Darren Shan - Birth of a Killer

Copyright 2010 by Darren Shan

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Little, Brown and Company

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First eBook Edition: October 2010

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

ISBN: 978-0-316-12914-5

For:

Pearse and Conallchildren of the night!

OBE (Order of the Bloody Entrails) to:

Rachel Clementsone year down, only a couple of hundred to go!!

Isobel Abulhoul and all of the Shantastic gang in Dubai

Editorial Mentor:

Nick The Blood Ninja Lake

General Masterminds:

Christopher Little and his Princely clan

Are cobwebs a treat where you come from?

When Larten Crepsley awoke and yawned one gray Tuesday morning, he had no idea that by midday he would have become a killer.

He lay on his bed of sacks packed with straw, staring at specks of dust drifting through the air. The house where he lived was cramped and dark, and the room where he slept never caught the sun except at dawn. He often woke a few minutes earlier than necessary, before his mother roared for the family to get up. It was his only quiet time of the day, his one chance to lie back idly and grin lazily at the world.

There were six children in the room, five of them snoring and shifting in their sleep. Larten came from a crop of eight, but two had died young, and his eldest sister left a year ago to marry. Although she was only fourteen, Larten suspected their parents were glad to be rid of hershe had never been an especially hard worker and brought home little money.

Up! Lartens mother roared from the room next to theirs, and pounded the thin wall a couple of times.

The children groaned and crawled out of bed. They bumped into one another as they tried to find their way to the bedpan, the older siblings cuffing their younger brothers and sisters. Larten lay where he was, smiling smugly. He had already done his business while everyone else was asleep.

Vur Horston shared the room with the five Crepsley children. Vur was a cousin of theirs. His parents had died when he was three years old, his father in an accident at work, his mother of some disease. Lartens mother had been keeping a close watch on the sickly widow and moved in quickly to take the baby. An extra pair of hands was always useful. The boy would be a burden for a few years, but children that age didnt eat much, and, assuming Vur survived, he could be put to work young and earn his foster parents a nice little income.

Larten felt closer to Vur than to any of his real siblings. Larten had been in the kitchen when his mother brought the silent, solemn boy home. After giving Vur some bread soaked in milka rare treatshed stuck him by Lartens side and told her son to look after the waif and keep him out of her way.

Larten had eyed the newcomer suspiciously, jealous of the gift his mother had given the stranger. In return, Vur had stared at Larten innocently, then tore the bread down the middle and offered his cousin the bigger half. They had been best friends ever since.

Up! Lartens mother roared again, slamming the wall just once this time. The children blinked the last traces of sleep from their eyes and quickly threw on their clothes. She would come crashing in on them soon, and if they werent dressed and ready to go, her fists would fly.

Vur, Larten murmured, nudging his cousin in the ribs.

Im awake, Vur replied, turning to show Larten his smile.

Dont you need to go? Larten asked.

Im bursting, Vur giggled.

Hurry up! Larten shouted at one of his younger sisters, who was squatting over the bedpan as if she owned it.

Go in the bed if youre that desperate, she jeered.

You might as well, Larten said to Vur. It wasnt uncommon for them to wet the bedthe great thing about straw was that it dried swiftly.

No, Vur said, gritting his teeth. I can wait.

Lartens clothes were on the floor next to the bed. He pulled them on, not removing the thin vest that he slept in. Lartens mother was an orderly woman. She did the family laundry every other Sunday. All the children had to wait in their beds, naked beneath the covers, until their clothes were returned. Then they would wear them without changing for the next fortnight.

Lartens sister finished on the bedpan. Before his youngest brother could claim it, Larten darted across the room, snatched it, and passed it to Vur, careful not to spill the contents.

My hero, Vur laughed, loosely aiming with one hand while he rubbed yellow crust from his eyes with the other.

Although Vur was Lartens age, he was much smallera thin, weak, mild-mannered boy. He seldom fought for anything, happy to go without if he was challenged. Larten often stood up for his cousin, even though Vur never asked for help.

Whats keeping you? Lartens mother screeched, sticking her head in and glaring at the children.

Coming! they roared, and those nearest to her ducked through the doorway, even if they werent finished dressing.

Vur! she yelled.

Just a second! he panted, straining to finish.

Lartens mother squinted at the boy, deciding whether or not to punish him. In the end she just sniffed and withdrew. Larten sighed happily. He didnt mind when she hit himhe could take a fierce whippingbut he hated it when she hurt Vur. Lartens father almost never struck the frail orphan, but his wife whacked him as much as the others. They were all equal in her eyes.

When Vur was finished with the bedpan, Larten tossed his clothes at him and hurried down the stairs to the crowded kitchen, where his brothers and sisters were already making short work of breakfast.

There was never much to eat, and those who grabbed first got the most. Their father, whod shuffled off to work three hours earlier, had generously left some strips of pigs ears for themhe always shared what he could with his family. The older children seized upon the gristly treats with excitement. By the time Larten and Vur arrived, the strips were gone, and they had to make do with stale bread and watery porridge.

Larten tore bread from the fingers of his eldest brotherthey were slippery from the grease of a pigs earand passed it to Vur, laughing as he bobbed out of the way of his brothers swinging fist. Taking a couple of small, chipped bowls, he dipped them into the pot of porridge, filled them to the top, and hurried to where Vur was waiting by the back door. He licked drips from the sides as he crossed the room, eager not to waste any.

They ate in silence, chewing the crust of the dry bread as if it were meat, using the rest to soak up the watery porridge. Larten was quicker than Vur and managed to refill his bowl before the pot was scraped bare. He ate half and saved the rest for his cousin.

It was cold and raining outside, but the kitchen was cozy. His mother hadnt lit the fireshed do that in the evening, when she returned from workbut the tiny room was always warm, especially with so many bodies crammed into it.

Move on! Lartens mother yelled, coming down the stairs. She belted those closest to her and waved a hand threateningly at the others. Do you think Ive nothing better to do than stand here watching you eat all day? Out!