Blood Beast by Darren Shan Page A

at him. “I hate the way you start out on one side of an argument, then talk your way completely around to the other side.”
    Loch laughs. “You’re too conservative, Grubbs. I share your concerns for our safety, but the Spleenster’s right. If we take it easy, go cautiously, stop if we feel it would be dangerous to go on. . . ”
    “What if the batteries in the flashlights die while we’re down there?” I ask stiffly, fighting a losing battle but determined not to give in gracefully.
    “I replaced them last night,” Bill-E says. “They’re all fresh.”
    “Genius,” Loch murmurs, then grins at me. “It can’t be
that
deep — old Sheftree needed to be able to get up and down with his cases of treasure. The angle’s not too steep. And there are loads of toe- and fingerholds.”
    “Let’s try, Grubbs,” Bill-E whispers. “We won’t do anything foolish. You can call it off if you think things look dicey. We’ll follow your lead. Promise.”
    I hesitate and check the time. Glance up to where the moon will soon be appearing. I place my right hand on the rocky floor, feeling for vibrations, but there aren’t any. I think of all the dangers — then of the treasure, if it’s there. If I’m wrong, if this isn’t a place of magic, if I’ve been imagining hidden perils.
    A deep breath. A snap decision. I grab the big flashlight from Bill-E. “Let’s go.”

The Cave
    D ESCENDING slowly, testing each foothold firmly before setting my weight on it. Coming down three abreast, me in the middle, Loch on the left, Bill-E on the right. Loch complains several times about not having a light of his own, but Bill-E refuses to relinquish either of his. I’ve been to his house. I know that Ma and Pa Spleen keep several flash-lights around the place, ever fearful of power outages, determined never to be left stranded in the dark. He could have easily brought another one for Loch. A mistake or intentional oversight? I don’t ask.
    It’s stuffy down here, warmer than I imagined. The air’s not so bad though. I thought it would be stale and thin, but there’s a good supply of it. Easy to breathe.
    Part of me knows this is crazy. It screams from the back of my head, reminding me of what happened last night, the face, the whispers, the throbbing today. It wants me to assert myself, demand we make for the surface, tell Dervish, leave all this for experienced spelunkers to explore.
    But a larger part thinks it’s thrilling. We’re the first humans to come down here in decades. In fact, if the others are wrong, and this wasn’t used by Lord Sheftree, maybe we’re the first people to
ever
find it. Maybe it will turn out to be an amazing geographical feature and we’ll get to name it and be on the news. Reni would really dig being a celebrity’s girlfriend.
    You’re an idiot,
the cautious part of me huffs with disgust.
    “Put a sock in it,” I grunt back.
    I lose track of time pretty quickly. Have we been down here ten minutes? Twenty? The hands of my watch are luminous, so I could check. But I’m not going to start fiddling around in the dark, rolling up my sleeves, leaning forward to squint. I’m keeping both hands on the rock face and all my senses focused on the climb.
    I go carefully, one hold at a time. Foot-hand-foot-hand-foot-hand-foot. Bill-E and Loch are the same. We don’t speak. My flashlight hangs from my right wrist by a strap. The light bounces off the rocks. I’d have to stop, turn around, lean back, and point the light down to get a clear view of what lies beneath. But I’m not going to do that. I’m taking no chances. The thought of slipping. . . sliding. . . tumbling into the unknown. . .
    Foot-hand-foot-hand-foot-hand-foot-ha —
    I touch ground. Or a very large overhanging rock. Can’t tell yet. “Wait,” I call softly to the others, who are slightly higher than me. “Let me feel around a bit. I think . . .” I extend my foot outwards. More rock. I tap it — solid. Gently lower my