Tunnels of Blood. Darren Shan

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      CHAPTER FOUR

      IT FELT strange being in a city. The noise and smell nearly drove me mad the first couple of days: with my heightened senses it was like being in the middle of a whirring food blender. I lay in bed during the daytime, covering my head with the thickest pillow I could find. But by the end of the week I’d grown used to the super-sharp sounds and scents and learned to ignore them.

      We stayed at a hotel situated in the corner of a quiet city square. In the evenings, when traffic was slow, neighbourhood kids gathered outside for a game of football. I’d have loved to join in but dared not – with my extra strength, I might accidentally end up breaking somebody’s bones, or worse.

      By the start of our second week we’d fallen into a comfortable routine. Evra and me rose every morning – Mr Crepsley went off by himself at night without telling us where – and ate a big breakfast. After that we’d head out and explore the city, which was big and old and full of interesting stuff. We’d get back to the hotel for nightfall, in case Mr Crepsley wanted us, then watch some TV or play computer games. We usually got to bed between eleven and twelve.

      After a year with the Cirque Du Freak, it was a thrill to live like a normal human again. I loved being able to sleep late in the morning, not having to worry about finding food for the Little People; it was great not to be rushing about, running errands for the performers; and sitting back at night, stuffing my face with sweets and pickled onions, watching TV shows – that was heaven!

      Evra was enjoying himself too. He’d never known a life like this. He’d been part of the circus world for as long as he could remember, first with a nasty side-show owner, then with Mr Tall. He liked the Cirque – I did too – and was looking forward to returning, but he had to admit it was nice to have a break.

      “I never realized TV could be so addictive,” he said one night, after we’d watched five soap operas in a row.

      “My mum and dad never let me watch too much,” I told him, “but I knew guys in school who watched five or six hours of it every night of the week!”

      “I wouldn’t take it that far,” Evra mused, “but it’s fun in small doses. Perhaps I’ll buy a portable set when we return to the Cirque Du Freak.”

      “I never thought of getting a TV since I joined,” I said. “So much else was going on, it was the last thing on my mind. But you’re right – it would be nice to have a set, even if only for reruns of The Simpsons.” That was our favourite show.

      I wondered sometimes what Mr Crepsley was up to – he’d always been mysterious, but never this secretive – but in truth I wasn’t overly bothered: it was nice to have him out of my hair.

      Evra had to wrap up in layers of clothes whenever we went out. Not because of the cold – though it was chilly: the first snow had fallen a couple of days after our arrival – but because of how he looked. Though he didn’t mind people gawping at him – he was used to it – it was easier to get around if he was able to pass for a normal human. That way he didn’t have to stop every five or ten minutes to explain to a curious stranger who and what he was.

      Covering his body, legs and arms was easy – trousers, a jumper and gloves – but his face was tricky: it wasn’t as strongly scaled or coloured as the rest of him, but it wasn’t the face of an ordinary human. A thick cap took care of his long yellow-green hair, and dark glasses shaded much of the upper half of his face. But as for the lower half…

      We experimented with bandages and flesh-coloured paints before hitting on the answer: a fake beard! We bought it in a joke shop and though it looked silly – nobody could mistake it for a real one – it did the job.

      “We must look a right pair,” Evra giggled one day as we strolled around a zoo. “You in your pirate costume, me in this get-up. People probably think we’re a couple of escaped crazies.”

      “The folks at the hotel definitely do,” I giggled. “I’ve heard the bellboys and maids talking about us and they reckon Mr Crepsley is a mad doctor and we’re two of his patients.”

      “Yeah?” Evra laughed. “Imagine if they knew the truth – that you’re a couple of vampires and I’m a snake-boy!”

      “I don’t think it would matter,” I said. “Mr Crepsley tips well and that’s the important thing. ‘Money buys privacy’, as I heard one of the managers say when a maid was complaining about a guy who’d been walking about naked in the corridors.”

      “I saw him!” Evra exclaimed. “I thought he’d locked himself out of his room.”

      “Nope,” I smiled. “Apparently he’s been walking about starkers for four or five days. According to the manager, he comes every year for a couple of weeks and spends the entire time roaming around, naked as a baby.”

      “They let him?” Evra asked incredulously.

      “‘Money buys privacy,’” I repeated.

      “And I thought the Cirque Du Freak was a strange place to live,” Evra muttered wryly. “Humans are even weirder than us!”