I groaned as pain shifted through my body, my heart racing in my chest, the fall having taken nearly all my strength to prevent. I carefully dug my nails into the trunk of the tree, gingerly falling on my feet, my loyal friend at my side, waiting for me to regain what little strength I had left.
I had been trailing the Cirque for a few days now, only recently gaining enough speed to catch up. Mostly because they had set up camp outside a small town, deep in the hidden shadows. Misha, my eight year old companion, a shy, white and black she-wolf, had followed along side me, both when I was at my best and my worst. I looked down at the scars on my finger tips, once more cursing the monster than turned me into one of his kind.
Three weeks ago I was a normal, well, almost normal, seventeen year old girl, with my whole life ahead of me. I had dreams, ambitions, goals. But that all changed when he found me. When he took away my humanity, turning me into a monster. Or at the time, what I thought was a monster.
Three weeks earlier...
I listened as Misha let out one, final growl, moving her pack into formation, flaked on one side by Killer, her second in command, myself on her other. Though I was human, I was faster, quieter, and a skilled hunter. We were after our first meal of the night, a young, scared fawn. I wasn't thrilled about hunting the young creature, but it had to be done.
Right as we were about to move in, the pack spread out across the trees, hidden by the shadows and snow, a figure swept down, it's dark cloak flapping in the wind. I spun around, my hand instinctively flying to the small hunting knife I kept strapped to my thigh. The man towered over my short frame, his eyes wild with a look of pure blood-lust. I jumped back, tripping over Misha's large, furry frame.
The movements were too fast to follow. The pack scattered, either growling or howling or a mix of the two. Only Misha stayed at my side, her ears flat against her skull, her teeth bared, her fur standing on end. I shook behind her, my right wrist burning from the fall.
"You'll do," the man growled. He leaped towards me, grabbed my wrist and bit down into the soft flesh. I bit back a scream as he seemed to taste my blood before he grabbed both of my hands tightly in his own, digging ten sharp nails into the tips of my fingers. The pain sent me reeling. Though I was accustom to pain, nothing, I mean nothing, gave you more of a shock then having ten tiny cuts sliced into the soft flesh of your finger tips, at the same time!
"Hey!" I yelped as he pressed his fingers to mine. I felt my head swim as blood passed between us. Suddenly, Misha threw her head back and howled, a long, high howl that echoed long after she lowered her head.
What happened next, I'll never forget...
The pack moved in, each with eyes filled with fire, tails low, growl escaping their mouths. The four youngest wolves lunged forward, their teeth and claws working at the man's skin. They growled, tore and ripped with such force, it's a wonder the man didn't die in minutes flat. Next, all but Misha joined in, each making work of one limb or another.
The man was strong, and killed the youngest four in a few quick blows, but the older wolves continued to attack, until finally, Killer, our largest and most seasoned hunter, wrapped his sharp teeth around the man's throat, and clamped down, not even letting go as the man sank to his knees, life seeping out of him.
Misha stayed at my side until the snow and dust cleared. She cocked her head and waited until Killer limped over to her. She whined, then sank her teeth into the soft flesh of his neck, finishing off her last pack mate. At the time, I didn't know why I had just witnessed my pack – my family! - die in such a horrible manner, but later, I realized Misha was far smarter than I ever gave her credit.
She trotted off to retrieve the tiny he-cub who had hidden himself under a thick patch of bushes during the fight. The jet black cub was no more than eight weeks old, his mother laid dead on the ground a few feet off. I sighed sadly at the sad looking creature, before scooping him up and letting Misha take the lead.
I sighed at the memory, my hand resting on Misha's head as she led the way forward. She had scouted the area and knew the easiest route in. I wouldn't have even known to track the Cirque, had it not been for a strange, short man with green boots and a heart shaped watch. He told me to find the Cirque. That Hibernuis Tall would assist me, and fill me in on what had happened. He told me to hurry, that time was running out.
I was confused by his words, but figure I'd take the strangers advice. Since I had no home and all but one of my family had been killed, I had nothing to lose.
Over the course of the first two weeks, I'd noticed that I had grown stronger, faster, and could see, smell and hear better than I had before. I also noticed that meat wasn't helping my hunger as it had before. Instead, I had a longing for something I couldn't place, much like an itch you couldn't scratch. By the third week, I was feeling sick a lot more, for a lot longer of a period. I was unable to hunt, and could barely climb trees – something I had been extremely good at, even before that night.
I also noticed that I couldn't concentrate as well anymore. I couldn't keep my mind focused on Misha's enough to know her next move, whereas before, I knew exactly what she was going to do, long before she knew herself.
That was how I ended up being deemed the "Wild Child" in the first place. When I was a baby, I would bite and scratch like a cub, instead of cry and sleep like a normal infant. My mother, a poor, broken woman, who loved her children to death, but had too many to raise on her own, dumped me in a cave when I was two. From there, Misha's mother raised me as one of her own, her older cubs teaching me how to hunt, fight and survive. Misha was born seven years later, the only survivor of her mother's final litter. Her mother died during the delivery, leaving Misha to be raised by her aunt, who luckily, had recently had a litter of her own.
I could speak, read and write like a normal child, as well as cook, mend clothing, and do basic mathematics. I'd love to say I picked up on such skills myself, but it would have been a lie. When I turned 14, Social Services were informed of my existence, and for two years, I was locked in a room, being taught and 'trained' to be human. They released me on my 17th birthday, once they realized there was no saving me, and no way to ever get a wild, teenage girl adopted.
I returned to what was left of my pack and continued on, until that night. That night, the family that raised me, cared for me, and taught me all the fundamentals of survival, were killed. Misha remained loyal as ever, even when she had to half drag me through the roots and trees.
We reached the camp just as the sun was setting. I stopped and took a deep breath, silently praying that I'd be accepted, never to have to face the same attack a second time. Misha whined and pulled the deer hide blanket from my bag, jumping up so she could wrap it around me. The night was cold, even though I hardly took any notice. Then, she took off towards a trailer in the distance, as I followed close behind, the little cub trailing behind me, eager as ever to get under something warm and safe.
"Are you aware of what you are?" the extraordinarily tall man, Mr. Tall, asked me after I told him my story. He handed me a cup of coffee. I took a sip, grateful for it's warm, bitter taste.
"Human?" I asked skeptically.
"No," he said with a shake of his head. "Think about it, child," he said lightly.
I pressed my eyes shut and thought. An old wives tale came to mind in doing so.
"Vampire," I whispered, my eyes flying open. Misha whined and pressed her nose to my hand.
"Yes," Mr. Tall said nodding. "Who blooded you?" he asked.
"I don't know," I shrugged. I jumped as the door to the trailer opened. I looked up to see another man with a tuft of orange hair on his head, a long, ugly scar down one side of his face. He looked at me for a moment, before grabbing my wrist in an iron grip. I pulled away, Misha growling softly at my side.
"Stop," he said, his tone gentle. "She has been blooded," he said, looking up at Mr. Tall.
"Yes," he said again.
"By whom?"
"I'm not sure, Larten," he said with a shrug.
I looked between the two, before throwing my hands up.
"Enough with the rubbish!" I growled. My head was pounding, my body ached, and I still couldn't place what I was craving so horribly.
"She has yet to feed," Larten noted.
"Excuse me?" I yelped. He produced a small bottle filled with a thick, dark red liquid.
"Drink," he commanded. Without objection, I did.
The liquid slid down my throat, it's salty, rust like taste nearly gagging me, until I realized it eased the throbbing in my head. I drank heavily, hungrily.
"What is your name?" he asked when I was done. I slid my hand over Misha's back, my fingers drawing pictures in her fur.
"Does it even matter?" I asked sadly. "I'm not human anymore," I sighed.
"You never were," Mr. Tall said. Larten and I both looked at him, but he said no more.
"My name was Riley," I sighed. "But no one knew that. They called me anything from Mutt to Bitch," I added with a sad smile. "But my name's Riley. Riley Brooklyn. My last name's irreverent," I sighed with a shake of my head.
"You know what you are, yes?" he said softly.
"Yes," I sighed. I looked at Misha and smiled. "At least two made it out alive," I rubbed her ears tentatively, letting my thoughts wander. The little male cub was sitting in my lap, taking a much needed nap, his black fur matted and sticky with blood from their earlier meal.
I ignored the vampire and Mr. Tall as they discussed what to do with me, how I came to be, and what to make of the crazed creature of the night that blooded me in the first place. I was too busy thinking back to that night, wishing I could go back and change the course of events. But even if I could, it would have saved my humanity.
"Do you have any kin?" Larten asked some time later, as we were making our way to his trailer.
"Only Misha and Kovu," I said, nodding at the two wolves. Misha was nipping at Kovu's rear, keeping him from wandering off. "My mother left me when I was only 2 years old. I was raised by wolves for the majority of my life," I said with a shrug.
"Yet you speak fluent English?" he questioned.
"I spent two years in the system, give or take. I'm not as stupid as some think. I learned fast," I said with another shrug.
"How far off were you when you were attacked?" he asked. He hadn't been filled in on the whole story
"About 100 miles or so. I'm not sure exactly. But the pack kill him before he could get away," I said with a shake of my head.
"He did not try to flee?"
"No. He fought tooth and nail, but he didn't try to get away. He ended up dying when our second in command bit down on his throat," I explained. "I, in return, burned his body, along with those of my pack."
"You acted wisely," Larten said, studying Misha for a moment before stepping into his trailer. I followed, then called Misha and Kovu in. They followed and sat beside me, their eyes locked on the vampire.
"I did what had to be done," I sighed.
"How did the wolf who killed the vampire die?" he asked, watching as I started picking dirt from Kovu's thick coat.
"Misha killed him," I sighed. "I assume vampire blood causes an animal to go mad?"
"Aye," he said, before turning towards the window, which was covered with dark strips of tape. "It is a shame we do not know who he was or why he acted as such," he mused.
"I think justice was served," I sighed as I picked the cub from my lap and let him lick my nose. "What's to be of me now?"
"You will join me as my assistant, I suppose," he said after a long moment of thought. "You will learn along side Darren."
"Who's Darren?" I asked, eyes widening.
Larten smiled softly and looked out the window. It was dark outside still, so he opened the door and waited for me to follow him.
After a few minutes of walking through camp, Misha following at our heels, Kovu still locked in my arms, we reached a tent, where two boys were sitting, talking merrily. One looked no more than 13 or 14, wearing what looked like a pirate's costume, the other, looked a year or two younger than me, his skin a scaly greenish color.
"Darren, Evra, this is Riley. Darren, come with me," he introduced quickly, motioning for the younger of the two to follow him.
We walked a short way out of camp, while Larten filled Darren in on my story.
"So she'll be your assistant too?" he asked skeptically.
"Yes," Larten said. He saw me studying the boy and chuckled. "Like you, Darren is only a half vampire. He will teach you what he knows, and you will help him with his chores," he said.
"Fine by me," I shrugged.
"Mr. Crepsley, if you didn't blood her, who did?" Darren asked, eyes wide.
"I am not sure," he said with a shrug. I noted how he looked at the sky, seeing the pale silver of the rising sun on the horizon. "Riley, you will do as Darren says today, we will speak more tonight," with that, he walked off.
Darren studied me a moment longer, before smiling.
"So you're going to help me hunt for the Little People in a few hours. Why don't you try to get an hour or two of sleep before then?" he suggested.
"I need to tend to Kovu's coat, so I'll just stay awake," I said with a shrug. "I don't feel much like sleeping right now."
"It's overwhelming, isn't it?" he laughed softly. He motioned for me to follow. I did so, picking dirt and blood from Kovu's coat as we walked.
Darren filled me in on how he became a vampire and what he'd been up to. I learned that Darren had been with Mr. Crepsley – Larten – for just short of 6 years. He and the older vampire had been traveling with the Cirque for the better portion of that time. I learned about how he had to fake his death, among other things. He also informed me of the general bits of information I needed to know to avoid getting myself killed.
We hunted side by side once the sun was up. Misha enjoyed the extra set of hands, and eagerly raced back and forth, helping us gather food both for the Little People, as well as for herself and Kovu.
"How did you train them?" Darren asked, motioning towards Misha, who was ripping chunks of meet from the belly of a dead rabbit.
"I didn't. I was adopted into her pack when I was about 2. She wasn't born until much later, but her mother and older siblings raised me," I explained. "I didn't need to train them. I understood them perfectly well, and can even communicate with them," I smiled proudly.
"You can talk to wolves?" he asked, amazed.
"Sort of. It's more like I can understand them, and they can understand me," I smiled. "I couldn't talk until I was 14," I added, as if to explain. "But I could bark, growl, yap and yip just like a wolf."
"That's awesome!" he beamed as he helped me catch Kovu, who had fallen into a rabbits hole and couldn't get back out.
The day passed easily. Though in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but wonder what the future had in store. Had I known what I do now, I would have ran for the hills and never looked back!
A/N;; Disclaimer - Cirque Du Freak, both the name and it's characters, storyline, ect belong completely to Darren Shan. I'm only borrowing them. :)
Summary;; Cirque Du Freak - Forgotten Saints begins between books 3 and 4 of the saga, 2 years before the pair make their way to Vampire Mountain. Riley Brooklyn, a 17 year old girl who was raised by a pack of wolves, encounters a vampire before the start of the story, who blood her, before being killed by her loyal family. Before she could die of starvation, she is greeted by none other than Desmond Tiny, who tells her to find the Cirque, where she will learn about what she is and how to survive.
Now that Larten has agreed to take her on as another assistant, in hopes of learning more about the vampire who attacked her, she is faced with dangers, fears and hope only a vampire could face. Follow her, as she makes her name known, in CdF - Forgotten Saints!