100% Hero

by Jayne Lyons

  Freddy jumped up and looked down at himself in fright. He put his head between his paws to check. Phew! At least all his bits were in the right place. So what was Dougal's point exactly?

  'You're a poodle!' Ginger clapped in delight. 'Fantastic!'

  'Welcome back, Stinky,' Batty laughed and licked his face. 'Time to run. There's a creepy, screamy thing coming right this way. It smells really scary.'

  'She is, and she wants to suck my blood,' Freddy agreed.

  'So long, Freddy.' Ginger gave him a hug, which Freddy bore like a true hero. He was going to have to get used to the adulation of his fans.

  'Well, at least she winnae recognise you.' Dougal shook his head. 'Go now and good luck.' He turned to Ginger. 'You too, lassie! Quick, while I stop my sweet girl from tearing your flesh from your bones.'

  'Bye, Freddy, bye-bye.' Ginger waved madly and then ran as fast as she could back to safety.

  'This way,' Batty growled and disappeared into the dark, with Freddy scampering at her heels. 'Down, quick,' she urged and collapsed onto her stomach.

  Freddy held his breath as they watched the beautiful pale Baa-Van floating over the moors, singing in her strange laughing scream and looking for the boy with spiky hair and green eyes. Never had Freddy been so glad to be a poodle, and safe from discovery.

  In the clearing, Dougal was no longer looking like a bent and wizened thousand-year-old man, but rather a young and strong wulver, his MacLeod tartan billowing in the wind and his fangs glinting in the moon. The Baa-Van screeched into the clearing, saw him, and then became calm. Her beautiful eyes did not turn red, but rather she smiled and took Dougal's hand – once more the fairy princess he had fallen in love with.

  As they ran along the road that led across the dark moors, Batty explained why she had come and her adventure on the train. Freddy congratulated her.

  'You're not the only Plan Master, Stinky,' she barked.

  'Chester is searching the castle for some treasure thing,' Freddy told her. 'Hotair must be helping him. Is Mrs Mutton okay?'

  Batty didn't know and Freddy was concerned. At least he was on his way. It felt good to be running free with Batty again, flying through the night air together.

  'I'm really sorry that I was a bit . . .' He didn't know what to say. '. . . You know.'

  'Don't fret, Stinky. I'm here, ain't I? Quick, look cute!' Batty jumped into the headlights of a small utility truck. She ran up and down and flapped her ears. Freddy too did some marvellous prancing on his toes and a perfect pirouette. The van slowed. A man leaned out of the window.

  'Hello, ladies – need a lift to town?' he said, laughing at their antics.

  'Ladies?' Freddy paused, ready to explode.

  'Keep calm, Stinky, think about your mission.'

  Batty gave a sweet bark. Freddy gulped down the insult and wagged his tail charmingly.

  'Up on the back then,' the driver called and the two friends leapt onto the flat-bed trailer.

  They were on their way.

  Mrs Mutton sat in the cell where the two men had locked her. She could hear them arguing as they searched every inch of the castle. They were pulling down tapestries, moving furniture and rolling up carpets. She gave a small laugh at their useless attempts to gain information from her.

  Now and again, one of them came down to visit her.

  Hotspur raged and fumed about Chester.

  'Never could stand him, madam. He's nearly human, hardly even a Weren. Doesn't have a plan. But when we find this treasure – I'll show him, sir. I'll show him!'

  'You're in a lot of trouble, Hotspur. It won't be long before the Fang Council comes here looking for you. Give yourself up now and they'll be easy on you.'

  'Never!' Hotspur's red eyes glowered. 'I will never return to Dundaggard. I will be the Grand Growler once again. That I will, sir!'

  'Your brother is Grand Growler.' Mrs Mutton narrowed her eyes.

  'Not for long, madam,' the big man laughed coldly. 'First I find this treasure – whatever it is – then I deal with Flasheart. Sitting there in his cage like a helpless animal.'

  Next it was Chester's turn.

  'May I say that you are looking very fine today, Mrs Mutton.' He twitched his moustache.

  'Stow it, slimeball,' the old lady fumed. 'Where have you sent Freddy?'

  'Oh, don't worry about that fool – he's safely out of my way. He's too much of an idiot to be any trouble and Priscilla can keep him quiet.'

  'You'll be getting more than the wooden spoon when Flasheart discovers what you're up to.'

  'Oh, I doubt it. My man has orders to shoot him if anyone attempts a rescue. I'm not worried about the famous "Grand Growler", or magical powers, or the honour of the Lupins – I just want the treasure. The only reason Hotspur is here is because I brought him.'

  'You won't ever get your hands on that treasure. Hotspur can't help you.' She smiled knowingly. 'Only Flasheart can find the entrance you seek – so you'd better not shoot him, had you?'

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Homeward Bound

  Hideously early the following morning, Priscilla awoke with fright at a bugle blast. The twins screamed like terrified piglets. They were all sitting in the tent where they had been dumped the night before. Vinny had released them from the sacks, warned them to keep quiet and then tied the exit shut from outside.

  'Will you shut up?' Priscilla glared at the Putrid Pair, her hands clamped over her ears.

  'Why should we?' Harriet stuck out her tongue.

  'Yeah! You're not the boss of us.' Chariot giggled.

  'You're not the boss, you're not the boss . . .' they chanted over and over.

  'No – I am the boss!' roared a massive voice.

  Everyone jumped back as the zip was pulled up and the tent flap yanked open.

  A huge angry face, bright red with fury, peered in at them – its eyes bulging.

  'Get out now, you lazy, repulsive, slimy little worms.' Then the face disappeared.

  Very, very nervously the three crept out, blinking in the bright sunlight. There were rows of boys and girls all standing to attention outside their canvas tents. Priscilla's eyes scanned for Vinny, but he was nowhere to be seen. The red face belonged to the biggest man any of them had ever seen. He was dressed in army camouflage. The heads of the Pukesome Twosome drifted up to stare at him, their mouths open.

  'Get into line, you smelly little farts,' he roared.

  The twins jumped into formation, not daring to squeak. Priscilla, however, was not so easily daunted.

  'Excuse me!' she snapped at him.

  'Excuse me, Sergeant Major!' he cried.

  'Hellooo – no need to shout. I'm not deaf.' Priscilla gave a snort.

  All the children in formation drew in their breath. The sergeant major took a step nearer and stared at her as if he had never seen a human before.

  'There has been a mistake,' Priscilla said confidently.

  'A mistake?' the soldier repeated.

  'Well, a crime, actually,' Priscilla corrected.

  'A crime?'

  'Yes, it's not fair – I'm not actually supposed to be here with these . . .' she looked around '. . . scruffy people. I was kidnapped.'

  'Kidnapped?'

  'Yes, so if you wouldn't mind calling the police, I can be getting home to Papa.' She leaned towards him. 'I have certainly had enough of Scotland.'

  She planned on getting the next train down to her father – and then the Lupins would pay!

  The soldier took in a deep breath and stepped back.

  'Who here volunteered to come to boot camp?' He stamp-stepped around, his little beret at an angle on his head.

  Nobody replied.

  'Raise your smelly hand if you fink a mistake was made sending you here.'

  All hands shot up.

  'Put your hand back down if you fink it's not fair,' he cried.

  All hands went down.

  'Put it up again if you fink you was kidnapped.'

  All hands up.<
br />
  'Put it down if you want to go home to Pa-pa.'

  All hands down.

  'No, you don't understand.' Priscilla laughed at his stupidity. 'I really was kidnapped. I am the daughter of the Archduchess of Boldovia. If you call my father . . .'

  'And I am the Archduke of Dorksville! Nobody wants to be at boot camp!' The sergeant major's eyes almost flew from his head as he roared.

  Priscilla jumped back.

  'No-one finks it's fair – that's the point! Now you two, over to the fat farm – you have a mountain to run up.'

  The twins' faces fell in shock.

  'And you, my pretty princess –' the sergeant major smiled and held up a tiny toothbrush – 'toilet cleaning.'

  Priscilla's lower lip wobbled in disgust.

  'NOW!' he screamed.

  With a little yelp, Priscilla sprinted off. The nightmare was just beginning.

  A mile away, Vinny, who had just about squeezed into Freddy's newly laundered Prince Charming outfit, walked into the dance studio. He looked a little nervous. Ginger had told the ballerinas of Freddy's escape plan – without mentioning werewolves or poodles, of course. All the girls had rather liked him, had not been too keen on Priscilla, and had absolutely hated the twins, so everyone agreed to keep the secret.

  The girls all giggled and waved at Vinny, and he blushed madly. This didn't seem to be a good idea after all. What if the old lady wasn't fooled – or if his friends couldn't keep the twins or Priscilla from talking . . . what if he couldn't dance after all?

  'It'll be fine.' Ginger grinned at him.

  Madam hobbled into the room. She was very grumpy when she could not find her spectacles. She squinted her eyes nearly shut and glared over at the boy. Everyone held their breath.

  'You, boy, hurry up – ve carry on wiz ze grand finale. Vhere iz Zinderella?' She stared around the room blindly.

  'Priscilla's not feeling very well, Madam. She's got, like, yellow diarrhoea and it smells like cat's vomit,' Ginger informed her. The girls all blinked innocently. 'But I know the steps.'

  'Ze clump-clopper as Zinderella?' Madam scoffed. 'Not pozzible. Who elze can do it?' She moved her head in an arc around the room. Nobody said a word or raised their hand.

  With a sign of disgust, Madam threw up her hands. 'Very well! Zinderella jumps into Charming's armz – practise.'

  With a nervous laugh, Ginger skipped across the floor and for once she did not trip or stumble, but launched herself at Vinny. The boy caught her easily and all the ballerinas clapped and screamed.

  'Zilence!' Madam cried and stamped her stick.

  Ginger and Vinny gave a small smile of relief. So far, so good.

  Freddy and Batty had snuck onto the first train leaving Inverness at five o'clock that morning. They had burrowed a tunnel into the sacks of letters and parcels heading south and fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep. The train pulled into Milford station some eight hours later. When he awoke, Freddy was still a poodle – the effects of the Blavendoch had not worn off so far.

  'First things first – sausages,' Freddy yipped as they jumped down and scampered across the platform.

  'The red meat shop!' Batty laughed in delight. How she loved tormenting the butcher.

  Early in the afternoon, after the sausage raid, the eyes and muzzles of the two dogs peered around the gates of Milford Zoo. Freddy wanted to see his father straight away.

  'Not yet, Stinky,' Batty growled, waiting for the security guard to turn his back.

  'I know, I'm not stupid. What do you think happens when I don't have you to tell me what to do?' he complained.

  'You get dognapped, or locked in dungeons, or sent to a girls' kennel,' Batty said, thinking of the ballet school.

  'Humph!' Freddy stamped his dainty foot. He wished he could deny it.

  'Let's go.' She nudged him and pointed the way with her ear.

  The two dogs scampered into the zoo and tried their best to hide among the crowd.

  As they approached the big green area in the centre of the zoo, Freddy saw the crowd gathered around Flasheart's cage – but something was wrong. They weren't talking excitedly but sounded hushed, confused and concerned.

  Freddy's heart beat painfully – was he too late?

  'Be careful, Stinky,' Batty growled as the poodle sprang forward.

  'Great howls!' Freddy yelped in dismay.

  The door to his father's cage stood open. It was empty, except for the marksman with the rifle, who was pacing the enclosure angrily.

  'What's happened? Where's your dad?' Batty woofed.

  'I don't know.' Freddy sat up on his hind legs and strained to overhear the humans nearby.

  'They say it escaped,' one lady said, looking around nervously. 'Imagine – a huge wolf on the loose.' She pulled her children in closer.

  'No, I heard that it was stolen,' a man replied.

  'No,' said a third. 'It was shot. I know it for a fact. They carried its body out in the night.'

  'It's a trick,' said another. 'Just Sugar Smith trying to keep World's Most Wanted Wildlife in the news – just like that made-up wild wolf-boy story.'

  Freddy felt sick to his stomach. He managed to tell Batty each of the theories he had just heard. She growled in sympathy.

  'It's all my fault,' he groaned.

  'Shush, Freddy.' She whacked him with her tail. 'They don't know nothing. I'm sure your dad is okay – I can feel it. Let's go home. If Flasheart has escaped that's where he'll be going. And besides, we have to make sure the Red Wolf isn't up to nothing.'

  Freddy leapt onto his elegant toes with renewed determination, remembering Chester and his uncle. Mrs Mutton might be in trouble and he, Second Greatest Werewolf Hero Ever, would come to her aid.

  'Let's run, my friend,' he said. 'We have heroics to perform!'

  'That's more like the pongy poodle I know,' Batty woofed, and they faced for Farfang.

  'Oi! I am not pongy!' Freddy cried as he followed her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Return to Farfang

  Freddy and Batty streaked through the woods towards home. They had almost reached the main road when Freddy felt the most appalling pain in his muscles. He collapsed on the ground with a groan.

  'Stinky, what is it?' Batty barked.

  'The magic of the Blavendoch must be wearing off,' Freddy growled. 'I'm transwolfating.'

  'Oh, bad timing.'

  'Der! I didn't ask for it to happen.' Freddy writhed in discomfort.

  'Does it hurt?' The mongrel frowned her hairy eyebrows together.

  'Yes!' Freddy croaked and curled up on the grass, breathing deeply and trying not to cry out. Then everything went blank.

  'Woof!'

  He awoke to find Batty licking his face. He must have been asleep for hours – it was now dark and the moon was shining. He was a boy again, but he felt terrible. Never again – no more Blavendoch juice for him. It wasn't a natural way to transform. He remembered Dougal's warning about things going wrong and quickly checked all his bits.

  He let out a sigh of relief. Everything was where it should be. Then he groaned. 'Naked in the woods again. Fantabulous!'

  He started to fashion some underpants from the giant green fern leaves around him. Something didn't feel right . . . he saw something over his shoulder.

  'Whatever . . . ?' He turned around and around trying to catch a glimpse. And then he managed to spy it.

  'Oh, great howls,' Freddy groaned. Dougal had been right. Things did not always go back together as they should. Yes, Freddy was a boy again – apart from the little poodley tail waggling from his backside.

  'Why me?' he wailed at the moon.

  Freddy and Batty emerged from the woods and ran down the lane that led to Farfang Castle.

  A huge black wolf leapt out from the trees.

  'Dad!' Freddy yelped and flung his arms around its neck.

  Batty barked joyously and scampered around the pair. Flasheart licked Freddy and Batty on the forehead in turn.

>   'Dad, Chester is evil. He's looking for the Treasure of Bane and Hotair is helping him. They're at Farfang right now,' Freddy gasped. Flasheart gave a deep growl.

  Freddy heard a noise behind him and spun around. Sugar Smith stood at the edge of the woods, watching them.

  'Hi-ya!' Freddy tried to jump into a karate position, but had to hold his leaf pants in place.

  Batty growled.

  'So it's true!' Sugar stepped towards them. 'The Black Wolf of Milford is the wild wolf-boy's father and they live in Farfang Castle. Just as Dr Cripp told me. Werewolves – the world's biggest story for America's top reporter,' she said with a wry laugh.

  'Stay back!' Freddy roared, standing in front of his father. Flasheart looked at Freddy's tail and gave a growl of surprise.

  'It's okay, Freddy!' Sugar smiled.

  'How do you know my name?' he asked, panicked.

  'Well, you live at Farfang with your father, Flasheart Lupin. It was simple research.'

  Freddy felt ill. For six hundred years the Werepack of Lupin had lived in secrecy and safety in Farfang and now, because of him, they were all in danger of discovery. He looked to his father, who could have killed Sugar with one swipe of his powerful claws. Instead of looking fierce, his father's green eyes were glinting brightly. Freddy didn't understand.

  'Don't worry, Freddy. You can trust me. I released your father from his cage.' She stepped towards the boy with a smile. 'He ran here and I followed in my car.' She pointed towards to the castle gates.

  Suddenly the lane was lit with the bright searchlights of a utility truck. Freddy recognised it as the one driven by the marksman who had shot his father.

  'Traitor,' he cried.

  Flasheart's green eyes blazed at Sugar.

  'No!' she said, looking at the wolf. 'He must have followed me. Quick, hide. I'll get rid of him.'

  With a snarl Flasheart jumped into the black of the forest, followed by Batty and Freddy. They watched as the truck screeched to a halt next to Sugar. The marksman jumped out, his rifle slung over his shoulder.