’t even glance at Zula, but he did cast an eye over the pale-faced vampires sheltering beneath the tree.

      “You’re a disgrace to your masters,” Randel growled, then picked up his cloak, settled it over his head and moved on.

      The Cubs stared after the departing vampaneze and watched in silence until he flitted out of sight. Then Larten and Jordan went to fetch the body of Zula Pone. They would burn it later or launch it down a river, depending on what the majority thought the ugly vampire would have preferred.

      Tanish was sitting by himself when Larten returned. He had his back to the rest of the Cubs and nobody went near him. They ignored their fallen leader, treating him with the scorn he deserved. Larten felt sorry for his friend, but it couldn’t be helped. One of the first things Seba had taught him was that every man made his own decisions in life, and each must stand by the consequences of those choices.

      As the sun set, Tanish stood and set off. He didn’t say goodbye and nobody asked where he was going. He took nothing, even dropping his expensive coat and discarding his silk shirt. Larten knew, as he watched the disgraced Tanish leave, that this was probably the last they’d see of him. Tanish Eul was no longer part of the clan. He wasn’t a traitor, but the Cubs would never mention his name again, and if anyone ever asked about him, they would respond with a simple, damning, “He walks with the humans now.”

      PART TWO

      “If the entire clan stood against her, we would fall.”

      CHAPTER SIX

      The American Civil War was the bloodiest waste of life Larten had yet to witness. Vampires had known about America long before Europeans discovered it. One of the clan had sailed with Leif Ericsson and thirty-four others early in the second millennium, and before Paris Skyle became a Prince he stayed Columbus’s hand when the human had lost hope and was on the verge of turning back. The elderly vampire would have been saddened to see what had become of the country, but not surprised. Why should these tribes be any different to those they had left behind? People might speak of it being a New World, but they were the same old humans.

      Larten watched from a distance as thousands of young men clashed and went to an early grave. He, Wester and Seba had made camp on a hill out of the way of the fighting a few nights earlier. Since then they’d kept vigil, leaving only to hunt and stretch their legs.

      The pair of Cubs had abandoned the war packs and returned to their master a few years after Tanish’s fall. They had never been able to lose themselves in warfare and other petty pursuits in quite the same way after that dark day. They felt shamed, and the Cubs they cavorted with were a constant reminder of what had happened.

      Seba never asked his assistants why they had returned. He was surprised to see them come back to him so early – he hadn’t expected them for another decade – but a master didn’t need to know everything about his students. He let them keep their secrets and focused on their training.

      Seba didn’t humiliate them as he had before, or set them tasks they couldn’t complete. The pair had changed, Larten in particular, and Seba now deemed them worthy of respect. He believed they were ready to undertake the testing trials that would decide whether or not they were capable of playing an active role in the affairs of the clan.

      As Larten studied the warring American factions, he wondered again why Seba had brought them to this place. Their master had never shown an interest in the affairs of humans and hadn’t even glanced at the soldiers since they’d arrived. What could have lured him to this maelstrom of slaughter?

      Wester stepped up beside the man he thought of as a brother and watched for a while with him. Both were thinking of Tanish Eul.

      “How much longer do you think we’ll be here?” Wester asked, but Larten only grunted in response. “Did you smell the war pack last night?”

      Larten nodded gruffly. “Aye.”

      Larten’s senses had improved greatly in recent years. He’d been aware of the other vampires for the past two nights, but had avoided them, staying by Seba’s side, ready to obey his master’s orders.

      “I miss being part of a pack,” Wester sighed. “Feeding on the battlefields was barbaric, but exquisite.”

      “I am sure reformed opium addicts miss their pipes,” Larten said drily. “It does not mean they should return to their old ways.”

      “It wasn’t that bad,” Wester said.

      “No?” Larten shrugged. “I have often told myself that there was nothing wrong in what we did, since so many other vampires were revelling in the bloodshed. But that is no excuse. Humans might not deserve our respect, but they do not merit our contempt either.”

      Wester smiled. “You sound just like Seba.”

      Larten winced and scratched his nose, then his ears. He had tried to copy Seba’s way of speaking in СКАЧАТЬ