Disclaimer: I do not own the Darren Shan saga.

AN: This story will mainly follow the real DSS with slight changes…well up to book six after that it completely changes ;

In order to stay close to the story till book 6… This chapter and future ones will have quotes from DSS. The quotes will be in bold

Chapter 3

See the cirque du freak.

As it turned out we had Mr Dalton again after lunch, for history. We were studying the Second World War. I wasn't thrilled at the subject, but in Steve eyes it was great. Outside of supernatural comics and video games, he loved anything to do with killing and war. He always says that once school is over with he's going to be a mercenary soldier- one who fights for money. And he means it!

We had maths after history and –incredibly- Mr Dalton for a third time! Seems our maths teacher was also ill.

Steve was practically in seventh heaven. He had his favourite teacher for three lessons.

Most of the time Mr Dalton runs a tight ship-his classes are fun but we always of them having learned something – but he wasn't very good at maths. I'll give him credit, he tried, but after fifteen minutes we could tell this was way over his head and while he attempted to get a grip on things the rest of started to talk quietly and pass notes.

Well most of us. Steve was sat by Mr Dalton making 'helpful' suggestions. Or more appropriately showing off!

I rolled my eyes before tearing some paper out of my book and scribbled a note to Alan

So what was it you were so eager to shows us earlier?

I'll show you after class.

I glanced up, Mr Dalton had his head stuck in a book with Steve chattering like a monkey at his side.

Why don't you show me now? It doesn't look like we'll be working anytime soon.

No. I'll show you after class.

Come on. PLEEAASSEE!!!

After a few more notes he gave in and sent the paper over. Tommy got it first as he sat between us. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped when he saw it. And no wonder. When he passed it to me, I quickly copied the expression.

It was a flyer, an advertising pamphlet for some sort of travelling circus There was a picture of a wolf's head at the top. The wolf had its mouth open and saliva dripping from it's teeth. At the bottom were pictures of a spider and a snake and they looked vicious too.

Just beneath the wolf, in big capital letters, were the words:

CIRQUE DU FREAK

Underneath that, in smaller writing:

FOR ONE WEEK ONLY - CIRQUE DU FREAK!!

SEE:

SIVE AND SEERSA- THE TWISTING TWINS!

THE SNAKE BOY! THE WOLF MAN! GERTHA TEETH!

LARTEN CREPSLEY AND HIS PERFORMING SPIDER-MADAM OCTA!

ALEXANDER RIBS! THE BEARDED LADY! HANS HANDS!

RHAMUS TWOBELLIES-THE WORLDS FATTEST MAN!

Beneath all that was the address where you could buy tickets and find out where the show was playing. And right at the bottom just above the picture of the snake and spider:

NOT FOR THE FAINT-HEARTED!

CERTAIN RESERVATIONS APPLY!

"Cirque du Freak! I muttered quietly. Hmm Cirque was French for circus…Circus of Freaks! Was this a freak show?! It looked like it.

I read the flyer again, immersing myself in the pictures and the descriptions of the performers. In fact I was so immersed I forgot where I was and about the teacher in the room. I only remembered Mr Dalton when I realised the class was silent. Looking up from the flyer, I saw that Steve was now alone at the head of the class. I gulped feeling the hairs on the back of my neck starting to rise. I guess my face must have paled as well because Steve grinned and stuck his tongue out. Bastard!

I peaked over my shoulder and there was Mr Dalton standing behind me. His eyes were focused on the paper, lips tight.

"What is this?" he snapped, snatching the paper from my hands.

I gulped again, instinct telling me I was in trouble. Big trouble! "It's a flyer, sir" I answered politely my mind desperately trying to think of a way out.

"Where'd you get it" he asked. Uh Oh. He looked angry. Very angry.

I looked out the window quickly trying to calculate if dropping twenty feet onto solid concrete was a good idea

He repeated his question, when I didn't answer "Where'd you get it" he asked his voice rising slightly. Yikes!

I licked my lips, trying to postpone answering. What to say? I couldn't very well drop Alan in hot water. And he'd never own up to it himself. Luckily Steve came to the rescue before I got questioned again.

"It's mine sir" he said.

I let out a whoosh of air. Silently praising to every deity I could think of, for giving me Steve as a friend.

"Yours?" Mr Dalton blinked slowly.

"I found it near the bus stop, sir," Steve said "Some old guy threw it away. I thought it looked interesting, so I picked it up. I was going to ask you about it at the end of class."

"Oh" Mr Dalton tired not to looked flattered but I could tell he was "That's different. Nothing wrong with an inquisitive mind. Sit down, Steve" Steve sat. Mr Dalton stuck a bit of blu-tack on the flyer and pinned it to the board.

"Long ago," he said, tapping the flyer "there used to be real freak shows Greedy con men crammed malformed people in cages and-"

"Sir what's malformed mean?" somebody asked.

I bit my lip to stop myself grinning. Well I can see someone isn't going to pass their English test next week.

"Somebody who doesn't look ordinary," Mr Dalton said. "A person with three arms or two noses; somebody with no legs or somebody very short or very tall. The con men put these people –who were no different to you or me, except in looks- on display and called them freaks they charged the public to stare at the, and invited them to laugh or tease they treated the so-called freaks like animals. Paid them little, beat them, dressed them in rags, never allowed them to wash."

"That's cruel, sir" Delaina Price- a girl at the front- said.

"Yes," he agreed. "freak shows were cruel, monstrous creations. That's why I got so angry when I saw this." He tore down the flyer. "They were banned years ago, but every so often you'll hear a rumour they're still going strong."

"Do you think the Cirque du Freak is a real freak show?" I asked

Mr Dalton turned back to study the flyer. "I don't think so. It's most likely a cruel hoax. However if it was real I trust none of you would even think of going"

"No sir" The class answered together.

"Good, because freak shows were terrible. They were nothing but cesspools of evil, and anyone who ever went to one would be just as vile as those that run it"

"You'd have to be really twisted to want to one of those, sir" Steve agreed. When Steve came to sit by me and Mr Dalton turned the other way. He quickly whispered into my ear. "We're going!"