The Vampire Prince. Darren Shan

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      CHAPTER EIGHT

      I KEPT close to the ground as the vampires passed, hidden behind the bushes, downwind so they couldn’t smell me. Once they were out of immediate range, I turned to Streak. “We have to follow them,” I whispered. Streak studied me in silence with his large, yellow eyes, then got to his feet. He slipped further back through the bushes. I trailed after him, trusting him not to lead me astray. A few minutes later, we circled around and caught sight of the vampires. We fell in behind them and matched their pace, careful not to get too close.

      I examined the four vampires with Mr Crepsley and Kurda. Three were unfamiliar, but the fourth was Arra Sails. Her right arm had been in a sling the last time I saw her, but it was now hanging freely by her side. After a while, I noticed that two of the unfamiliar vampires were carrying swords like Kurda’s, and were lagging a bit behind Arra and the other unarmed vampire.

      It became clear what was happening. Mr Crepsley had decided to come looking for me. Arra and the other vampire had agreed to accompany him. Kurda, worried that I might have somehow survived, must have offered to assist, and brought the armed vampires with him. If they discovered me alive, the swords would flash, and that would be the end of myself, Mr Crepsley, Arra and the other vampire. Kurda was making sure word of his betrayal never made it back to the Generals and Princes.

      I wasn’t surprised by Kurda’s devious plotting, but I was upset by the realization that he wasn’t the only traitor. The two vampires with swords must have known the truth about him and the vampaneze, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to rely upon them. I suspected the Guardians of the Blood (weird humans who lived inside Vampire Mountain and donated their blood in exchange for the internal organs of dead vampires) of being part of the conspiracy, but I’d thought Kurda was the only vampire traitor — it looked like I was wrong.

      If Mr Crepsley and Arra hadn’t been concentrating so hard on the search, they’d have realized something was amiss — the sword-bearing vampires were edgy, all nervous glances and itchy fingers. I’d love to have jumped out and shocked Kurda – he was the edgiest of the lot – but common sense prevailed. If I was spotted alive, he and his men would kill me and the three true vampires. As long as they believed I was dead, they wouldn’t do anything to give themselves away.

      I spent a long time studying the faces of Kurda’s companions, committing them to memory. I wondered how many more were in on the plot to destroy the clan. Not many, I bet. The vampires with him were very young. Kurda most likely recruited them himself and talked them round to his way of thinking before they learnt the ways of the vampires. More experienced vampires, who valued honour and loyalty, would never dream of being in league with a traitor.

      After a while, the group came to a halt in a small clearing, where they sat and rested, except Mr Crepsley, who spent the period anxiously pacing. I tapped Streak’s shoulder, then pointed towards the clearing — I wanted to get closer. The wolf hesitated, sniffed the air, then led the way forward. We carefully crawled to within seven or eight metres of the clearing, where we stopped, hidden by a dead tree trunk. With my developed sense of hearing, I could eavesdrop perfectly from here.

      Nothing was said for a number of minutes. The vampires were blowing into their cupped hands and tugging their jackets closer about themselves, shivering from the cold. I smiled as I thought how uncomfortable they’d feel if they were in my compromising position.

      After a while, Kurda got up and walked over to Mr Crepsley. “Think we’ll find him?” the traitor asked, feigning concern.

      Mr Crepsley sighed. “Probably not. But I would like to keep searching. I wish to locate his body and cremate him fittingly.”

      “He might still be alive,” Kurda said.

      Mr Crepsley laughed bleakly. “We traced his path through the tunnels. We know he fell into the stream and did not emerge. You truly think he may have survived?”

      Kurda shook his head, as though deeply depressed. The dirty swine! He mightn’t think I was alive, but he wasn’t taking any chances either. If not for that sword of his, I’d have—

      I calmed down and tuned back into the conversation. Arra had joined the pair and was talking, “…saw wolf tracks further back. They might have discovered his body and devoured him. We should check.”

      “I doubt if they would have eaten him,” Mr Crepsley said. “Wolves respect vampires, as we respect them. Besides, his blood would have poisoned them and we would have heard their mad howling.”

      There was a brief moment of silence, then Arra muttered, “I’d love to know what happened in those tunnels. If Darren had been by himself and fallen in, I could understand it, but Gavner has disappeared too.”

      My insides froze at the mention of Gavner.

      “Either he fell into the stream trying to save Darren,” Kurda said lightly, “or Darren fell in trying to save him. That’s the only answer I can think of.”

      “But how did they fall in?” Arra asked. “The stream wasn’t wide where they fell. They should have been able to clear it. Even if it was too wide for them, why didn’t they just jump where it was narrower? It makes no sense.”

      Kurda shrugged and pretended to be as baffled as the others.

      “At least we know that Gavner is dead,” Mr Crepsley remarked. “Although we have not found his body, the absence of his mental signal means he breathes no longer. His death distresses me, but the uncertainty regarding Darren unsettles me more. The odds are stacked against his being alive, but until we have proof that he is dead, I shall not be able to accept it.”

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