Brothers to the Death
The fourth and final instalment in the epic saga of Larten Crepsley – vampire, hero and victim of fate…Just as Larten is finding a new place for himself in vampire society, and helping vampires escape the Nazi menace, horrifying tragedy falls on his own family thanks to the nefarious Vampaneze.With his old friend Wester calling for war against the ancient enemies of vampires, Larten finds himself a figurehead of the campaign.But there are more evil things than just the Vampaneze stirring. And soon, Larten might find himself grieving again – as he faces the worst and final betrayal…
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Dedication
For:
those I have lost on this journey â Granny, Grandad, Martha
OBEs (Order of the Bloody Entrails) to:
Eliza Segal â Australiaâs #1 vampire!
Tiffany McCall â parting is such sweet sorrow!
Fraternally edited by:
Nick Lake
Agent to the Death:
Christopher Little
Contents
Dedication
PART ONE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
PART TWO
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
PART THREE
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
PART FOUR
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
PART FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Other titles by Darren Shan
Copyright
On a grassy bank in a park on the outskirts of Paris, a young man lay beside a middle-aged woman, holding her hand. They were talking softly, shielded from the setting evening sun by a large umbrella. Those passing by thought they were perhaps a mother and son. None suspected that the orange-haired gentleman in the blood-red suit was more than twice the age of the woman.
âWhat do you think people would say if I kissed you?â Larten murmured.
Alicia giggled. âThere would be a scandal.â Much about her had changed over the years, but her giggle was the same as ever.
âI relish a juicy scandal,â Larten said, leaning closer towards her.
âDonât!â Alicia laughed, pushing him away. âYou know I donât like it when you tease me.â
âWhat if I was not teasing?â Larten asked with a smile. But the smile was for Aliciaâs benefit. He was serious â he did want to kiss her.
âThatâs sweet of you,â Alicia said. âBut Iâm an old woman. You canât have any real interest in me after all these decades. Iâm a wrinkly hag!â
âHardly,â Larten snorted. Alicia looked much older than him now, but in his eyes she was as beautiful as when theyâd first met almost thirty years ago.
Alicia rolled away from him, into the sunlight, where she stretched and lazily studied the clouds. Lartenâs smile never faltered, but inside he felt sad. It had been a decade and a half since his reunion with Alicia. They had met often over the course of those years. Each time he hoped sheâd kiss him, declare her love for him, accept him as her husband. He wanted things to be like they were in 1906, when they were engaged and madly in love.
But Alicia felt that she was too old to marry again, and if she ever did give her hand to another man, she wanted to give it to a man her own age. It didnât matter that Larten had been born almost eighty years before her. He looked like he was in his twenties and that was how she thought of him. To Alicia he could never be more than a friend. Larten had accepted that â he had no choice â but he couldnât help wishing he was more.
âThe children are having fun,â Alicia noted, nodding at a boy and girl playing by the edge of a small pond.
The girl was almost eighteen, a young woman who would probably marry soon and have children of her own. But Larten still thought of her as little Sylva. She was a tall, slim, pretty maid, but to him she would always be a cute, chubby baby.
The boy was in his thirties, but didnât look much older than Sylva. He was a vampire like Larten, ageing only one year for every ten that passed. He was of medium height, but broad, built like a wrestler. He could have thrown Sylva to the far side of the pond, but he always handled her gently, as Larten had taught him, careful never to squeeze too hard when he was holding her hand, knowing he could shatter every bone in her fingers if he did.
Gavner hadnât wanted to return to Paris. He had left under a cloud, swearing loyalty to Tanish Eul, a weak, selfish vampire who had killed an innocent woman to save his own thickly-layered neck. When Larten caught up with them and herded the killer to his execution, Gavner thought his world had ended. He hated the man whom heâd known since childhood as Vur Horston, and yearned to strike him dead.
Larten had granted him that opportunity. Handing Gavner a knife, the General told him that he had killed Gavnerâs parents. He said that Gavner had every right to extract revenge and he offered himself to the bewildered teenager.
Gavner would never forget how close heâd come to stabbing Larten. His mind was in a whirl. Tanish Eulâs sudden death had shocked him. When he learnt that Larten had killed his parents too, it seemed like the only way to end the madness was to murder the orange-haired vampire. His fingers tightened and he tried to drive the knife forward into Lartenâs heart, stopping it forever.
But something held him back. He still wasnât sure why he hadnât struck. Maybe it had been the calm acceptance in Lartenâs eyes, the fact that he wasnât afraid of death, that he felt like he deserved to die. Perhaps it was because the vampire had been true to him for the first time in his life, and Gavner couldnât kill a man for telling the truth. Or maybe he just didnât have a killerâs instinct.
