by Jayne Lyons
'I understand. Mrs Mutton has medicine more powerful than any human's – she will heal you and then drive you to the cottage. I will go and protect your child until you join us.' Flasheart drew himself up. 'But on the way, I'm going to get Cripp. Wait here.'
He disappeared, and in less than a minute returned with a tiny glass bottle filled with blood-red liquid. 'Chester and Hotspur don't know all the secrets of Farfang. I need Fangen speed,' Flasheart declared, holding up the Blavendoch juice.
'So do I!' Freddy jumped to his side.
Flasheart took the glass stopper from the bottle. 'You know that this is both painful and dangerous, pup – I do not ask you to join me.'
Flasheart took a sip of the juice.
Freddy's heart beat fast, and his tail wagged nervously. He knew too well what could go wrong.
'I'm coming, Dad. Lupins stick together.' He grabbed the bottle and took a sip.
'Keep this safe.' Flasheart plucked the bottle back and passed it to Mrs Mutton. 'If I do not come to the cottage, alert the Fang Council and the police. Come, Freddy, we must run as we have never run before.'
'Hi-ya!' Freddy agreed.
The pair began to sprint across the bridge and over the grass towards the gates. As he ran, Freddy felt the warmth of the moon's beams upon him. A sharp pain screeched inside him and shot through his limbs. He stumbled and flew through the air.
'Argh!' he howled as he transformed in midair. He landed on sharp claws and the strong legs of a young Fangen wolf. He snarled with delight and felt his powerful limbs racing forward, as fast as the departing car could possibly travel. His breath was loud and his blood thundering through his veins. He ran faster still.
'This is more like it!' Freddy laughed in triumph as his father, likewise transformed into the great Black Wolf, charged ahead into the night. Freddy looked behind him – doom! His ridiculous poodley tail was still waggling back at him mockingly.
'Well done, Pinky. I'll stop Cripp – you go straight to the cottage. I'll meet you there,' Flasheart called as he sped away.
Freddy turned off into the woods. How different he felt now than when attempting to find the Blavendoch for Priscilla. Now he had a real damsel in distress to rescue. He heard a bark that he recognised.
'Stinky, Cripp is here! I can smell him! I've found his trail,' Batty woofed. She was waiting ahead in a clearing. For the past half hour she had led the marksman on a fine goose chase – and had then managed to sneak away. She was on her way back to Farfang when she smelt the unmistakable stench of the hunter.
Freddy greeted the mongrel eagerly as they ran. Batty's growling increased as she heard what the coward had done.
'Come on, Stinky,' she cried. 'Let's find that poor little puppy.'
The friends ran faster towards the zoo.
Driving out of Milford, sure that he was safe at last, Cripp made the mistake of looking in his rear-view mirror. The great Black Wolf of Milford was racing behind him, as swift as any car.
'Oh no, no, no.' He swerved and the car skidded.
Flasheart leapt ten metres and landed on the roof with a snarl of fury. He smashed the windscreen with his mighty paw.
'Oh my, oh mummy!' Cripp yelped and, grabbing the tiny camera, slid out the door. He wailed as he ran towards the town.
Flasheart flew – a blur of savage black fur – and landed on the hunter's back, knocking the wind from his chest and the brooch camera from his sweaty grasp. Flasheart realised at once that this was the spy device that could undo the werefolk's secret.
Cripp was whimpering on the floor when Flasheart dropped the little plastic hammer on the ground. He snarled in Cripp's face, saliva dripping off his huge fangs.
'No, no, no . . .' he whimpered. 'Please don't kill me.'
Flasheart almost thought for a moment that he would kill the snivelling coward. But he could smell the man's terrible fear; no matter what this wretch believed, such behaviour was not worthy of any wolf, let alone a Lupin. Flasheart snarled with disdain, caught up the camera in his mouth and turned away.
Cripp took out his gun and aimed for Flasheart's back.
The shot rang out and . . . The wolf looked up to see the marksman cry out in frustration that he had missed his shot yet again. Cripp fell to the ground – a tranquilliser dart in his bum.
The Black Wolf of Milford took his chance and streaked away into the dark.
Light shone out from the small cottage. Freddy and Batty raced up and found a way in through the unlatched back door. The unfortunate sitter was lying on the sofa and snoring heavily – thanks to the sleeping draught Cripp had snuck into her hot chocolate. Freddy could hear a small voice reading aloud happily from another room.
The eyes and muzzles of the two animals peeped in through the door, followed by their bodies. The little girl looked up in fright and then her face creased into a big grin when she saw the wolf's poodley tail wagging.
'Doggie!' she laughed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
An Unpleasant Surprise
Although Flasheart agreed with Freddy that the prophecy may not have been fulfilled after all, he insisted that Freddy was still the Second Greatest Werewolf Hero Ever. And really, when he thought about his recent great feats, Freddy couldn't argue with him.
Cripp had been found by the police snoring and unconscious in Milford High Street. When he awoke, he was babbling constantly about werewolves. He was soon on his way back to Dreamy Daze Hospital and soft crayons.
The marksman had dumped Cripp in town and then quietly disappeared. Chester Puceley seemed to have vanished, along with his promises of money, so the marksman thought it best to scarper too – he didn't want to be in town when the police asked questions about innocent men being shot in the bum with darts. He was last seen hunting endangered white rhinos in Africa.
Rumours of wolves in Milford remained for some time, but gradually the interest died. World's Most Wanted Wildlife moved its cameras far away to Tibet, in search of the Yeti. Quite soon everyone had forgotten about the Great Beast of Milford and the wild wolf-boy.
Chester and Hotspur never did learn the true nature of the Treasure of Bane. Very soon, the mirror was repaired, the silver goblet replaced and the secret entrances re-sealed. Flasheart returned his crystal bottle of Blavendoch juice to its hiding place and peace returned to the Hidden Halls of Bane.
Chester and Hotspur then faced the cold wrath of the Fang Council. Freddy was allowed to hear their judgement.
'For breaking the Pact of the Fangen and placing werefolk in danger, you are both sentenced to banishment. Hotspur, you will return to Dundaggard, and Puceley, your neighbour the Arch-Fangen of Transylvania is awaiting you,' Sir Hightail had decreed.
'And Freddy Lupin,' the old man whispered quietly when they were alone, 'the Guardians of Bane salute you – for protecting our most sacred of secrets.'
Freddy's mouth dropped open as Hightail praised him.
'Who else knows, sir?' he asked.
'None but myself, your father and Mrs Mutton, who has served Sir Rathbone for more than three centuries – and now you, Frederick, Guardian of Bane.'
Freddy felt his heart would burst with pride. He turned and looked up at the moonbeams, feeling ever so slightly special.
Far away in the north, Lady McDaggard had finally managed to find Priscilla and the twins and rescue them from boot camp. Priscilla was more than a little distraught to learn that she would not be returning to her expensive private school in America, but that she would be earning her keep in the kitchens of the Arch-Fangen of Transylvania.
'But I'm supposed to be a princess!' She stamped her foot in fury. Poor perfect Priscilla. As she feels so sorry for herself, there is no need for anyone else to.
Ginger, however, now leaping across the Inverness stage as Cinderella, did not feel in the least bit sorry for herself. As Vinny expertly caught her and placed the shoe on her tiny foot, she laughed as prettily as any princess ever did. Of course, they won the prize and Vinny beamed a
s much as Ginger.
I would like to tell you that Madam Tarot got her comeuppance too, but alas, not all baddies do. She is still there, in Scotland, picking on the clump-cloppers and feeding innocent children spinach and lentils. And Dougal still protects the moors from his darling bloodsucking, screeching witch-fairy of a wife.
The end of the summer holidays arrived too soon. On the last day before school resumed, Freddy and Batty lay on the lawn, looking at the clouds. Freddy's tail was a little itchy. Once the effect of the second dose of Blavendoch had eased and he and his father had returned to human form, the poodle tail, alas, had remained. It was gradually shrinking as the last traces of the magic faded, but Freddy was very concerned that it wouldn't be gone before he had to return to school. Heroes, as far as he knew, did not generally have puffy tails. Still, in the games of the future, when the coolest kid got to play the role of Freddy, they could just ignore that part.
'Do you remember how I, the black wolf, saved the day again?' Freddy sighed, reliving the great moment.
Batty groaned and covered her eyes with her paws. She could always tell when Freddy was showing off.
They were disturbed by voices behind them. The boy sat up lazily and yawned. It was Sugar, walking down the steps and – Freddy frowned, not sure he was seeing clearly – she was holding hands with his father. Worse than this, Flasheart had put on a new tie and was grinning cheesily, like a total charlie. He was the Black Wolf of Milford, the Grand Growler – what was he thinking of?
'Have you come to say goodbye?' Freddy asked hopefully.
Sugar was due to join her crew in Tibet.
'Well, that's why I came, only . . .' She smiled and blushed.
'There's been a change of plan, Pinky.' Flasheart smiled, his sharp fangs shining. 'Sugar's not leaving just yet. She's going to visit with us for a while – a holiday while her shoulder heals, you know.'
'Visit with us?' Freddy scowled suspiciously. 'She's not having my tower room, is she?'
'I think we have spare bedrooms enough in the castle, Pinky.' His father laughed. 'And the great news is that you'll have a new playmate too. And here she is – little Googie!'
'Who? What? Where? Oh no!' Freddy groaned as the little girl ran towards him.
'Doggie!' she cried and whacked him on the head with her plastic hammer.
'Ow!' Freddy yelped, as the grown-ups smiled indulgently.
'What an angel she is,' Flasheart observed.
'No-oooo!' Freddy wailed as the hammer crashed onto his head again.
Deep below Farfang, Sir Rathbone lay in his magical chamber, waiting for the signal that the day had come for his return. But for now, thanks to Freddy Lupin, Hero, and Guardian of Bane, he slept on as peacefully as ever.
About the Author
Jayne Lyons has worked as a geologist/geophysicist for seventeen years. One day in 2004, while living in Aberdeen, Scotland, she became very bored and applied for a job in Perth, Western Australia. Four months later she was there, and she has been living in Australia ever since. Jayne writes every day: on the bus, at lunchtime, in the evening and at weekends. She likes writing funny, irreverent stories for children, and especially having a very free hand with language. There is nothing she likes more than inventing new words. Jayne is married and a full-time working mother, with one twelve-year-old daughter.