He had been gone for a year and that was a very short time for a vampire. The burns had healed for the most part and he had returned to the Cirque du Freak and his routine as if nothing had even happened. It almost did not seem right considering everything that had been done to him and everything he had been willing to do to a child. He thought about Darren and his friends quite often.

It was extremely difficult for a human to get that close to killing him. He had been a trained General after all. He had almost been a Prince. But he had known that Darren was something different since the morning he had woken up to find Madam Octa gone and a shoddy blackmail attempt in her place. Even as he sat in his trailer in the dead of night he could not help but turn his thoughts toward Darren. Had Larten been able to blood him, the boy would have been unstoppable. He would have been a prodigy, far surpassing Larten, and maybe even the greatest of the vampire legends.

These thoughts of grandeur and glory had been with him since he had been able to hobble out of the crypt he had taken refuge in. Gavner and Arra had been insistent on hunting down the little humans and killing them. It was in their right to do so after what had happened on the field but Larten had eventually convinced them to go home to Vampire Mountain. He did not want Darren dead and he was willing to trust him enough to handle his own people.

Their story had made it back into the halls of Vampire Mountain, just like all of these kinds of stories did. Larten had been wholly unaware of Darren's rather sudden fame until a group of passing Cubs had asked him about it. He had sent them away with several harsh words about humans and privacy. Despite Larten's lack of physical presence among the Vampire Clan rumors of a true prodigy sprang up. The closest thing either Clan had ever had to a true prodigy had been Perta Vin-Grahl and the war had stolen any chance he could have had to prove such a claim.

Larten had seen Darren look certain death in the eye and barely flinch. When he had needed something from him, Darren had simply took it but when the boundaries had been overstepped Darren had shown compassion and mercy when most would have left Larten to die in the grass under that faux sunlight. Whether the boy was a true prodigy Larten could not say. All he knew was that the boy was an interesting thing and that was that.

But thoughts of Darren plagued him so much that Larten could not stay away. It was like a disease and just as the year ended he found himself back in that town, looking for that same boy. It didn't take him long to realize, however, that Darren was gone.

00000

The home that Darren had grown up in was empty. It had not been sold and when he searched it he found that a quite a bit of the family's possessions were still there. They had left in a hurry and it didn't look as if the family was coming back anytime soon. The home was small but it was by no means uncomfortable.

Framed pictures were still on the wall and he wiped off a layer of dust to reveal Darren and a small girl hugging each other and smiling widely. Putting the picture down, he moved into the living room. Some of the furniture had been dislodged as if there had been a fight but Larten could not see any blood. What had happened?

He decided to go look for Darren's room. Surely there would be some sort of clue as to what had happened to the boy and his family? Had they been killed? Unlikely. It simply looked as if they had fled from some unknown threat. Could this have anything to do with what happened over a year ago? He did not think so. Darren had been adamant that he could handle the humans of this town and Larten had seen no reason to think otherwise.

He was certain that something else was going on. Something he had not seen coming.

00000

Larten stayed in that town but he did not find anything for over a week. He was starting to believe that Darren had actually left town and began questioning the locals. He claimed to be an old family friend passing through the area and looking to reconnect. People were helpful, as they usually were in such situations, and told him that the Shans had indeed left abruptly.

"Why?" he asked a gossipy woman behind the counter of a gas station convenience store.

"Dunno for sure," she said with a shrug. "But I heard that they were on the run from something or other. They think the father, Dermot, got in too deep with the mob on one of his contracting jobs. There was a missing persons report and everything. Whole town's been a buzz."

"Thank you," Larten replied, troubled. For some reason he was doubting the involvement of the mob in this particular disappearance. He went back to the empty house and made camp in the attic. He wanted to be here in case someone came back. He wanted to know what had happened to the ever elusive Darren Shan.

He searched for the next month or so. He had even managed to get a police officer to answer some of his questions, this time posing as a cousin. The officer could not tell him much but it was enough for Larten to believe that Darren was probably in real trouble.

"They just up and disappeared," the officer said. "Didn't tell anyone, no one saw them leave, and the house had evidence of a disturbance."

"Do you believe they are dead?" the vampire asked. The officer shook his head then stopped to reconsider and shrugged.

"Don't know, could be. Maybe one of 'em is still out there, too scared to come back? Maybe they'll find them in the backyard in twenty years? No telling. The trail went cold."

Larten didn't appreciate the lack of respect the officer gave the case and thought maybe it was this man's fault the trail had indeed gone cold. Regardless, the ponderings troubled him even further. Not for the first time he wished he could read. It would have made investigating much easier.

But the vampire did have somewhere he could start looking.

00000

It took a mere two hours to locate the boy that had tried to kill him in cold-blooded revenge. Steve had grown a little over the last year and the sight of him made Larten's shoulder ache from its old bullet wound. His body had clearly not forgotten what it had endured on that field.

Steve was an utter delinquent. Following him through the streets, Larten saw him commit several acts of vandalism and he drifted from place to place looking for a good time. He remembered when he had been little more than this boy was now but he liked to think that he had not been so cruel. He had a suspicion he had been but he could not remember much from that time of his life to begin with.

Finally, an hour before sunrise Steve began his journey home. Larten spared a moment to wonder if he was in school anymore, then decided it hardly mattered. The vampire followed Steve back to his home and slipped into the boy's bedroom as Steve let himself in through the front door.

Picking up a book from the desk Larten sat on the end of the bed and flipped through it as if visiting the teenager that almost killed you was a common occurrence. He was more than a little disconcerted to find the portrait of himself and Alicia in the last few chapters of the book. This was the infamous portrait that had put Steve onto him in the first place. He knew that portrait had been a bad idea.

Steve opened the door and was on guard immediately. Larten was rather impressed considering the boy was nowhere near sober.

"Hello, Steve," he greeted.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked.

"You did not expect me to survive my injuries, did you?" Larten asked calmly. He watched the boy's hands very closely. He had been tricked by guns and lights before. He did not want to give Steve the chance to use either against him again.

"I knew you had," he said. "Darren was clear about that."

"So he did tell you."

"Of course," the boy snapped. "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for Darren but he seems to have misplaced himself."

"That was months ago," Steve told him. "What do you want with Darren?"

"That is between myself and Darren," Larten told him sternly, closing the book and tossing it on the bed beside him. "Do you know what happened to the family?"

"No." Larten looked at him disbelievingly.

"Are you sure?" he asked. He had known that Steve and Darren would likely never be friends again but he was certain that they would have kept close tabs on each other. Steve likely knew more about the Shan family's disappearance than the policeman had.

"Look, man," he said clearly uncomfortable with the situation. It was one thing to meet a vampire head on when he had stacked the deck in his favor. This meeting had not been on Steve's terms and he knew he was at Larten's mercy. "I don't know where they went."

"Well then, what can you tell me about why they left?"

"You left a lot loose ends," Steve said cryptically.

"Meaning?" Larten pressed.

"Meaning," Steve sneered, "you weren't the only creepy crawly to come through the town and after meeting you Darren couldn't just leave it alone."

"Who came?"

"Some monster," Steve said.

"Describe it."

"I never saw it," the boy said. "But it killed a bunch of people. We thought it was a vampire at first but the way it was killing didn't seem right."

"How so?" Larten asked, hanging onto every word. Now that Steve was talking freely, he did not want to miss anything.

"Kids just started disappearing," he said.

"Then how do you know they are dead?"

"They found, uh, bits of one of them. Like he had been eaten or something."

"How many?"

"Twelve," Steve said.

"And they were all children?"

"Yeah," the boy whispered. "Darren was convinced that he was going to be the thirteenth. He took his family and left."

"Why did he think that?"

"He said there was some sort of mark. All the victims were marked before they disappeared."

"What kind of mark?" Larten asked slowly suspecting where this conversation was about to go and dearly wishing that it wasn't.

"Scratches. Three of them. On the left cheek."

The vampire left after that. He had no desire to tell Steve about what had come to his town. He was not entirely certain that Steve would not seek to become one and Larten knew that would only end in death and blood. However, he had seen the mark the boy had spoke of before. Only once had he seen them on a living person and he had failed to save her.

A vampaneze had come to town. And apparently he had an appetite for children.

00000

Larten spent months in Darren's hometown and he spent most of that time taking night classes to learn how to read. The time had come when being illiterate meant that lives were at stake. After speaking with Steve, he had returned to Darren's room and began searching with a renewed fervor. Finally, he had found the boy's journals. He had flipped through them quickly hoping there would be something he could recognize.

He was able to recognize basic words-things he had learned from simply living so long but he could not make any sense of anything else. But Darren had managed to make a few drawings in one of the journals. Three marks on the cheek of a child he didn't recognize and then a crude drawing of a monstrous looking man that he had colored purple. The boy had clearly stuck his nose where it did not belong and Larten knew he had to find him.

So he had taken the seven leather journals to his camp in the attic and that next night had found someone who would teach him to read. It had been surprisingly easy and Larten spent several hours every night in the local high school with others who had been unable to read either. He had been surprised to see how many people slipped through the cracks in the modern day country.

As he learned he slowly picked his way through the boy's journals. Darren had a knack for detail and Larten found himself being able to follow the events surrounding the boy's life quite easily. The first journal had been from when he was younger and encompassed several years of simple childish concerns and adventures. As he had grown older and his world had darkened, Darren had begun to chronicle everything in much more detail and care.

Larten read the story of his confrontation with Darren and his friends which had put an interesting perspective on his own memory of the event. That particular time in his life had taken up a journal of its own. Three of the journals were research on vampires and the last two were the ones that Larten was truly interested in.

He read them slowly knowing he had to understand every word correctly and that he could not ask anyone else for help should he misunderstand something. Darren had picked up on the vampaneze after it had claimed its second victim and had proceeded to try and figure out what it was. He had combed back through his vampire research trying to find a reference to such a creature when he had eventually found what he had needed from someone on the internet.

The vampire was familiar with the concept of the internet and what it could mean for the vampires but he had never had a reason to use it himself. Darren however had found someone who could tell him everything he would ever need to know about vampaneze and Larten was surprised to find that it all appeared to be correct information. It was all physical information: strengths, weaknesses, general temperaments. There was nothing about the history of the Clans. Regardless, the amount of information was staggering.

When had humans become so knowledgeable? Did the Generals know about this?

This internet person only went by the name of Vampet and Darren had not been able to track him down in real life. Larten considered trying to contact him but he wasn't entirely sure how to turn Darren's computer on and thus gave that up. It would only get more complicated from there.

However, his luck began to turn one night and everything fell perfectly into place.

00000

Larten had been hunting in the forest a few miles from the town when he had caught the very familiar and very pungent scent of an old friend. Abandoning the deer he had been lazily tracking he veered north hoping to catch up within an hour. When he caught sight of the vampire, Larten decided that the luck of the Vampire Gods was with him. Vancha March was exactly who he needed to see.

"You going to follow me all night or come say hello?" the green haired barbarian shouted. Larten smirked and stepped out of the shadows and into the clearing that Vancha had been using.

"Hello, Sire," he greeted politely and Vancha winced.

"Don't know how many times I'll have to tell you," he growled. "I hate that title." Larten laughed and crossed the distance between them to give Vancha a hug. It did not last long due to Vancha's smell.

"How have you been?" Larten asked. Vancha grinned like a rogue and then proceeded to tell about his last decade. Larten was treated to stories of battle and daring feats in what little wilderness remained of the world. The expansion of the human race had wiped away many of the lands that Vampires had once travelled through and while the world was shrinking Vancha did not seem to have much trouble finding adventure.

"And what about you?" Vancha asked. "I haven't seen you in decades. What are you doing these days?"

"I was with the Cirque for a while," Larten told him. "But I have been staying in the town not far from here."

"Why?" Vancha asked with a slight distaste to his tone. Vancha March was a man of the wilds and he despised any and all creature comforts. He did not judge others for their preferences but he also did not understand the attachment to things like beds or running water.

"There is a boy there," Larten hedged. "Or at least there was. He disappeared about a year ago and I am trying to find him."

"He's human?" Vancha questioned and Larten nodded. "Then what is he to you?"

"Honestly? I wish to blood him when the time is right. I believe he could be a prodigy."

"Ugh," Vancha groaned. "Is this the same boy that Gavner was telling people about. The Prodigy?"

"The Prodigy?" Larten echoed, amused. He had, of course, been aware that the vampires had become aware of Darren. He had not known that even Vancha March was hearing about him.

"Yes," Vancha said. "There's suddenly a big hoop-lah about a little prodigy boy. I've been hearing stories from the other Generals about how he could be the next Perta Vin Grahl. I didn't take them seriously though. You know how much vampires love stories."

Larten nodded. He knew certainly well how much the Vampire Clan could make something out of nothing. If there was one thing the vampires loved, it was fantastical stories. And if Gavner had indeed told someone about what had happened between them and Darren it was only a matter of a time before the entire clan knew. He wondered how Darren would react to the entire Vampire Clan knowing he existed. He doubted the boy would take it in stride.

"Darren is talented," Larten replied. "Given the proper training he could be one of the best we have ever seen."

"Maybe," Vancha consented knowing that Larten would know better than him on this topic. "But back up to the part about him being missing."

Larten launched into the whole story of how he had come back to the town to look for Darren and instead had found that he and his entire family were on the run from what appeared to be a mad vampaneze. Vancha was quite surprised about what he was being told.

"Twelve children?" he asked, horrified. Vampires did not interfere with the feeding choices of the vampaneze. However, this time there appeared to be a significant reason to interfere. Killing a human child was taboo even among the Vampaneze. There was no honor in it because there was no fair chance to the child. Most vampaneze liked their prey to fight.

"Yes, and Darren thought he was next."

"Where are the journals now?"

"At his home," Larten told him. "I am still trying to pick my way through the last one. Darren's writing became sporadic in the end. He did not seem to be able to keep a single line of thought for long. I believe he was scared."

"And why wouldn't he be? He had been marked for death."

"Will you help me with this Sire?" Larten asked tentatively. A situation such as this would have been more suited to someone like Mika or even Paris. But Vancha was the Prince that was there and Larten needed him.

"I don't know what I can do," he said honestly.

"I am not quite sure what I am doing either," the orange haired man replied just as honestly. "But Darren saved my life when he had no reason to. He destroyed a life long friendship. That matters to me."

"Are you forgetting the part where it was his fault to begin with?"

"No I am not. And it was not his fault. He did not know what his friend was planning on doing and it is not right to hold the actions of someone else against him."

"No, I suppose not," Vancha replied. He took a moment to think and then nodded. "Fine. I'll stay."

00000

Vancha didn't like the thought of not sleeping in the woods but Larten had been able to convince him stay in Darren's home just as he was. It was necessary that they did not separate. Larten felt he was close to finishing Darren's journals and if they needed to leave immediately it would only make it harder if Vancha was miles away. So the green haired Prince had found himself a nice cold piece of attic floor and slept soundly through the following few days.

Larten couldn't bring himself to sleep much at all. His entire world had quickly become Darren's journals and the research he had done. It was extensive and hard to follow but the Vampire thought he was starting to piece everything together.

The missing boy had managed to rope the infamous Steve Leonard into helping him deal with this murderous monster and together the two of them had tentatively worked to end the murders in a way no one else could have. The local police handling the case had handed it off to a higher authority and the case agent had been circling around both boys as much as they had been circling around the vampaneze. Larten was beginning to think it might be a good idea to speak with this lawman. Darren had been convinced that he knew more than he was letting on.

When Larten made it to the last page of the final journal he found that it was only a few sentences long. And they were chilling sentences indeed.

It's a cycle. Thirteen every 33 years. Need a Vampire.

The short sentences made him think. Its meaning was quite clear and very disturbing. The killings happened on a cycle of thirty-three years. Not an unusual occurrence for a vampaneze. If they found a hunting ground they liked they would always show there at some point or another. This cycle seemed to be fairly regular. With thirteen victims each cycle the number of dead children could easily be somewhere past a hundred. Was that what had sparked Darren's need to find a vampire? The fact that he could not fight this creature on his own. It was a possibility.

So where had Darren gone to find a vampire?

There was one thing Larten was certain of. If the boy needed to find a vampire he would start in the one place he had last seen a vampire. The Cirque du Freak.

00000

Larten and Vancha made quick work of setting out on the road the following night. Larten had taken the final two journals as they were the most relevant and tucked them securely into the folds of his blood red cloak. The Cirque was a long ways off and considering the urgency of their travels they decided to flit for some of it.

A few days later, the camp came into view and Larten was pleased to see it once more. Everything was just as he had left it months ago except for the decidedly horrible car that was parked in a ragtag fashion outside of what was normally Larten's trailer. He led Vancha through the camp, the late hour making it a short walk with no interruptions from tired workers and performers.

As they got closer Larten could hear the distinct sound of someone coughing very hard from deep within their chest. Larten winced at the painful sound.

"Mom, please," a boy pleaded. "You have to snap out of it. Annie needs you. I need you."

Vancha opened the door before the boy could say anymore and Larten came face-to-face with Darren Shan once more. He had grown and matured. He was no longer a boy just reaching his stride in puberty. He was nearing manhood and it showed. There was a scar on his face that had not been there before and there was a quiver of arrows that definitely had not been there before. There was a bow resting at his booted feet. He was kneeling in front of woman grasping her hand tightly. The coughing noises were coming from a small cot where a young girl rested.

Larten could not tell if she was sleeping or unconscious, the sweat on her brow so profuse that it was clear she was running a dangerously high fever.

"What is the matter with her?" Larten asked, nodding at the girl. Darren just stared at him. He looked as if he was deciding between hugging Larten or shooting him. He settled on yelling.

"Where have you been?" he shouted. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"I was at your home," Larten told him.

"What, are you stalking me now?" Darren snapped. Larten raised his eyebrows.

"You came looking for me," he reminded the boy. Darren huffed in annoyance and finally stood. He stepped down from the trailer and shut the door tightly behind him.

"If you were in my town then you probably know about what happened."

"A vampaneze," Vancha responded, entering the conversation.

"Yeah," Darren nodded. "Real nasty guy too. Not someone you want to run into the dark."

"Did he come for you?" Larten asked.

"Yes. He broke into the house."

"How did you get away?" Vancha asked.

"Dad stayed behind," he said quietly crossing his arms tightly over the ratty flannel he was wearing. Larten understood quite easily what had happened. Darren's father had sacrificed himself in order for his family to escape.

"And what is wrong with your mother?" Larten asked quietly, knowing it was a very intrusive yet still relevant question. Darren snorted and shook his head.

"Checked out," he responded shortly. "I guess being attacked by a giant purple monster was too much for her. After all, we lived in suburbia. The most dangerous thing there was Ms. Parker's biting Yorkie."

Vancha snorted but wisely did not respond. There was so much in Darren's sentence that the wild Prince could have used to pick at. Larten was thankful that the man seemed to have some sense of tact though this was the first time he had ever seen it.

"And your sister?" Larten guessing the relationship between Darren and the girl.

"Flu," he said. "She's not getting better."

Larten dropped a shoulder in order to let the strap of his bag slide off. He set the bag carefully on the ground and dug around until he found the exact vial he was looking for. It was a putrid orange; a gift from a friend. He handed it to Darren who simply stared at it having no clue what to do with it.

"What is this?" he asked.

"A remedy," Larten said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Darren gave him an annoyed look. "It is like chicken soup but magical. It will help." Darren smiled a little at the reference to his rather incompetent effort to bring peace between them.

"Magical chicken soup," he said. "Got it."

Grasping the vial tightly he went back inside the trailer, shutting the door on the two vampires.

Vancha huffed. "He could have said thank you."

"It was not necessary," Larten told him. "It will never be necessary."

"Okay," Vancha said slowly in lieu of coming up with anything else to say. "What did you two mean? About the chicken soup?"

Larten just smiled and turned away. He needed to talk to Mr. Tall.

00000

"Is there a reason that you did not communicate with me when Darren arrived?" he asked. Mr. Tall was sitting in his favorite chair looking at Larten over steepled fingers. He and Larten had bonded a long time ago and could communicate telepathically. It was only short sentences but it was sufficient enough that Mr. Tall would have been able to let Larten know that Darren and his family had arrived at the Cirque.

Especially since he had known that Larten had left specifically to find the boy again. So why had he kept the boy's location from Larten?

"I cannot get involved," Mr. Tall replied.

"Involved with what?" Vancha asked, his eyebrows crinkling with suspicion. There was something strange happening with Mr. Tall and even Vancha was picking up on it.

"I cannot get involved," Mr. Tall repeated.

"Why not?" Larten asked hoping that if he asked the right question Mr. Tall would be able to tell him something. Mr. Tall could see the future and Larten had enough experience with people like him to know that when it came to certain people, at certain times he had to be very guarded about what he said.

"This boy's story has only just begun," Mr. Tall told him. "I cannot get involved."

"No involvement," Vancha said, at wits end. "Got it."

Mr. Tall ignored him for the most part giving Larten a very piercing look. It was the kind of look that made Larten believe that Mr. Tall was trying to tell him something important without telling him anything at all.

"It is Destiny, is it not?" Larten asked, guessing as to why Mr. Tall was so determined to remain close-lipped and not involved. The Cirque owner did not blink, or nod, or shake his head. He did not give even a twitch of an eyelid but Larten knew he had guessed right. There was only one being in the entire universe that could make Mr. Tall go completely silent on a subject.

"Desmond Tiny?" Vancha asked, shooting a concerned and questioning look at Larten's back. "What could he possibly have to do with this?"

"Everything," Larten replied and turned around sharply to march out of the tent and back to the trailer. Vancha hurried behind to keep up.

"Larten!" he shouted forcefully, grabbing the other vampire's arm and forcing him to stop and turn around to look at him. "Why would Desmond Tiny be interested in this boy?"

"Because Darren has potential," Larten replied. "You heard the stories."

"Yes, stories," Vancha emphasized. "I don't know Tall very well but I could tell that talking about Darren freaked him out. Why? What do you know that nobody else seems to?"

Larten sagged in the Prince's grasp.

"Nothing really," he said truthfully. "But think about it. Darren met and fought a vampire and a vampaneze less than a year apart. How often does something like that happen?"

"Never," Vancha said. "Never for someone who doesn't go looking for it."

"So why is it happening now?"

"You think Tiny is making this happen to this boy?"

"I think it is entirely possible that Desmond is using the boy as a pawn for something else. Something worse."

"Like what?"

"You would have to ask him."

They stared at each in a strained silence. Vancha had never liked Mr. Tiny and anytime he appeared, even just in name, the Prince would become tense. However, Tiny was not their only problem at the moment.

"Darren has been marked for death by a vampaneze," Larten reminded him. "And a particularly vicious one at that."

"You think he's still a target?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well, then," came a new voice and both vampires turned sharply to find Darren only a few feet away. His bow was in one hand and a folded map was in another. "We better get to work."

Larten stared at him. This boy was so different from the boy he had left behind nearly two years ago. The boy from the graveyard had been frightened, but brave nonetheless, and he had been human enough to know that he had done something very wrong and had sought to fix the problem. Even if it just meant giving a burned vampire with very right to strike him dead a blanket and a can of cold chicken soup.

But now he had a weapon in his hand and was looking to take the fight to the thing that had stalked him, his family, and the people of his town. Not for the first time did Larten think the boy would make a superb vampire.

00000

Darren had spread the map on the hood of the car and all three of them leaned over it, Darren with the most intent. There were twelve red dots that marked specific locations. But there were also twelve green marks as well. Larten had a feeling he knew what these meant.

"Are these the vampaneze victims?" he asked, pointing at one of the dots.

"Sort of," Darren told him. "The bodies haven't all been found, if there's anything left to find."

"Then what do these mean?" Vancha asked.

"The red marks are where the twelve victims disappeared and the green marks are where the victims lived."

"None of them were taken from their homes?" Larten asked, curious. Darren shook his head. "Then why-?"

"Did he come after me in my home?" Darren finished giving them both a curious look. "That is the question of the year."

"Vampaneze don't just break their hunting pattern for no reason," Vancha replied. "They're as much creatures of habit as they are creatures of blood."

"Who are you?" Darren asked, suddenly realizing that he didn't know who Vancha was or even know his name.

"I'm Vancha March, Vampire Prince."

"You people have royalty?" Darren asked sardonically.

"Not in the way you are thinking," Larten replied distractedly. "Darren, what are the question marks for?" He pointed to the little black punctuation marks that Darren had scribbled over several buildings.

"Possible locations that a vampaneze might hide in," Darren replied. "They're all abandoned, with little traffic from local kids, and most of them have basements or opaque windows that let in very little sunlight. None of them have security guards and quite a few of them have fences that are easy to jump for a vampire or vampaneze."

"What about graveyards?" Larten asked. Vancha was watching them, enraptured by what he was seeing. It was very rare to find a human that could track a vampaneze's movements with such accuracy and he was starting to think that Darren could one day be a very good vampire hunter.

"I sweeped through all the graveyards," Darren replied. "None of the locks on any of the crypts or tombs was broken. The few tombs that were open didn't have any kind of disturbance. He wasn't staying there. He has to be in one of the these locations."

"So which one?" Vancha asked.

Darren held up a finger and went to the back of the car. He popped open the trunk and searched around for something. When he came back they saw that it was a box filled with files. Darren brought them to the front, set the box on the ground, and then began flipping through the files until he found the one he wanted.

He handed it to Larten.

"Those are photos of all the locations I pegged as possibilities," he said. "Notice anything?"

Larten peered at each one carefully and within a few minutes he found the picture that Darren had wanted him to find. A photo of what looked like an abandoned office building. Three stories, nondescript, and in need of upkeep. But through the glass of the front door was an extremely blurry shape. It was the type of blur that a human would mistake as a camera flaw or even a ghost. But Larten knew better. He handed the photo to Vancha.

"Vampaneze," he said and Darren nodded, pleased that they had confirmed what he had figured out. Vancha looked sharply at Darren with an assessing look. "Did you do all of this yourself?"

"No," Darren replied.

"Did Steve help you?" Larten asked. Darren gave him a mean look. Apparently Steve was a touchy subject, especially when the conversation was with the man Steve had tried to murder in front of Darren.

"Yes, actually, he did. But only with the photos."

"What's in all the other files?" Vancha asked, nodding at the box at Darren's feet.

"Those are files about the victims going back 150 years when he first appeared to come to town. Thirteen victims every thirty-three years."

"What good is this going to do us?" Vancha asked. "You haven't been in town for nearly a year. He killed your father, that could be his thirteenth victim."

"No," Darren said. "He killed Dad because he threatened his survival. He didn't drink any blood."

"You're sure?" Vancha pressed.

"Of course," Darren said. "I'm the one who went back to bury him. Except for the blood coming out of his head wound, it was all still in his body. He only takes kids. He's still waiting to take me."

"How do you know? For certain?" Larten asked.

"Because I have friends keeping a very distant eye on him," Darren replied. "He's still in town waiting for me to come back."

"Why would he think you would come back?" Larten asked although he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

"Revenge?" Darren shrugged. "To finish what I started. There are plenty of reasons to go back."

"But will you?" Vancha asked curious.

"Of course," Darren replied as if it the answer should have been obvious from the very beginning. "Just not without back up."

"Back up?" Larten asked.

"Why else would I track down the Cirque? It wasn't for the spider." Darren looked up at the sky which meant that he missed the annoyed look Larten gave him. "It's too close to dawn to start out now so we'll have to leave tomorrow night."

"We can't interfere," Vancha said. Darren looked at him sharply.

"What?" he asked.

"It's against the treaty for the vampires and vampaneze to interfere with each other. We can't interfere. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Darren asked incredulous. "People are dying. Innocent kids."

"We can't interfere."

"You can not," Larten said. "But there is something that I can do."

"Larten," Vancha warned.

"I can take you back to town. To get your things from the house." Darren and Vancha both blinked at him as if he had lost his mind. Until Vancha finally had a look of understanding dawn on his face. Darren still didn't understand.

"Larten," the Prince said. "You have to be very careful. If anyone finds out that you were ever in that town, well, you know what it means."

"What does it mean?" Darren asked. Nobody answered.

"I understand," Larten replied. Vancha nodded. Then he nodded at Darren before he turned and ran. By the time he reached the edge of the Cirque he had reached a speed where he could flit. And then he was gone.

"What the hell?" Darren snapped.

"We are on our own," Larten told.

"Yeah, that much is obvious," Darren replied snarkily. "Why can't a vampire get involved?"

Larten gave him a brief explanation of the war between the vampires and the vampaneze and the resulting treaty of peace. He stressed that the peace was tenuous and if a Prince was caught meddling in the affairs of a vampaneze it could mean war.

"However," Larten replied. "There is nothing wrong with a vampire of common standing challenging a vampaneze to a duel."

"A duel?" Darren asked, looking as if he was desperately choking back laughter. Larten did not understand what was so funny.

"Yes, a duel," he replied.

"What are you cowboys? Who duels anymore?"

"Vampires and vampaneze duel all the time, Darren."

"I would be more comfortable with a plan that didn't have fifty-fifty odds, Mr. Crepsley."

"There is a proper way to handle these things," Larten told him. "You came here to ask for my help. This is the only help I can give you. A simple duel does not violate the treaty. No one can know that you sought me out to fight him. It would be considered interference and could start a war. That was why Vancha left."

Darren watched him closely and Larten could plainly see the thoughts going through his head playing out on his face. He was trying to decide if he could trust Larten to do what needed to be done. If Larten challenged this vampaneze and lost there was little chance that Darren would be able to take down the vampaneze on his own. Darren would die. And in thirty-one years when the cycle started over again, another thirteen children would die as well.

"Can you win?" he asked, the stress of the situation heavy on his voice.

"Yes."

"Do you, uh, duel often?" the boy asked, still trying not to laugh at the word duel. Although he did manage a blatant eyeroll.

"Yes."

"Fine," Darren finally relented. "Um, sorry but we sort of took over your trailer." It took Larten a moment to catch up with the rapid subject change.

"I will meet you back here when the sun goes back down. Here." He took the journals out of his red cloak and handed them to Darren who looked surprised.

"Why do you have these?"

"I used them to find you," Larten replied.

"It took you that long to get through two journals? What were you doing, reading a word a day?" Darren asked. He did not say it meanly, at least Larten did not think he was trying to be antagonistic. He was simply trying to piece together why it had taken Larten eight months to come back to the Cirque.

"I had to learn how to read first," Larten told him and Darren suddenly smiled brightly.

"Ah, Mr. Crepsley," he cooed. "Did you learn how to read for me?"

"No," Larten snapped. "I learned how to read because I wanted to."

"Uh huh," Darren said, still smiling which made Larten suddenly very uncomfortable. The knowing look the boy was giving him did not help.

"I will see you in twelve hours," he said stiffly and stalked off to the woods. He ignored Darren's laugher and the sound of the trailer door opening and closing.

00000

Next Chapter: Darren and Larten confront the vampaneze.