Allies of the Night (The Saga of Darren Shan, Book 8)
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Darren Shan, Vampire Prince and "vampaneze" killer, faces his worst nightmare yet--school. But homework is the least of Darren's problems. Bodies are piling up. Time is running out. And the past is catching up with the hunters fast.
easy a start as I could have wished for. The teacher was helpful, I was able to keep up with most of what was being discussed, and I thought I’d be able to catch up with the rest of the class within a few weeks. Math, which came next, was a different matter entirely. I knew after five minutes that I was in trouble. I’d covered only basic math in school, and had forgotten most of the little I used to know. I could divide and multiply, but that was as far as my expertise stretched — which, I
guns. “They’re the best there is. An axe is good too — if you have a good aim and the strength to chop a head clean off — but stay away from ordinary guns — they’re not reliable where the extra tough bones and muscles of the vampaneze are concerned.” “I’ll bear that in mind,” I said, grinning sickly, then asked how many vampaneze Steve had killed. “Six, although two of those were mad and would have died before long anyway.” I was impressed. “That’s more than most vampires kill.” “Humans have
He set out to free the Wolf Man — he thought we were mistreating him — but the savage bit his arms off. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been fleeing into the night, screaming loudly, “My hands! My hands!” Now he was here. With the vampaneze. And I began to understand why I’d been set up and who was behind it. “You sent those forms to Mahler’s!” I accused him. He grinned slyly, then shook his head. “With hands like these?” He waved the hooks at me. “They’re good for chopping and slicing and
the rest of us. There was only one thing for it — I had to try and force a stand-off. Grabbing Steve by his long grey hair, I jammed my knife against the flesh of his throat. “If she dies, he dies,” I growled and I saw doubt fill R.V.’s eyes. “Don’t play games with me,” the hook-handed vampaneze warned. “Let him go or I kill her.” “If she dies, he dies,” I said again. R.V. cursed, then glanced over his shoulder for help. The battle was going the way of the vampaneze. Those who’d stumbled in
radio. When I hear her singing along to some corny ballad, I slip downstairs and out the front door. I don’t know what’s going on, but now that I know I’m not set to go toes-up, I’m determined to see it through with them. I don’t care what sort of a mess they’re in. I won’t let Mom, Dad, and Gret freeze me out, no matter how bad it is. We’re a family. We should face things together. That’s what Mom and Dad always taught me. Padding through the streets, covering the four miles home as quickly as