I was watching my feet, stepping carefully over a row of glinting thorns, when I ran into Mr Crepsley, who’d come to a sudden stop. “What’s up?” I asked, peering over his shoulder.
“Gavner!” he snapped, ignoring my question.
Gavner shuffled past me, breathing heavily (we often teased him about his heavy breathing). I heard him utter a choked cry as he reached Mr Crepsley.
“What is it?” I asked. “Let me see.” The vampires parted and I saw a tiny piece of cloth snagged on a briar bush. A few drops of dried blood had stained the tips of the thorns.
“What’s the big deal?” I asked.
The vampires didn’t answer immediately – they were gazing around worriedly, much the same way that the wolves were.
“Can’t you smell it?” Gavner finally replied quietly.
“What?”
“The blood.”
I sniffed the air. There was only the faintest of scents because the blood was dry. “What about it?” I asked.
“Think back six years,” Mr Crepsley said. He picked the cloth off the briar – the wolves were growling loudly now – and thrust it under my nostrils. “Breathe deeply. Ring any bells?”
It didn’t straightaway – my senses weren’t as sharp as a full-vampire’s – but then I recalled that long-ago night in Debbie Hemlock’s bedroom, and the smell of the insane Murlough’s blood as he lay dying on the floor. My face turned white as I realized – it was the blood of a vampaneze!
WE MADE quick time through the remainder of the briar patch, taking no notice of the cutting thorns. On the far side we stopped to get dressed, then hurried on without pause. There was a way-station nearby that Mr Crepsley was determined to reach before the break of day. The journey would normally have taken several hours but we made it in two. Once inside and secure, the vampires fell into a heated discussion. They’d never encountered evidence of vampaneze activity in this part of the world before – there was a treaty between the two clans, preventing such acts of trespass.
“Maybe it’s a mad wanderer,” Gavner suggested.
“Even the most insane vampaneze knows better than to come here,” Mr Crepsley disagreed.
“What other explanation could there be?” Gavner asked.
Mr Crepsley considered the problem. “He could be a spy.”
“You think the vampaneze would risk war?” Gavner sounded dubious. “What could they learn that would justify such a gamble?”
“Maybe it’s us they’re after,” I said quietly. I didn’t want to interrupt but felt I had to.
“What do you mean?” Gavner asked.
“Maybe they found out about Murlough.”
Gavner’s face paled and Mr Crepsley’s eyes narrowed. “How could they have?” he snapped.
“Mr Tiny knew,” I reminded him.
“Mr Tiny knows about Murlough?” Gavner hissed.
Mr Crepsley nodded slowly. “But even if he had told the vampaneze, how would they know we were coming this way? We could have chosen any number of paths. They could not have second-guessed us.”
“Perhaps they’re covering all the paths,” Gavner said.
“No,” Mr Crepsley said confidently. “It is too far-fetched. Whatever the vampaneze’s reason for being here, I am sure it has nothing to do with us.”
“I hope you’re right,” Gavner grumbled, unconvinced.
We discussed it some more, including the question of whether the vampaneze had killed the vampire in the previous way-station, then grabbed a few hours of shut-eye, taking turns to remain on watch. I barely slept as I was worrying about being attacked by the purple-faced killers.
When night came, Mr Crepsley said we should progress no further until we were sure the way was safe. “We cannot risk running into a pack of vampaneze,” he said. “We will scout the area, make sure we are not in danger, then carry on as before.”
“Have we time to go scouting?” Gavner asked.
“We must make time,” Mr Crepsley insisted. “Better to waste a few nights than run into a trap.”
I stayed in the cave while they went scouting. I didn’t want to – I kept thinking about what had happened to that other vampire – but they said I’d be in the way if I came – a vampaneze would hear me coming a hundred metres away.
The Little People, she-wolves and cub stayed with me. Streak went with the vampires – the wolves had sensed the vampaneze presence before we did, so it would be helpful for them to have one along.
It was lonely without the vampires and Streak. The Little People were aloof as always – they spent a lot of the day stitching their blue robes back into shape – and the she-wolves lay out and snoozed. Only the cub provided me with company. We spent hours playing together, in the cave and among the trees of a nearby small forest. I’d called the cub Rudi, after Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer, because of his fondness for rubbing his cold nose into my back while I was asleep.
I caught a couple of squirrels in the forest and cooked them, so they were ready in the morning when the vampires returned. I served hot berries and roots with them – Mr Crepsley had taught me which wild foods were safe to eat. Gavner thanked me for the food but Mr Crepsley was distant and didn’t say much. They’d discovered no further trace of the vampaneze, and that worried them – a mad vampaneze couldn’t have covered his tracks so expertly. That meant we were dealing with one – or more – in full control of his senses.
Gavner wanted to flit ahead to consult with the other vampires, but Mr Crepsley wouldn’t let him – the laws against flitting on the way to Vampire Mountain were more important than our safety, he insisted.
It was strange how Gavner went along with most of what Mr Crepsley said. As a General, he could have ordered us to do whatever he pleased. But I’d never seen him pull rank on Mr Crepsley. Maybe it was because Mr Crepsley had once been a General of high ranking. He’d been on the verge of becoming a Vampire Prince when he quit. Perhaps Gavner still considered Mr Crepsley his superior.
After a full day’s sleep, the vampires set off to scout the land ahead again. If the way was clear, we’d start back on the trail to Vampire Mountain the next night.
I ate a simple breakfast, then Rudi and me headed down to the forest to play. Rudi loved being away from the adult wolves. He was able to explore freely, with no one to snap at him or cuff him round the head if he misbehaved. He tried climbing trees but was too short for most. Finally he found one with low-hanging branches and he clambered halfway up. Once there, he looked down and whimpered.
“Come on,” I laughed. “You’re not that high up. There’s no need to be afraid.” He ignored me and went on whimpering. Then he bared his fangs and growled.
I stepped closer, puzzled by his behaviour. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Are you stuck? Do you want help?” The cub yapped. He sounded genuinely frightened. “OK, Rudi,” I said, “I’m coming up to –”
I was silenced by a bone-shattering roar. Turning, I saw a huge dark bear lurching over the top of a snow-drift. It landed heavily, shook its snout, snarled, fixed its gaze upon me – then lunged, teeth flashing, claws exposed, intent on cutting me down!