I watched the spider move back and forth, up and down, her poisonous fangs glinting under the lights of the chandelier. The heat from the candles was intense. I was sweating a lot. It occurred to me that I could blame the slip of my fingers on the sweat.

Over his mouth she spun her web. His hands were down by his sides. He wouldn't be able to stop her. One wrong toot on the flute was all it would take. One broken note to stop the train of thought between the two of us, and…

I didn't do it. I played perfectly and safely. I wasn't sure why I spared the vampire. Maybe because Mr. Tall might know I'd killed him. Maybe because I needed Mr. Crepsley to teach me how to survive. Maybe because I didn't want to become a killer.

Or maybe, just maybe, because I was starting to like the vampire. After all, he'd brought me to the Cirque and made me part of his act. I wouldn't have met Evra and Sam if it hadn't been for him. He'd been kind to me, as kind as he could be.

Whatever the reason, I didn't let Madam Octa kill her master, and at the end of the act we took our bows and exited together.

"You thought about killing me," Mr. Crepsley said softly once we were backstage.

"What do you mean?" I played dumb.

"You know what I mean," he said. There was a pause. "It would not have worked. I milked most of the poison from her fangs before we went on. Killing the goat took the rest out of her."

"It was a test?" I stared at him, and my hatred grew again. "I thought you were being nice to me!" I cried. "And all the time it was just a test!"

His face was serious. "I had to know," he said. "I had to know if I could rely on you."

"Well, listen to this," I growled, standing on my toes so I could go eyeball to eyeball with him. "Your test was useless. I didn't kill you this time, but if I ever get the chance again, I'll take it!"

I stormed off without another word, too upset to stick around to see Cormac Limbs or the end of the show, feeling betrayed, even though deep down I knew what he said made sense.

Iwas still upset the next morning. Evra kept asking me what was wrong, but I wouldn't tell him. I didn't want him to know I'd been thinking of killing Mr. Crepsley.

Evra told me he'd met Sam and R.V. after the show. "Sam loved it," Evra said, "especially Cormac Limbs. You should have stayed to see Cormac in action. When he sawed his legs off…"

"I'll see him next time," I said. "How did R.V. take it?"

Evra frowned. "He wasn't happy."

"Upset about the goat?" I asked.

"Yeah," Evra said, "but not just that. I said we bought the goat from a butcher, so it would have been killed anyway. It was the wolf-man, the snake, and Mr. Crepsley's spider that bothered him the most."

"What was wrong with them ?" I asked.

"He was afraid they weren't being treated right. He didn't like the idea of them being locked in cages. I told him they weren't, except for the spider. I said the wolf-man was really quiet offstage. And I showed him my snake and how she slept with me."

"Did he believe you about the wolf-man?" I asked.

"I think so," Evra said, "although he still seemed suspicious when they were leaving. And he was very interested in their eating habits. He wanted to know what we fed them, how often, and where we got the food. We have to be careful with R.V. He could cause problems. Luckily, he should be leaving in a day or two, but until then, beware."

The day went by quietly. Sam didn't show up until later on in the afternoon, and none of us was in the mood for playing. It was a cloudy day, and we were all a little out of sorts. Sam only stayed for half an hour, then went home again.

Mr. Crepsley summoned me to his van a little after sunset. I wasn't going to go, but decided it was best not to annoy him too much. He was my guardian, after all, and could probably have me booted out of the Cirque Du Freak.

"What do you want?" I snapped when I arrived.

"Stand over here, where I can see you better," the vampire said.

He tilted my head backward with his bony fingers and rolled up my eyelids to check the whites of my eyes. He told me to open my mouth and peered down my throat. Then he checked my pulse and reflexes.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Tired," I said.

"Weak?" he asked. "Sick?"

"A bit."

He grunted. "Have you been drinking much blood lately?" he asked.

"As much as I'm supposed to," I said.

"But no human blood?"

"No," I said softly.

"Okay," he said. "Get ready. We are going out."

"Hunting?" I asked.

He shook his head. "To see a friend."

I got up on his back outside the van, and he began running.

When we were far enough away from the camp, he flitted and the world blurred around us.

I didn't really pay attention to where we were going. I was more concerned with my suit. I'd forgotten to get new clothes, and now, the more I examined it, the worse the suit seemed.

There were dozens of small holes and rips, and the color was a lot grayer than it was supposed to be, because of the dirt and dust. Strands of thread and fibers had come loose, and every time I shook an arm or a leg I looked like I was shedding hairs.

I'd never been very worried about clothes, but I didn't want to look like a bum. Tomorrow I'd definitely find something new to wear.

After a while we approached a city and Mr. Crepsley slowed down. He stopped outside the back of a tall building. I wanted to ask where we were, but he put a finger to his lips and made the sign for silence.

The back door was locked but Mr. Crepsley laid a hand over it and clicked the fingers of his other hand. It opened instantly. He led the way through a long, dark corridor, then up a set of stairs and into a brightly lit hallway.

After a few minutes, we came to a white desk. Mr. Crepsley looked around to make sure we were alone, then rang the bell that hung from one of the walls.

A figure appeared behind the glass wall on the other side of the desk. The door in the glass wall opened and a brown-haired man in a white uniform and green mask stepped through. He looked like a doctor.

"How may I —," he began, then stopped. "Larten Crepsley! What are you doing here, you old devil?"

The man pulled down his mask, and I saw he was grinning.

"Hello, Jimmy," Mr. Crepsley said. The two shook hands and smiled at each other. "Long time no see."

"Not as long as I thought it would be," the man called Jimmy said. "I heard you'd been killed. An old enemy finally rammed a stake through your rotten heart, or so the story went."

"You should not believe everything you hear," Mr. Crepsley said. He put a hand on my shoulder and nudged me forward. "Jimmy, this is Darren Shan, a traveling companion of mine. Darren, this is Jimmy Ovo, an old friend and the world's finest pathologist."

"Hello," I said.

"Pleased to meet you," Jimmy said, shaking my hand. "You aren't a… I mean, do you belong to the club ?"

"He is a vampire," Mr. Crepsley said.

"Only half of me," I snapped. "I'm not a full vampire."

"Please," Jimmy winced. "Don't use that word. I know what you guys are, and I'm fine with it, but that 'V' word never fails to freak me out." He shivered playfully. "I think it's because of all the horror movies I watched when I was a kid. I know you're not like those movie monsters, but it's hard to get the image out of my mind."

"What's a pathologist do?" I asked.

"I cut corpses open to see how they died," Jimmy explained. "I don't do it with a lot of bodies — just the ones who died in suspicious circumstances."

"This is a city morgue," Mr. Crepsley said. "They store bodies that arrive dead at the hospital or die while they're there."