Hunters of the Dusk Read Free Page A

was a number on each flag, linking it to reports in our files, so we knew exactly what each flag represented. After a few minutes, I found the relevant sheets of paper and quickly scanned them.
    “Of the vampaneze seen there,” I muttered, “two were heading into the city. The other was leaving. The first red flag’s from a year ago — four Generals were killed in a large clash with several vampaneze.”
    “And the second red flag marks the spot where Staffen Irve lost two of his men,” Mr. Crepsley said. “It was when I was adding this flag to the map that I noticed the degree of activity around the city.”
    “Do you think it means anything?” I asked. It was unusual for so many vampaneze to be sighted in one location.
    “I am not sure,” he said. “The vampaneze may have made a base there, but I do not see why — it is out of the way of their other strongholds.”
    “We could send someone to check,” I suggested. He considered that, then shook his head. “We have already lost too many Generals there. It is not a strategically important site. Best to leave it alone.”
    Mr. Crepsley rubbed the long scar that divided the flesh on the left side of his face and went on staring at the map. He’d cut his orange crop of hair tighter than usual — most vampires were cutting their hair short, because of the ticks — and he looked almost bald in the strong light of the Hall.
    “It bothers you, doesn’t it?” I noted.
    He nodded. “If they
have
set up a base, they must be feeding on the humans. I still consider it home, and I do not like to think of my spiritual neighbors and relations suffering at the hands of the vampaneze.”
    “We could send in a team to get rid of them.”
    He sighed. “That would not be fitting. I would be putting personal considerations before the welfare of the clan. If I ever get out in the field, I shall check on the situation myself, but there is no need to send others.”
    “What are the chances of you and me ever getting out of here?” I asked. I didn’t enjoy fighting, but after six years cooped up inside the mountain, I’d have given my fingernails for a few nights out in the open, even if it meant taking on a dozen vampaneze singlehanded.
    “The way things stand — poor,” Mr. Crepsley admitted. “I think we will be stuck here until the end of the war. If one of the other Princes suffers a serious injury and withdraws from battle, we might have to replace him. Otherwise . . .” He drummed his fingers on the map and grimaced.
    “
You
don’t have to stay,” I said quietly. “There are plenty of others who could guide me.”
    He barked a laugh. “There are plenty who would steer you,” he agreed, “but how many would clip you around the ear if you made an error?”
    “Not many,” I said, chuckling.
    “They think of you as a Prince,” he said, “whereas I still think of you first and foremost as a meddlesome little brat with a
penchant
for stealing spiders.”
    “Charming!” I huffed. I knew he was kidding — Mr. Crepsley always treated me with the respect my position deserved — but there was some truth to his teasing. There was a special bond between Mr. Crepsley and me, like between a father and son. He could say things to me that no other vampire would dare. I’d be lost without him.
    Placing the map of Mr. Crepsley’s former home to one side, we returned to the more important business of the night, little dreaming of the events that would eventually lead us back to the city of Mr. Crepsley’s youth and the awful confrontation with evil that awaited us there.

CHAPTER FOUR
    T HE HALLS AND TUNNELS of Vampire Mountain were buzzing with excitement — Mika Ver Leth had returned after an absence of five years, and the rumor was that he had news of the Vampaneze Lord! I was in my cell, resting, when word came. Wasting no time, I pulled on my clothes and hurried to the Hall of Princes at the top of the mountain, to check if the stories were true.
    Mika