by B. A. Frade
Dinner will be served at
8:00 p.m.
Dancing to follow
Count Frederic loved parties. It had been a long time since he’d hosted, or even attended one. Since leaving his native Transylvania, he’d wandered the globe, unable to stay for long in any one place. There was never a reason to celebrate. Fear forced the count to look over his shoulder at every turn. Anxiety kept him awake at night.
As long as she lived, he had to stay alert. Never sleep. He had to watch his back and keep constant vigil. If she found him, Frederic knew his fate.
His mother was a monster. She roamed the streets at night, searching for a way to satisfy her insatiable hunger.
As the oldest son, it was his responsibility to follow in his mother’s footsteps.
Count Frederic Wampir rejected this legacy, and so he ran. He moved from place to place with the endless fear that she would find him. And make him just like her.
Count Frederic set the last invitation on his desk and sealed it with thick red wax. The invitations would be hand-delivered room by room by the hotel bellman. The rooms were all occupied for the week. The hotel was full.
Tonight was a special occasion.
A year earlier, his brother had sent word that his mother was dead.
A stake had pierced her heart.
The curse was over.
He was free.
Construction on the lodge had begun that very day. And tonight, he would celebrate.
“What’s frightening about that? It’s just about a guy having a party,” I told Matt as the flowery writing faded from the page. “The Scaremaster’s tale isn’t so scary.”
“Obviously, the count didn’t want to become a vampire like his mom,” Matt said, staring down at the now blank page in the journal. “And he didn’t.”
“What fun is that?” I picked up the pen and twirled it between my fingers. “I’d be way more scared if he’d gotten bitten.”
“Yeah. Then went out to terrorize the lodge guests at night,” Matt agreed. “That would be better.”
I wrote in the journal:
Not so scary. We think he
should have turned into
a vampire.
The Scaremaster wrote back immediately:
The story isn’t over.
Turn the page.
“Oh. Oops.” I laughed a little as I noticed that, in fact, the Scaremaster’s story continued on the next page.
In the ballroom at the Wampir Resort, tables were set with the finest china. Crystal glasses twinkled in the warm glow from the huge chandeliers. The band played familiar songs from the count’s homeland, and everyone danced.
It was perfect.
That was, until the guest from room 22 disappeared. He was a dentist from the city who’d gone out for a “breath of fresh air” but never returned.
An hour later, a chef went missing from the kitchen.
Some guests reported hearing a scuffle and a door slam. But who scuffled and who slammed the door? No one knew.
When the woman from the newspaper, there to report on the gala, left her husband sitting alone, the count knew something was terribly wrong. She would never have missed the party on purpose. Reporting on it was her job, after all.
Frederic frantically rushed table to table, counting each and every guest. Then he closed the large ballroom doors, locking everyone inside.
“Please continue to enjoy your evening,” the count told his guests, pretending that everything was all right.
They would be safe inside, he assured himself. The ballroom was well sealed, and no one could get in or out.
He ordered the band to play “happy” tunes and asked the waitstaff to serve dessert.
Then, while the guests were distracted, he snuck out the kitchen door, locking it behind him.
After his mother’s passing, Count Frederic had relaxed. He no longer took precautions. He’d built the lodge thinking there was no reason to fear anything or anyone ever again.
Until tonight. Now his entire body was consumed with fear. It was freezing outside, and yet, a bead of sweat rolled across his forehead as he walked around to the front door of the lodge, scanning the darkness for movement.
There? Was that a noise? A movement in the dark? No. His head turned side to side. There? No.
After a long while, he determined that there was nothing outside and went back to the ballroom through the kitchen door. He would continue the celebration as if nothing were wrong. Perhaps the few missing people had gone away on their own. It was possible, though it didn’t seem likely. He pushed the alternatives from his mind and entered the ballroom.
Stepping inside, Count Frederic immediately noticed that the music had changed. It was no longer the happy dance tunes he had requested. Rather, now the band was playing a slow march with a steady rhythm and clashing chords. It was a song of his youth. He hadn’t heard it since he’d left home.
His body shook with a chill. The song, the coolness of the air, the glazed look in his guests’ eyes—it all could only mean one thing.
She was back.
He found her in a red velvet chair on a platform in the center of the room. Neither the chair nor the platform had been there when he’d set up the room. She must have brought them herself when she arrived.
Count Frederic Wampir straightened his back, consciously exposing his long neck. He tilted his head to the side as he said in icy tones, “Hello, Mother.” His accent thickened, and his tone deepened as he greeted her, “Velcome to Vampir.”
“Definitely scarier now,” I told Matt. “Especially since that’s the way the old bellman greeted us when we first arrived.”
“Just a coincidence,” Matt assured me. “We told the Scaremaster to scare us, so he’s working hard at it.”
“Are you scared?” I asked Matt.
“Nah,” Matt told me. “Are you?”
“Nah,” I echoed, though there was something nagging me. I wasn’t scared, but I did feel a little… out of sorts. I reached out to turn the journal’s page. “That can’t be the end, can it?”
“I hope not,” Matt said. “It might not be the scariest story I ever heard, but still, I want to know if the count got turned into a vampire by his mom. If the guests lived. If everyone became vampires. What happened next? There’s a lot left to find out!”
“Let’s see if there’s more.” I began to flip the page when suddenly the cabin door burst open with a blast of cold air.
“ZOE! MATT!” Chloe rushed into the cabin. She had snowflakes in her hair. Without closing the door behind her, she immediately began tossing off her warm clothes. Her jacket, gloves, hat, and scarf all fell into a pile. “The band was so good!” she announced. “They played all these old songs. I never heard any of them before. Some were in a strange language.”
“Dutch, I think,” Matt’s mom said, coming into the cabin with the other parents.
“Romanian,” my dad suggested.
“Could have been Hungarian or German,” Matt’s dad said. He shrugged and laughed. “We probably should have asked.”
“Wherever the songs were from, the band was terrific, and we even danced a little.” My mom turned to Chloe and pointed at the clothing pile. “Pick up your mess, please. There are hooks by the door.”
“Ah, man,” Chloe complained Then, as she gathered her things, she started to hum. It was the oddest song that I’d ever heard. Like a march, with clashing notes and a strangely steady rhythm.
My head spun around to look at Matt. His eyes were wide as he stared at Chloe.
“Where’d you hear that?” I asked my sister. “That song? Did you know it before we came to Wampir?”
“Nope,” Chloe said, slipping her jacket onto a hook. She started back toward the couch. “Weren’t you listening? I told you! The band played songs from some other place. They were awesome!” She added, “The bellman from the lodge was there. He taught us dance steps!”
“Like a folk dance?” I asked.
>
“Exactly!” Chloe said, and she showed us a few moves.
Just before Chloe reached the sofa, I quickly shut the Scaremaster’s book. I didn’t know if there was another page in his story, but there was no time to keep reading.
Matt gave me an intense glare with his eyebrows raised. I knew what he meant. We both wanted to keep the mysterious journal a secret. So I leaned back and tucked the journal behind the couch cushion.
“Hey, Zo,” Matt whispered, “promise you won’t read the book without me, okay?”
“You either,” I said, and we shook pinkies to seal the agreement.
“Kids,” my mom cut in, addressing not just Chloe but me too. “It’s bedtime. We have an early day tomorrow.”
“Skiing!” Chloe cheered. “I can’t wait!” She swiveled on her socks and marched off toward the bedroom, humming the strange tune she’d heard earlier.
A second later, Matt’s mom told him, “You too, young man. Say good night to Zoe.”
“Got it,” he replied. Then Matt slipped me the Scaremaster’s journal. “Hide this in your closet, okay?” he whispered.
I took the book, tucked it under my sweater, and started off toward the room I shared with Chloe. Suddenly, I had an important thought. Hustling back to the couch, I leaned over and whispered to Matt, “What language do they speak in Transylvania?”
“I wish I had Internet,” he said, “but I can guess. Dutch? Hungarian? German?”
“Romanian?” I asked. “I bet that’s the most likely, though that part of Europe has so many people moving around, it might be a mix of all of them.”
“One of those,” he said. “The song Chloe was humming sounds like it might have been the same as the one in the Scaremaster’s story. Could it be the same song the band played at the grand opening of the old lodge?”
“Yes,” I admitted. I took a deep breath and stared down at the journal in my hands. “The Scaremaster’s story just got a whole lot scarier.”
Chapter Five
I stashed the book in the bedroom closet, behind a suitcase. Then I threw a couple sweaters over it for good measure. Chloe was using the dresser drawers, so the closet was all mine. No one would ever find the book there.
The Scaremaster’s story was done for the night. I looked forward to what he’d offer up tomorrow.
I changed for bed.
The instant my head hit the pillows, the dream began.
My mother was a bat. It wasn’t like she was wearing a sign or had any special markings; I just knew it was her.
“Mom!” I cried out, hands raised toward the sky. She was circling our rented cabin, ducking through trees and flitting playfully in the moonlight over my head. “Mom!” I shouted. “What are you doing?”
Suddenly, she flew away. I chased after her, running as fast as I could from the cabin, down the icy road toward the old lodge. “Where are you going? Come back!”
The bat gave off a high-pitched wail, then flew with strong wings into the run-down lodge through a broken window on the second floor.
I looked around. I was alone.
Suddenly, without actually walking into the lodge, I found myself inside the lobby.
Ahead of me was a broad staircase that rose to the second floor with wide steps that narrowed as they reached the upper landing. All along the stairs were portraits. In the shadows of darkness, I could see they were paintings of both men and women in old-fashioned clothing. Most of the paintings had spiderwebs in the corners of the frames. In many, the canvases were torn. All the portraits were hanging crooked.
To the right of the stairway was what appeared to be the old guest registration area. There was a long desk, and small, crumbling key hooks lined the far wall. To the left, broken doors with shattered inlaid stained glass hung off their hinges, marking the entrance to a room that was probably once very beautiful.
“Mom?” I called out, rubbing my arms from the cold.
Where was my warm coat? There was a feeling that what I was seeing wasn’t real, and yet, I was freezing. I realized that I must have forgotten my jacket at the cabin. I’d been so desperate to find Mom that I’d gone outside wearing only pajamas and flip-flops.
Breathing into my hands to warm them, I stepped toward that large room to my left, immediately recognizing that this was, long ago, the Wampir Resort grand ballroom. I pushed through what remained of the termite-eaten doors and entered the space.
The ballroom itself was a vast, empty room. The enormous windows that faced the slopes were either clouded with age or cracked. The wind drifted through those damaged windows and the room’s temperature seemed to fall with each gust.
I shivered but wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from being alone in the spooky old lodge.
“Mom?” I called out again. Several bats squealed at me from the rafters. Were they happy to see me? Or warning me to run away?
I pushed back my nerves. I liked scary things, and this old lodge was the most frightening place I’d ever been. It would be a lot more exciting if Matt were here.
With a mental promise to come back with him in the daytime, I looked around. In this moment, I didn’t feel like exploring. I had an overwhelming desire to find my mom and bring her safely back to the cabin.
“Mom?” I called again, looking up toward the ceiling. There had only been a few bats in the rafters a moment ago. Now there were hundreds. They formed a squealing, shrieking black cloud above my head.
I could no longer see where one bat separated from the others. They were blended. How would I ever find my mother in the crowd?
“Mom!” Panic began boiling in my blood. “Where are you?”
“I’m here, Zoe.” A woman’s voice echoed through the room. “Come, Zoe. Come to Mother.”
“Mom?” The woman’s voice was familiar and yet entirely different from my mother’s. I stepped farther into the ballroom.
“Whoa!” I gasped. I blinked and rubbed my eyes.
The ballroom, which had been dark, cold, and drafty moments ago, was now lavishly decorated for a party. Round tables circled a glimmering wooden dance floor. The tables were set with candles, flowers, and the finest china I’d ever seen.
“Do you like it?” the woman’s voice called to me. “Would you like an invitation to the party?”
In my heart, I knew this was a trap. I knew I needed to run away, but still, I needed to find my mom.
In the center of the room, just as the Scaremaster had described it, a red velvet chair appeared. It was similar to the one the woman who had given us the journal had been sitting in at the new lodge.
“No way,” I breathed as I moved closer. But it was similar. Perhaps even the same.
The woman in the chair rose and turned around. Finally, I could see her face.
This wasn’t the woman who’d shown us the library. It wasn’t my mother either. This was a woman I’d never seen before. She was young, maybe in her early thirties, with long dark hair that reached the middle of her back. Her red party gown had a high lace neck, and she was wearing long white gloves.
Is this a ghost? I wondered. Matt and I had already figured that the old lodge was probably haunted. Again, I wished he were with me. He’d have been so excited. Here I was, face-to-face with a real ghost! I couldn’t wait to tell Matt all about it, but first…
“Where’s my mom?” I asked the woman. “Tell me,” I demanded.
The bats above her head squealed loudly.
“Darling, Zoe. I am your mother,” the woman said, raising her arms to invite me in for a hug. “And you are my daughter.”
“No! You aren’t my mother!” I screamed, in a voice I didn’t recognize as my own. “No. No. No!”
“Zoe!” Chloe sat up in the other bed. She tossed her pillow at my head. “You’re having a nightmare. Wake up!”
Pushing Chloe’s pillow off my face, I rubbed my eyes. I felt disoriented. It took me a long moment to realize I was in the rented cabin, not in the old lodge. My eyelids felt heavy. I bl
inked rapidly until the room came clearly into view.
“Whew,” I said, taking a deep breath. “You’re right. Just a nightmare.” I laughed at myself. “That story must have been scarier than I thought.”
“You read a scary story before bed?” Chloe rolled on her side to face me. “Mom says never to do that. That’s how you get nightmares.”
“I know,” I said. Mom warned me all the time, but I never listened. Then again, I’d never had a nightmare like this one before.
Shaking off the bad dream, I gave Chloe back her pillow and leaned into my own comfortable sheets, pulling up my comforter. I closed my eyes, willing myself to think about skiing and snow and other happy thoughts.
“Zoe,” Chloe said with a yawn, “turn off the night-light.”
“Night-light?” I sat up in bed. There wasn’t a night-light in the room. And yet, Chloe was right. There was a strong glow filling the room. It came from the dresser between the two beds.
“Flashlight. Night-light. Phone,” Chloe complained, rolling away from me. “Whatever you just turned on, turn it off. It’s too bright. I can’t sleep with it on.”
“There must be a light on a timer.” I climbed out of bed. “I’ll take care of it.”
When I saw the source of the glow, I had to stop myself from screaming again. I pinched myself to make sure that this time I was awake.
“What is going on?” I muttered. This was worse than my nightmare. Much scarier.
There, on the dresser, was the Scaremaster’s journal. And it was glowing.
“I know I put this in the closet,” I said aloud, glancing to the closet door. It was shut, like when I’d closed it. “Impossible.” My heartbeat sped up as I stared at the Scaremaster’s book. “What’s this doing here?”
“Shhh…” Chloe groaned. “No talking.”
I bit my tongue to keep quiet.
I didn’t want to worry Chloe, but this was too weird, even for me!
Tipping my head, I considered the situation. I didn’t know what might happen if I touched the journal while it was lit up like that. Would I be electrocuted? Sucked into the pages? I’d read too many scary stories and knew this was a bad omen. This was one of those plot points where the evil thing began to take over. I didn’t want to be the first victim.