"What did you do?" I gasped.

"I punched and kicked him and tried to knock him off. Fortunately he'd lost too much blood and hadn't the strength to kill me. But he died on top of me, his blood drenching me, his face next to mine as he shuddered and sobbed and…"

Steve looked away. I didn't press him for further details.

"Since then I've learnt to use those." He nodded at the arrow 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, though two of those were mad and would have died before long anyway."

I was impressed. "That's more than most vampires kill."

"Humans have an advantage over vampires," Steve said. "We can move about and strike by day. In a fair contest, a vampaneze would wipe the floor with me. But if you catch them in the day, while they're sleeping…

"Although," he added, "that's changing. The last few I've tracked have been accompanied by humans. I wasn't able to get close enough to kill them. It's the first time I've heard of vampaneze travelling with human assistants."

"They're called vampets," I told him.

He frowned. "How do you know? I thought the families of the night had nothing to do with one another."

"We hadn't until recently," I said grimly, then glanced at my watch. Steve's story wasn't complete — he still hadn't explained how he'd wound up here — but it was time I made a move. It was getting late and I didn't want Harkat to worry. "Will you come to my hotel with me? You can finish telling me about yourself there. Besides, there's someone I'd like you to share your story with."

"Mr. Crepsley?" Steve guessed.

"No. He's away on… business. This is somebody else."

"Who?"

"It would take too long to explain. Will you come?"

He hesitated a moment, then said he would. But he stopped to grab his arrow guns before we left — I had a feeling Steve didn't even go to the toilet without his weapons!

DURING THE walk to the hotel, I filled Steve in on what I'd been up to. It was a greatly condensed version, but I covered most of the bases, and told him about the War of the Scars and how it started.

"The Lord of the Vampaneze," he muttered. "I thought it was strange, how they were organizing."

I asked Steve about my family and friends, but he hadn't been home since he was sixteen, and knew nothing about them.

At the hotel he clambered on to my back and I scaled the outside wall. The stitches in my leg strained with the effort, but held. I rapped on the window and Harkat quickly appeared and let us in. He stared suspiciously at Steve but said nothing until I'd made the introductions.

"Steve Leopard," he mused. "I've heard much… about you."

"None of it good, I bet," Steve laughed, rubbing his hands together — he hadn't taken off his gloves, although he'd loosened his scarf slightly. There was a strong medicinal smell coming from him, which I only noticed now that we were in a warm, normal room.

"What's he doing here?" Harkat asked me, green eyes pinned on Steve. I gave him a quick run-down. Harkat relaxed slightly when he heard that Steve had saved my life, but remained on guard. "You think it was wise to bring… him here?"

"He's my friend," I said shortly. "He saved my life."

"But he knows where we are now."

"So?" I snapped.

"Harkat's right," Steve said. "I'm human. If I fell into the hands of the vampaneze, they could torture the name of this place out of me. You should move on to somewhere new in the morning, and not tell me about it."

"I don't think that will be necessary," I said stiffly, angry with Harkat for not trusting Steve.

There was an uncomfortable silence. "Well!" Steve laughed, breaking it. "It's rude to ask, but I have to. What on earth are you, Harkat Mulds?"

The Little Person grinned at the directness of the question and warmed to Steve a bit. Asking Steve to sit, he told him about himself, how he was a ghost who'd been brought back to life by Mr. Tiny. Steve was astounded. "I've never heard anything like this before!" he exclaimed. "I was interested in the small people in the blue robes when I saw them at the Cirque Du Freak — I sensed there was something weird about them. But with all that's happened since, they'd slipped my mind entirely."

Harkat's revelation — that he'd been a ghost — unnerved Steve. "Something wrong?" I asked.

"Kind of," he muttered. "I never believed in life after death. When I killed, I thought that was the end of the matter. Knowing that people have souls, that they can survive death and even come back… It's not the most welcome news."

"Afraid the vampaneze you killed will come after you?" I smirked.

"Something like that." Shaking his head, Steve settled down and finished telling the story he'd started earlier that night in his apartment. "I came here two months ago, when I heard reports of what appeared to be a vampaneze presence. I thought the killer must be a mad vampaneze, since normally only the crazy ones leave bodies where they can be found. But what I discovered was far more disturbing."

Steve was a highly resourceful investigator. He'd managed to examine three of the victims, and found minor differences in the ways they'd been killed. "Vampaneze — even the crazy ones — have highly developed drinking patterns. No two kill and drain a victim exactly alike, and no vampaneze varies his method. There had to be more than one of them at work."

And since mad vampaneze were by their nature loners, Steve concluded that the killers must be sane.

"But it doesn't make sense," he sighed. "Sane vampaneze shouldn't leave bodies where they can be found. As far as I can figure, they're setting a trap for someone, though I've no idea who."

I glanced questioningly at Harkat. He hesitated, then nodded. "Tell him," he said, and I told Steve about the fake forms which had been sent to Mahler's.

"They're after you?" Steve asked incredulously.

"Possibly," I said. "Or Mr. Crepsley. But we're not entirely sure. Somebody else might be behind it, someone who wants to pit us against the vampaneze."

Steve thought about that in silence.

"You still haven't told us how you were… there to save Darren tonight," Harkat said, interrupting Steve's reverie.

Steve shrugged. "Luck. I've been turning this city upside-down, searching for vampaneze. The killers aren't in any of their usual hiding places — abandoned factories or buildings, crypts, old theatres. Eight nights ago, I spotted a large man with hooks for hands emerging from an underground tunnel."

"That's the guy who attacked me," I told Harkat. "He has three hooks on either arm. One hand's made of gold, the other of silver."

"I've been following him every night since," Steve continued. "It isn't easy for a human to trail a vampaneze — their senses are much more acute — but I've had plenty of practice. Sometimes I lose him, but I always pick him up again exiting the tunnels at dusk."

"He comes out the same way every night?" I asked.

"Of course not," Steve snorted. "Even a crazy vampaneze wouldn't do that."

"Then how do you find him?"

"By wiring manhole covers." Steve beamed proudly. "Vampaneze won't use the same exit night after night, but they tend to stick to a strictly defined area when they set up base. I wired every manhole cover within a two hundred metre radius — I've extended that to half a kilometre since. Whenever one of them opens, a light flashes on a kit I have, and it's a simple matter to track the vampaneze down.