by Angie Sage
Wanda did not appreciate it. Especially when I landed right on top of her. She jumped up and I could see she was about to yell at me, so I put my hand over her mouth and hissed, “Shh!”
I switched on my flashlight. Wanda looked really funny; she was covered in cobwebs, dust, and spiders. I was not as bad since Wanda had acted like a chimney sweep’s brush, so I only had a few spiders wandering around my hair, which was okay.
I was surprised that Wanda was not making more of a fuss, like she usually does, but she was staring at the floor. “Araminta,” she whispered, “there’s…werewolf stuff.”
For a moment I did not want to look, as I thought it might be something really gross, like werewolf poop, but I did. A trapper of werewolves has to face these things. But it was worse than werewolf poop—it was werewolf footprints. There were tons of them. They went round and round in circles inside the larder and then they zigzagged out the door and disappeared along the corridor. The werewolf had gone back to its lair.
I wasn’t quite as pleased about this as I should have been.
“You’re shaking,” said Wanda.
“No I’m not,” I said. “Your eyes must be going funny.”
Now we had to set the werewolf trap. I had already worked out the perfect place for it—a tall, thin cupboard just past the bat poo hatch where Uncle Drac used to store his shovels. I knew there was enough room in it for Wanda because I had once locked her in there by mistake—it really was a mistake, even though Aunt Tabby would not believe me, but the day before I had checked that there was enough room for me, which there was. There was not space for us both but that was okay since Wanda was not going to be inside the cupboard. She had a very important job to do outside. She was going to be the bait.
I beckoned Wanda out of the larder, then I switched off my flashlight because I did not want the werewolf to see us. It was really scary, as we tiptoed along the creepy basement corridor, past all the dark kitchens and the deserted larders and pantries. Even the boiler room was scary with its dull red glow seeping out from underneath the door, and the funny breathing sounds the boiler made, like it was a sleeping monster.
Soon we were really close to Creepy Corner, where I had seen the werewolf eyes.
We tiptoed past the bat poo hatch and stopped outside Uncle Drac’s old shovel cupboard. I wanted to get into that cupboard fast. I hadn’t told Wanda about being the bait yet, because I thought it would probably lead to trouble. So I just gave her the bag of dog biscuits, then opened the cupboard door and got inside.
I was about to shut the door when I noticed Wanda looking at the dog biscuits in a puzzled way. “Ugh,” she said, “these biscuits smell funny. You can have them, Araminta.”
“They’re supposed to smell funny. They’re dog biscuits,” I explained. “They’re going to help us catch the werewolf.”
Wanda looked puzzled. “So why am I holding them?” she asked.
I sighed. It is hard having to explain stuff all the time, especially when a werewolf might pounce at any moment. “Because you are the bait,” I told her.
“Bait?” Wanda’s eyes almost popped out. “No way,” she said. “Let me into the cupboard.”
“Don’t be silly, Wanda,” I told her. “There isn’t enough room for two of us.”
Wanda seemed to take this in. She looked at the cupboard and said, “No, there isn’t, is there?” The next moment she had pulled me out of the cupboard, pushed the dog biscuits into my hands, jumped in herself, and slammed the door shut.
I pulled on the cupboard door but it would not open. I could tell that Wanda was holding it closed from the inside. So there I was, in a deserted corridor in the middle of the night, holding a bag of dog biscuits and waiting for the nearest werewolf to pounce at any moment. It was not a good feeling.
I felt like banging on the door, and yelling “Let me in,” but I dared not make any noise in case the werewolf heard. There was nothing else to do—it was time to use the Combined Werewolf and Vampire Trapping Kit.
I got the fishing net out fast, just in case the werewolf came zooming around the corner right then, and I practiced a few swoops with it. It worked fine. Then I took out both of the sacks and the rope.
And then I pulled out the best part of the kit—the hologram sticker eyeglasses. I put them on. Pooh. I couldn’t see—the stickers were in the way. I hadn’t thought of that. But then I realized that the hologram werewolf eyes did not have to be over my eyes, they could be anywhere. So I pushed the glasses up onto my forehead and they were fine. Now I was ready for anything: vampires, werewolves, even Aunt Tabby.
But I wasn’t quite ready for the scuffling. I do not like scuffling, especially when it is after midnight in the basement of Spookie House and my so-called best friend has locked herself in a cupboard and left me outside as werewolf bait. At first I hoped it might be one of Uncle Drac’s bats. When Barry shovels up the bat poo some of the bats get out and he does not notice. But bats do not scuffle along the ground. The scuffling was getting closer…and closer. I shrank back against the wall and I must have done a Wanda-style squeak or something because suddenly the cupboard door opened behind me. I nearly screamed.
Wanda stuck her nosy nose out and whispered, “Are you all right, Araminta?’
“No,” I told her.
“Why? What is it?”
“What do you think it is? There’s a werewolf coming. Can’t you hear it?”
Wanda listened. Scuffle…scuffle…She went kind of pale. “Get in the cupboard,” she hissed, and she grabbed hold of my sleeve and tugged me in. I didn’t think we’d both fit, but it is surprising how small you can make yourself when you have to. Wanda pulled the door closed. It wouldn’t click shut properly, but she held it so that it stayed closed and then we both kept really quiet…and listened.
Scuffle…sniff…scuffle…sniff. The werewolf was really loud now. It was right outside the cupboard. It snuffled a bit, sniffed a bit, and rustled the dog biscuit bag. And then it started to scratch on the cupboard door, which would have been all right if at that point Wanda hadn’t decided for some crazy reason to try and burrow into the back of the cupboard. Suddenly there was nothing behind us—and we both fell backward into the dark.
12
FANG
I landed on top of Wanda, which was okay as Wanda is quite soft to land on. I looked up and saw the high brick roof of the secret tunnel that runs through the basement and I felt really relieved—we were safe. But then I saw the werewolf eyes. And this time they were right above me.
It was too late to ask Wanda to swap places so I just yelled “Help!” and Wanda kind of squeaked. The werewolf eyes got closer and I realized that these were different werewolf eyes. They glinted silver, not green, and they looked much, much bigger. This was bad. And what was worse, I did not even have my Combined Werewolf and Vampire Trapping Kit with me—just when I needed it.
The only thing to do was to make a run for it. Just as I was wondering if I should take Wanda with me or leave her behind as bait, a greenish glow began to light up the tunnel.
Suddenly Edmund’s ghostly voice said, “What are you doing here?”
“Edmund!” squeaked Wanda. She wriggled out from underneath me and jumped up. “Oh, Edmund, you’ve saved us,” she said as if he was some kind of hero. Which he was not, since he hadn’t saved us at all.
The glow from Edmund meant I could see the werewolf very well. It was a huge wolf and it was horrible. Its mouth was hanging open, its tongue was lolling out, and its great big fangs were ready to bite us.. And what could a runty ghost do about that?
Well, what the runty ghost did was to go up to the werewolf, scratch its ears and say, “Hello, Fang, where have you been?” And the werewolf sat down and wagged its tail just like a dog.
“Oh, Edmund,” said Wanda dreamily, “you are so brave.”
“I am not brave, Wanda,” Edmund said in his funny accent. “Now I must go and find Sir Horace. I shall return soon.”
“E
dmund,” wailed Wanda, “don’t leave us with a werewolf.”
Edmund laughed. At least that’s what I think the weird noise he made was meant to be. “Fang is not a werewolf,” he said. “Fang is Sir Horace’s faithful wolf cub.” And then he floated away and left us alone—with Fang.
“Shall I say hello to Fang too?’ whispered Wanda, who would copy everything Edmund did if she could, although I think she would find it hard to float upside down along the ceiling.
“If you want to,” I said.
“Fang is so nice,” she said. “He’s got such soft ears.”
“How can you possibly know that?” I asked. “He’s a ghost.”
“I just do know that,” said Wanda, busily scratching thin air. “You can tell they would be soft if he was a real wolf.”
“If he was a real wolf you would not be scratching his ears,” I told her. “You would be wolf supper.”
It was not long before we heard the eek-squeak-clunk of Sir Horace walking along the secret passage and the walls were lit up with Edmund’s green glow. Sir Horace came around the corner and then he suddenly stopped dead. There was a small ping as something fell off him, and I held my breath in case he fell apart, but he didn’t.
Suddenly the secret passage was filled with a booming, happy Sir Horace voice, “Fang!”
Fang leaped up, leaving Wanda actually scratching thin air. He bounced over to Sir Horace like a huge puppy, his tail wagging and his tongue hanging out. Sir Horace knelt down—with a nasty grinding noise and an ominous clunk—and he put his rusty old arms around Fang. “Hello, boy,” he said in a whispery un–Sir Horace like voice. “Where have you been then?”
“Ooh, that’s so nice,” cooed Wanda. “Isn’t it, Edmund?” She didn’t ask me if it was nice because I am not as sappy as Edmund. But it was. Really great.
Sir Horace’s booming voice still had a big smile in it when he said, “Miss Spookie, I have you to thank for the return of my faithful hound. Your midnight summons has brought him once more to my side.”
“It’s a pleasure, Sir Horace,” I said. “Anytime. Come on, Wanda.”
“But I want to stay with Fang,” she said, ruffling the ghost wolf’s ears. “He’s so cute.”
“You can see Fang later,” I told her. “In case you had forgotten we are still on a Combined Werewolf and Vampire Hunt. Come on.”
We left Sir Horace with his faithful wolf and walked back through Uncle Drac’s cupboard—which was, of course, the hidden door into the secret tunnel that I always knew must be somewhere.
“Now that we have found the werewolf, can we go back to bed?” asked Wanda.
I picked up my Combined Werewolf and Vampire Trapping Kit from where it had fallen. “No, we cannot go back to bed, Wanda,” I said sternly. “We have not found the werewolf, we have found a ghost wolf. A ghost wolf would not leave footprints, would it? And the werewolf had green eyes, not silver ghostly eyes. And have you forgotten about Vampire Max?”
Wanda did not reply. At first I thought she was being sulky, as Wanda does big sulks, but she grabbed me and pointed to the bat poo hatch. It was open.
Inside the bat turret there was a flickering light and bat shadows flying across the old stone walls. I don’t mind bat shadows, since they are made by bats and bats are nice, but I don’t like scary shadows. And I particularly don’t like big scary shadows of werewolves. And there was a huge one of those inside the bat turret. Suddenly the Combined Werewolf and Vampire Trapping Kit didn’t feel so great after all—not even my hologram glasses.
I pulled Wanda away, but it was too late. The werewolf shadow had seen us and it was coming toward us. I could hear the soft squelching sounds that footsteps make in the bat poo.
“Run!” I yelled to Wanda, who didn’t seem to want to. “Come on!” The shadow was coming closer.
I gave Wanda a massive tug and she lurched forward. “Ouch!” she yelled. “Don’t pull, Araminta, it’s only U—”
Suddenly I heard “Minty? Minty, is that you?”
“Uncle Drac!” I shouted. “I am so pleased to see you!”
“I told you,” muttered Wanda.
Uncle Drac squeezed out of the bat poo hatch holding his flashlight. He was carrying a big Werewolf-shaped sack of bat poo over his shoulder. He looked very surprised. “Goodness me, Minty, what are you doing here at this time of night?”
“We were hunting a werewolf, Uncle Drac.”
“And a vampire, but he disappeared,” Wanda piped up.
“Well, just don’t go telling all that to Aunt Tabby,” Uncle Drac said with a smile. “It’s way past your bedtime. Come on, I’ll take you both back upstairs.”
I suppose I should have been upset that the Combined Werewolf and Vampire Trapping Expedition had come to an end—but I wasn’t. Werewolves and vampires are not as easy to catch as you might think, and bedtime suddenly felt like a good idea.
We were just getting near the boiler room when Wanda suddenly stopped, and Uncle Drac and I nearly tripped over her. Wanda is a bit like one of those windup clockwork toys that suddenly run out of steam and stop when you least expect it. She is also not an awful lot bigger than a windup clockwork toy, so it is not surprising that she gets tripped over all the time. She should be used to it by now but she always makes a huge fuss—except this time she didn’t.
“Give me the net!” she hissed at me. “Quick!”
I gave her the net. When Wanda hisses at you like that you do what she asks. She has a very bossy hiss. I didn’t see what happened next because my stupid hologram glasses—which I had totally forgotten I was wearing on the top of my head—slipped down over my eyes and all I could see were two dark blobs. By the time I had figured out what had happened and pushed the glasses out of the way the werewolf trapping net was full—of Vampire Max.
I was very impressed. Wanda looked as if she had been netting vampires all her life. She lay on the floor holding on to the handle of the net as though her life depended on it, and there was no chance that Vampire Max could make a run for it. The net fitted him just right. It covered him from head to toe and he just stood there with his little arms at his sides like he knew the game was up. It is hard to see someone’s expression when they are underneath a combined werewolf and vampire trapping net, but Vampire Max did not look happy—and neither did Uncle Drac.
Uncle Drac knelt down beside Vampire Max and peered at him. He looked worried. “Be careful, Wanda,” Uncle Drac said. “This could be dangerous.” I was glad that Uncle Drac knew that Max was dangerous. At least we did not have to persuade him that Vampire Max had to go home. Then, very carefully, as though he was afraid Vampire Max would bite, Uncle Drac lifted off the net. Vampire Max did not move. He just stood there, totally covered in cobwebs and spiders, staring into space with empty eyes.
But there was something much worse than his weird vampire eyes: Vampire Max had blood dripping off his long pointy teeth.
Whom had he bitten?
13
VAMPIRE CAT
It did not take me long to realize that there was only one person Vampire Max could have bitten—Aunt Tabby. Brenda and Barry were always safely locked in their bedroom by ten o’clock, but Aunt Tabby had been watching vampire movies in the furry bathroom when we started the Combined Werewolf and Vampire Trapping Expedition. And she had the door open.
“Uncle Drac, Uncle Drac!” I said. “We’ve got to find Aunt Tabby before it is too late.”
“Shh,” said Uncle Drac, who was still kneeling beside Vampire Max. He looked up and said, “I don’t think finding Tabby would be a very good idea, Minty,” he said. “Now you must both be quiet and we will take Max back to bed. It’s dangerous to wake people up when they are sleepwalking.”
“Sleepwalking?” I gasped. “He’s not sleepwalking. He’s vampiring.”
“Shh!” said Uncle Drac again, rather sharply. I was shocked. Uncle Drac even looked annoyed and he never looks annoyed.
But Aunt Tabby was in danger and I had to get
him to understand, so I said, “Max is a real vampire, Uncle Drac. He bites people. Look at his teeth. Look at the blood. He has bitten Aunt Tabby.”
“Shh, Minty,” whispered Uncle Drac. “You mustn’t believe all those old stories. No one bites people anymore. Not even my mother, ha ha.”
“But he’s got really sharp biting teeth, Uncle Drac. Like little needles.”
“And so did I at his age, Minty. That’s how they come through. They’ll soon get blunt. Now we must get Max back to bed without waking him.”
Usually I believe what Uncle Drac tells me, but not this time. He was just making excuses. What about the blood dripping from Max’s mouth—how did he explain that?
Uncle Drac picked up Max and carried him along the basement corridor like he was a sleeping baby rather than a horrible little vampire brat. Wanda and I trailed after him, up the basement stairs, and as we trooped past the clock in the hall I saw Uncle Drac glance at it with a worried look. It was nearly one o’clock. He speeded up and Wanda and I had to run to keep up with him.
As we got close to the furry bathroom I could see the flickering light of the movie streaking across the passageway out of the half-open door. But Uncle Drac did not care about Aunt Tabby one bit. He stormed right past the furry bathroom and did not even look inside—in fact I am sure he speeded up.
“Come on, Wanda,” I said, pulling her toward the half-open door. “We have to go and rescue Aunt Tabby.”
Wanda did not seem keen. “Do we have to?” she whispered.
“Yes,” I told her. “Now come on—quick!” But Wanda would not budge. She hung on tight to the doorknob. Finally, I managed to pull her into the room.
It was weird in there. The vampire movie was still playing, but because of the headphones there was no sound, just the whirr of the projector. The movie was getting to the really exciting part. The vampire, who looked very elegant and handsome, was creeping along the roof of a snow-covered castle in the middle of a forest. You could tell he was heading for the window that the heroine was desperately trying to latch closed. You just knew that she would not be able to. In fact you wondered why she bothered to try in the first place, but heroines always do.