I'm sitting in the chair, carefully fixing my notes in front of me. I am trying as hard as I can to show an outward semblance of composure, calm, and professionalism. Inwardly, I want to jump up into the air and scream "YAY ME!" but at the same time I want to curl up into a little ball and call off the whole thing.
To think that I got all of them to show up just to give me an interview!
Calm… I must remain calm.
The first client walks in, and my heart beats fast, I'm not lying when I say that he can probably hear my heart beating in my chest.
"Reporter Jay Cee," I say, holding out my hand,
"Darren Shan," he says, and shakes my outstretched hand. I feel his handshake, strong, but at the same time holding back, both of us knowing that he could break the bones in my hand like dry pasta if he dared squeeze with his full strength.
He looks curiously around my office, my "mind space" as I call it.
Everything is slightly cluttered, the light is dim and the shelves are packed with all kinds of odds and ends notebooks with unfinished stories, half remembered dreams and general randomness, my mindscape is always shifting and sliding in and out of focus, moving with the ideas flitting around like tiny waves on the surface of a pool. One thing that does stand clearly and firmly in a dark corner of the room is a heavy chest made of dark wood that sits in a corner… I prefer not to look in there too much. Old drawings (stick figures as well as full on portraits) and pictures line the walls while papers litter the floor.
"So… tell me a little about yourself Mr. Shan." I say.
Of course I know his story, but I wanted to just get the basics out of the way before we got to the rest of the questions.
He cleared his throat and began, he told me about the freak show, how he had stolen a vampire's spider, how it had bitten his best friend and how he had risked his humanity to save him. Then he told of his struggle to survive in the human world, but eventually resigned himself to his fate.
There was so much silent anguish in the way that he spoke of his actions and what he had done that I felt compelled to comfort. But I know that no matter how young this boy looked, he had lived far more than I could ever know, so I just sat back and let him tell his story.
I asked him a few more questions, trying to get more details about life among the vampires, about life with the cirque du freak and his travels with Mr. Crepsly, who had blooded him and become his mentor.
"So." I asked, excited to get to the real interview "What do you think of –"
Before I could finish my question, I saw Darren topple from his chair and I felt the steel tip of a knife against my throat.
"You want to know what I think...?" hissed an utterly mad voice in my ear.
"I think. You're dead!"
I felt his horrible breath brush past my face… and everything went black
"Not again" I heard someone groan next to me. I opened my eyes and saw that both Darren and I were strung up by our ankles, swinging feebly.
With his purple skin, red eyes, nails, and hair, his grotesque flabby belly and his two glittering knives slicing through the air, Murlough walked around both of us, cackling madly.
"Oh yes again!" Murlough cackled, "You though you have beaten young Murlough! But oh no, he's got more brains than –"
"Oh shut up!" Darren shouted, struggling to get free, "don't you get tired of hearing yourself talk?"
"Well no," he said, seeming to give the question serious thought.
Then his face spread into a leer, "But maybe I'll be quiet for a while… when I'm drinking this little human dry!" He jerked my head back, pressing the blade closer to my exposed neck!
The jibbering screaming part of my brain was shrieking." Oh my god I'm gonna die! Oh man! He's gonna skin me alive and drink me dry! "
Another part of my brain (probably the insane obsessed part ) was also screaming, " THIS IS THE BEST INTERVIEW EVER!"
I was going to die, and I probably would have, if it wasn't for a red blur that shot across the room and threw the mad Vampaneze aside. He crashed through the solid wall, leaving a gaping hole through a large star wars poster I had hanging there.
A tall figure in a dark red cloak stood in the middle of the room. His face looked frightening in the dim light; despite that I could still recognize his crop of orange hair and the long jagged scar that ran along one side of his face. His eyes were intelligent and cold, and they were fixed on the pair of us hanging there… holy crap.
Larten Crepsly is in the building
"It's about time!" Darren growled. "do you mind letting me down?"
Mr. Crepsly only snapped his fingers in reply and the ropes holding Darren came undone in an instant. He landed more smoothly than anyone should have a right to, and crouched on the ground, rubbing his arm.
"What is it you are doing here Darren?" Mr. Crepsly asked "It did not take me long to find you, but we must be moving on and-"His eyes took in the entire room again, then lit on me.
"Ah," he said. "Another girl you have put in danger Darren?"
Darren opened his mouth to reply or retort but I beat him to it.
"Uh… no," I said, "I was the one who asked Darren here for an interview and… well… we had an unexpected guest."
I started getting excited now, "So well, now that you're here, care to make a statement? Perhaps stick around for a full interview!?"
Mr. Crepsly smiled dryly, "eh… no… thank you"
"Come Darren" he said imperiously, "we must go." He turned and walked out of the open door.
Darren stood up, shrugging, and gave me an apologetic look , then walked out of the room behind the older vampire.
I remembered that I was still hanging from my ankles from the sealing. "Um…" I said "could you give me a hand-" I heard a click of fingers from just outside the door and I fell heavily to the ground.
"Vampires," I muttered, rubbing my head where I had fallen.