Hunters of the Dusk by Darren Shan

getting annoyed — was he making fun of me? — when the realization struck. It was
me!
    I could see my eyes and the shape of my mouth now that I looked closely, and the small triangular scar just above my right eye, which had become as much a part of me as my nose or ears. It was my face, no doubt about that — but where had all the hair come from?
    I felt around my chin and discovered a thick bushy beard. Running my right hand over my head — which should have been smooth — I was stunned to feel long, thick locks of hair. My thumb, which stuck out at an angle, caught in several of the strands, and I winced as I tugged it free, pulling some hair out with it.
    What in Khledon Lurt’s name had happened to me? I checked further. Ripping off my T-shirt revealed a chest and stomach covered in hair. Huge balls of hair had also formed under my armpits and over my shoulders. I was hairy all over!
    “Charna’s guts!”
I roared, then ran to wake my friends.
    Mr. Crepsley and Harkat were breaking camp when I rushed up, panting and shouting. The vampire took one look at my hairy figure, whipped out a knife, and roared at me to stop. Harkat stepped up beside him, a grim expression on his face. As I halted, gasping for breath, I saw they didn’t recognize me. Raising my hands to show they were empty, I croaked, “Don’t . . . attack! It’s . . . me!”
    Mr. Crepsley’s eyes widened.
“Darren?”
    “It can’t be,” Harkat growled. “This is an impostor.”
    “No!” I moaned. “I woke up, went to the pond to drink, and found . . . found . . .” I shook my hairy arms at them.
    Mr. Crepsley stepped forward, sheathed his knife, and studied my face. Then he groaned. “The
purge!
” he muttered.
    “The
what?
” I shouted.
    “Sit down, Darren,” Mr. Crepsley said seriously. “We have a lot of talking to do. Harkat — go fill our canteens and fix a new fire.”
    When Mr. Crepsley had gathered his thoughts, he explained to Harkat and me what was happening. “You know that half-vampires become full-vampires when more vampire blood is pumped into them. What we have never discussed — since I did not anticipate it so soon — is the other way in which one’s blood can turn.
    “Basically, if one remains a half-vampire for an extremely long period of time — the average is forty years — one’s vampire cells eventually attack the human cells and convert them, resulting in full-vampirism. We call this the purge.”
    “You mean I’ve become a full-vampire?” I asked quietly, both excited and frightened at the idea. Excited because it would mean extra strength, the ability to flit and communicate telepathically. Frightened because it would also mean a total retreat from daylight and the world of humanity.
    “Not yet,” Mr. Crepsley said. “The hair is simply the first stage. We shall shave it off presently, and though it will grow back, it will stop after a month or so. You will undergo other changes during that time — you will grow, and experience headaches and sharp bursts of energy — but these too will cease. At the end of the changes, your vampiric blood may have replaced your human blood entirely, but it probably will not, and you will return to normal — for a few months or a couple of years. But sometime within the next few years, your blood
will
turn completely. You have entered the final stages of half-vampirism. There is no turning back.”
    We spent most of the rest of the night discussing the purge. Mr. Crepsley said it was rare for a half-vampire to experience the purge after less than twenty years, but it was probably because I’d become a Vampire Prince — more vampiric blood had been added to my veins during the ceremony, and that must have sped up the process.
    I remembered Seba studying me in the tunnels of Vampire Mountain, and told Mr. Crepsley about it. “He must have known about the purge,” I said. “Why didn’t he warn me?”
    “It was not his place,” Mr. Crepsley said. “As