Free Hunters of the Dusk by Darren Shan Page B

around his waist — rubbing spit into his skin.
    “Vancha?” I asked quietly. “What are you doing?” “I’m going walking,” he said, and continued rubbing spit into the flesh of his shoulders and arms.
    I stared up at the sky. It was a bright day and hardly any clouds were around to block out the sun. “Vancha, it’s
daytime,
” I said.
    “Really?” he replied sarcastically. “I would never have guessed.”
    “Vampires burn in sunlight,” I said, wondering if he’d bumped his head and forgotten what he was.
    “Not immediately,” he said, then looked at me sharply. “Have you ever wondered
why
vampires burn in the sun?”
    “Well, no, not exactly . . .”
    “There’s no logical reason,” Vancha said. “According to the stories humans tell, it’s because we’re evil, and evil beings can’t face the sun. But that’s nonsense — we’re not evil, and even if we were, we should still be able to move about during the day.
    “Look at wolves,” he continued. “We’re supposed to be descended from them, but they can endure the sunlight. Even true nocturnal creatures like bats and owls can survive by day. Sunlight might confuse them, but it doesn’t kill them.
So why does it kill vampires?
”
    I shook my head uncertainly. “I don’t know. Why?” Vancha barked a laugh. “Damned if I know! Nobody does. Some claim we were cursed by a witch or sorcerer, but I doubt that — the world’s full of servants of the dark arts, but none with the power to make such a lethal curse. My hunch is Desmond Tiny.”
    “What’s Mr. Tiny got to do with it?” I asked. “According to ancient legends — forgotten by most — Tiny created the first vampires. They say he experimented on wolves and mixed their blood with that of humans, resulting in . . .” He tapped his chest.
    “That’s ridiculous,” I said with a snort.
    “Perhaps. But if those legends are true, our sun-related weakness is also Tiny’s work. They say he was afraid we’d grow too powerful and take over the world, so he tainted our blood and made us slaves of the night.” He stopped rubbing spit in and gazed upward, eyes scrunched up against the rays of sunlight. “Nothing’s as awful as slavery,” he said quietly. “If the stories are true, and we’re night slaves because of Tiny’s meddling, there’s only one way to win back our freedom —
fight!
We have to take on the enemy, look it full in the face, and spit in its eye.”
    “You mean fight Mr. Tiny?”
    “Not directly. He’s too slippery a customer to pin down.”
    “Then who?”
    “We have to fight his manservant,” he said. When I looked blank, he added: “The sun.”
    “The
sun?
” I laughed, then stopped when I saw he was serious. “How can you fight the sun?”
    “Simple,” Vancha said. “You face it, take its blows, and keep coming back for more. For years I’ve been subjecting myself to the rays of the sun. Every few weeks I walk about for an hour by day, letting the sun burn me, toughening my skin and eyes to it, testing it, seeing how long I can survive.”
    “You’re crazy!” I laughed. “Do you really think you can get the better of the sun?”
    “I don’t see why not,” he said. “A foe’s a foe. If it can be engaged, it can be defeated.”
    “Have you made any progress?” I asked.
    “Not really,” he said, sighing. “It’s much the same as when I began. The light half-blinds me — it takes almost a full day for my vision to return to normal and the headaches to fade. The rays cause a reddening within ten or fifteen minutes, and it gets painful soon after. I’ve managed to endure it for close to eighty minutes a couple of times, but I’m badly burned by the end, and it takes five or six nights of total rest to recover.”
    “When did this war of yours begin?”
    “Let’s see,” he mused. “I was about two hundred when I started —” Most vampires weren’t sure of their exact age; when you lived as long as they did, birthdays