Cirque Du Freak The Vampire's Assistant Read Online Free PDF Page A

memories and feelings," he said.
    "They become part of us, and we can see the world the way they saw it and remember things which might otherwise have been forgotten."

    "Like what?"

    He thought a moment. "One of my dearest friends is called Paris Skyle," he said. "He is very old.
    Many centuries ago, he was friends with William Shakespeare."

    "The William Shakespeare - the guy who wrote the plays?"

    Mr. Crepsley nodded. "Plays and poems. But not all of Shakespeare's poetry was recorded; some of his most famous verses were lost. When Shakespeare was dying, Paris drank from him -
    Shakespeare asked him to - and was able to tap into those lost poems and have them written down. The world would have been a poorer place without them."

    "But..." I stopped. "Do you only do that with people who ask, and who are dying?"

    "Yes," he said. "It would be evil to kill a healthy person. But to drink from friends who are close to death, and keep their memories and experiences alive..."He smiled. "That is very good indeed.

    "Come," he said then. "Brood about it on the way. We must be off."

    I jumped on Mr. Crepsley's back when we were ready to leave, and off we flitted. He still hadn't explained how he could move so fast. It wasn't that he ran quickly; it was more like the world slipped by as he ran. He said all full vampires could flit.

    It was nice, watching the countryside drift away behind us. We ran up hills and across the vast plains, faster than the wind. There was total silence while we were flitting and nobody ever noticed us. It was like we were surrounded by a magic bubble.

    While we flitted I thought about what Mr. Crepsley had said, about keeping people's memories alive by drinking from them. I wasn't sure how that would work, and I made up my mind to ask him about it sometime later.

    Flitting was hard work; the vampire was sweating and I could see him starting to struggle. To help, I took out a bottle of human blood, uncorked it, and held it to his lips so he could drink.

    He nodded his silent thanks, wiped the sweat from his brow, and kept going.

    Finally, as the sky was beginning to lighten, he slowed to a halt. I climbed down off his back and looked around. We were in the middle of a country road, fields and trees all around us, with no houses in sight.

    "Where's the Cirque Du Freak?" I asked.

    "A few miles farther ahead," he said, pointing. He was kneeling down, panting for breath.

    "Did you run out of steam?" I asked, holding back my laughter.

    "No." He glared. "I could have made it, but did not want to arrive looking flushed."

    "You'd better not rest too long," I warned him. "Morning's on its way."

    "I know precisely what time it is!" he snapped. "I know more about mornings and dawns than any living human. We have plenty of time on our side. A whole forty-three minutes yet."

    "If you say so."

    "I do." He stood, annoyed, and began to walk. I waited until he was a little in front, then ran ahead of him.

    "Hurry up, old man," I teased. "You're getting left behind."

    "Keep it up," he growled. "See what it gets you. A smack on the ear and a kick in the pants."

    He started running after a couple of minutes, and the two of us jogged along, side by side. I was in a good mood, happier than I'd been for months. It was nice having something to look forward to.

    We passed a bunch of grungy campers on our way.

    They were starting to wake up and move around. A couple waved to us. They were funny-
    looking people: long hair, strange clothes, weighed down with fancy earrings and bracelets.

    There were banners and flags all over the camp. I tried reading them, but it was hard to focus while I was jogging, and I didn't want to stop. From what I could tell, the campers had something to do with a protest against a new road.

    The road was really curvy. After the fifth turn, we finally spotted the Cirque Du Freak, nestled in a clearing by the banks of a river. It was quiet - everyone was sleeping, I imagined - and if