by Robert Gray
“But it’s just temporary until they find out who’s responsible for those hideous crimes,” Dad said.
“You could’ve told me this earlier. I wouldn’t have complained about The Move so much.” Which was almost true. The idea of going into hiding excited me, like we were secret agents in some thriller novel—trying to unmask the criminal mind in The Murders of Gravesville. Soon to be in bookstores everywhere!
And feeling like a secret agent, I added, “So what clues do we have?”
“Clues?” Mom said. Her snakes snickered at me.
“I shouldn’t be showing you this, but there is one clue. The killers have been leaving these.” Dad pulled a card from his pocket and held it up for me and Mom to see.
It looked like … a business card? Where’s the originality in that? Centered on the card in a boldface type were two little words: THE SOURCE.
“Who’s The Source?” I asked.
Dad shrugged. “No one knows for sure, but we think it’s a group.”
“Why would URNS suspect a group?” Mom asked. She grabbed the card, flipped it over, and then gave a puzzled look. Besides those two words, the card was blank.
Dad’s face turned grim, like he just swallowed a witch’s mucky brew. “The murders happened too fast. There’s no way one creature could’ve done them.”
“Some monsters are pretty fast,” I offered.
“These murders weren’t committed by any monster,” Dad said. “That much we know.”
“Then who?”
“Humans did it.”
TWO
GOODBYE, GRAVESVILLE
I stared at my parents. For once, I was speechless, and it took me a while to recover from what my dad had just said. Humans? Was this some adorable joke?
“Can somebody please tell me why we’re going to live with the same creatures that are trying to kill us?”
“I volunteered. They needed someone on the inside to spy out the area. URNS has strong evidence that suggests The Source’s headquarters are in Pencil-vania.”
“YOU WHAT!” I looked to Mom for support and got none.
“I did it to protect us. Think about it: The Source isn’t going to try anything near where they live. But if we’re here …” He let the thought hang for a moment. “Some of those murdered were undercover operatives in URNS.” Dad rubbed at his tired eyes, as if trying to erase certain images from his memory. “The Source is looking for something, and they are knocking off URNS employees to find it.”
“But what if the killers go to my school?” A mean trick, sure, but if it got me out of going to school with humans, then I’d use it.
“Nice try, but The Source isn’t after humans,” Mom said.
“Maybe they’ll kidnap me and use me as bait.”
“Yeah, and maybe Wolf will turn into a wolf someday,” Dad said.
I only had one afternoon left to say goodbye to Gravesville, which wasn’t much time at all. Sure, I’d known about The Move for a week—and in rock star fashion I had like several farewell tours before most everyone I knew was good and sick of saying goodbye to me—but even if my parents had given me a year, it still wouldn’t have been enough time. I have a hard time with goodbyes, simple as that. I guess it was all part of that human deformity my parents were certain I had.
But deformity or not, I wanted everyone to know I’d be leaving soon, and, more importantly, I wanted everyone to feel sorry for me.
The only monsters who still seemed to care about The Move were my best friends Sally, Pia, and Stephinica. They were werewolves … well, almost werewolves. They were at that awkward pre-wolf stage, which meant an overabundance of baby fur covered their shoulders and backs. They wouldn’t become actual werewolves until they turned sixteen. Once they made a full transformation, all that extra fur would disappear while in their human form, which was good, I guessed, because they would look more like me. But sometimes I worry that once they turn, they won’t want to be friends with me any more, and it seemed every time we got together they had a little more fur, especially Sally, who now had long blonde curls running down her entire back. She was so pretty.
We agreed to meet over at the Ogopogo Grill for lunch. The Grill overlooked Lake Ogopogo, where the sea creature of the same name could often be seen scaring away zombie tourists who thought the monster was a myth.
I found an empty table near the window, so I sat there and stared out at the lake. The sea creature wasn’t around, though there were plenty of doubtful zombies crowded around the edge of the water. This should be good.
Inside the restaurant, goblin workers hung strings of eyeballs along the wooden beams in preparation for Halloween. I realized then that I wouldn’t be home for the holiday, which didn’t help my mood any.
In Gravesville, Halloween wasn’t just a holiday, it was a the single most important event of the year. The festivals lasted for weeks, and the preparation ran year round. And I was going to miss it for the first time in my life.
I was on the verge of screaming, or crying, or some combination of both, when I saw my three best friends walk in.
Sally didn’t waste a moment, her being the reigning gossip queen of Gravesville. “Did you hear there was another death? A family of vamps. We went to school with one of them. I think her name was Lacy or Nancy or something like that.” She glanced over her shoulder, then added in a whisper, “I heard humans did it.”
I’d already known about the murders, but Dad told me not to tell anyone, especially Sally. Everyone knew that she-wolf could not keep a secret. “Really? That’s adorable!”
“Yeah,” Pia added. “It’s probably a good thing you’re leaving, Eve. At least you won’t have to worry about being murdered. Wait! What am I talking about? You don’t have to worry, anyway. You’re not even a monster.”
“You idiot.” Stephinica raised her hand to smack Pia on the back of the head.
“What?” Pia scooted her chair out of Stephinica’s reach. “What did I say? She’s not a monster. That’s a good thing for her, right?”
“You’ll always be a monster to us,” Sally said.
I guess I looked upset, but I wasn’t. Well, not because they didn’t consider me a monster—I had gotten used to that. It was because the killers were human, like me. I was safe because I was one of them, and that made me mad.
“So I heard that Kimberly Glastone and her family are moving, too. And the Sheldings next to me put their house up for sale, so you’re not alone, Eve,” Sally said. “I think they’re crossing the border into zombie territory.” She shrugged. “Guess they think living next to brain eaters is better than being killed.”
“It’s a tossup,” Pia said.
“Zombies can’t be any worse than humans,” I said, and we all laughed. It felt good to be with my friends.
The waitress strolled over to us. She appeared almost human, except she had a giant stomach mouth instead of the under-the-nose variety. I’m always one to compliment good fashion sense, so I told her I liked the way her lipstick matched her belly shirt.
She thanked me and asked, “Can I start you girls off with something to drink?”
“I think this calls for four pumpkin sodas,” Sally announced.
We all agreed. That was my second favorite drink next to hot pumpkin.
“So you’re really taking a boat to the human world?” Pia asked after the waitress left.
“Don’t remind me,” I muttered. “Turns out we aren’t allowed to travel by portal because …” and I let that hang, too. It might also be Top Secret information.
“Yeah, I think URNS closed the portals when the murders started. I don’t know why. Probably to keep the humans out, I guess,” Sally said.
“But they can’t stop all portal travel,” Pia argued. “They’d have to confiscate every key and keep an agent at every tombstone.”
“URNS doesn’t need to worry about the tombstones, because you can’t travel through one without a portal key. Besides, my mom told me each key is r
egistered with URNS, so they have a good idea of who owns a key. They can even tell when one is used. If URNS catches anyone using a key, they’re gonna be arrested for murder,” Stephinica said. Her mom worked for URNS, too. I thought I should pull her aside and compare notes, but changed my mind when our frosty mugs of pumpkin soda arrived.
Sally raised her mug first. “To friends,” she said.
“To friends,” we agreed.
And as we clinked our mugs together, we saw old Ogopogo burst from the water and thrash at the terrified zombies, who ran and screamed for safety. Whoever said zombies were slow has obviously never seen one chased by a sea creature.
Good times … Good times.
After much goodbye saying and promising that we would write to each other every day—Pia even promised to write to Sally even though Pia wasn’t moving anywhere, and she lived three houses down from Sally—I headed to the downtown shopping village, where all my favorite haunts were. There was the Bobbing Bones, which served the best hot pumpkin this side of Gravesville; Hottentots, my favorite clothing store; and Books & Brimstone, which had the new Nightmare Books on display in the front window. The series was loosely based on the legend of how monsters were created, and I’ve been salivating over the release for months. Too bad I spent the last of my money at Ogopogo Grill.
I forced myself away from the window, and continued on. Next to the book store was Jack o’ Salon, where pumpkin heads could get new facial expressions to fit their mood—nothing worse than mad jack-o’lanterns forced to wear smiles all day. Then I passed my all-time favorite eatery, Treats n’ Treats, an all-you-can eat candy buffet.
I wanted to spend hours in each place, but glancing at the clock above Blood Bank, I noticed I only had another hour before I needed to be home, so I patted the stone wall of Treats n’ Treats and whispered goodbye.
A silky fog rolled in over the graveyard as I headed for home, and I leaned against the iron bars and savored the view. If I had my possessed board, I could ride that fog until dawn.
One last time, Eve. You know you want to.
Oh, how I wanted to listen to that alluring voice and ride above those twisted, dead trees and slanted tombstones until my legs cramped and my back ached. But those carefree days were gone, and the sooner I let them go, the easier it would be to forget. I hurried along—trying to ignore the graveyard, but not having much success—and before I knew it, I was home.
Grandpa’s pumpkin-colored sports coach convertible was parked in the driveway, and I rushed inside, because no matter how miserable I felt, Grandpa could always cheer me up. Grandma could, too, but sometimes she wanted to suck my blood, which could get a little uncomfortable at times.
“There’s my girl,” Grandpa said and threw open his arms. I rushed to him like I did when I was four, like I probably would when I’m forty.
Did I mention Grandpa was a werewolf? And, boy, was he ever ready for the graveyard. He had on his dark sunglasses, his tombstone shorts, flip-flops, and a tee-shirt that read BIG BAD WOLF.
“Hey, Grandma.” I gave her a squeeze, and as she sniffed my neck, I pulled away before she got too attracted to my scent. I knew Grandma didn’t really want to bite me, but it was like this primal thing she had a hard time controlling, being a vamp and all.
“Looking good, granny,” I said, which was an understatement. Grandma was like 250 years old, but since she’d been bitten at twenty-two, well, you could say she didn’t look—or act—her age. She wore a black bikini top, which exposed her pierced bellybutton, jean shorts, and blood red heels that placed her about five inches taller than Grandpa.
Grandma lifted her dark shades and perched them on her long blonde hair. Her fangs tugged against her luscious lips as she smiled. “Feeling good, sweetie. Mmm, don’t you smell good today.”
“Uh, thanks.”
Dad walked in and ….
Before I continue, I should give you some family history.
First off, it wasn’t common for a werewolf and a vampire to get married. Back in the old days, they were major enemies, but Grandma and Grandpa—they had broken all sorts of boundaries.
You’d think that with a wolf and a vamp as parents, my dad would’ve turned out to be one or the other, at least that’s what everyone else in Gravesville had thought, but he turned out to be a shapeshifter, which is as unique as they come. Then, there was my mom, a gorgon, purebred and all that. She comes from a long line of gorgons that dated back to like when dates were invented. Gorgons are pretty rare, too. Humans killed off most of them thousands of years ago.
When my parents got together there was this big to-do in Gravesville about what kind of children they would have. And—hardy-har—turns out they had a ghoul, my brother Sam, which is like the most common monster next to zombies.
Then, they found me. Okay, I know what you’re thinking: Sam’s my little brother, so how could he have been born first? Well, ghouls age differently than humans. One year for them equals three years for humans, which really stinks for them because they only celebrate birthdays once every three years.
Anyway, my parents found me at their doorstep, which was a huge problem, because humans are not welcomed in Gravesville. And for good reason! But with me it was different. My parents and grandparents were pretty important monsters, and they managed to convince everyone I should stay. I don’t know exactly what they did. Mom and Dad don’t like to talk about it, but whatever. Some monsters still look at me funny, and sometimes the younger ones get frightened by my appearance, but that didn’t happen so much anymore. Most monsters were used to me.
So where was I? Oh, yeah.
When Dad walked in, he was in his human form, and before Grandpa could get a word in, Dad ran through a list of things my grandparents weren’t allowed to do while we were in the human world: no big parties, no bringing home dead carcasses, no howling after midnight, and most of all NO BIG PARTIES. Dad scolded Grandma and Grandpa like a couple of kids, and like a couple of kids they snickered uncontrollably.
When Dad left to finish packing, Grandpa confided in me that they were planning the biggest Halloween party this side of Gravesville, and what a shame I would miss it.
If there was a single sound that could’ve expressed how miserable not being here for Halloween made me feel, it would be a horn, which just so happened to be honking right outside.
“Coach’s here!” Mom called out.
My stomach lurched, and I began to feel sick and warm all over.
Time to head to the ship.
Time to leave.
I hugged Grandpa and then lingered in Grandma’s embrace, not because I loved her more, but because I wanted her to bite me so I’d turn into a vamp. That way I could stay here. Grandma must’ve eaten recently, though. She only sniffed my neck again and told me how delicious I smelled.
I picked up Wolf, and he buried his snout into the crook of my arm. He liked being held, and I got the sense that he was feeling a bit lost and needed to be with someone. I know I did.
Once outside, I gave my old haunted castle a last glance—its beautiful black spires with my ghostly relatives eddying around and waving and blowing kisses, the ravens perched along the parapet. Even the thunderclouds seemed thicker, as if they’d gathered to say goodbye.
Sam trudged back from the graveyard. His head was down, and he appeared so sad and small. He told me how everyone had let him win at Corpse Diving and Shadow Stealing, his two favorite games. I wanted to cry. I knew exactly how he felt.
The coach was shiny black with blood-red curtains and pulled by four skeletal horses. The driver, a ruddy thick goblin with a top hat and gray skin, welcomed everyone, and when he opened his mouth, thick beetles squirmed out and scurried down the inside of his shirt, which made Sam laugh. It was a fun trick for kids, but I was too old for such silliness, though I did offer a little smile. He was, after all, just trying to be nice.
Dad loaded up the coach with our luggage, and we gathered inside. As we pulled away, I heard Grand
pa’s howl echo throughout the castle.
At least someone would be having fun.
THREE
THE DEAD LADY
A misty rain swirled around us as we entered Port Carta Marina, a horrible seaport made of rich, dark wood that glowed under the gas lamps hanging from the pilings.
Shops of all sorts lined the wharf—places with names like Dead Leg Tavern and Leviathan’s Bait & Tackle, which offered rental equipment and a warning: WE WILL NOT BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR LOST OR DAMAGED SOULS.
The coach pulled up alongside a colossal, midnight black ship with crimson sails. I craned my neck out the window to get a better view and saw a half-woman, half-skeleton statue carved into the front of the ship. Above the woman, written in faded cursive, was the name Dead Lady.
Okay, so the ship impressed me, and for a brief moment, I thought the trip wouldn’t be so bad, but then I got a closer look at the crew as they busied themselves preparing for our departure … zombies. Are you kidding me?
The captain, a zombie with swollen blue skin and a thick beard of rotted vegetation, sauntered down the ramp to greet us, his wooden leg clunking against the dock every other step.
When he flashed a smile, I got a glimpse of his teeth—broken swords piled atop infected gums. He introduced himself as Captain Mossbeard, and he seemed pleasant enough—for a zombie—and he said how pretty I was, even though he grimaced while saying this.
“And look at you. What a strapping young lad. Built like a pirate,” the captain said, clapping Sam on the shoulder.
“Really? Did you hear that, Dad?” Sam straightened his crooked back and pressed out his chest. “Built like a pirate.”
“You’d make a great one,” Dad agreed. “Maybe the captain might even teach you a thing or two about the high seas while we’re on this voyage.”
“Be delighted to,” the captain said and showed off his moldy teeth once more.