Six months had passed since the Lord of the Vampaneze escaped. Vancha had gone to Vampire Mountain to tell the Princes and Generals the news, and had not yet returned. For the first three months Mr. Crepsley, Harkat and me had roamed without purpose, letting our feet take us where they wished. Then word reached us of the terror in Mr. Crepsley's home city — people were being killed, their bodies drained of blood. Reports claimed vampires were to blame, but we knew better. Rumours had previously reached us of a vampaneze presence in the city, and this was all the confirmation we needed.

Mr. Crepsley cared for these people. Those he'd known when he lived here as a human were long since dead and buried, but he looked upon their grandchildren and great-grandchildren as his spiritual kin. Thirteen years earlier, when a mad vampaneze by the name of Murlough was savaging the city, Mr. Crepsley returned — with me and Evra Von, a snake-boy from the Cirque Du Freak — to stop him. Now that history was repeating itself, he felt compelled to intervene again.

"But maybe I should ignore my feelings," he'd mused three months earlier, as we discussed the situation. "We must focus on the hunt for the Vampaneze Lord. It would be wrong of me to drag us away from our quest."

"Not so," I'd disagreed. "Mr. Tiny told us we'd have to follow our hearts if we were to find the Vampaneze Lord. Your hearts drawing you home, and my heart says I should stick by you. I think we should go."

Harkat Mulds, a grey-skinned Little Person who'd learned to talk, agreed, so we set off for the city where Mr. Crepsley had been born, to evaluate the situation and help if we could. When we arrived, we soon found ourselves in the middle of a perplexing mystery. Vampaneze were definitely living here — at least three or four, if our estimate was correct — but were they part of the war force or rogue madmen? If they were warriors, they should be more careful about how they killed — sane vampaneze don't leave the bodies of their victims where humans can find them. But if they were mad, they shouldn't be capable of hiding so skilfully — after three months of searching, we hadn't found a trace of a single vampaneze in the tunnels beneath the city.