Cirque Du Freak [A Living Nightmare]

"But only if you promise not to look through it," I said.

"Vampires have no secrets from each other," he said. But, when he saw my face, he shrugged. "I will not open it," he promised.

"All right," I said, taking a deep breath. "Do you have the potion?" He nodded and handed over a small dark bottle. I looked inside. The liquid was dark and thick and foul-smelling.

Mr. Crepsley moved behind me and laid his hands on my neck.

"You're sure this will work?" I asked nervously.

"Trust me," he said.

"I always thought a broken neck meant people couldn't walk or move," I said.

"No," he replied. "The bones of the neck do not matter. Paralysis only happens if the spinal cord a long nerve running down the middle of the neck breaks. I will be careful not to damage it."

"Won't the doctors think it's strange?" I asked.

"They will not check," he said. "The potion will slow your heart down so much, they will be sure you are dead. They will find the broken neck and put two and two together. If you were older, they might go ahead with an autopsy. But no doctor likes cutting a child open.

"Now, are you totally clear on what is going to happen and how you must act?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"There must be no mistakes," he warned. "If you make just one slip our plans will fall apart."

"I'm not a fool! I know what to do!" I snapped.

"Then do it," he said.

So I did.

With one angry gesture, I swallowed the contents of the bottle. I grimaced at the taste, then shuddered as my body started to stiffen. There wasn't much pain but an icy feeling spread through my bones and veins. My teeth began to chatter.

It took about ten minutes for the poison to work its deadly charms. At the end of that time I couldn't move any of my limbs, my lungs weren't working (well, they were, but very, very slowly), and my heart had stopped (again, not fully, but enough for its beat to be undetectable).

"I am going to snap the neck now," Mr. Crepsley said, and I heard a quick clicking sound as he jerked my head to one side. I couldn't feel anything: my senses were dead. "There," he said. "That should do it. Now I am going to throw you out of the window."

He carried me over and stood there a moment with me, breathing in the night air.

"I have to throw you hard enough to make it look genuine," he said. "You might break some bones in the fall. They will start hurting when the potion wears off after a few days but I will fix them up later on.

"Here we go!"

He picked me up, paused a moment, then hurled me out and down.

I fell quickly, the house whizzing past in a blur, and landed heavily on my back. My eyes were open and I found myself staring at a drain at the foot of the house.

For a while my body went undetected, so I lay there, listening to the sounds of the night. In the end, a passing neighbor spotted me and investigated. I couldn't see his face but I heard his gasp when he turned me over and saw my lifeless body.

He rushed straight around to the front of the house and pounded on the door. I could hear his voice as he shouted for my mother and father. Then their voices as he led them around back. They thought he was pulling their leg or had been mistaken. My father was marching angrily and muttering to himself.

The footsteps stopped when they rounded the bend and saw me. For a long, terrible moment there was complete silence. Then Dad and Mom rushed forward and picked me up.

"Darren!" Mom screamed, clutching me to her chest.

"Let go, Angie," Dad shouted, prying me free and laying me down on the grass.

"What's wrong with him, Dermot?" Mom wailed.

"I don't know. He must have fallen." Dad stood and gazed up at my open bedroom window. I could see his hands flexing into fists.

"He's not moving," Mom said calmly, then grabbed me and shook me fiercely. "He's not moving!" she screamed. "He's not moving. He's…"

Dad once again eased her hands away. He beckoned our neighbor over and handed Mom to him. "Take her inside," he said softly. "Call for an ambulance. I'll stay here and look after Darren."

"Is he…dead?" our neighbor asked. Mom moaned loudly when he said it and buried her face in her hands.

Dad shook his head softly. "No," he said, giving Mom's shoulder a light squeeze. "He's just paralyzed, like his friend was."

Mom lowered her hands. "Like Steve?" she asked half-hopefully.

"Yes." Dad smiled. "And he'll snap out of it like Steve. Now go call for help, okay?"

Mom nodded, then hurried away with our neighbor. Dad held his smile until she was out of sight, then bent over me, checked my eyes, and felt my wrist for a pulse. When he found no sign of life, he laid me back down, brushed a lock of hair out of my eyes, then did something I'd never expected to see.

He started to cry.

And that was how I came to enter a new, miserable phase of my life, namely death.

CHAPTER THIRTY

IT DIDN'T TAKE THE DOCTORS long to pronounce their verdict. They couldn't find any breath or pulse or movement. It was an open-and-shut case as far as they were concerned.