فصل 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

IGAZED AT R.V.’S PEACEFUL EXPRESSION as he knelt in his death pose. He’d left his pain behind at last, forever. I was glad for him. If he’d lived, he’d have had to carry around the memory of the evil he’d committed while in league with the vampaneze. Maybe he was better off this way.

“And now there’s two — just me and you,” Steve trilled, breaking my train of thought. I glanced up and saw him standing a few yards away from R.V., smiling. Gannen Harst was still out for the count, and although Vancha was alive, he was lying motionless, wheezing fitfully, unable to defend himself or attack.

“Yes,” I agreed, standing and picking up my sword. My left hand wouldn’t work, and my system was maybe a minute or two away from complete shutdown. But I had enough strength left for one last fight. First, though — Vancha. I paused over him and studied his wound. It was seeping blood, and his face was creased with pain. He tried to speak, but words wouldn’t form.

As I hovered uncertainly by the side of my fellow Prince, unwilling to leave him like this, Evanna crossed to his side, knelt, and examined him. Her eyes were grave when she looked up. “It is not fatal,” she said softly. “He will live.” “Thank you,” I muttered.

“Save your thanks,” Mr. Tiny said. He was standing directly behind me. “She didn’t tell you to cheer you up, silly boy. It was a warning. Vancha won’t die for the time being, but he’s out of the fight. You’re alone. The final hunter. Unless you turn tail and run, it’s down to you and Steve now. If Steve doesn’t die, death will come within the next few minutes for you.” I looked over my shoulder at the small man in the yellow suit and green rain boots. His face was bright with bloodthirsty glee. “If death comes,” I said shortly, “it will be a far more welcome companion than you.” Mr. Tiny chuckled, then stepped away to my left. Rising, Evanna took up position on my right. Both waited for me to move, so that they could follow. I spared Vancha one final glance — he grinned painfully at me and winked — then faced Steve.

He backed away from me casually, entering the shadows beneath the bridge. I trailed after him, sword by my side, taking deep breaths, clearing my mind, focusing on the death-struggle to come. Although this could have been Vancha’s battle, a part of me had known all along that it would come down to this. Steve and I were opposite sides of a coin, linked since childhood, first by friendship, then hatred. It was only fitting that the final confrontation should fall to the two of us.

I entered the cool darkness of the underpass. It took my eyes a few seconds to adjust. When they did, I saw Steve waiting, right eye twitching nervously. The river gurgled softly beside us, the only noise except for our panting and chattering teeth.

“There is where we settle matters, once and for all, in the dark,” Steve said.

“As good a place as any,” I replied.

Steve raised his left palm. I could vaguely make out the shape of the pink cross he’d carved into his flesh eighteen years before. “Remember when I did this?” he asked. “That night, I swore I’d kill you and Creepy Crepsley.” “You’re halfway there,” I noted drily. “You must be delighted.” “Not really,” he said. “To be honest, I miss old Creepy. The world’s not the same without him. I’ll miss you even more. You’ve been the driving force behind everything I’ve done since I was a child. Without you, I’m not sure I’ll have much of an interest in life. If possible, I’d let you go. I enjoy our games — the hunt, the traps, the fights. I’d happily keep doing it, over and over, a new twist here, a fresh shock there.” “But life doesn’t work like that,” I said. “Everything has to end.” “Yes,” Steve said sadly. “That’s one thing I can’t change.” His mood passed and he regarded me with a sneer. “Here’s where you end, Darren Shan. This is your grand finale. Have you made your peace with the vampire gods?” “I’ll do that later,” I snarled, and swung my sword wide, moving forward so that on its return arc he’d be within range. But before it had completed its first arc, the tip of the sword smashed into the wall. It bounced off in a shower of sparks, and a shock ran down my arm.

“Silly boy,” Steve purred, mimicking Mr. Tiny. He raised a knife. “No room here for swords.” Steve leaped and jabbed the knife at me. I pulled back and lobbed my sword at him, momentarily halting him. In that second, I drew one of the knives I’d brought from Annie’s kitchen. When Steve advanced, I was ready. I caught his thrust with the hilt of my knife and turned his blade aside.

There was no room in the underpass to circle one another, so we had to jab and stab, ducking and weaving to avoid each other’s blows. The conditions actually played in my favor — in the open I’d have had to be nimbler on my feet, spinning to keep up with Steve. That would have exhausted me. Here, since we were so cramped, I could stand still and direct my rapidly dwindling strength into my knife hand.

We fought silently, fast, sharp, impulsive. Steve nicked the flesh of my forearm — I nicked his. He opened shallow wounds on my stomach and chest — I repaid the compliment. He almost cut my nose off — I nearly severed his left ear.

Then Steve came at me from the left, taking advantage of my dead arm. He grabbed the material of my shirt and pulled me toward him, driving his knife hard at my belly with his other hand. I rolled with the force of his pull, throwing myself into him. His knife cut the wall of my stomach, a deep wound, but my momentum carried me forward despite the pain. I drove him down, landing awkwardly on him as he hit the path. His right hand flew out by his side, fingers snapping open. His knife shot free and struck the river with a splash, vanishing from sight in an instant.

Steve brought his empty right hand up, to push me off. I stabbed at it with my knife and hit home, spearing him through his forearm. He screamed. I freed my knife before he could knock it from my grip, raised it to shoulder height, and redirected it, so the tip was pointing at Steve’s throat. His eyes shot to the gleam of the blade and his breath caught. This was it. I had him. He’d been out-fought and he knew it. One quick thrust of the knife and — Searing pain. A white flash inside my head. I thought Gannen had recovered and struck me from behind, but he hadn’t. It was an aftershock from when I blooded Darius. Vancha had warned me about this. My limbs trembled. A roaring in my ears, drowning out all other sounds. I dry-heaved and fell off Steve, almost tumbling into the river. “No!” I tried to scream. “Not now!” But I couldn’t form the words. I was in the grip of immense pain and could do nothing against it.

Time seemed to collapse. Gripped by panic, I was dimly aware of Steve crawling on top of me. He wrestled my knife from my hand. There was a sharp stabbing sensation in my stomach, followed by another. Steve crowed, “Now I have you! Now you’re gonna die!” Something blurry passed in front of my eyes, then back again. Fighting the white light inside my head, I got my eyes to focus. It was the knife. Steve had pulled it out and was waving it in my face, teasing me, sure he’d won, prolonging the moment of triumph.

But Steve had miscalculated. The pain of the stabbing brought me back from the brink of all-out confusion. The agony in my gut worked against the pain in my head, and the world began to swim back into place around me. Steve was perched on top of me, laughing. But I wasn’t afraid. Unknown to himself, he was helping me. I was able to think halfway straight now, able to plan, able to act.

My right hand stole to the waistband of my pants as Steve continued to mock me. I gripped the handle of a second knife. I caught a glimpse of Mr. Tiny peering over Steve’s shoulder. He’d seen my hand moving and knew what was coming. He was nodding, though I’m not sure if he was encouraging me or merely bobbing his head up and down with excitement.

I lay still, gathering my very last dredges of energy together, letting Steve torment me with wild promises of what was to come. I was bleeding freely from the stab wounds in my stomach. I wasn’t sure if I’d be alive come the dawn, but of one thing I was certain — Steve would die before me.

“— and when I finish with your toes and fingers, I’ll move on to your nose and ears!” Steve yelled. “But first I’ll cut your eyelids off, so you can see everything that I’m gonna do. After that I’ll —” “Steve,” I wheezed, stopping him midflow. “Want to know the secret of winning a fight like this? Less talking — more stabbing.” I lunged at him, using the muscles of my stomach to force my body up. Steve wasn’t prepared for it. I knocked him backwards. As he fell, I swung my legs around, then pushed with my knees and feet, so I drove him all the way back with the full weight of my body. He hit the pavement with a grunt, for the second time within the space of a few minutes. This time he managed to hold on to his knife, but that was no use to him. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

No hesitation. No pausing to pick my point. No cynical, memorable last words. I put my trust in the gods of the vampires and blindly thrust my knife forward. I brought it around and down in a savage arc, and by luck or fate drove it into the center of Steve’s chest — clean through his shriveled forgery of a heart!