Part 18 (1/2)

Keeping the hand flat, rough nails jutting out like five sharp blades, he drove it into Murlough's stomach.

And when I say into, I mean into!

Murlough gasped and went deathly still. The knife dropped from his hand and he gazed down. Mr. Crepsley's hand had disappeared into the flesh of the vampaneze's belly, all the way up to his forearm. He left the hand there a second, then yanked back sharply, bringing guts and a torrent of dark blood with it.

Murlough groaned and collapsed to his knees, almost squas.h.i.+ng the goat in the process, then toppled to the floor, where he rolled over onto his back and tried closing the hole in his stomach with spit he'd quickly licked onto the palms of his hands.

But the hole was too wide. The vampaneze's healing spit was useless. There was nothing he could do to seal the flesh or stop his precious blood from pumping out. He was finished.

Mr. Crepsley stepped back from the dying vampaneze, picked up one of the bedsheets, and wiped his hand on it. His face was expressionless. He appeared neither pleased nor saddened by what he had done.

After a couple of seconds, Murlough realized his situation was hopeless.

Flopping over onto his belly, his eyes settled on me, and he began crawling toward me, gritting his teeth against the pain.

”Mr. Crepsley?” I said shakily.

Mr. Crepsley studied the crawling vampaneze, then shook his head. ”Do not worry. He can do you no harm.” But, taking no chances, he walked over, freed me, and stood by my side, ready to strike again if needed.

It was a long, agonized crawl for the vampaneze. I almost felt sorry for him, but had only to think of Evra strung up and what he'd planned to do to Debbie to remind myself that he deserved everything he'd gotten.

He paused more than once, and I thought he was going to die midway, but he was determined to have his final say. He fought on, even though he must have known he was accelerating the moment of his death.

He collapsed on his face at my feet and breathed heavily into the carpet. Blood was gus.h.i.+ng out of his mouth, and I knew the end was almost upon him. He raised a trembling finger and crooked it, beckoning me to lean down.

I glanced questioningly at Mr. Crepsley.

The vampire shrugged. ”He is harmless now. It is up to you.”

I decided to see what the dying vampaneze had to say. I bent down and leaned close to his mouth. He had only seconds left.

His red eyes rolled directionlessly in their sockets. Then, with a huge effort, they fixed on me, and his lips split into one last leer. He raised his head as high as he could and whispered something that I couldn't hear.

”I didn't catch that,” I told him. ”You'll have to speak up.” I jammed my ear closer to his mouth.

Murlough licked his lips, clearing some blood and making s.p.a.ce for air. Then, with his final breath, he got out the words that seemed so important to him.

”Cluh-cluh-clever buh-buh-buh-boy, hmmm?” He gurgled, then smiled blankly and fell forward.

He was dead.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX.

We bundled murlough's body into a large black plastic bag. We'd drop him off later in the tunnels of blood he'd loved so much. As fitting a burial place as any for him.

We stuck the goat in a bag, too, but made a couple of air holes in it. We'd expected Murlough to kill the goat, which I'd stolen earlier from the children's section of the city zoo. Mr. Crepsley wanted to take it back to the Cirque Du Freak - it would make a nice snack for Evra's snake or the Little People - but I persuaded him to set it free.

Next we cleaned up the mess. Murlough had shed a lot of blood, all of which had to be mopped up. We didn't want the Hemlocks to find it and start asking questions. We worked quickly, but it took a couple of hours.

With the cleaning finished, we climbed up to the attic and brought down the sleeping bodies of Jessie, Donna, and Debbie and laid them in their respective beds.

The entire night had been planned. The wine I brought for dinner? I drugged it when I was in the kitchen. I added one of Mr. Crepsley's potions to the wine, a tasteless little concoction that knocked everybody out within ten minutes. They'd be asleep for several more hours yet, and wake with sore heads, but otherwise no ill effects.

I smiled as I wondered what they'd think when they woke in bed, fully dressed, with no memories of the previous night. It would be a mystery, one they'd never solve.

It hadn't been a perfect plan. Lots of things could have gone wrong. For starters, there was no guarantee that Murlough would find me when I had my ”fight” with Mr. Crepsley and stormed off on my own, and no guarantee that he wouldn't kill me instantly if he did.

He could have gagged me when he caught me, in which case I would have been unable to convince him that he ought to let me live. Or he might have disregarded my warning about the Vampire Generals - what I said was true, but the trouble was, Murlough was crazy. There was no telling how a crazy vampaneze would act. He might have laughed at the threat of the Generals and sliced me up anyway.

Convincing him to swap Evra for Debbie was always going to be the trickiest part. For it to work, I'd had to deliver a perfect performance. If I'd come straight out and made the offer, Murlough might have been suspicious and not walked into the trap. If he'd been in full control of his senses, I don't think he would have fallen for it, regardless of my performance, so on that score his insanity worked in our favor.

And, of course, there was the killing of him to account for. Murlough could have beaten Mr. Crepsley. If he had, all six of us would have died: Mr. Crepsley, me and Evra, Debbie, Donna, and Jesse.

It had been a dangerous gamble - and unfair to the Hemlocks, who knew nothing of their role in the deadly game - but sometimes you have to take chances. Was it wise to risk five lives for the sake of one? Probably not. But it was human. If I'd learned one thing from my encounter with the crazy vampaneze, it was that even the undead could be human. We had to be - without a touch of humanity, we'd be like Murlough, nothing more than bloodthirsty monsters of the night.

I tucked Debbie in under the fresh covers. There was a tiny scar near her left ankle, where Mr. Crepsley had drawn blood earlier. He'd needed the blood to smear on the goat, in order to mislead Murlough's sense of smell.

I looked up at the vampire. ”You did well tonight,” I said quietly. ”Thanks.”

He smiled. ”I did what had to be done. It was your plan. I should be the one offering the thanks, were it not for the fact that you got in the way when I first had him in my sights. In my eyes, that makes us even, so neither need thank the other.”

”What will happen when the vampaneze find out we killed him?” I asked. ”Will they come after us?”

Mr. Crepsley sighed. ”With luck, they will not find the body. If they do, I hope they will be unable to trace him to us.”