Night of the Werecat

by R. L. Stine

  Was it the black werecat? Was it coming to find her?

  Now, Wendy’s brain screamed. The last challenge. The final showdown!

  Bracing herself for battle, Wendy whipped around the corner.

  There it stood, its back arched. The black werecat.

  Wendy gasped.

  A cry caught in her throat!

  Her eyes widened in shock when she saw what else was waiting around the corner.

  21

  Wendy’s back went into a high arch. Her tail puffed up to twice its size.

  The black werecat was not alone. Just behind it were two other cats. One dark brown, one tawny gold. Each with a white star on its forehead.

  Two more werecats!

  They were even larger than the black werecat.

  And Wendy was their prey!

  With a scream of terror Wendy turned and streaked back up the alley.

  With answering cries, the three werecats ran after her!

  Wendy never ran so fast in her life!

  She shot like a bolt of lightning through the night. Back home. Home to safety. She leaped up onto the wall that surrounded her yard.

  The three cats were right behind her.

  Trembling, Wendy stood her ground. She paced the top of the wall. She howled out a warning. This is my territory, Go away!

  The three werecats stopped. They stared up at Wendy from the grass below.

  And then all three huge cats jumped up. They landed gracefully on top of the wall.

  Wendy leaped to the ground. She raced toward the oak tree.

  If she could only make it to her room. If she could only make it back inside!

  But the largest cat, the brown one, was too fast. It bounded between Wendy and the tree.

  Wendy stopped short. She glanced around wildly, searching desperately for a place to hide, to climb. To escape.

  The brown cat was ahead of her. Then Wendy sensed the black werecat stalking her, sidling up beside her.

  A movement behind Wendy made her whirl around. The golden cat was also moving toward her. Its fur stood out like a halo.

  Wendy was surrounded.

  It’s over, she thought in despair. It’s all over.

  22

  Wendy puffed her fur out even more. She hissed and spat at her enemies.

  She would not give up without a fight.

  The cats came closer. Closer.

  The golden cat was only inches away.

  It opened its mouth. Its long, sharp fangs gleamed in the moonlight.

  It lunged for her neck.

  Wendy shut her eyes in terror. The gold cat was going to kill her!

  An instant later Wendy felt a strange, rough stroke on her cheek.

  Her eyes snapped open.

  She stared at the gold cat in shock. It was licking her face. Then it snuggled up to her. It began to purr.

  Wendy couldn’t believe it. What is going on?

  There was something familiar about the gold cat’s scent, she realized. There was something familiar about the other werecats, too.

  Wendy gazed at the black and the brown cat as they approached her. They weren’t hissing or spitting. Their ears weren’t flat against their heads anymore. Their tails stood straight up in friendly interest.

  Wendy glanced around, puzzled. The yard was becoming lighter. The moon had set while she was running from the other werecats. Now the sun was beginning to rise.

  Wendy felt a tingling throughout her body. The transformation back into human form was starting.

  I have to get back to my room, Wendy thought.

  She struggled to get away from the golden cat. But Wendy had only gone a few steps when the large brown cat once again jumped in front of her. Wendy tried to get around it.

  It pounced.

  The biggest of the cats knocked her to the ground. Before Wendy could pull herself up, the brown cat placed its heavy paw on her neck.

  It held her firmly down. Wendy couldn’t move.

  Now the two other cats crept over.

  Too late, Wendy realized the cats had only been playing with her. The way she had played with the mouse.

  She was no match for the three of them.

  And now they were going to finish her off.

  23

  The werecats closed in.

  Wendy lay trapped under the enormous brown cat’s paw. She was captive inside their circle. She shut her eyes in terror.

  What will happen if I transform now? Wendy thought. What will these werecats do to a human?

  She felt her face twist. The itchy feeling covered her body. Her hands ached as her paws turned back into hands with fingers.

  The huge cat let go of her. A sense of relief flooded through Wendy—maybe the other werecats ran away.

  She cautiously opened one eye. Then the other.

  She gasped!

  The three other werecats were transforming, too!

  Fascinated, Wendy watched their fur shrink into their skin. Their faces shifted around and their ears changed shape. Their claws disappeared and turned into fingernails. And the whole time they were growing larger, becoming human again.

  Suddenly Wendy felt afraid. These werecats were people, too—strange people who turned into monsters every night.

  Who are they? Wendy wondered. What will they do now?

  She jumped to her feet and edged toward her house. She had to get inside before they saw her as a human girl! Wendy turned to run.

  A hand grabbed her wrist and spun her back around.

  Wendy stared into three familiar faces.

  Her mother. Her father. And Brad.

  Wendy’s mind raced. I must be dreaming. This can’t be real. Can it?

  “W—Wh—” Wendy stammered. She couldn’t get any words out.

  “Wendy,” her mother said gently. Her fluffy blond hair looked golden in the dawn light.

  Brad brushed his long black hair out of his eyes. Her father ran a hand through his thick brown hair.

  The golden werecat. The black werecat. The large brown werecat.

  “Mom!” Wendy cried at last. “Brad! Dad! I don’t believe it!”

  Wendy’s mother smiled. “We’re a little surprised, too.”

  “Man, Wendy,” Brad said. “You’re a lot tougher than I thought. Cool territorial cry you gave.” He grinned at her.

  Wendy still felt confused. “But—” She had so many questions, she didn’t know what to ask first. “I thought it was the werecat charm. But then I still transformed. Even after I gave it back to Mrs. Bast.”

  Her parents glanced at each other. “There was a werecat charm in our family once,” her mother said. “But it was lost ages ago. This Mrs. Bast must have found it somehow.”

  “You see,” her father added, “your ancestors have been werecats as far back as anyone can remember.”

  “We were going to tell you, sweetie,” her mother told her. “But we were waiting for the right time. We didn’t expect you to change so early.”

  “Besides, squirt,” Brad added, “you weren’t allowed up after midnight!”

  “Hey, is this why you never let me have a cat?” Wendy guessed.

  Her father nodded. “It’s why you’ve always been drawn to them,” he explained. “But we couldn’t have one in the house. No ordinary cat can live among werecats.”

  “They become our enemies,” Brad said in a fake spooky voice.

  “I didn’t like that part,” Wendy admitted. “All that fighting. And I got so wild.”

  “Everyone has trouble with that at first,” her mother reassured her. “But soon you’ll learn to control your werecat nature.”

  “Don’t worry,” her father added. “Now that you know, we’ll help you. Teach you the werecat ways.”

  They began heading toward the house. “And Wendy,” Brad piped up, “if you thought prowling the alleys was fun, wait until I take you hunting in the Fear Street Woods. I’ll show you all the best spots.”

  Wendy came to a sudden stop. “W
hy did you attack me?” She glared at Brad accusingly. “You almost killed me!”

  Brad hung his head. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “But I didn’t know it was you.”

  “It’s true, Wendy,” her father said. “None of us did. No one in our family has ever changed at such a young age.”

  “I was almost fourteen when I transformed,” Brad said. Wendy thought he sounded a little jealous.

  “Maybe it was the charm,” he suggested. “Maybe that made you transform early.” “Maybe,” Wendy’s mother said with a smile.

  “But after all, Wendy has always been advanced for her age!”

  ARE YOU READY FOR ANOTHER WALK

  DOWN FEAR STREET?

  TURN THE PAGE FOR A TERRIFYING

  SNEAK PREVIEW.

  Emily whirled around. “I’m not falling for any more of your stupid tricks, Andrew!” she warned him.

  Andrew scanned the trees—and saw the figure.

  A figure in a long, sweeping cape.

  The dark form slid out from behind a giant oak, inching closer and closer.

  “There he is!” Andrew shouted. “Behind you!”

  “Yeah, right.” Emily stood in place with her hands on her hips.

  The figure stepped silently up to Emily.

  It hovered behind her.

  “Emily, I’m not kidding.” Andrew’s voice quivered. “Run!”

  Emily shook her head in disgust.

  The figure raised his dark hands.

  “Emily! Run!” Andrew pleaded.

  Too late.

  Andrew watched in horror as a pair of twisted fingers lunged for Emily’s neck.

  Emily screamed.

  Her cries pierced the chill October air.

  She twisted in the dark figure’s grasp, struggling to free herself. “A vampire!” she cried. “Help me, Andrew!”

  Andrew didn’t move. He stared at the caped figure. At his long fangs dripping with saliva.

  “Andrew, do something!” Emily shrieked.

  “Vhat a screamer you are,” said the creature of the night. He released Emily from his grasp. He spit—and his fangs flew into his black-gloved hand.

  Andrew fell to his knees—and laughed.

  “Oh, man!” he cried. “That was awesome, T.J.!”

  Emily smoothed her hair. She centered her pearl necklace.

  “You immature creeps,” she growled. “You are so pitiful. You act like two-year-olds!” With that she whirled away from them. She marched toward the park exit.

  “Oh, man!” Andrew said again. He watched his sister stomp angrily past the baseball diamond. “I wish I had that on video.”

  “You’d think she’d be used to it by now,” T.J. said, shaking his head. “But she falls for our pranks every time.”

  T.J. picked up his backpack from behind a tree. He untied his cape and took it off. He folded it carefully and tucked it into the backpack. He placed his plastic fangs in their spot in his pen-holder compartment.

  Andrew admired T.J. When he pulled a prank, he went all the way. T.J. wasn’t very tall. In fact, he was short and stocky. But he’d slicked back his hair with some of his older brother’s mousse, and somehow managed to look like a full-size vampire.

  Andrew admired T.J. for another reason. He was loyal to vampires. Andrew loved all kinds of monsters. Werewolves. Mummies. Ghouls. Swamp things. But T.J. stuck to vampires. He knew everything about them. He was a specialist.

  “This was better than when we scared Emily with the King Kong mask,” T.J. said. “It was even better than the time we slimed her.”

  Andrew grinned, remembering. He’d gotten in trouble for that one. Mega trouble. But it was worth it. And Emily deserved it. She kept making fun of one of his monster books. Alien Slime from Mars. Then one night, he and T.J. arranged for her to see some slime for herself. Andrew giggled, thinking about how she stared in horror as green goo dripped down from her light fixture. How it plopped right down on her head. He was pretty sure that, for a second, Emily believed it was alien slime from Mars.

  * * *

  The next morning, Andrew jolted awake. Somebody was screaming! Screaming his name! He sat straight up in bed.

  “Huh?” he cried.

  “Get up!” Emily shouted from the doorway of his room. “Now!”

  With a groan, Andrew fell back onto his bed. He burrowed deeper under his covers. He shut his eyes. Clearly Emily had not forgiven him for the vampire prank.

  “Turn off your stupid alarm!” Emily shouted.

  Alarm? Oh. That’s what was going beep, beep, beep. Andrew had been dreaming that a vampire was knocking on his window. The vampire said beep, beep, beep. Finally Andrew got up and opened the window for him. What a stupid dream. A beeping vampire.

  Still half asleep, Andrew reached a hand out from under his blanket. He waved it in the direction of his clock. At last he made contact. He hit the alarm button. The beeping stopped.

  “We are going to catch the first bus this morning, Andrew,” Emily announced. “If you aren’t downstairs in fifteen minutes, I’m leaving without you. I don’t care what Mom says.”

  Andrew heard his sister stomp down the stairs. If Emily left by herself, their mom would have a fit. Shadyside Middle School was pretty far away from their development—but very close to Fear Street. Close to the Fear Street Cemetery. Scary things happened there. All the time. If you believed the stories . . .

  Andrew believed them. He knew that on Halloween, ghost kids rose from their graves. They tried to get real live kids to play a game with them. The game was called Hide and Shriek. The object of the game was to take the live kids back to the grave!

  And then there was Miss Gaunt. She used to be a substitute teacher at Shadyside Middle School. Before she died, that is. Now she haunted the cemetery. She was always out searching for new students to teach—forever!

  Mrs. Griffin always told Andrew that they were only stories—that she didn’t believe there was any truth to them. But still, she liked Andrew and Emily to travel to and from school together.

  With a groan, Andrew made himself open his eyes. He needed more sleep. Much more sleep. He wished he hadn’t stayed up reading so late the night before. He wished he could sink back onto his soft pillow again. And close his eyes . . .

  He jerked his head up. Any minute now, Emily would be back, screaming at him. He pushed himself up on one arm. Ow! His elbow hit the corner of his book. The one he’d been reading half the night. Running with Werewolves. Boy, what a great story!

  Now Andrew felt wide awake. He remembered where he left off in the story. Jason, the hero of Running with Werewolves, was about to join a werewolf pack.

  Andrew had read all but the last few pages. He’d die if he didn’t find out what happened. He glanced at his clock. He could skip brushing his teeth for once. And washing his face.

  Andrew sat on his bed. His eyes skimmed the words. Jason was in big trouble. He was a werewolf now. But the head werewolf didn’t want him in the pack. Jason and the head werewolf were about to engage in mortal combat! Only a werewolf can kill another werewolf. So one of them had to kill the other. Jason didn’t stand much of a chance.

  Andrew’s heart pounded as the snarling head werewolf reached out his huge hairy paws. Reached out and grabbed Jason’s neck. He squeezed, tighter and tighter. Choking Jason.

  Andrew lifted his eyes from the book to catch his breath—and a hand from behind clutched his neck!

  Andrew tried to scream. But no sound came out.

  A voice came from behind Andrew. “Be ready in ten minutes!”

  It was Emily’s voice.

  Emily let go of Andrew’s neck. Then she reached around and snatched his book.

  “Hey!” Andrew cried. He leaped up. But he was too late.

  Emily was running out of his room with the book.

  Andrew chased her. “Give it back!” he cried.

  Emily whizzed down the stairs. She stood at the bottom, shaking her head. “Be down here in ten minutes
, Andrew,” she said. “Or this book is history!”

  Andrew sighed. He knew when he was beaten. He plodded back to his room. There, he pulled on a polo shirt and a pair of jeans. Maybe Mrs. Parma had a copy of Running with Werewolves in the school library. But probably not. Andrew would have to wait to find out what happened to Jason. He’d have to ask Emily for his book back. She might make him get down on his knees and beg!

  Andrew got dressed. All but his sneakers. He felt around under his bed. He thought his sneakers were under there.

  His fingers hit something. Something cold as ice. Not a sneaker. Definitely not. Andrew grasped the cold thing. He dragged it out from under his bed—and found himself gazing at a book.

  An old black book. It looked important somehow. Boy, did it ever feel cold. So cold it stung his fingers.

  The book had no title. Andrew ran his hand over the smooth black leather. Why does this book feel like a frozen TV dinner? he wondered. And how did it get under my bed?

  He opened the book. A blank page stared back at him. Andrew flipped page after page. Blank, blank, blank.

  “Andrew?” Mrs. Griffin called from the bottom of the stairs. “What’s keeping you, honey? Emily’s waiting!”

  “Coming!” Andrew called back.

  He tossed the book down on his bed. He rummaged around, found his sneakers, and stuffed his feet into them. Maybe he’d take the black book to school with him. Show it to T.J.

  But wait. That’s who must have put the book under his bed—T.J.! It had to be T.J. It was definitely a T.J. kind of joke.

  Andrew slipped his homework papers into his binder. He shoved his binder into his backpack. He reached for the black book. Then he stopped.

  He squinted down at the cover.

  It had been blank before. Totally blank. He was sure of it. But now spidery letters were beginning to appear. Old-fashioned letters—writing themselves onto the book!

  Andrew could only stare and wait as the writing continued.

  And then it stopped.

  The title was complete.

  Andrew felt his blood run cold as he whispered the words on the front of the book:

  HOW TO BE A VAMPIRE