Birth of a Killer by Darren Shan Page A

small amount of blood around their necks and the pale shade of their faces, that their killer had drunk from them. No, even worse than that—they had been
drained
.

Chapter Thirteen
    Larten was horrified. This looked like the work of a vampire. But Seba had sworn to him that the children of the night did not kill. He’d said that the Generals quickly put an end to any vampire who slaughtered humans without just cause. This could be the work of a mad, rogue vampire… or maybe Larten’s master had lied to him.
    The weeping boy was obviously related to the corpses—they shared the same build and facial features. The man and woman were his parents, and the dead boy and girl were his brother and sister. Larten’s heart immediately went out to the orphan. He knew how painful it was to lose those whom you loved.
    Larten was nudged aside as a man with long gray hair moved forward for a better look. The man cursed but didn’t step back as others had. He wiped sweat from his cheeks, then cleared his throat.
    “My Diana saw something pass our house this morning, just before daybreak.” A silence fell upon the men, and all eyes focused on the newcomer. He looked nervous–he didn’t like the attention–but he went on. “She was out back. A shadow passed in the dark. She said it looked like a man, but at the same time it didn’t. She thought it was a monster. I told her not to be daft—kids are always imagining things in the dark. But when I heard about this…”
    The man crossed himself. The boy was staring at the man now, his eyes starting to clear, fury filling the gap that grief left behind.
    “Where did this
monster
go?” one of the other men asked.
    “Towards Strasling’s,” the man said, and a fearful sigh swept through the crowd.
    The boy rose slowly, his gaze still fixed on the gray-haired man, who gulped and said, “Did you see anything, Wester?”
    The boy shook his head. “I was sleeping in the shed. Jon had a cold and was snoring like a pig. I went to the shed to escape the noise.”
    “We should go to Strasling’s,” a woman cried from behind them. “Take crosses and stakes and…”
    She fell silent when others glared at her. Larten was surprised by their reaction. He’d assumed the villagers would be eager for revenge. But as he glanced around, he saw that most were looking at the floor with shame.
    “We all know why this happened,” Wester said. He had a soft voice, and there was a trembling edge to it, but he spoke clearly. “My da helped kill one of those beasts last year. We moved to a new home afterwards, in case any of its kin came seeking revenge, but they must have found us anyway. Ma tried to tell him we hadn’t gone far enough, but he wouldn’t…”
    Tears welled in the boy’s eyes, and he stalled. People blessed themselves and muttered words of consolation. But nobody slid forward to embrace Wester or pledge their support.
    “I’ve got to go to Strasling’s,” Wester said, brushing away tears. “I know if any of you come with me, and we kill this monster, another might come looking for you and your folk, like this one came for my da and us. I won’t ask for help, but I’d appreciate it if anyone offers.”
    Wester stood over the bodies of his dead family, head low, awaiting a response. When nobody said aword, he nodded sadly and picked up a bag lying to the left of his father. “I’d be grateful if you’d bury them, and me too if you find my bones.”
    The boy strode through the ranks of men–they parted before him like a flock of sheep breaking ahead of a wolf–and marched up the aisle. He slipped out and closed the door softly behind him.
    “We should help!” the woman who’d spoken earlier shouted. “If we don’t, we’re nothing but—”
    “We know what we are!” one of the men roared. “You think any of us wants to let a child like that go off by himself? But Jess Flack interfered, and look where it got him. If he’d left the monster alone when it came