Chapter 12: Murlough

Darren Shan ran so fast through the half-light streets, that he was no more than a blurred shadow. Luckily he knew the area here so well since his childhood, so it was not difficult to move with the vampires speed without bumping into road signs.
He did not stop before he was several blocks away from the house of his parents, in whose garden just a battle was raging; for a moment he stood panting and gasping for air.
What was he doing here? Was it right to run away, and to leave Gillian alone?
Quickly, he glanced over his shoulder.
But no one seemed to have followed him.
Meant that, Gillian had managed to stop the vampaneze?
But what happened to her?
Cold fear crept up his back, and he felt like a coward.
He remembered the grinning, dirt-smeared face of the attacker and his flashing teeth and razor-sharp claws.
Gillian had been injured, he had seen blood had come from the cuts on her side.
Lots of blood.
Darren's heart sank. She had no chance.
She was only a halfvampire, and the vampaneze had been terribly fast and strong.
Perhaps he was already now hanging at her throat and sucking the life out of her ...
What should he do?
Running back and helping Gillian, even at the risk that he might be killed himself? Or quickly run to the Cirque, and call Larten Crepsley for help?
He could never forgive himself, if something bad happened to Gillian just because of him.
Oh, damn, how could he alarm Mr Crepsley without wasting time? Why had the stupid master vampire no cell phone?
Darren cursed and wished he could send a message to Mr Crepsley just by the sheer force of his mind, like the vampires did in the movies.
Shit, why did these things never worked out in reality? If he were a real vampire already, would he now be able to summon his master vampire?
Darren kicked a stone from the sidewalk, and struck his fists into the pockets of his leather jacket.
He had chosen.
He would go back.
Darren just took a deep breath and steeled himself to flitt back as suddenly a blurred shade appeared in the small street.
Darren's heart stopped.
A vampire had flitted into the street. Was it Gillian? Or the vampaneze?
He ducked behind a dumpster and peered cautiously around the corner.
It was not Gillian.
But it was not the mysterious killer as well.
It was Larten Crepsley.
Darren had never been so glad to see the orange-red hair of the old vampire. He rushed out from behind the container up to him, and shouted excitedly: "Gillian, you have to help her, she is under attack!"
Larten grabbed him by both shoulders: "Where?"
"In the garden of my parents!"
The old vampire did not hesitate: "Jump on!" and pointed to his back. Darren wasted no time trying to explain to his master that he could flitt already on his own, but without hesitation, jumped on his back.
Larten darted away.
Darren was happy that he was allowed to come with him and not had been sent home by Mr Crepsley. Within seconds they were back in the neighborhood where the house of the Shan family stood.
They stopped in the garden next door and peered through the hedges.
Deep darkness surrounded the house.
Darren blinked in confusion.
The sun had already dipped below the horizon completely, and the moon was just a bright crescent in the sky. In the house of his parents were no lights, they were probably still not back ... yet. The darkness that surrounded the house seemed to him too deep. Unnaturally deep ...
Only a few meters away from him and Crepsley street lights threw a pale light that reached up to the hedges, where they hid themselves.
Crepsley gestured to him in silence to wait here, and stepped out of the hedge on the lawn.
The darkness swallowed him completely.

For Larten Crepsley, the vampire, the darkness was not completely.
He was able to see in the darkest night, the densest fog and the deepest cellar.
But darkness and darkness was not the same, this here surrounded him like ink in water.
It got thicker, the deeper he went inside.
Larten knew where the shadows were the blackest there was Gillian.
She was the heart of this inky darkness, because the shadows streamed out of her, no doubt, in order to hide her from her attacker.
But vampires - and vampaneze - never relied solely on their eyes.
So had the attacker managed to find Gillian in the blackness, although she tried her best to avoid him.
His nose had led him directly to her.
The smell of blood on her clothes laid a clear track for him, he was like a shark in dark waters, his prey could not escape.
Gillian felt cold fingers touching the back of her neck, and winced.
But it was too late, the man gripped her so tightly that she could not escape.
Her struggling only made him picked her up at the neck, like a doll, so that she hang a few centimeters above the ground, desperately waving her heels.
"Gotcha," someone whispered in her ear and she could smell the foul breath of the man on her face.
She struggled harder and tried to pull his fingers around her neck open, but it was as if she would had a steel noose around her neck, which drew closer slowly.
Gillian gasped for air.
"Nanana, let's keep quiet," whispered the man, rubbing his stubbly cheek against her face and pressed his nose into her hair.
"Hmmm ...", He inhaled the scent of her skin and her hair, and Gillian got goose bumps of disgust. She threatened to suffocate, and panic crept up to her, with hairy legs.
Take it easy, Gillian. You don`t need to breathe.
She stop struggling, and focused to suppress her natural reflexes.
It worked, the panic crept back, and Gillian hang caught in the grip of the man calmly.
"That's better" cooed the man behind her. "Gillian. Larten Crepsleys pet. As I see you're still a weak halfvampire. What's going on? Does the old man not bring himself to transform you? Tststs ... what a shame. "
He loosened his grip around her neck, but instead took her in a headlock.
Gillian let the darkness fall between them like a soft veil.
Now she could see his face.
The vampaneze looked down on Gillian mockingly, who looked small and fragile in his arms. He was wearing a mottled French uniform from the last century, and smelled of death.
Gillian looked calmly into his eyes and concentrated.
She wasn`t allowed to show any fear, she had to stay sane.
The vampaneze seemed to like what he saw.
He grinned at her lustfully, and touched her with his free hand on her brest.
"Perhaps you're not his student, perhaps he thinks you are only a little toy. How is it? Does he feed from you? "
Gillian struggled again and tried to push his hand away from her body, but he just grabbed more tightly. He forced her face close to his and Gillian feared that he will kiss her.
He didn`t. He whispered: "How about this, little Gillian? I release you, and you come with me. I promise not to hesitate as long as this weakling Larten Crepsley. By the end of this night you could be transformed. "
"Let her go, Murlough!"
Murlough, the vampaneze, spun around, and Gillian hang loosely in his arm like a rag doll.
Larten Crepsley emerged from the shadows, and Gillian's heart skipped a beat.
"Ah, if one speaks of the devil." Murlough grinned widely, revealing a series of sharp yellow teeth.
"Let her go, I've said."
Murloughs smile froze and he cocked his head.
Then he stretched out his arms in a mocking bow, and Gillian was free.
"We have only held a chit-chat."
Gillian hastened behind Lartens back. Her heart pounded in her throat.
"Just a little conversation, is it not, Gillian? Why are you so upset about it, Crepsley? May she not speak to whom she wants? "
Larten did allow to provoke him.
"You'd better go, vampaneze, before I ask you, why her blood is on your fingers."
Despite his quiet tone the subliminal threat swung significantly.
Murlough grinned insolently, and put three fingers of his right hand into his mouth to lick the blood from them.
Slowly he drew backwards, back into the darkness.
"It's a shame ..." he muttered, shaking his head, and then disappeared into the night his piercing red eyes fixed on Gillian.
Gillian dared to breathe again.
She and Crepsley remained a moment standing back to back, while Gillian slowly lifted up the darkness around them.
The vampire was watching the environment and then gave her a sign to follow him.
He trudged through the short trimmed grass, his red cloak swinging after him.
Gillian followed him until they met in a hedge where Darren waited, staring at them with wide eyes.
"He's gone," Larten said monosyllabically. "And we're leaving now."
He gestured again, that Darren should climb on his back.
Darren wanted to protest. But then his eyes fell on Gillian.
She looked terrible.
Her dress was torn to shreds and blood-smeared skin flashed out from beneath it. He could see red strangulation marks on her white neck and her hair otherwise so nice had matted and was stringy.
But the worst was her grim expression.
And the coldness in her eyes.
Gillian was so controlled as normally only her master was.