Darren Shan – Vampire Blood Trilogy (страница 16)

“Morning,” he replied. There were dark circles under his eyes and I bet he’d slept even less than me the last couple of nights. “Where did you get to after the show?” he asked.

“I went home,” I told him.

“Why?” he asked, watching me carefully.

“It was dark outside and I wasn’t looking where I was going. I took a few wrong turns and got lost. By the time I found myself somewhere familiar, I was closer to home than to your house.”

I made the lie sound as convincing as possible, and I could see him trying to figure out if it was the truth or not.

“You must have got into a lot of trouble,” he said.

“Tell me about it!” I groaned. “No pocket money, grounded for a month, and Dad said I’m going to have to do loads of chores. Still,” I said with a grin, “it was worth it, right? I mean, was the Cirque Du Freak superb or what!”

Steve studied me for one more moment, then decided I was telling the truth. “Yeah,” he said, returning my smile. “It was great.”

Tommy and Alan arrived and we had to tell them everything. We were pretty good actors, Steve and me. You’d never have guessed that he had spoken to a vampire on Friday, or that I had seen him.

I could tell, as the day wore on, that things would never be quite the same between me and Steve. Even though he believed what I’d told him, part of him still doubted me. I caught him looking at me oddly from time to time, as though I was someone who had hurt him.

For my part, I didn’t want to get too close to him any longer. It scared me, what he’d said to Mr Crepsley, and what the vampire had said to him. Steve was evil, according to Mr Crepsley. It worried me. After all, Steve was prepared to become a vampire and kill people for their blood. How could I go on being friends with someone like that?

We got chatting about Madam Octa later that afternoon. Steve and me hadn’t said much about Mr Crepsley and his spider. We were afraid to talk about him, in case we let something slip. But Tommy and Alan kept pestering us and eventually we filled them in on the act.

“How do you think he controlled the spider?” Tommy asked.

“Maybe it was a fake spider,” Alan said.

“It wasn’t a fake,” I snorted. “None of the freaks were fake. That was why it was so brilliant. You could tell everything was real.”

“So how did he control it?” Tommy asked again.

“Maybe the flute is magic,” I said, “or else Mr Crepsley knows how to charm spiders, the way Indians can charm snakes.”

“But you said Mr Tall controlled the spider as well,” Alan said, “when Mr Crepsley had Madam Octa in his mouth.”

“Oh. Yes. I forgot,” I said. “Well, I guess that means they must have used magic flutes.”

“They didn’t use magic flutes,” Steve said. He had been quiet most of the day, saying less than me about the show, but Steve never could resist hammering someone with facts.

“So what did they use?” I asked.

“Telepathy,” Steve answered.

“Is that something to do with telephones?” Alan asked.

Steve smiled, and Tommy and me laughed (although I wasn’t entirely sure what “telepathy” meant, and I bet Tommy wasn’t either). “Moron!” Tommy chuckled, and punched Alan playfully.

“Go on, Steve,” I said, “tell him what it means.”

“Telepathy is when you can read somebody else’s mind,” Steve explained, “or send them thoughts without speaking. That’s how they controlled the spider, with their minds.”

“So what’s with the flutes?” I asked.

“Either they’re just for show,” Steve said, “or, more likely, you need them to attract her attention.”

“You mean anyone could control her?” Tommy asked.

“Anyone with a brain, yes,” Steve said. “Which counts you out, Alan,” he added, but smiled to show he didn’t mean it.

“You wouldn’t need magic flutes or special training or anything?” Tommy asked.

“I wouldn’t think so,” Steve answered.

The talk moved on to something else after that – football, I think – but I wasn’t listening. Because all of a sudden there was a new thought running through my mind, setting my brain on fire with ideas. I forgot about Steve and vampires and everything.

“You mean anyone could control her?”

“Anyone with a brain, yes.”

“You wouldn’t need magic flutes or special training or anything?”

“I wouldn’t imagine so.”

Tommy’s and Steve’s words kept bouncing through my mind, over and over, like a stuck CD.

Anyone could control her. That anyone could be me. If I could get my hands on Madam Octa and communicate with her, she could be my pet and I could control her and …

No. It was foolish. Maybe I could control her, but I would never own her. She was Mr Crepsley’s and there was no way in the world that he would part with her, not for money or jewels or..

The answer hit me in a flash. A way to get her off him. A way to make her mine. Blackmail! If I threatened the vampire – I could say I’d set the police onto him – he’d have to let me keep her.

But the thought of going face to face with Mr Crepsley terrified me. I knew I couldn’t do it. That left just one other option: I’d have to steal her!

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EARLY MORNING would be the best time to steal the spider. Having performed so late into the night, most members of the Cirque Du Freak would probably sleep in until eight or nine. I’d sneak into camp, find Madam Octa, grab her and run. If that wasn’t possible – if the camp was active – I’d simply return home and forget about it.

The difficult part was picking a day. Wednesday was ideal: the last show would have played the night before, so the circus would in all likelihood have pulled out before midday and moved on to its next venue before the vampire could awake and discover the theft. But what if they left town directly after the show, in the middle of the night? Then I’d miss my big chance.

It had to be tomorrow – Tuesday. That meant Mr Crepsley would have the whole of Tuesday night to search for his spider – for me – but that was a risk I’d just have to take.

I went to bed a bit earlier than usual. I was tired and ready to fall asleep, but was so excited, I thought I wouldn’t be able to. I kissed Mum goodnight and shook Dad’s hand. They thought I was trying to win my pocket money back, but it was in case something happened to me at the theatre and I never saw them again.

I have a radio which is also an alarm clock, and I set the alarm to five o’clock in the morning, then stuck my headphones on and plugged them into the radio. That way, I could wake up nice and early without waking anyone else.

I fell asleep quicker than I expected and slept straight through till morning. If I had any dreams, I can’t remember them.

Next thing I knew, the alarm was sounding. I groaned, turned over, then sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes. I wasn’t sure where I was for a few seconds, or why I was awake so early. Then I remembered the spider and the plan, and grinned happily.

The grin didn’t last long, because I realised the alarm wasn’t coming through my headphones. I must have rolled over in my sleep and pulled the cord out! I leapt across my bed and slammed the alarm off, then sat in the early morning darkness, heart pounding, listening for noises.

When I was sure my parents were still asleep, I slid out of bed and got dressed as quietly as I could. I went to the toilet and was about to flush when I thought of the noise it would make. I yanked my hand away from the lever and wiped the sweat from my brow. They would surely have heard that! A narrow escape. I’d have to be more careful when I got to the theatre.

I slipped downstairs and let myself out. The sun was on its way up and it looked like it would be a bright day.

I walked quickly and sang songs to pep me up. I was a bundle of nerves and almost turned back a dozen times. Once I actually did turn and start walking home, but then I remembered the way the spider had hung from Mr Crepsley’s jaws, and the tricks she had performed, and swung around again.

I can’t explain why Madam Octa meant so much to me, or why I was placing my life in such peril to have her. Looking back, I’m no longer sure what drove me on. It was simply a dreadful need I couldn’t ignore.

The crumbling old building looked even creepier by day. I could see cracks running down the front, holes nibbled by rats and mice, spider webs in the windows. I shivered and hurried round to the rear. It was deserted. Empty old houses, junk yards, scrap heaps. There would be people moving about later in the day, but right then it looked like a ghost town. I didn’t even see a cat or a dog.

As I’d thought, there were plenty of ways to get into the theatre. There were two doors and loads of windows to choose from.

Several cars and vans were parked outside the building. I didn’t spot any signs or pictures on them, but I was sure they belonged to the Cirque Du Freak. It suddenly struck me that the freaks most probably slept in the vans. If Mr Crepsley had a home in one of them, my plan was sunk.

I snuck into the theatre, which felt even colder than it had been on Saturday night, and tiptoed down a long corridor, then another, then another! It was like a maze back here and I started worrying about finding my way out. Maybe I should go back and bring a ball of string, so I could mark my way and—