Lord of the Shadows Read Online Free Page A

in the old days.
    After lunch, I strolled past my original school — a really eerie feeling! A new wing had been added, and there were iron railings around the perimeter, but apart from that it looked just the way I remembered. Lunch break was ending. I watched from underneath the shadows of a tree while the students filed back into class. I saw some teachers too. Most were new, but two caught my attention. One was Mrs. McDaid. She’d taught languages, mostly to older students. I’d had her for half a term when my regular teacher was on a leave of absence.
    I’d been much closer to the other teacher — Mr. Dalton! I’d had him for English and history. He’d been my favorite teacher. He was chatting with some of his students as he entered class after lunch, and by their smiles I saw he was still as popular as ever.
    It would have been great to catch up with Mr. Dalton. I was seriously thinking about waiting for school to finish, then going to see him. He’d know what had happened to my parents and Annie. I needn’t tell him I was a vampire — I could say I had an anti-aging disease, which kept me looking young. Explaining away my “death” would be tricky, but I could cook up some story.
    One thing held me back. A few years ago, in Mr. Crepsley’s home city, I’d been branded a killer by the police, and my name and photo had been flashed all over the TV and newspapers. What if Mr. Dalton had heard about that? If he knew I was alive, and thought I was a murderer, he might alert the authorities. Safer not to take the risk. So I turned my back on the school and slowly walked away.
    It was only then that it struck me that Mr. Dalton wouldn’t be the only one who might have picked up on the “Darren Shan — serial killer!” hysteria. What if my parents had heard about it! Mr. Crepsley’s city was in a different part of the world, and I wasn’t sure how much news traveled between the two countries. But it was a possibility.
    I had to sit down on a street bench while I considered that horrific possibility. I could only begin to imagine how shocking it would have been if, years after they’d buried me, Mom and Dad had spotted me on the news, under a caption branding me a killer. How had I never thought about it before?
    This could be a real problem. As I’d told Harkat, I didn’t intend to go see my family — too painful for everyone. But if they already knew I was alive, and were living with the misbelief that I was a killer, I’d have to set the record straight. But what if they
didn’t
know?
    I had to do some research. I’d passed a brand-new, ultra-modern library earlier that morning. Hurrying back to it, I asked a librarian for assistance. I said I was doing a school project and had to pick some local story from the last three years to write about. I asked to examine all the issues of the main local paper, as well as the national paper that my mom and dad used to read. I figured, if word of my exploits in Mr. Crepsley’s city had spread this far, there’d be a mention of me in one of those two papers.
    The librarian was happy to help. She showed me where the microfiche were stored, and how to use it. Once I’d got the knack of getting them up on-screen and scanning from one page to the next, she left me to my own devices.
    I started with the earliest editions of the national paper, from a few months before I ran into trouble with the law. I was looking for any mention of Mr. Crepsley’s city and the killers plaguing it. I made quick time, glancing only at the international sections. I found a couple of references to the murders — and they were both mocking! Apparently journalists here were amused by the vampire rumors that had swept the city, and the story was treated as light entertainment. There was a short piece in one issue, relaying the news that the police had caught four suspects, and then carelessly let all four escape. No names, and no mention of the people Steve had killed when he broke