Cirque Du Freak [A Living Nightmare]

I took a deep breath and sat up, coughing. It was a fairly dark night but after spending so much time underground it seemed bright as day to me.

"Are you all right?" Mr. Crepsley asked.

"I feel dead tired." I grinned weakly.

He smiled at the joke. "Stand up so I can examine you," he said. I winced as I stood: I had pins and needles all over. He ran his fingers lightly up my back, then over my front. "You were lucky," he said. "No broken bones. Just a bit of bruising, which will die down after a couple of days."

He pulled himself up out of the grave, then reached down and gave me a hand up. I was still pretty stiff and sore.

"I feel like a pincushion that's been squashed," I complained.

"It will take a few days for the aftereffects to pass," he said. "But do not worry: you are in good shape. We are lucky they buried you today. If they had waited another day to put you under, you would be feeling much worse."

He hopped back into the grave and closed the coffin lid. When he emerged, he picked up his shovel and began tossing the earth back in.

"Do you want me to help?" I asked.

"No," he said. "You would slow me down. Go for a stroll and walk some of the stiffness out of your bones. I will call when I am ready to move on."

"Did you bring my bag?" I asked.

He nodded at a nearby headstone, from which the bag was hanging.

I got the bag and checked to see if he'd searched it. There was no sign of his having invaded my privacy, but I couldn't tell for sure. I'd just have to take him at his word. Anyway, it didn't matter much: there was nothing in my diary he didn't already know.

I went for a walk among the graves, testing my limbs, shaking my legs and arms, enjoying it. Any feeling, even pins and needles, was better than none at all.

My eyes were stronger than ever before. I was able to read names and dates on headstones from several yards away. It was the vampire blood in me. After all, didn't vampires spend their whole lives in the dark? I knew I was only a half-vampire, but all the suddenly, as I was thinking about my new powers, a hand reached out from behind one of the graves, wrapped itself around my mouth, then dragged me down to the ground and out of sight of Mr. Crepsley!

I shook my head and opened my mouth to scream, but then saw something that stopped me dead in my tracks. My attacker, whoever he was, had a hammer and a large wooden stake, the tip of which was pointing directly at my heart!

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

IF YOU MOVE EVEN A fraction," my attacker warned, "I'll drive this right through you without blinking!"

The chilling words didn't have half as much impact on me as the familiar voice that uttered them.

"Steve!" I gasped, glancing up from the tip of the stake to find his face. It was him, sure enough, trying to look brave, but obviously terrified. "Steve, what the…" I began but he cut me short with a poke of the stake.

"Not a word!" he hissed, crouching down behind the stone pillar. "I don't want your friend overhearing."

"My…? Oh, you mean Mr. Crepsley," I said.

"Larten Crepsley, Vur Horston," Steve sneered. "I don't care what you call him. He's a vampire. That's all that bothers me."

"What are you doing here?" I whispered.

"Vampire hunting," he growled, prodding me again with the stake. "And lookee here: seems like I found me a pair!"

"Listen," I said, more annoyed than worried (if he was going to kill me, he would have done it immediately, not sat around talking first, like they do in the movies), "if you're going to stick that thing in me, do it. If you want to talk, put it away. I'm sore enough as it is without you making new holes in me."

He stared, then pulled the stake back a few centimeters.

"Why are you here?" I asked. "How did you know to come?"

"I was following you," he said. "I followed you all weekend after seeing what you did to Alan. I saw Crepsley going into your house. I saw him toss you out the window."

"You're the one who sneaked into the living room!" I gasped, remembering the mysterious late-night visitor.

"Yes." He nodded. "The doctors were very quick to sign your death certificate. I wanted to check for myself, to see if you were still ticking."

"The piece of paper in my mouth?" I asked.

"Litmus paper," he said. "It changes color when you stick it on a damp surface. When you stick it on a living body. That and the marks on the fingers tipped me off."

"You know about the marks on the fingers?" I asked, amazed.

"I read about it in a very old book," he said. "The same one, in fact, that I found Vur Horston's portrait in. There was no mention of it anywhere else, so I thought it was just another vampire myth. But then I studied your fingers and…"

He stopped and cocked his head. I realized I could no longer hear digging sounds. For a moment there was silence. Then Mr. Crepsley's voice hissed across the graveyard.

"Darren, where are you?" he called. "Darren?"