“What of our search?” Mr Crepsley asked. “You mentioned Lady Evanna. Do we start with her?”
“If you wish,” Mr Tiny said. “I can’t and won’t direct you, but that’s where I would start. After that, follow your heart. Forget about the quest and go where you feel you belong. Fate will direct you as it pleases.”
That was the end of our conversation. Mr Tiny slipped away without a farewell, taking his Little People (they’d completed their repair work while he was talking), no doubt anxious to make that fatal volcano of his the next day.
Vampire Mountain was in uproar that night. Mr Tiny’s visit and prophecy were debated and dissected at length. The vampires agreed that Mr Crepsley and me had to leave on our own, to link up with the third hunter – whoever he might be – but were divided as to what the rest of them should do. Some thought that since the clan’s future rested with three lone hunters, they should forget the war with the vampaneze, since it no longer seemed to serve any purpose. Most disagreed and said it would be crazy to stop fighting.
Mr Crepsley led Harkat and me from the Hall shortly before dawn, leaving the arguing Princes and Generals behind, saying we needed to get a good day’s rest. It was hard to sleep with Mr Tiny’s words echoing round my brain, but I managed to squeeze in a few hours.
We woke about three hours before sunset, ate a short meal and packed our meagre belongings (I took a spare set of clothes, some bottles of blood, and my diary). We said private goodbyes to Vanez and Seba – the old quartermaster was especially sad to see us go – then met Paris Skyle at the gate leading out of the Halls. He told us Mika was staying on to assist with the night-to-night running of the war. He looked very poorly as I shook his hand, and I had a feeling that he hadn’t many years left – if our search kept us away from Vampire Mountain for a long period, this might be the last time I saw him.
“I’ll miss you, Paris,” I said, hugging him roughly after we’d shaken hands.
“I will miss you too, young Prince,” he said, then squeezed me tight and hissed in my ear: “Find and kill him, Darren. There is a cold chill in my bones, and it is not the chill of old age. Mr Tiny has spoken the truth – if the Vampaneze Lord comes into his full powers, I am sure we all shall perish.”
“I’ll find him,” I vowed, locking gazes with the ancient Prince. “And if the chance falls to me to kill him, my aim will be true.”
“Then may the luck of the vampires be with you,” he said.
I joined Mr Crepsley and Harkat. We saluted to those who’d gathered to see us off, then faced down the tunnels and set off. We moved quickly and surely, and within two hours had left the mountain and were jogging over open ground, beneath a clear night sky.
Our hunt for the Lord of the Vampaneze had begun!
IT WAS great to be back on the road. We might be walking into the heart of an inferno, and our companions would suffer immeasurably if we failed, but those were worries for the future. In those first few weeks all I could think about was how refreshing it was to stretch my legs and breathe clean air, not caged in with dozens of sweaty, smelly vampires.
I was in high spirits as we cut a path through the mountains by night. Harkat was very quiet and spent a lot of time mulling over what Mr Tiny had said. Mr Crepsley seemed as glum as ever, though I knew that underneath the gloomy façade he was as pleased to be out in the open as I was.
We struck a firm pace and kept to it, covering many kilometres over the course of each night, sleeping deeply by day beneath trees and bushes, or in caves. The cold was fierce when we set off, but as we wound our way down through the mountain range, the biting chill lessened. By the time we reached the lowlands we were as comfortable as a human would have been on a blustery autumn day.
We carried spare bottles of human blood, and fed on wild animals. It had been a long time since I hunted, and I was rusty to begin with, but I soon got back into the swing of it.
“This is the life, isn’t it?” I noted one morning as we chewed on the roasted carcass of a deer. We didn’t light a fire most days – we ate our meat raw – but it was nice to relax around a mound of blazing logs every once in a while.
“It is,” Mr Crepsley agreed.
“I wish we could go on like this forever.”
The vampire smiled. “You are not in a hurry to return to Vampire Mountain?”
I pulled a face. “Being a Prince is a great honour, but it’s not much fun.”
“You have had a rough initiation,” he said sympathetically. “Were we not at war, there would have been time for adventure. Most Princes wander the world for decades before settling down to royal duty. Your timing was unfortunate.”
“Still, I can’t complain,” I said cheerfully. “I’m free now.”
Harkat stirred up the fire and edged closer towards us. He hadn’t said a lot since leaving Vampire Mountain, but now he lowered his mask and spoke. “I loved Vampire Mountain. It felt like home. I never felt so at ease before, even when I … was with the Cirque Du Freak. When this is over, if I have … the choice, I’ll return.”
“There is vampire blood in you,” Mr Crepsley said. He was joking, but Harkat took the statement seriously.
“There might be,” he said. “I’ve often wondered if I was a vampire in … my previous life. That might explain why I was sent to Vampire Mountain … and why I fitted in so well. It could also explain the stakes … in my dreams.”
Harkat’s dreams often involved stakes. The ground would give way in his nightmares and he’d fall into a pit of stakes, or be chased by shadow men who carried stakes and drove them through his heart.
“Any fresh clues as to who you might have been?” I asked. “Did meeting Mr Tiny jog your memory?”
Harkat shook his chunky, neckless head. “No further insights,” he sighed.
“Why did Mr Tiny not tell you the truth about yourself if it was time for you to learn?” Mr Crepsley asked.
“I don’t think it’s as … simple as that,” Harkat said. “I have to earn the truth. It’s part of the … deal we made.”
“Wouldn’t it be weird if Harkat had been a vampire?” I remarked. “What if he’d been a Prince – would he still be able to open the doors of the Hall of Princes?”
“I don’t think I was a Prince,” Harkat chuckled, the corners of his wide mouth lifting in a gaping smile.
“Hey,” I said, “if I can become a Prince, anyone can.”
“True,” Mr Crepsley muttered, then ducked swiftly as I tossed a leg of deer at him.
Once clear of the mountains, we headed south-east and soon reached the outskirts of civilization. It was strange to see electric lights, cars and planes again. I felt as though I’d been living in the past and had stepped out of a time machine.
“It’s so noisy,” I commented one night as we passed through a busy town. We’d entered it to draw blood from humans, slicing them in their sleep with our nails, taking a small amount of blood, closing the cuts with Mr Crepsley’s healing spit, leaving them oblivious to the fact that they’d been fed upon. “So much music and laughter and shouting.” My ears were ringing from the noise.
“Humans always chatter like monkeys,” Mr Crepsley said. “It is their way.”
I used to object when he said things like that, but not any more. When I became Mr Crepsley’s assistant, I’d clung to the hope of returning to my old life. I’d dreamt of regaining my humanity and going home to my family and friends. No longer.