Read Online The Lake of Souls by Darren Shan - Free Book Online
Authors: Darren Shan
Tags: JUV001000
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rope. I released it with snake-like speed, collapsed to my stomach and clutched for Harkat’s hands.
I missed his hands, but my fingers closed on the left sleeve of his blue robes. There was a terrifying ripping sound and I thought I’d lost him, but the material held, and after a few dangerous, dangling seconds I was able to haul the Little Person up out of the pit.
Rolling onto his back, Harkat stared up at the sky, his grey, stitched-together face looking even more like a corpse’s than usual. I tried to get up, but my legs were trembling, so I flopped beside him and the two of us lay there in silence, breathing heavily, marveling inwardly at the fact that we were still alive.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I PATCHED HARKAT UP as best I could, cleaning out his wounds with water from the stream, slicing my sweater into strips to use as bandages. If I’d been a full-vampire I could have used my spit to close his cuts, but as a half-vampire I lacked that ability.
The wounds to his face — where the panther had clawed him — should have been stitched, but neither of us had any thread or needles. I suggested improvising and using a small bone and animal hair, but Harkat waved the idea away. “I have enough stitches.” He grinned. “Let it heal as it likes. I can’t get any uglier … than I already am.”
“That’s true,” I agreed, and laughed as he swatted me round the back of my head. I swiftly grew serious again. “If infection sets in …”
“Looking on the bright side as usual,” he groaned, then shrugged. “If it sets in, I’m finished — no … hospitals here. Let’s not worry … about it.”
I helped Harkat to his feet and we returned to the edge of the pit to gaze down at the panther. Harkat was limping worse than normal — he’d always had a slight limp in his left leg — but he said he wasn’t in much pain. The panther was five feet in length and thickly built. As we stared at it, I could hardly believe we’d bested it in the fight. Not for the first time in my life, I got the feeling that if vampire gods existed, they were keeping a close watch on me and lending a helping hand whenever I strayed out of my depth.
“You know what worries me … the most?” Harkat asked after a while. “Mr. Tiny said the panther was … the
least
of our worries. That means there’s worse ahead!”
“Now who’s being pessimistic?” I snorted. “Want me to go down and get the panther out?”
“Let’s wait until morning,” Harkat said. “We’ll build a good fire, eat, rest … and drag the panther … up tomorrow.”
That sounded good to me, so while Harkat made a fire — using flinty stones to create sparks — I butchered the deer and set about carving it up. Once upon a time I might have let the deer go, but vampires are predators. We hunt and kill without remorse, the same as any other animal of the wilds.
The meat, when we cooked it, was tough, stringy, and unappealing, but we ate ravenously, both aware of how fortunate we were not to
be
the main course that night.
I climbed down into the pit in the morning and pulled the panther off the stakes. Leaving the baboon where it lay I passed the panther’s carcass up to Harkat. It wasn’t as easy as it sounds — the panther was very heavy — but we were stronger than humans, so it wasn’t one of our harder tasks.
We studied the panther’s gleaming black corpse, wondering how it would tell us where to go. “Maybe we have to slice it open,” I suggested. “There might be a box or canister inside.”
“Worth trying,” Harkat agreed, and rolled the panther over on its back, presenting us with its smooth, soft stomach.
“Wait!” I shouted as Harkat prepared to make the first cut. The hair on the panther’s underside wasn’t quite as dark as elsewhere. I could see the stretched skin of its stomach — and there was something drawn on it! I searched among our makeshift knives for one with a long, straight edge, then scraped away some of the
I missed his hands, but my fingers closed on the left sleeve of his blue robes. There was a terrifying ripping sound and I thought I’d lost him, but the material held, and after a few dangerous, dangling seconds I was able to haul the Little Person up out of the pit.
Rolling onto his back, Harkat stared up at the sky, his grey, stitched-together face looking even more like a corpse’s than usual. I tried to get up, but my legs were trembling, so I flopped beside him and the two of us lay there in silence, breathing heavily, marveling inwardly at the fact that we were still alive.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I PATCHED HARKAT UP as best I could, cleaning out his wounds with water from the stream, slicing my sweater into strips to use as bandages. If I’d been a full-vampire I could have used my spit to close his cuts, but as a half-vampire I lacked that ability.
The wounds to his face — where the panther had clawed him — should have been stitched, but neither of us had any thread or needles. I suggested improvising and using a small bone and animal hair, but Harkat waved the idea away. “I have enough stitches.” He grinned. “Let it heal as it likes. I can’t get any uglier … than I already am.”
“That’s true,” I agreed, and laughed as he swatted me round the back of my head. I swiftly grew serious again. “If infection sets in …”
“Looking on the bright side as usual,” he groaned, then shrugged. “If it sets in, I’m finished — no … hospitals here. Let’s not worry … about it.”
I helped Harkat to his feet and we returned to the edge of the pit to gaze down at the panther. Harkat was limping worse than normal — he’d always had a slight limp in his left leg — but he said he wasn’t in much pain. The panther was five feet in length and thickly built. As we stared at it, I could hardly believe we’d bested it in the fight. Not for the first time in my life, I got the feeling that if vampire gods existed, they were keeping a close watch on me and lending a helping hand whenever I strayed out of my depth.
“You know what worries me … the most?” Harkat asked after a while. “Mr. Tiny said the panther was … the
least
of our worries. That means there’s worse ahead!”
“Now who’s being pessimistic?” I snorted. “Want me to go down and get the panther out?”
“Let’s wait until morning,” Harkat said. “We’ll build a good fire, eat, rest … and drag the panther … up tomorrow.”
That sounded good to me, so while Harkat made a fire — using flinty stones to create sparks — I butchered the deer and set about carving it up. Once upon a time I might have let the deer go, but vampires are predators. We hunt and kill without remorse, the same as any other animal of the wilds.
The meat, when we cooked it, was tough, stringy, and unappealing, but we ate ravenously, both aware of how fortunate we were not to
be
the main course that night.
I climbed down into the pit in the morning and pulled the panther off the stakes. Leaving the baboon where it lay I passed the panther’s carcass up to Harkat. It wasn’t as easy as it sounds — the panther was very heavy — but we were stronger than humans, so it wasn’t one of our harder tasks.
We studied the panther’s gleaming black corpse, wondering how it would tell us where to go. “Maybe we have to slice it open,” I suggested. “There might be a box or canister inside.”
“Worth trying,” Harkat agreed, and rolled the panther over on its back, presenting us with its smooth, soft stomach.
“Wait!” I shouted as Harkat prepared to make the first cut. The hair on the panther’s underside wasn’t quite as dark as elsewhere. I could see the stretched skin of its stomach — and there was something drawn on it! I searched among our makeshift knives for one with a long, straight edge, then scraped away some of the
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