Lord of the Shadows by Darren Shan Page A

Little Kenny holding me, I looked like the third of a trio of drunk tramps. One policeman did stop and shout at us to get the hell off the streets — hadn’t we heard what happened?
    “Yes, sir,” Declan mumbled, half-saluting the policeman. “Going home right now. Don’t suppose you could arrange a lift for us?”
    The policeman snorted and turned away. Declan chuckled, then led us on again. When we were out of earshot, he said to Little Kenny, “Any idea what all the fuss is about?”
    “Something to do with soccer, I think,” Little Kenny said.
    “How about you?” Declan asked me. “Do you know what people are up in arms about?”
    I shook my head. Even if I’d wanted to tell them the truth, I couldn’t have. The pain was worse than ever. I had to keep my teeth ground tightly together to stop myself from screaming out loud.
    We carried on walking. I half-hoped I’d black out again, to numb myself to the pain. I didn’t even care that Declan and Little Kenny would probably dump me in a gutter to die, rather than drag my deadweight body along. But I stayed awake, if not entirely alert, and managed to swing my legs into action when prompted.
    I had no idea where I was being taken, and I wasn’t able to raise my head to mark the way. When we finally came to a halt in front of an old brown-faced building, Little Kenny darted forward to open a door. I tried looking up to see what the number was. But even that was beyond me, and I could only stare at the ground through half-closed eyes as Declan and Little Kenny dragged me inside and laid me on a hard wooden floor.
    Little Kenny stayed with me, keeping watch, as Declan went upstairs. They’d laid me on my left side, but I rolled over onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. I could feel my last sparks of consciousness flickering out. As I watched, my eyes played tricks and I imagined the ceiling was shimmering, like seawater in a light breeze.
    I heard Declan coming back with somebody. He was talking quickly and quietly. I tried turning my head to see whom he was bringing, but the scene on the ceiling was too captivating to turn away from. Now I was imagining boats, sails filled with the breeze, circling the sea-ceiling above me.
    Declan stopped by my side and examined me. Then he stepped back and the person with him bent over to look. That’s when I knew I was really losing my grip on reality, because in my delirium I thought the person was Debbie Hemlock, my ex-girlfriend. I smiled weakly at the ludicrous thought of running into Debbie here. Then the woman standing over me exclaimed, “Darren! Oh my —”
    And then there was only darkness, silence, and dreams.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
    “O W! IT’S HOT!” I winced.
    “Don’t be a baby.” Debbie smiled, pressing a spoon of steaming hot soup to my lips. “It’s good for you.”
    “Not if it scalds my throat,” I grumbled. I blew on the soup to cool it, swallowed, then smiled at Debbie as she dipped the spoon into the bowl again. Harkat stood guard by the door. Outside I could hear Alice Burgess talking with one of their street people. I felt incredibly safe as I lay there, sipping soup, like nothing in the world could harm me.
    It had been five days since Declan and Little Kenny rescued me. The first few days passed in a haze. I’d been racked with pain and a high fever, senses in disarray, subject to nightmares and delusions. I kept thinking Debbie and Alice were imaginary. I’d laugh when they talked to me, convinced my brain was playing tricks.
    But as the fever broke and my senses returned, the faces of the women remained constant. When I finally realized it really was Debbie, I threw my arms around her and hugged her so hard, I almost fainted again!
    “Would you like some soup?” Debbie asked Harkat.
    “No,” Harkat replied. “Not hungry.”
    I asked Debbie to fetch Harkat and Mr. Tall even before she’d told me what she and Alice were doing here. When my worried friend arrived — Mr. Tall