darted out of the tunnel. One was a shaven-headed, shotgun-toting vampet with a disfigured, half-blown-away face. The other was a bearded, purple-skinned, crazy vampaneze with silver and gold hooks instead of hands.
Morgan James and R.V.!
I screamed with fresh fear when I saw the murderous pair, and shoved aside everyone around me, drawing on the full extent of my vampire powers. But before I could bruise a way through, R.V. homed in on his target. He bounded past the dugouts, ignored the players, coaching staff, and stewards on the field, and bore down on a startled Tom Jones.
I don’t know what flashed through Tommy’s mind when he saw the burly purple monster streaking towards him. Maybe he thought it was a practical joke, or a weird fan coming to hug him. Either way, he didn’t react, raise his hands to defend himself, or turn to run. He just stood, staring dumbly at R.V.
When R.V. reached Tommy, he pulled back his right hand — the one with the gold hooks — then jabbed the blades sharply into Tommy’s chest. I froze, feeling Tommy’s pain from where I was trapped in the crowd. Then R.V. jerked his hooked hand back, shook his head with insane delight, and retreated down the tunnel, following Morgan James, who fired his gun to clear a path.
On the field, Tommy stared stupidly down at the red, jagged hole in the left side of his chest. Then, with almost comical effect, he slid gracelessly to the ground, twitched a few times, and lay still — the terrible, unmistakable stillness of the dead.
CHAPTER TEN
B URSTING FREE OF THE CROWD , I stumbled onto the field. Those around me were staring at the fallen goal-keeper, paralyzed with shock. My first instinct was to run to Tommy. But then my training kicked in. Tommy had been killed. I could grieve for him later. Right now I had to focus on R.V. and Morgan James. If I hurried after them, I might catch up before they got away.
Tearing my gaze away from Tommy, I ducked down the tunnel; past the players, staff, and stewards who had yet to recover their senses. I saw more shot-up bodies but didn’t stop to check whether they were living or dead. I had to be a vampire, not a human. A killer, not a carer.
I raced down the tunnel until it branched off in two directions. Left or right? I stood, panting, scanning the corridors for clues. Nothing to my left, but there was a small red mark on the wall to my right — blood.
I picked up speed again. A voice at the back of my mind whispered, “You have no weapons. How will you defend yourself?” I ignored it.
The corridor led to a locker room, where most members of the winning team had gathered. The players weren’t aware of what had happened on the field. They were cheering and singing. The corridor branched again here. The path to the left led back towards the field, so I took another right turn, praying to the gods of the vampires that I’d chosen correctly.
A long sprint. The corridor was narrow and lowceilinged. I was panting hard, not from exertion but from sorrow. I kept thinking about Tommy, Mr. Crepsley, Gavner Purl — friends I’d lost to the vampaneze. I had to fight the sorrow, or it would overwhelm me, so I thought about R.V. and Morgan James instead.
R.V. was once an eco-warrior. He’d tried to free the Wolf Man at the Cirque Du Freak. I’d stopped him but not before the Wolf Man had bitten his hands off. R.V. fled, survived, and blamed me for his misfortune. Some years later, he was discovered by Steve Leopard. Steve told the vampaneze to blood him, and the pair plotted my downfall. R.V. had been in the Cavern of Retribution when Mr. Crepsley was killed. That was the last time I’d seen him.
Morgan James was an ex–police officer. A vampet, one of the humans the vampaneze had recruited. Like the other vampets, he dressed in a brown shirt and black pants, shaved his head, painted circles of blood around his eyes, and had a “V” tattooed above each ear. Since he hadn’t been blooded, he was
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