Hunters of the Dusk Read Online Free PDF

outstretched arm. “We’ll find a fire and —”
    “Hello, boys!” somebody yelled from within the circle of trees. “Are you the welcoming committee?”
    Letting go of Harkat’s arm, I stood beside him — now as stiff as he was — and stared again into the cluster of trees. I thought I recognized that voice — though I hoped I was wrong!
    Moments later, three figures emerged from the gloom. Two were Little People, who looked almost exactly like Harkat, except they had their hoods up and moved with a stiffness that Harkat had worked out of his system during his years among the vampires. The third was a small, smiling, white-haired man, who struck more fear in me than a band of invading vampaneze.
    Mr. Tiny!
    After more than six hundred years, Desmond Tiny had returned to Vampire Mountain, and I knew as he strode toward us, beaming, like a rat catcher in league with the Pied Piper of Hamlin, that his reappearance meant nothing but trouble.

CHAPTER SIX
    M R. TINY PAUSED when he reached us. The short, plump man was wearing a shabby yellow suit — a thin jacket, no overcoat — with childish-looking green rain 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 got
Mr. 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. “
You
have 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 chitchat, 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-mile 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 that 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 other’s thoughts — but he said nothing to me about it.
    Mr. Tiny entered the mountain by a different tunnel from 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 up the spine of the mountain. Mr. Tiny saw me staring at the walls of the unfamiliar tunnel. “This is one of my shortcuts,” he said. “I’ve shortcuts 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 talk.
    Within a quarter of an hour we were at the gate that opened onto 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