Chapter Three
The Relic
“This is ridiculous!” barked Rocky as he paced around Everwell’s Emporium, the shop that stood in Scream Street’s central square. The still-headless figure of the Horseman staggered around behind him. “Why isn’t it working yet?”
“It’s not my fault!” protested the shop’s owner, Eefa Everwell. The witch lit a candle with a blue spark from her fingers, then waved her hands over a large crystal ball that was filled with hissing static. “The flash knocked everything out.”
In the chaos after the disappearance of the Horseman’s head, Resus had told Rocky about the recording spells Eefa used to protect her shop and suggested that they might have picked something up. Eddie’s house was on the edge of square, after all. Once the disappointed crowd had dispersed, Luke, Resus and Cleo had led Rocky and his headless client to the store, where, despite protestations from the gargoyle, Eefa had allowed them to stay.
It turned out that although the spells should have captured everything, unfortunately the huge camera flash used by the newspaper photographer had prevented them from working. Eefa thought the flash must have been magical and was now working to restore the image inside the crystal ball, but it wasn’t proving easy.
“I can’t even rewind to before the head went missing,” said the witch in frustration.
“Temporarily absent,” Rocky quickly corrected her. “It’s temporarily absent. The press would have a field day if they thought Eddie’s head was missing!”
“But his head is missing,” said Cleo, quickly grabbing the Horseman’s arm and turning his staggering frame away from a display of glass unicorns before he crashed into it. “It’s the truth.”
Rocky glared up at her. “I know that, and you know that — but no one outside this shop does!”
“Except for the dozens of screaming women you were selling perfume to, of course,” suggested Resus with a smirk.
“Yes, except for the dozens of— Oh, shut up!” barked Rocky, turning away in a huff.
Cleo pulled her bandages up over her mouth to hide a smile. “Well, there’s no one out there now except for that skeleton, so your secret is probably safe.” She watched the skeletal figure sitting alone on the kerb, her face buried in her bony fingers. “She looks really sad. Maybe we should ask her inside?”
“No time for that,” replied Rocky, his face creaking as he attempted a smile. “Your friend is back!”
Right on cue, Luke burst into the shop out of breath, and the bat tethered over the door let out a screech to announce his arrival. “Did you bring the book?” asked the gargoyle quickly.
Luke nodded and handed Eefa a silver-backed volume with a face protruding from the cover: Skipstone’s Tales of Scream Street. “If anyone will know how to get the security spells working again, it’ll be Mr Skipstone,” he said. Eddie’s body thumped into the wall beside him. Several dozen china plates commemorating the wedding of Skinderella and Prince Harming smashed to the floor.
“Will somebody sit that lumbering oaf down before he does any more damage?” demanded Eefa. “You’d think he’d be used to being headless by now!”
Rocky threw the witch a dirty look as he guided Eddie to a chair. “This ‘lumbering oaf’, as you call him, is the biggest celebrity ever to grace this backwater neighbourhood, so I’d be a little more polite if I were you!”
“It’s not like he can hear me,” muttered the witch under her breath.
“What did you tell our parents?” Resus asked Luke, pulling off his cape and clipping it back on the right way round.
“Just that Eefa has organized some Halloween games,” Luke replied.
Eefa laid the silver book on the shop counter and spoke to the face on the cover. “Mr Skipstone, my security spells have blown. Can you help?”
Samuel Skipstone’s eyes opened and he smiled up at the witch. “Of course, my dear. Anything for one so captivating!” The author had spent his entire life researching and recording life in Scream Street. At the time of his death, he had cast a spell that merged his spirit with the pages of his book so that he could continue his work. Most recently, he had been providing clues for Luke and his friends to track down the relics of the founding fathers.
“There is possibly one way to restart the recording spell,” began the author, opening up to reveal a page displaying a complex diagram of magical symbols. As Eefa began to study them, Rocky dragged a box over to the counter and hopped up to join her.
Cleo turned back to the shop window. The skeleton was still sitting alone outside, sobbing quietly. “I can’t just leave her there,” said the mummy.
“I don’t think Rocky would be too pleased if you invited her in,” replied Resus. “He doesn’t want news of the disappearance of the Horseman’s head to leak out.”
“She was having her photo taken with Eddie when it happened,” snapped Cleo. “If anyone knows about it already, it’s her!”
“I’m not sure…”
Cleo glanced at the gargoyle, busy discussing Skipstone’s spell with Eefa at the other end of the shop. “Besides, I don’t care what that lump of stone thinks,” she said. “Help me open the door quietly.”
With an exaggerated sigh, Resus pulled a long broom handle, a length of string and a banana from inside his cloak. He quickly peeled the banana and tied it to the end of the pole. Raising it up to the same level as the bat, he whispered to Cleo over his shoulder, “You’ve got about thirty seconds!”
Luke opened the shop door as quietly as he could, and Cleo stepped outside. The bat, busy with the banana, remained silent.
“Hey!” Cleo called quietly. The skeleton raised her head. “It’s OK,” said the mummy. “I’m a friend. Why don’t you come inside?”
“Oh no,” began the nervous figure, jumping to her feet. “I couldn’t…”
“Please,” said Cleo. “I don’t like to see you cry.” Reluctantly, the skeleton followed her back into the emporium, where Luke closed the door silently behind them as Resus fed the last of the banana to the bat. Then the trio led the skeleton to a spot behind a shelving unit, where Rocky wouldn’t see them if he looked up.
“What’s your name?” asked Luke kindly.
“Femur,” sniffed the skeleton. “Femur Ribs.”
“Are you new to Scream Street?” asked Cleo. “I haven’t seen you before.”
Femur shook her head. “I’ve lived at number twenty-seven for ages, but I keep myself to myself and usually stay inside a closet. When I heard that the Headless Horseman had moved in next door, I had to come out to see him.”
“Well,” grinned Resus, “there’s still most of him over there if you fancy a look!” Cleo shot the vampire a warning look of her own.
“I’ve been in love with Eddie ever since I first read about him,” continued Femur. “What he did to save those orphans was amazing!”
“Yeah,” Resus agreed. “Anyone else in that situation could have really lost their head!” This time he got Cleo’s elbow in the ribs.
“Then, when I finally meet the man of my dreams, his head disappears while I’m having my picture taken with him,” moaned the skeleton.
“Which means it could well have been you who took it!” barked a voice. The trio spun round to discover Rocky standing behind them, glaring at the skeleton. “Come on,” ordered the gargoyle. “You’ve had your fun! Hand it over.” Femur dissolved into tears again.
“Don’t be cruel,” said Luke, defending her. “Can’t you see she’s upset?”
“Nothing more than crocodile tears to throw us off the scent, I don’t doubt,” declared Rocky.
“I doubt even cutting off our own noses could throw us off the scent of your pongy perfume!” quipped Resus.
The gargoyle ignored him. “She must return the head that she stole!” he insisted.
“Are you insane?” demanded Cleo. “Why would she have stolen Eddie’s head?”
“You’d be amazed at the lengths these stalkers go to in order to win some
souvenir of their hero,” retorted Rocky.
“Stalkers?” said Luke. “How can she be a stalker if she’s only just left her closet, for the first time in years, to buy a bottle of your rotten perfume?”
Rocky grabbed the skeleton roughly and dragged her into the main part of the shop. “That still doesn’t change the fact that this person was having her picture taken with Eddie at the time of the tragedy, that she has confessed to a lengthy obsession with him, and that no one has ever seen her before today!”
“I have,” declared Samuel Skipstone from the cover of his book. “Hello, Femur.”
Chapter Four
The Laboratory
“Samuel!” gasped Femur, staring at the silver-backed book in amazement. “Is it really you?”
“It is indeed,” replied Skipstone. “I did not think we would ever meet again.”
“So, if you two are friends,” said Resus, “you must be able to vouch for her.”
“I most definitely can,” smiled Skipstone. “I am quite sure that Femur is innocent.”
“There!” said Cleo, sticking her tongue out at Rocky. The gargoyle turned away and ruffled his granite wings sulkily.
“Thanks for your help, Mr Skipstone,” said Luke.
“It is a pleasure,” the author replied, “and I might be able to offer further assistance — to you this time, Luke.”
“You mean…?”
“In the light of our present situation, yes, I feel I should reveal the clue to the next relic’s location,” said Skipstone as Luke signalled for Resus and Cleo to join him. The book flicked through its pages, stopping at an article on how to make your own coffin from a cardboard box, a roll of tape and some drinking straws.
The trio watched as the writing faded away to reveal a portion of hidden text below:
There was a pause. Then Luke spoke, his words tumbling over themselves in his excitement. “The next relic is the Headless Horseman’s skull!” he breathed as the face on the book’s cover closed its eyes and fell silent.
“What makes you so sure?” asked Cleo.
“Mr Skipstone said that our current situation led him to reveal the clue,” explained Luke. “Why else would he tell us this on the very same day that the Headless Horseman moves back to Scream Street?”
Resus nodded. “Rocky said that Eddie used to live here ages ago,” he said thoughtfully. “Although I’d never have imagined he was one of the founding fathers!”
“And a skull unlike the rest. There’s only one person that could refer to,” added Cleo.
“That’s putting it mildly,” laughed Resus. “He’s had so much work done—”
Their conversation was interrupted by Eefa. “The spell’s working again!” she exclaimed.
Everyone crowded around the crystal ball to watch the disappearance of the Horseman’s head. “The picture’s still a little grainy, and there’s no sound,” explained Eefa, “but we might be able to see what happened.”
Inside the sphere, a tiny Femur stepped up next to Eddie to have her picture taken. “There! I told you she was involved!” growled Rocky.
Luke jerked his leg out and kicked the box the gargoyle stood on, sending him tumbling to the floor. “Oops!”
The blinding flash from the photographer’s camera filled the crystal ball. “Keep watching,” said Eefa. “We might be able to spot something as the flash dies away…”
Everyone craned their necks to get a little closer to the globe, but there was nothing to see. The Horseman’s head was gone, the crowd was in shock and the banshee photographer was hurrying away, her potbelly wobbling.
“Wait a minute,” said Cleo. “I don’t remember the photographer having a stomach like that…”
“She didn’t!” cried Luke. “I’ll bet that’s the Horseman’s head stuffed under her shirt! The question remains, who is she?”
Within seconds, the disappearing thief began to change, her skin stretching and the thick dreadlocks becoming strands of long, greasy hair.
“That,” announced Resus with a grin, “is none other than our favourite landlord’s shape-shifting nephew, Dixon!”
“What would Dixon want with the Horseman’s head?” whispered Cleo as she, Luke and Resus crept along the outer wall of Sneer Hall, home to Sir Otto Sneer, first thing the following morning.
“I doubt he wants it for himself,” replied Resus. “He’s likely to just be the messenger boy for his uncle.”
“That’s what bothers me,” said Luke. “How did Sir Otto come to know that the skull was one of the relics before we did?”
“Perhaps Dixon was in the crowd outside the Horseman’s house and he heard Rocky say he’d lived here before,” suggested Cleo. “He might have put two and two together and worked out that Eddie was one of the founding fathers.”
“That doesn’t sound like the Dixon I know,” said Resus. “He has trouble putting two and two together, full stop!”
“Resus is right,” said Luke. “And if that was the case, how would Sir Otto have known it was the skull we needed? Somehow he must have worked out a way to discover which relic comes next.”
“And the answer to how he did that,” said Resus as the trio slipped through the wrought-iron gates and down the path to the house, “must be somewhere inside Sneer Hall.” They stopped at a low window and Luke pressed his ear to the window pane. “Hear anything?” asked Resus.
“No,” said Luke, “but then maybe I’m not listening hard enough…” Closing his eyes, he tried to bring on the anger that would trigger his werewolf transformation. He thought of his parents, terrified by the unusual neighbours they now lived among. In his mind’s eye, he saw his dad, trembling as he came face to face with a vampire for the first time, and his mum, her arm broken during a vicious poltergeist attack. Slowly, the fury began to build inside him, and he forced it out.
Since he had arrived in Scream Street, Luke had begun to experience partial transformations, where only one area of his body would change. Day by day, he was learning to control these transformations, to use them in his quest to find a way home for his parents.
This time, his head was the target. His skin twisted and bones stretched to form a snout. His ears rose to the top of his scalp and lengthened, and his entire face sprouted thick, brown fur. Pressing a sensitive werewolf’s ear to the window, Luke listened for a moment.
“Can you tell which room they’re in?” asked Cleo.
Luke shook his head, his long whiskers quivering. “I can’t hear any shoundsh,” he slathered, his fangs making speech difficult, “but shomething shmellsh rotten!”
“Don’t tell me,” grinned Resus. “Goblin farts!” Luke nodded.
“Of course, Eddie was wearing his own scent!” said Cleo.
“And super-snout here can lead us right to him,” added Resus.
Luke followed the scent around the corner of the mansion to a small side door, which to their delight they found unlocked. Soon the trio were inside Sneer Hall, walking softly along a richly decorated corridor.
“Sir Otto won’t be happy if he catches us here,” warned Cleo.
“We’ll be in and out before he even knows it,” said Resus confidently.
“That shmell’sh getting shtronger by the shecond!” interrupted Luke.
They stopped and looked around them. “There’s a light coming from under that door,” said Cleo, pointing further along the corridor.
“Come on,” said Resus. “As quietly as we can.”
“Ready?” whispered Luke, hand on the door knob.
Resus and Cleo nodded. “Ready!”
Luke slowly pushed open the door to reveal a noisy laboratory. Bottles and jars covered every available surface, and potions of all colours whizzed through clear tubes that ran the length of the room.
The trio crept in and hid in a small space behind a pile of crates labelled Oddbods. “Eddie’s head is definitely in here,” whispered Cleo. “I can smell that awful perfume!”
“Look!” hissed Luke.
Sir Otto Sneer and his nephew, Dixon, were working at a vast, chrome table at the other end of the room. They wore surgical gowns and masks.
Luke crept along the wall behind the crates and gestured for Resus and Cleo to follow. They stayed low, taking care to keep out of Sir Otto’s line of sight, and hid beneath a table, where Luke’s transformation began to reverse.
“What are they doing?” mouthed Resus.
“I don’t know,” whispered Cleo. “But this feels more like an operating theatre than—”
Suddenly, a limp arm dangled over the side of the table, its diseased hand twitching. The mummy squealed.
Sir Otto’s head jerked up and his eyes scanned the room, stopping at his nephew. “What did you scream for?”
“What?” grunted Dixon. “I didn’t—”
“Just stay quiet!” snapped the landlord. “I’m trying to concentrate.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Resus squinted at the arm that now hung down over the edge of the chrome table. “That looks like the one Doug had stolen last night,” he said quietly.
“There are all sorts of body parts up there,” Luke whispered, paling. “And Sir Otto is stitching them together!”
Resus and Cleo leant in to see the reflection for themselves. A centaur’s legs were stitched onto the huge torso of an ogre and, on the opposite side to Doug’s limb, a powerful minotaur arm jutted from the shoulder. At the top of the creature, Sir Otto was busy attaching wires from the ogre’s neck into Eddie’s skull. Finally, he pressed down the stolen head, gluing it in place.
“There!” growled the landlord, as he stood back and tore off the mask. “Dixon — throw the switch!”
His scrawny nephew giggled and pulled on a lever that sent sparks of fizzing blue electricity streaming through the monster. The energy buzzed between Eddie’s fake horns, and the creature sat bolt upright with a roar.
Sir Otto laughed madly, his eyes lit up by the flashing bursts of power. “I’ve done it, Dixon!” he yelled. “IT’S ALIVE!”
Chapter Five
Skull of the Skeleton Page 2