“There she is!” cried Resus, and he dashed across the room to his friend – stopping in his tracks when Cleo snapped her head up and gave him a glare.
“Stay back!” the mummy commanded. “Don’t come near me!”
Chapter Seven
The Mummy’s Dream
Luke stared at Cleo. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Why don’t you want us here? We’ve entered this dream to help you!”
“It’s not just any dream,” said Cleo. “It’s my dream. My worst nightmare, to be exact. You’re not safe here!”
Resus studied the tea party and frowned. “This is your worst nightmare? Playing with dolls?”
“And wearing this!” added Cleo. She stood to reveal a frilly pink dress and a white lace pinafore. On her feet were a pair of sparkly silver shoes.
Resus bit his tongue with one of his new-found fangs in an effort not to laugh. “It suits you,” he said.
“No more than it suits you,” retorted Cleo crossly.
Resus looked down at his clothes to discover that his black vampire cape had gone, and in its place was a pale blue party frock. “Whoa!” he yelled.
Luke, now dressed in a blouse and skirt, raced over to the table, blue ribbons bobbing in his hair. “It doesn’t matter what we’re wearing,” he declared. “It’s just a dream – and we have to find a way out of here, now!” But before he could pull Cleo away, the table jolted towards him and knocked him off his feet. He sat down heavily in one of the chairs.
“Don’t you think I’ve tried to get out of here?” Cleo said sadly. “Every time I make a move, the tea party drags me back in.”
“That’s ridiculous!” barked Resus as lipstick and blusher suddenly appeared over his pale features. Then another of the chairs suddenly flew up in the air, circled the room and dragged the vampire to the table.
“Then again, I can see your problem,” he added.
Cleo picked up the teapot and got ready to pour. “We have to go through with this – or he comes and makes things worse.”
“He?” hissed Luke. “You mean … the Nightwatchman?”
Cleo nodded, her eyes flicking towards the door. “Try not to mention his name,” she shuddered. “It’s bad enough when he turns up unannounced.”
“But didn’t you hurt him?” said Resus, remembering. “We saw the trail of blood leading from your bedroom – well, Luke did, anyway.”
“Blood?” asked Cleo.
“Blood,” Resus confirmed. “You know, the stuff my dad uses in cocktails.”
“Do you mean this?” Reaching up, Cleo grabbed the light fitting above her head and directed it towards the wall, revealing splashes of the same green goo the boys had followed from Scream Street.
Luke nodded, realizing he could see the stuff without his werewolf vision now he was inside the dream. “That’s it,” he gulped.
“That’s not blood,” whispered Cleo. “That’s terror – my terror! The stuff the Nightwatchman feeds on.”
Resus’s eyes widened. “So that’s why we felt so sad when we touched it,” he gasped. “We were feeling your fear!”
“Exactly,” said Cleo. “I was having a nightmare back at home when I felt something dark and shadowy coming towards me. I jumped out of bed in my sleep and locked my bedroom door.”
“Which explains why the Nightwatchman had to break in,” said Luke.
“And why he keeps the kids strapped to those old beds in the dormitories,” added Resus. “He doesn’t want them trying to fight back – even in their sleep.”
“But there must be a way out of this dream,” insisted Luke, “even if you’re being kept asleep by magic. People don’t suffer through their worst nightmare every night. They dream about other things too. Before Kian woke me this morning, I was watching meerkats performing on a trapeze!”
“Maybe you just have to reject this dream and move on to the next one,” suggested Resus. “You know – choose something else to dream about.”
Cleo looked thoughtful. “I suppose I could give it a go,” she said. Gritting her teeth, she snatched up one of the ragdolls and hurled it across the room. “Get away from us!” she bellowed. The doll bounced off the wall and fell to the floor.
“Brilliant!” beamed Resus. “That was easy enough. Now, let’s get out of these stupid dresses and we can—”
The ragdoll slowly turned its head and looked at the trio.
“Uh-oh…”
Climbing to its knitted feet, the doll steadily plodded back towards Cleo, singing in a high, off-key voice,
“Ring-a-ring o’ roses,
You’re wearing girly clothes-es…”
The other dolls joined in the chant and began to close in around the mummy.
“For ever! For ever!
You’ll always play with ussssssss!”
“Get them away from me!” Cleo shrieked as the dolls began to clamber over her.
Luke pulled the first one away from his friend, and in desperation he ripped it in half before tossing it aside. But the legs simply jumped up and ran back to the battle while the upper half followed, pulling itself across the floorboards.
Resus swung his leg round and kicked another of the tiny monsters across the room, sending it crashing into a box of play jewellery. The doll re-emerged, hurling brooches and hairclips at him as though they were ninja throwing stars.
Dozens more ragdolls dragged themselves out from under beds and lurched towards Cleo. The mummy was slowly disappearing beneath them.
“Little Miss Mummy lay on her tummy,
Dreaming of beads and pearls…”
A larger, walking-talking doll appeared in the doorway and tottered forward unsteadily, its eyes shining as it sang,
“Along came a dolly that made her feel jolly
And now she’s just one of the girls!”
“You have to stop this yourself!” Luke shouted to Cleo. “There’s nothing Resus or I can do!”
“But how?” came Cleo’s muffled voice. “I never played with dolls – I always thought they were childish.”
“Then be that person!” roared Luke. “Forget about them and grow up!”
With a supreme effort, Cleo pushed enough of the dolls to one side to allow her to sit up. She tore at her party dress. “I don’t play with dolls!” she yelled angrily. “I fight Hellhounds, tunnel with zombies and rescue bog monsters from slime-filled swimming pools.”
“Mama! Mama!” The walking doll was almost upon her.
“I don’t like girls’ toys,” Cleo bawled. “I’m a TOMBOY!”
The woollen figures paused in their assault, their faces twisted in fear. Even the larger doll seemed to falter for a second.
“Mama?”
“You lot are nothing but a waste of wool,” Cleo continued. The dolls began to edge away from her.
“Keep going!” encouraged Resus.
Cleo finally stood and ripped off what remained of her dress. “And I’ll tell you another thing,” she yelled. “I NEVER liked tea!” She grabbed the teapot from the table, spun round and used it like a watering can to spray the liquid across everything and everyone in the room. As soon as it hit the dolls, they began to melt away, their cries echoing around the dormitory. Soon they were all gone.
Resus wiped tea from his face and hugged Cleo excitedly. “You were brilliant!” he beamed.
Cleo held the vampire at arm’s length and pretended to be cross. “You two certainly took your time,” she complained. “What happened? Was there a new issue of the Illustrated Idiot you had to read before you could set off on your rescue mission?”
Resus grinned. “Well, at least there don’t seem to be any lasting effects…”
“My dress has disappeared!” Luke exclaimed, looking down to discover he was back in jeans and a T-shirt.
Resus twirled his cape. “And I look like a vampire again,” he grinned.
“Looking like a vampire means nothing!” announced a deep voice from somewhere behind them.
C
leo jumped as the room began to change around them, the walls falling away to reveal a vast stone chamber. “What’s going on?” she exclaimed.
Two adult vampires appeared behind Resus. One of them pulled his hands behind his back and secured them with handcuffs.
“Resus Negative,” pronounced the second. “You are under arrest for impersonating a vampire!”
Chapter Eight
The Vampire’s Dream
“No!” Luke ran forward to help Resus, but one of the vampires stepped in his way.
“If you wish to remain in court, you will have to take a seat, sir!” he growled.
Luke stared around him. They were now in a large but dimly lit cavern filled with battered wooden benches, ageing varnish peeling from the dark surfaces. He and Cleo were ushered into seats behind a large desk marked Witnesses.
Resus, meanwhile, struggled as the first vampire pushed him inside a small, metal cage and swung the door shut with a clang. “What are you doing? Let me go!” he cried.
A chorus of cheers and applause rang out above them as the cage was locked. Luke looked up to see a balcony running all the way around the room, crammed with excited vampires of all shapes and sizes.
Cleo clutched Luke’s arm, trembling. “What’s happening?” she whispered. “What is this place?”
Luke tried to keep his own voice from shaking. “I think we’re inside Resus’s worst nightmare now,” he gulped.
“All rise for His Honour, Judge Mortis!” a voice boomed.
Cleo and Luke were pushed to their feet as an elderly vampire entered the room. He was dressed in black robes and a white wig, and his fangs were twisted and gnarled, blood dripping from them as though he had just fed. The audience in the balcony cooed with delight.
Judge Mortis glared at Resus. “Is this the accused?” he grunted, licking the tips of his twisted fangs.
“This is he,” one of the guards replied, saluting smartly.
“Then we begin.” He picked up a wooden gavel and rapped it on his desk. “Court is now in session!”
Luke and Cleo sat back down. Resus gripped the bars of his cage and peered miserably through.
“Resus Stoker Negative…” rumbled the judge.
“Stoker?” whispered Cleo.
Judge Mortis banged his gavel again. “There will be silence in court!” he roared.
Cleo shrank down in her seat and the judge turned back to glare at the accused. “Resus Stoker Negative, you are charged with impersonating a vampire and living with a true vampire family, even though you are nothing but a normal!” He spat out the final word and the vampires in the balcony gave out a theatrical “Ooh!”.
“But I am a vampire!” yelled Resus. “I’m not impersonating anything!”
“Then prove it,” growled the judge. “Show the court your fangs.”
A look of hope crossed Resus’s face. Since he had been dreaming, his fangs had been real. “Here!” he cried, opening his mouth wide.
Judge Mortis thrust his hand through the bars of the cage and grabbed hold of Resus’s teeth. He pulled hard and yanked the fangs out of the young vampire’s mouth, revealing a row of ordinary teeth behind.
Luke gasped. “His fangs! They’re fake again!”
The crowd leaning over the edge of the balcony booed and hissed.
Resus put his hand to his mouth. “They were real!” he exclaimed.
Judge Mortis held Resus’s fake fangs up to the light. “Then explain to the court why you wear these cheap imitations!” he bellowed.
Tears began to well up in Resus’s eyes. “I… I can’t…”
“Strike one,” declared the judge, and the audience burst into applause.
The judge tossed the fangs back into the cage. “Guard!” he yelled as Resus scrabbled about on the floor to retrieve them. “Fetch me a mirror!”
“Oh no,” said Luke.
“What’s wrong?” Cleo asked.
“They’re going to check if Resus has a reflection!”
“Why? Doesn’t everybody?”
“Not vampires,” replied Luke. “Well, real vampires, anyway.”
The guard reappeared with a hand mirror, which he held in front of the cage. Judge Mortis leant over to peer at where Resus’s reflection shouldn’t be…
“I can see him!” the judge shrieked. “This so-called vampire has a reflection! Strike two!”
The crowd in the balcony went crazy, hurling insults and, in one case, even rotten fruit at the cage. Resus shrank back as far as he could, tears now running freely down his face.
Judge Mortis rapped his gavel again. “Silence!” he demanded. “We have one final test to undertake.” He glared at Resus. “If you are, as you claim, a true vampire … then you will not object to drinking blood.”
One of the guards produced a goblet full of crimson liquid. The audience of vampires hissed and licked their lips.
“No!” Resus sobbed. “Please…”
“Drink!” the judge ordered.
Resus took the goblet in trembling fingers and slowly raised it to his lips. His fangs tinkled against the edge of the glass.
The gallery held its collective breath.
“I won’t do it!” screamed Resus suddenly, hurling the goblet to the floor of the cage, where it smashed, spraying blood everywhere.
“He will not drink!” bellowed the judge. “Strike three!”
The watching vampires leapt to their feet and began to cheer wildly.
Judge Mortis hammered his gavel repeatedly until silence filled the courtroom once more. “Resus Stoker Negative,” he announced, “you have been found guilty of impersonating a vampire. You shall spend the remainder of your days in the Underlands.”
“This isn’t fair!” shouted Luke, jumping to his feet. “I demand to speak on Resus’s behalf!”
The judge turned to glare at Luke. “And who,” he gurgled, “are you?”
“My name is Luke Watson, and I’m Resus’s friend.”
Judge Mortis sneered. “As delighted as we all are to discover that the faker has an acquaintance, my judgment has been passed!”
“But this box says Witnesses,” insisted Luke. “And you haven’t called for any! I don’t know much about vampire law, but I’m pretty certain you’re allowed to defend yourselves openly and fairly.”
Hushed whispers could be heard in the gallery as Judge Mortis considered Luke’s words. “Very well,” he said finally, “you may attempt to defend the accused – but if you fail you shall both be banished to the Underlands!”
“Make that three of us!” cried Cleo, standing beside Luke.
Judge Mortis began to laugh mockingly. “It seems you are quite the heroes,” he sneered. “So be it. The mummy shall go first.”
A guard dragged Cleo to stand beside the cage. She reached through the bars and took Resus’s hand, giving it a squeeze.
A vampire in a suit approached them. “State your name.”
“Cleopatra Farr, former handmaiden to Queen Nefertari of Egypt.”
“Miss Farr, how long have you known this ‘vampire’?”
“Ever since I moved to Scream Street,” Cleo declared. “And it doesn’t matter what you say about his reflection, or the fact that he doesn’t like the taste of blood – he is a real vampire. Look!”
She pulled Resus’s hand through the bars of the cage and held it, palm up, towards the judge. “Study the lines,” Cleo directed. “Resus is descended from the glorious line of Count Negatov himself!”
The gallery vampires cried out in disgust at the claim.
Judge Mortis silenced them, then removed his spectacles to study Resus’s palm. “Is this some sort of joke, young lady?” he asked.
“Of course not!” retorted Cleo. “The lines clearly show—”
She looked down and froze. Resus’s palm was completely smooth and bare. “I-I don’t understand…”
“Remove her,” ordered the judge as Resus lowered his head in dismay.
“No!” yelled Cleo
as one of the guards approached. “His palm usually shows he’s a Negative, I’ve seen it!” The guard picked her up and carried her across the courtroom, dumping her back down beside Luke.
“It’s OK,” he whispered to her. “I know what to do.”
Luke made his way over to the witness stand and stood facing the suited vampire. “My name is Luke Thomas Watson, and I’m a werewolf,” he proclaimed.
The lawyer indicated Resus’s cage. “Do you deny that this boy is a normal?”
“Not at all,” Luke replied. The audience gasped. “Resus Negative is a normal,” Luke continued, “but a normal born to true vampire parents. He might have to wear fake fangs and dye his hair, but he will prove his heritage by acting like each and every one of you.”
He pulled down the collar of his T-shirt, pressed his neck against the bars of the cage and hissed, “Bite me!”
Resus stared at his friend, white-faced. “B-but, Luke…”
“It’s just a dream,” Luke insisted through gritted teeth. “Now, bite me!”
Resus slowly leant forward…
Luke closed his eyes and felt the sharp points begin to press against his skin…
Then Cleo screamed.
Luke’s eyes snapped open. The courtroom had vanished – he was back in his house in Scream Street. And it wasn’t Resus who was biting his neck.
It was his mum.
Chaper Nine
The Werewolf’s Dream
Luke stared at his mum in horror and pulled away. She was halfway through her werewolf transformation, long talons sliding through her fingertips. The two of them were in a room that looked exactly like their living room at home.
“It’s just a dream!” Luke told himself urgently. A noise made him jump, and he looked up to see Cleo and Resus outside, hammering on the living-room window.
“It’s not just a dream!” Cleo yelled. “It’s your worst nightmare, created for you by the Nightwatchman – if you die here, you die in real life!”
Terror of the Nightwatchman Page 4