Death's Shadow by Darren Shan Read Free Book Online Page A

and jerks hard on the strings of the blinds, yanking them all the way up. As he leans forward to unlatch the window, I get a sudden sense of danger.
    “Down!” I scream.
    Dervish doesn’t pause, which is the only thing that saves him. Because as he throws himself flat in response to my cry, the glass above his head shatters from the gunfire of several rifles.
    Meera curses and ducks low. The bullets strike the wall and shelves, ripping up many of Dervish’s rare books, knocking weapons from their holders. A few ricochet into his computer and laptop, which explode in showers of sparks.
    I’m lying facedown, shivering. This is my first experience of modern warfare. I find the guns more repulsive than demons. I can accept the evil ways of otherworldly beasts who know nothing except chaos and destruction. But to think that humans created such violent, vicious weapons . . .
    “What’s going on?” Meera screams as the gunfire stops. “Who’s out there?”
    “They didn’t introduce themselves,” Dervish quips. He’s sitting with his back to the wall, beneath the shattered glass of the window. He has the look of a man studying a difficult crossword puzzle.
    “We’re trapped,” I snap. Meera and Dervish look at me. Meera’s afraid, Dervish curious. “Do we fight the werewolves or the people with guns?”
    “The werewolves would appear to be the preferable option,” Dervish says. “We can’t fight the crew outside — we’d be shot to ribbons in no time. But whoever set this up will have thought of that. I doubt we’ll have a clear run if we get past the werewolves — which is a pretty sizeable
if
.” He gets to his knees and grins. “How about we fight neither of them?”
    “What are you talking about?” Meera growls.
    “A paranoid person has one escape route, easy to spot if your foe has a keen eye. But a
real
paranoid freak always has a second, less obvious way out.”
    There are two desks in the study — Dervish’s main workstation and a second, smaller table for the spillover. He crawls to that, wincing when he cuts his hands and knees on shards of glass. He reaches it and stands, having checked to make sure no snipers can see him. “Help me with this,” he grunts.
    Meera and I aren’t sure what his plan is, but we both shuffle to his side and push as he directs. The desk slides away more smoothly than I would have thought, given the thick carpet that covers the floor. Dervish stoops, grabs a chunk of the carpet, and tugs hard. A square patch rips loose. Beneath lies a trapdoor with a round handle. Dervish takes hold and pulls. A crawlspace beneath the floor is revealed.
    “Where does it lead?” Meera asks.
    “There are a couple of exits,” Dervish explains. “It runs to the rear of the house. There’s a window. We can drop to the ground if nobody’s outside. If that way’s blocked, a panel opens to one of the corridors beneath us, so we can sneak through the house.”
    “If we survive, remind me to give you a giant, slobbery kiss,” Meera says.
    “It’s a deal.” He grins and slides his legs into the hole.

FLIGHT
    I don’t like the crawlspace. The cramped space and lack of light remind me of the cave. I feel my insides tighten. But I bite down hard on my fear and scuttle after Dervish, Meera bringing up the rear. As reluctant as I am to enter, I’ll take a dark, tight space over gunfire and werewolves any day.
    Dervish reaches the window at the end of the tunnel. It’s semicircular, with thick stained glass. He can see out, but it would be hard for anybody outside to see in. He observes in silence. Ten seconds pass. Twenty. Thirty. I can still hear the howls of the werewolves and splintering wood. The door can’t hold much longer. They might not be able to enter the protected study, but when they realize we’re not there, they’ll come hunting for us. What’s Dervish waiting for?
    Finally he sighs and turns — there’s just enough space. I start to ask a question, but he