I only own Stan the rest belongs to the brilliant Darren Shan
Stan didn't stop to draw breath, he ran, he ran faster than he had ever ran before. His dad had finally done it. He had flipped, completely and utterly flipped. Stan finally stopped running; he needed to hide, and to think.
His dad followed a routine of rising at eleven, being drunk by midday, and passing out by the time Stan got home from school. Today was different his dad had rung the school to say they were moving and that Stan would be starting a new school tomorrow. When Stan got in his dad had packed the few things he had and told Stan
to do the same.
'Why do we have to move I like it here?' said Stan. 'Shut up' said his dad and hit him round the head. Stan was eight and had decided that if his dad ever hit him again he would go it alone and find his own way.
Stan packed his bag and his knife and went to say goodbye. 'Where do you think you are going' yelled his dad. 'Not with you dad' said Stan defiantly. Before Stan had time to think his drunken father swung a fist at him catching his cheek. 'Well I m off that is the last time you ever hit me'. As his dad tried to grab him Stan ran out the door. His father ran after him, but he didn't make it very far as his drunken legs gave way.
Stan was hiding under a bridge but knew he had to get further away as his father may try and find him once he sobered up slightly. This time was different for Stan he had been shouted at, hit and kicked too often.
Stan pulled on his red hoodie and stuck his hands in the pockets. He wore his black jeans and kickers. Although Stan had found a new place to hide behind some steps he was frozen. He looked up and down the alleyway and could see the streetlights at one end and a brick wall at the other. Stan was sat near the brick wall so he could see anyone who entered the alleyway.
The cut on Stan's cheek was still bleeding but Stan didn't care, he just didn't care about anything anymore.
Larten Crepsley could smell blood and it was definitely coming from the alleyway below. Slightly hidden behind some steps sat a young boy who looked 7 or 8 years old with red spikey hair and a red top. Larten watched as the boy wiped his bloody cheek and pushed his hands into his pockets.
Taking a small step off the roof Larten landed with a gently thud in front of the small boy. 'Hello there my name is Mr Crepsley do you need assistance'. The boy, as quick as a flash, jumped to his feet and drew a knife from his sleeve. Larten was very impressed the boy had excellent reactions. 'Why have you drawn a knife on me, I mean you no harm' asked Mr Crepsley. 'What do you want, I have no money or food' hissed Stan. 'I told you, I just wanted to check if you were alright, I will not harm you' with that Larten grabbed the knife from Stan and threw it over the wall.
Stan threw a punch at the weird looking man in the red cape, but he easily dodged out of the way. 'If you wish to attack someone you should be certain that you can win' sneered Mr Crepsley. He held the boy to him, then spat on his hand and wiped it across his cheek. 'Oh my god, what sort of a weirdo are you, that is just gross' shouted Stan. 'Sshh, I have heeled your wound for you now if I let you go will you remain calm'? 'Y y y you did what?' squeeked Stan. 'Touch your cheek, you will see I have heeled your wound' whispered Larten into Stan's ear. Stan carefully felt where his cut had been, and looked up at the red headed man who had hold of him. 'H h h how did you…' stuttered Stan. 'I am a vampire, I can heel with my spit and I can also move very fast'. Larten looked down into Stan's big green eyes that were very similar to his own and he released Stan so he could turn around and face him. 'So vampires are real, wow that's well wow'. 'Yes vampires are real, now do you need help getting home?' asked Mr Crepsley. 'I am home said Stan, I am living on the streets now. I used to live with my father, but I decided I was better off on my own. He will not notice I have gone and within a few weeks will of forgotten I even existed' Stan looked down and started to shuffle his feet.
Larten had taken an instant liking to the boy, with his hair and eyes similar to his own and his quick reactions he would one day make an excellent vampire. He had often thought an assistant would be handy and this boy maybe young but he would soon teach him how to be a good assistant. Then maybe one day, when he was older he could blood him, but that was too far in the future to consider now.
'I don't know if your interested, but would you like to be my assistant. You would be well fed and I could teach you the ways of the vampire. But you would have to work hard mainly cooking, washing and you would have to do anything I ask of you. By the way what is your name?' enquired Mr Crepsley. 'Stan and yes please, anything has to be better than staying here'. Mr Crepsley smiled and Stan did a small grin back. 'Right hop on my back and hold your breath'. Mr Crepsley grabbed Stans small ankles and started to flit. Mr Crepsley had found a cave to stay in many miles out of town and flitted straight there. He put Stan down and once he could breath normally again Stan looked around. 'I have prepared a fire, now I will show you how to cook a stew. Pay attention for you will do it tomorrow evening'. Mr Crepsley and Stan sat eating by the fire and as soon as they had finished Stan had to washup in a small stream and clear away. Afterwards Stan plonked himself next to Mr Crepsley and they sat in silence watching the fire. Stan had managed to stay awake far longer than usual but finally fell asleep at 3 am. He rested his head on Mr Crepsley's leg and was soon snuggling into the cape Mr Crepsley threw over him.
Whilst Stan slept Mr Crepsley thought about what had driven Stan to seek refuge on the street. He had no regrets bringing the boy to the cave; he was quick to learn and seemed mature for his age. Over the next few nights Larten decided he would find out more about his new assistant. But tonight he realised how good it felt to have someone who needed him,