"Easy," Vancha said as I stiffened. "No need to rush." His eyes were sliding slowly left and right. "How many vampaneze and vampets are here? Are there more hiding in the stands or behind the burning vans and tents? Let's work out exactly what we have to deal with before we go barging ahead."
Breathing deeply, I forced myself to think calmly, then studied the lie of the land. I counted fourteen vampaneze – nine grouped around Steve – and more than thirty vampets. I didn't see Gannen Harst, but guessed he would be close by Steve, hidden by the group of circus folk between us and the gallows.
"I make it a dozen-plus vampaneze and three times that amount of vampets, aye?" Vancha said.
"More or less," I agreed.
Vancha looked sideways at me and winked. "The odds are in our favour, Sire."
"You think so?"
"Most definitely," he said with fake enthusiasm – we both knew it didn't look good. We were vastly outnumbered by enemies with superior weapons. Our only ace card was that the vampaneze and vampets couldn't kill us. Mr Tiny had predicted doom for them if anybody other than their Lord murdered the hunters.
Without saying anything, we started forward at the exact same moment. I was carrying two knives, one in either hand. Vancha had drawn a couple of throwing stars but was otherwise unarmed – he believed in fighting with his bare hands at close quarters. Evanna moved when we did, shadowing our every footstep.
The vampets surrounding the imprisoned Cirque Du Freak troupe saw us coming but didn't react, except to close a little more tightly around the people they were guarding. They didn't even warn the others that we were here. Then I saw that they didn't need to – Steve and his cronies had already spotted us. Steve was standing on a box, or something, staring happily at us, while the vampaneze in front of him bunched defensively, weapons at the ready.
We had to pass the circus prisoners to get to Steve. I stopped as we drew level with Evra, Merla and Harkat. Evra and Merla's eyes were wet with tears. Harkat's green globes were shining with fury, and he'd pulled down his mask to bare his sharp grey teeth (he could survive up to half a day without the mask).
I gazed sorrowfully at Evra and Merla, then at the body of their son, dangling from the gallows further ahead. The vampets guarding my friends watched me cautiously but made no move against me.
"Come on," Vancha said, tugging at my elbow.
"I'm sorry," I croaked to Evra and Merla, unable to continue without saying something. "I wouldn't… I didn't… if I could…" I stopped, unable to think of anything else to say.
Evra and Merla said nothing for a moment. Then, with a screech, Merla smashed through the guards around her and threw herself at me. "I hate you.'" she screamed, scratching my face, spitting with rage. "My son's dead because of you!"
I couldn't react. I felt sick with shame. Merla dragged me to the ground, yelling and crying, beating me with her fists. The vampets moved forward to pull her off, but Steve shouted, "No! Leave them alone! This is fun!"
We rolled away from the vampets, Merla driving me back. I didn't even raise my hands to defend myself as she called me every name under the moon. I just wanted the earth to open and swallow me whole.
And then, as Merla lowered her face as though to bite me, she whispered in my ear, "Steve has Debbie." I gawped at her. She roared more insults, then whispered again, "We didn't fight. They think we're gutless, but we were waiting for you. Harkat said you'd come and lead us."
Merla cuffed me about the head, then locked gazes with me. "It wasn't your fault," she said, smiling ever so slightly through her tears. "We don't hate you. Steve's the evil one – not you."
"But… if I hadn't… if I'd told Vancha to kill R.V…"
"Don't think that way," she snarled. "You're not to blame. Now help us kill the savages who are! Give us a signal when you're ready and we'll answer the call. We'll fight to the death, every last one of us."
She screamed at me again, grabbed me by the neck to strangle me, then fell off and punched the ground, sobbing pitifully. Evra pushed forward, collected his wife and led her back to the pack. He glanced at me once, fleetingly, and I saw the same thing in his expression that I'd seen in Merla's – sorrow for the loss of their son, hatred for Steve and his gang, but only pity for me.
I still felt at fault for what had happened to Shancus and the others. But Evra and Merla's sympathy gave me the strength to carry on. If they'd hated me, I doubt I could have continued. But now that they'd given me their backing, I not only felt able to push on – I felt that I had to. For their sakes, if not my own.
I got to my feet, acting shaken. As Vancha came to help me, I spoke quickly and quietly. "They're with us. They'll fight when we do."
He paused, then carried forward as though I hadn't spoken, checking my face where Merla had scratched me, loudly asking if she'd harmed me, if I was OK, if I wanted to rest a while.
"I'm fine," I grunted, pushing past him, showing my circus friends a stiff back, as if they'd insulted me. "Merla said Steve has Debbie," I hissed to Vancha out of the side of my mouth, barely moving my lips.
"We might not be able to save her," he whispered back.
"I know," I said stonily. "But we'll try?"
A short pause. Then, "Aye," he replied.
With that, we quickened our pace and made a beeline for the gallows and the grinning, demonic, half-vampaneze beast waiting underneath, face half hidden by the shadow of the dangling Shancus Von.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Halt!" one of the nine vampaneze in front of Steve shouted when we were about five metres away. We stopped. This close, I saw that Steve was actually standing on the body of one of the circus crew – Pasta O'Malley, a man who used to sleepwalk and even sleep-read. I could also see Gannen Harst now, just to Steve's right, sword undrawn, watching us intently.
"Drop your throwing stars," the vampaneze said to Vancha. When he didn't respond, two of the vampaneze raised spears and pointed them at him. With a shrug, Vancha slid the shurikens back into their holders and lowered his hands.
I glanced up at Shancus, swinging in the light breeze. The crossbeam creaked. The sound was louder than normal for me because of the purge – like the squeal of a wild boar.
"Get him down," I snarled at Steve.
"I don't think so," Steve replied lightly. "I like the sight of him up there. Maybe I'll hang his parents beside him. His brother and sister too. Keep the whole family together. What do you think?"
"Why do you go along with this madman?" Vancha asked Gannen Harst. "I don't care what Des Tiny says about him – this lunatic can bring nothing but shame upon the vampaneze. You should have killed him years ago."
"He is of our blood," Gannen Harst replied quietly. "I don't agree with his ways – he knows that – but we don't kill our kin."
"You do if they break your laws," Vancha grunted. "Leonard lies and uses guns. Any normal vampaneze would be executed if they did that."
"But he isn't normal," Gannen said. "He is our Lord. Desmond Tiny said we would perish if we did not follow him and obey. Whether I like it or not, Steve has the power to bend our laws, or even ignore them completely. I'd rather he didn't, but it's not my place to chastise him when he does."
"You can't approve of his actions," Vancha pushed.
"No," Gannen admitted. "But he has been accepted by the clan, and I am only a servant of my people. History can judge Steve. I'm content to serve and protect, in line with the wishes of those who appointed me."
Vancha glared at his brother, trying to stare him down, but Gannen only gazed back blankly. Then Steve laughed. "Aren't family get-togethers a joy?" he said. "I was hoping you'd bring Annie and Darius along. Imagine the fun all six of us could have had!"
"They're far away from here by now," I said. I wanted to dive for him and rip his throat open with my bare hands and teeth, but his guards would have cut me down before I struck. I had to be patient and pray for a chance to present itself. "How's my son?" Steve asked. "Did you kill him?"
"Of course not," I snorted. "I didn't have to. When he saw you murder Shancus he realized you were a monster. I filled him in on your past glories. Annie told him some old stories too. He'll never listen to you again. You've lost him. He's your son no more."
I hoped to wound Steve with my words but he just laughed them off. "Oh well, I was never that fond of him anyway. A scrawny, moody kid. No taste for blood. Although," he chuckled, "I guess he'll develop one soon!"
"I wouldn't be too sure of that," I retorted.
"I blooded him," Steve boasted. "He's half-vampaneze."
"No," I smiled. "He's a half-vampire. Like me."
Steve stared at me uncertainly. "You re-blooded him?"
"Yes. He's one of us now. He won't need to kill when he feeds. Like I said, he's no longer your son – in any way whatsoever."
Steve's features darkened. "You shouldn't have done that," he growled. "The boy was mine."
"He was never yours, not in spirit," I said. "You merely tricked him into believing he was."