Read Online Birth of a Killer by Darren Shan - Free Book Online Page B

you were the power-seeking sort, you could have swung a nomination a couple of hundred years ago.”
    “But I do
not
seek power,” Seba said quietly. He stared into the flames of the fire and spoke in a quiet tone that Larten had never heard him use before. “I fear true power, Paris. I have seen it twist people, change them beyond recognition. Some, like you, thrive on it and remain masters of their souls. But I do not believe that I would be one of those.
    “There is much about the clan that I would change. I would have us regress to a simpler, purer way of life. I think we interact too much with humans. I dislike the Cubs and their war packs. I do not approve of the impasse between ourselves and the vampaneze. I would push for less personal freedom, more regimented control of ordinary vampires by the Generals, a tighter, more restricted community.”
    “What’s wrong with any of that?” Paris asked. “I feel that way myself.”
    “But you can act neutrally,” Seba said. “You can balance your personal wishes against those of the many. You are happy to make suggestions but notimpose your will. You consider both sides of most arguments.
    “I could not. My emotions would get the better of me. I do not trust myself to act as selflessly as a Prince should. Please, Paris, do not tempt me. Some are fit to rule, but I am not one of them. If I accepted the power of a Prince, you would live to regret it. More importantly, so would I.”
    Larten was bewildered by his master’s words. He had always thought Seba was in total control of himself, the equal of any challenge. It distressed him to think that Seba was afraid. The vampire had been urging Larten to overcome his fears for the last five years. How could he now back away from his own like this?
    “The boy is disappointed,” Paris remarked, spotting Larten’s expression.
    “Larten is sharp but inexperienced,” Seba said stiffly. “He may see it my way in time. Or he may not.”
    “If he doesn’t, I certainly do.” Paris laid a hand on Seba’s arm and smiled, then arched an eyebrow at Larten. “Wipe that look from your face!” he thundered. “An assistant should never dishonor his master, even by thinking poorly of him.”
    “But… you said… I thought…”
    “I think Seba is incorrect,” Paris said. “He would be a fine Prince, a credit to the clan. But I can only judge him by what I see. He judges himself by what he feels. We should all be so honest and true to ourselves. It takes a vampire of the highest integrity to acknowledge self-doubt. My respect for Seba has increased after our talk tonight. Yours should too.”
    Talk turned to other matters. Larten listened for a while, then slipped away and idly explored the forest. Thinking back over everything he’d heard, he wondered who or what “war packs” and “the vampaneze” were—both terms were new to him. But mostly he pondered Seba’s rejection of power and tried to decide how that made him feel.
    Paris had gone when Larten returned. The boy looked around in case the Prince was still in sight, but he and Seba were alone.
    “Most vampires do not bother with farewells,” Seba said without looking up. “We live for so long that after a time we tire of saying good-bye. Do not take it as a sign of disrespect.”
    Larten thought his master was avoiding his gaze because he was ashamed. But when he edged around the fire and caught Seba’s wistful look, he realized the vampire’s thoughts were elsewhere.
    “You wish you had accepted,” Larten said softly.
    Seba nodded. “Part of me craves power.” He smiled bitterly and glanced at his assistant. “But it is a part I do not like, a part I must always be wary of. I said you had mixed blood when I tested you, Larten. What I did not tell you was that I have it too. My master almost rejected me when he tasted my blood. But in the end he gave me a chance. He is long dead, but there are not many nights when I do not think of him and vow to