Shan, Darren - Cirque Du Freak 11 - Lord of the Shadows

"You're in no position to make deals," R.V. laughed.

"What do you want?" I shouted.

"The snake-boy," R.V. giggled.

"He's no good to you." I took a determined step forward. "Take me instead. I'll swap for Shancus."

I expected R.V. to leap at my offer, but he only shook his head slyly, red eyes shining. "Stuff it, Shan," he said. "We're taking the boy. If you get in our way, he dies."

I glanced around at my allies — nobody was reacting. The vampaneze had us in a bind. Vancha could move with the speed of a full-vampire, and Debbie and Alice both had guns. But R.V. could kill Shancus before any of us could stop him.

R.V., Morgan James and Darius continued to back away. R.V. and James were grinning, but Darius looked the same way he'd looked after shooting me — scared and slightly sickened.

Then, as the rest of us hesitated, Mr Tall spoke. "I cannot allow this."

R.V. paused uncertainly. "This is none of your business!" he shouted. "Keep your nose out of it."

"You have made it my business," Mr Tall disagreed quietly. "This is my home. These are my people. I must intervene."

"Don't be a—" R.V. yelled, but before he got any further, Mr Tall was upon him. He moved at a supernatural speed which even a vampire couldn't match. In less than a flash of an eye he was in front of R.V., his hands on the lunatic's hooks. He wrenched them away from Shancus's throat, tore two of the hooks off the left hand, and one off the right.

"My hands!" R.V. screamed in agony, as though the gold and silver hooks were part of his flesh. "Leave my hands alone, you—"

Whatever foul name he shouted was lost in the burst of a gun retort. Morgan James, who'd been standing next to R.V., had jammed the tip of his rifle hard into Mr Tall's ribs and pulled the trigger. A bullet fired down the chamber of the rifle at a merciless speed — then ripped through the ribcage of the defenceless Hibernius Tall!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

«^»

Mr Tall's midriff erupted in a fountain of dark red blood and white chips of bone. For a moment he stood, gripping R.V.'s hooks, as though nothing had happened. Then he collapsed, blood pumping out of the hole, his stomach torn to shreds.

R.V. and Darius stared numbly at Mr Tall as he fell. Then Morgan James screamed at them to run. In a ragged unit they fled, R.V. clutching Shancus, James firing wildly at us over his shoulder.

Nobody followed. Our eyes were all on Mr Tall. He was blinking rapidly, hands exploring the hole in his middle, lips torn back over his small black teeth. I don't think anybody knew how old Mr Tall was, or where he'd come from. But he was older than any vampire, a being of immense magic and power. It was mind-boggling to think that he could have been brought low in so simple and violent a manner.

Debbie snapped to her senses first and rushed towards Mr Tall, dropping her pistol, meaning to go to his aid. The rest of us took a step after her—

—and stopped instantly when somebody spoke from the shadows of a nearby van. "Your concern is commendable, but utterly worthless. Keep back, please."

A small man waddled forward, smiling glibly. He was dressed in a sharp yellow suit and green Wellington boots. He had white hair, thick glasses, and a heart-shaped watch which he was twirling in his left hand.Desmond Tiny ! Behind him came his daughter, the witch, Evanna — short, muscular, hairy, clad in ropes instead of clothes. She had a small nose, pointed ears, a thin beard, and mismatched eyes, one brown, one green.

We gawped at the strange pair as they stopped beside the gasping Mr Tall and gazed down at him. Evanna's face was strained. Mr Tiny looked only curious. With his right foot, he nudged Mr Tall where he'd been shot. Mr Tall hissed with pain.

"Leave him alone!" Debbie shouted.

"Shut up, please, or I'll kill you," Mr Tiny replied. Though he said it sweetly, I've no doubt he would have struck Debbie down dead if she'd said another word. Fortunately, she realized that too, and she held her tongue, trembling.

"So, Hibernius," Mr Tiny said. "Your time here comes to an end."

"You knew it would," Mr Tall replied, and his voice was remarkably firm.

"Yes," Mr Tiny nodded. "But didyou know?"

"I guessed."

"You could have turned aside from it. Your fate was never directly linked to these mortals."

"For me, it was," Mr Tall said. He was shivering badly, a dark pool of blood spreading out around him. Evanna took a step aside to avoid the blood, but Mr Tiny let it flow around his boots, staining the soles.

"Tiny!" Vancha snapped. "Can you save him?"

"No," Mr Tiny replied simply. Then he bent over Mr Tall and spread the fingers of his right hand. He placed his middle finger in the centre of Mr Tall's forehead, the adjoining fingers over his eyes, and held the thumb and little finger out at the sides. "Even in death, may you be triumphant," he said with surprising softness then removed his fingers.

"Thank you, Father," Mr Tall said. He glanced up at Evanna. "Goodbye, Sister."