Shan, Darren - Cirque Du Freak 07 - Hunters Of The Dusk

MR TINYpaused briefly when he reached us. The short, plump man was wearing a shabby yellow suit — a thin jacket, no overcoat — with childish-looking green Wellington boots and a chunky pair of glasses. The heart-shaped watch he always carried hung by a chain from the front of his jacket. Some said Mr Tiny was an agent of fate — his first name was Desmond, and if you shortened it and put the two names together, you gotMr Destiny .

"You've grown, young Shan," he said, running an eye over me. "And you, Harkat …" He smiled at the Little Person, whose green eyes seemed wider and rounder than ever. "Youhave changed beyond recognition. Wearing your hood down, working for vampires — and talking!"

"You knew … I could talk," Harkat muttered, slipping back into his old broken speech habits. "You always … knew."

Mr Tiny nodded, then started forward. "Enough of the chit-chat, boys. I have work to do and I must be quick. Time is precious. A volcano's due to erupt on a small tropical island tomorrow. Everybody within a ten-kilometre radius will be roasted alive. I want to be there — it sounds like great fun."

He wasn't joking. That's why everyone feared him — he took pleasure in tragedies which left anyone halfway human shaken to their very core.

We followed Mr Tiny up the mountain, trailed by the two Little People. Harkat looked back often at his 'brothers'. I think he was communicating with them — the Little People can read each others thoughts — but he said nothing to me about it.

Mr Tiny entered the mountain by a different tunnel to the one we'd used. It was a tunnel I'd never been in, higher, wider and drier than most. There were no twists or side tunnels leading off it. It rose straight and steady up the spine of the mountain. Mr Tiny spotted me staring at the walls of the unfamiliar tunnel. "This is one of my short cuts," he said. "I've short cuts all over the world, in places you wouldn't dream of. Saves time."

As we progressed, we passed groups of very pale-skinned humans in rags, lining the sides of the tunnel, bowing low to Mr Tiny. These were the Guardians of the Blood, people who lived within Vampire Mountain and donated their blood to the vampires. In return, they were allowed to extract a vampire's internal organs and brain when he died — which they ate at special ceremonies!

I felt nervous walking past the ranks of Guardians — I'd never seen so many of them gathered together before — but Mr Tiny only smiled and waved at them, and didn't stop to exchange any words.

Within a quarter of an hour we were at the gate which opened on to the Halls of Vampire Mountain. The guard on duty swung the door wide open when we knocked but stopped when he saw Mr Tiny and half closed it again. "Who are you?" he snapped defensively, hand snaking to the sword on his belt.

"You know who I am, Perlat Cheil," Mr Tiny said, brushing past the startled guard.

"How do you know my—?" Perlat Cheil began, then stopped and gazed after the departing figure. He was trembling and his hand had fallen away from his sword. "Is that who I think it is?" he asked as I passed with Harkat and the Little People.

"Yes," I said simply.

"Charna's guts!" he gasped, and made the death's touch sign by pressing the middle finger of his right hand to his forehead, and the two fingers next to that over his eyelids. It was a sign vampires made when they thought death was close.

Through the tunnels we marched, silencing conversations and causing jaws to drop. Even those who'd never met Mr Tiny recognized him, stopped what they were doing and fell in behind us, following wordlessly, as though trailing a hearse.

There was only one tunnel leading to the Hall of Princes — I'd found another six years ago, but that had since been blocked off — and it was protected by the Mountain's finest guards. They were supposed to stop and search anyone seeking entry to the Hall, but when Mr Tiny approached, they gawped at him, lowered their weapons, then let him — and the rest of the procession — pass unobstructed.

Mr Tiny finally stopped at the doors of the Hall and glanced at the domed building which he'd built six centuries earlier. "It's stood the test of time quite well, hasn't it?" he remarked to no one in particular. Then, laying a hand on the doors, he opened them and entered. Only Princes were supposed to be able to open the doors, but it didn't surprise me that Mr Tiny had the power to control them too.

Mika and Paris were within the Hall, discussing the war with a gaggle of Generals. There were a lot of sore heads and bleary eyes, but everyone snapped to attention when they saw Mr Tiny striding in.

"By the teeth of the gods!" Paris gasped, his face whitening. He cringed as Mr Tiny set foot on the platform of thrones, then drew himself straight and forced a tight smile. "Desmond," he said, "it is good to see you."

"You too, Paris," Mr Tiny responded.

"To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?" Paris enquired with strained politeness.