Flame of the Dragon

by Tommy Donbavand

  “I don’t know,” Luke replied. “And that worries me. Stay sharp.”

  “Sheep burgers!” spat the body.

  In the middle of the square, the doorway to Luke’s world was now the size of a large cat-flap. Anyone wanting to get through the orange portal would have to crawl on their hands and knees.

  “I can’t wait for that thing to be closed for ever,” said Resus.

  “Not long now,” Luke assured him. “We just need to make sure the normals are on the right side first.”

  Checking that no one was looking, the trio and their body buddy slipped through a gap in the fence around Sneer Hall and scurried towards the mansion. They pressed themselves up against the wall and peered into the nearest window. The room inside was dark, as were the next two along.

  “You’d think a couple of hundred tourists would be easy to find, wouldn’t you,” said Resus. “We should be able to hear them at least.”

  “Maybe it’s time for Luke to use his werewolf ears?” suggested Cleo.

  Luke nodded and closed his eyes. He thought about the way Acrid Belcher had made his parents watch as he had been plunged through the trapdoor into the Underlands, and he forced the feeling of anger up through his body and into his head. He felt his ears begin to stretch, and his nose began to lengthen into a snout.

  “Oh, my Drac!” hissed Resus.

  Cleo giggled.

  Luke opened his eyes. Everything was tinted yellow now that he was looking at the world through his werewolf eyes, but that was perfectly normal. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “You’ve seen me transform before.”

  “Yeah, but never quite like this,” grinned Resus. “Check out your reflection…”

  Luke peered into one of the darkened windows and jumped in surprise. He’d transformed his entire head into that of a werewolf, just as he’d planned, but his usually sleek brown fur was rotting and clumped, and in places patches of grey, diseased skin showed through. His ears were bent and twisted, and the tongue that lolled between his broken teeth was green and pockmarked.

  He was a zombie werewolf!

  “As long as I can still hear well, it doesn’t really matter,” said Luke. He pressed one of his huge, rotting wolf ears to the wall and listened carefully. “I can hear voices!” he exclaimed. “This way.”

  Luke led his friends around to the back of Sneer Hall, occasionally stopping to listen and check he was on the right path. Eventually he came to a halt at a plain wooden door. “I think they’re in there,” he said, allowing his features to return to those of a zombie.

  Cleo tried the door handle. It was locked. “How will we get inside?”

  “Leave that to me,” said Resus.

  Cleo looked at him questioningly. “How? You’re not a vampire now, remember.”

  “Maybe not,” smiled Resus, “but I still have this…” He opened his hand to reveal one of his fake vampire nails, which he slipped over the end of a skeletal finger. He pushed it into the lock and began to twist it around, until – click! – he was able to swing the door open…

  To reveal a huge barred cage completely filling the room beyond.

  “I thought this was going too well,” sighed Cleo.

  “That’s the cage Sneer kept my mum in when she first transformed,” said Luke.

  “Spy disco!” blurted the body.

  “Wh-who’s there?” came a quivering voice from the shadows of the cage.

  Luke went over to the bars and found himself staring at a crowd of trembling normals.

  “It’s them!” cried another voice. “They’re back!”

  “What do you want with us?” pleaded a woman. “Why are you keeping us here?”

  “Why won’t you let us go?” demanded a man angrily.

  “You don’t understand,” said Luke, “we’re here to help.”

  “Don’t trust him!” shouted the woman. “He’s one of them!”

  Cleo came to stand beside Luke. “He’s not one of the Movers,” she explained. “He’s got a face – even if it is covered with scabs and sores.”

  “You’re not with them?” asked the woman, edging forward.

  The man grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. “It’s a trick!” he snapped. “They’re all as bad as each other. We should never have come to this place.”

  “Finally, someone’s said something I agree with,” Resus muttered under his breath as he bent to peer at the lock on the gate at the front of the cage.

  “What do you think?” Luke asked him. “Can you open it?”

  Resus cracked his bony knuckles and took a deep breath. “Just you watch!”

  Chapter Twelve

  The Boy

  Resus twisted his finger around inside the lock, wiggling the fake vampire nail until he heard a click! “One pin down, seven more to go,” he grinned. “But it’s a lot easier with these skinny skeleton fingers.”

  “Maybe you should keep them when all this is over,” suggested Cleo. “Although you’d have to get used to the taste of gutweed.”

  “Keep working on the lock,” said Luke, then he called to the crowd of normals inside the cage. “We’re going to get you out of here. Out of Sneer Hall and out of Scream Street. But I need some help. Has anyone seen a golden book with a man’s face on the cover? It’s called The G.H.O.U.L. Guide and it’s very important.”

  “I’ve seen that,” answered a younger voice. A boy of around Luke’s age stepped up to the bars. “It was in one of the rooms off the main corridor. I noticed it because for a moment it looked like the face on the front winked at me.”

  Luke gripped the bars of the cage, trying to hide his excitement. “Can you remember which room it was?”

  “I… I’m not sure…”

  Cleo smiled at the boy. “My name’s Cleo – what’s yours?”

  “Ethan,” replied the boy. “I’m here with my friend Arran and his dad.”

  “These are my friends, Luke and Resus,” said Cleo. “Could you show Luke where the book was if he took you back the way you came?”

  The boy glanced timidly from Cleo to Luke and back again. “I think so…”

  “There’s just one problem,” said Resus, not looking up from his work. “It’s going to take me a while yet to get this lock open. He can’t get out.”

  “Unless he squeezes through,” suggested Cleo.

  Luke looked thoughtfully at Ethan through the gate. He was slim – but was he slim enough?

  “I can try…” Ethan slid an arm and a leg between the thick metal bars and managed to get part of his body through, but then he couldn’t get any further. “Sorry,” he said.

  “Don’t apologize,” said Cleo. “You almost did it.”

  “He did, didn’t he,” said Luke. “And I might be able to help him with that last little bit…” Closing his eyes, Luke concentrated on transforming his hands into powerful werewolf paws. As before, the fur that burst through his skin was greasy, and weeping wounds erupted across his fingers as claws slid from their tips.

  Once his arms had finished transforming, Luke gripped two of the bars with his paws and pulled. The metal creaked as the bars began to separate. “Quick!” he grunted. “Try now!”

  Ethan squeezed himself between the bars and found that he was now able to get all the way through and out of the cage.

  “You did it!” cried Cleo.

  “Come on,” said Luke as his arms returned to normal. “Let’s go.”

  “Good luck, Ethan!” called another boy from inside the cage. He was standing next to a man wearing glasses.

  “That’s Arran, and his dad,” Ethan explained.

  “Will Ethan be safe with you?” asked the man.

  Luke nodded. “If he can help us find the book, you’ll all be safe.” He turned to Cleo. “Try to convince the rest of them that we’re not a threat.”

  “I’ll give it a go,” said Cleo. “Maybe the enchantment charm will help.”

  Resus reached into the cage and closed Arran’s mouth as the boy s
tared in adoration at Cleo. “Trust me,” he grinned. “It’ll help!”

  Luke took Ethan and the walking corpse round the outside of the mansion until they found an unlocked window. Luke cupped his hands together to give his new friend a boost up.

  “I’ve only just escaped from this place,” Ethan pointed out. “Are you sure we want to break back in?”

  “We don’t have a choice, I’m afraid,” said Luke as Ethan pulled himself up onto the windowsill. “We need that book urgently.” Ethan nodded and dropped out of sight. A few minutes later, a doorway swung open a little further along the wall. Luke grabbed the corpse by the hand and led it inside.

  The boys and the body crept along a corridor lined with suits of armour. “It was in one of these rooms, I think,” whispered Ethan. “I remember seeing that painting…” He pointed to a portrait of Count Negatov, Scream Street’s vampire founding father and one of Resus’s distant ancestors.

  Luke smiled. The last time he had been in this particular corridor had been when he, Resus and Cleo were trying to get their hands on the original Skipstone’s Tales of Scream Street. “Can you remember which room?” he asked.

  “That one over there, I think,” replied Ethan, pointing.

  Inside the room they found The G.H.O.U.L. Guide lying on Sir Otto’s desk. The face protruding from the golden cover looked shocked as Luke approached. “Now, now,” it warned. “You won’t find any tasty organs inside me, I’m afraid! Just long words and complicated sentences…”

  “Mr Skipstone!” interrupted Luke, snatching up the book. “It’s me – Luke!”

  “Luke?” enquired the author, squinting up through golden eyes. “Is it possible? I was told that all three of you had been banished to the Underlands!”

  “We were,” said Luke, “but we’re back – and in disguise.”

  Skipstone smiled. “I thought I could detect the scent of gutweed!” He turned to Ethan and the body standing off to one side. “I must say,” he said, “I would never have recognized Resus and Cleo, either.”

  “That’s not them,” Luke explained. “They’re busy elsewhere. This is Ethan…”

  “Delighted to meet you, young man,” said Skipstone. “And the other fellow…?”

  “That,” grinned Luke, “is the new you!”

  Resus was still working on the lock when Luke, Ethan and the body arrived back. Cleo hurried over to meet them. “Well?” she said. “Did you find it?”

  “Thems did found it,” muttered the corpse. “But me not happy chappy!”

  Luke couldn’t help but smile. “Mr Skipstone’s struggling with the limited abilities of what’s left of Turf’s brain,” he said. “He would have gone straight back to The G.H.O.U.L. Guide if the book hadn’t disintegrated the moment we transferred his spirit.”

  “Me hard time thinking,” grumbled Skipstone. “Like swimming through snot.”

  “Oh, but it’s still you!” exclaimed Cleo, throwing her arms around the strange figure. “It doesn’t matter whether you can think or speak properly.”

  “It matter,” said Samuel Skipstone crossly. “Me dumber than a box of toenails.”

  Click!

  “That’s the second-to-last one,” announced Resus, wiping sweat from his brow.

  Luke crouched down beside him. “How long do you think it will take to—”

  The rest of his sentence was drowned out by the sound of marching feet, and he jumped up again. Quickly, he, Resus, Cleo and Ethan ran outside, slamming the outer door after them and pulling Samuel Skipstone down behind a bush. They were just in time before several dozen Movers appeared, accompanied by Dixon.

  The landlord’s nephew produced a bunch of keys and unlocked both doors, thankfully not noticing that the locks had been tampered with. “Come on, you lot!” he called out to the normals. “Uncle Otto and Mr Belcher want to see you in the square in fifteen minutes!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Square

  Luke, Resus, Cleo and Ethan watched from their hiding place as the Movers bound and gagged the normals, then led them away from Sneer Hall as though they were prisoners facing execution.

  “Why would Sneer and Belcher treat the normals like that?” asked Cleo in disgust. “What do they want with them?”

  “I’ve no idea,” admitted Resus. “The normals can’t line Sneer’s pockets if they’re tied up.”

  “Whatever it is, we’d better keep an eye on them,” said Luke, climbing out from behind the bush. “Come on.”

  Resus took Samuel Skipstone’s hand and the five of them followed the group at a safe distance. By the time they reached the square, it was packed. The residents appeared to have also been summoned and were standing to one side in a nervous cluster, opposite the bound and gagged normals.

  Movers took up positions around the edge of the crowd, each armed with a crossbow and sporting a belt lined with wooden stakes, silver spikes and metal bolts. They looked as if they were preparing to break up a riot.

  “We should be able to mingle with the other residents without being recognized,” whispered Luke, sidestepping around Mr and Mrs Crudley, their bog monster neighbours, and finding a space near the back of the crowd.

  “But I can’t mingle,” Ethan said, paling. “You all look like you belong over here, but if they spot me I’ll be tied up with the rest of the – what do you call us – normals.”

  “He’s got a point,” said Cleo. “Do we have anything we can disguise him with?”

  Resus shook his head. “I left my cloak back at the zombies’ house.”

  “Bigger on the inside!” Skipstone blurted out, pointing to himself.

  “Of course!” exclaimed Resus. He took hold of the sheet of leathery skin wrapped around the body and opened it far enough for Ethan to slip inside. “It won’t be pleasant, but you should be safe.”

  Ethan made a face, then gave a quick grin before slipping through the opening at the front of the body and disappearing among the bones and organs inside. Resus smoothed the flap of skin back into place, hiding the boy from sight. “Perfect!” he grinned.

  Cleo scanned the crowd. “Where are Belcher and Sneer?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know,” said Luke, “but whatever they’re planning, it’s bound to be—”

  He froze, his eyes fixed on a couple at the other side of the crowd. His mum and dad.

  “You OK?” asked Resus.

  Luke nodded numbly. “They look like they haven’t slept in days,” he hissed. It was true. Mrs Watson’s eyes were bloodshot and swollen from crying.

  “We haven’t slept either,” Resus reminded him. “They’re just worried about you.”

  “I have to go and tell them I’m OK,” said Luke fiercely, but Cleo put her hand on his arm.

  “You can’t,” she said softly.

  “Why not?” he demanded.

  “Because they won’t be able to stop themselves giving us away,” she replied. “Then we can’t help anyone at all.”

  “You’re right.” Luke sighed.

  “Hang about,” said Resus, “it looks like we’re on…” Sir Otto Sneer, Dixon and Acrid Belcher had emerged from Everwell’s Emporium and the landlord’s nephew was dragging a lectern behind him. He placed it in front of a microphone that had already been set up on a makeshift platform. When it was ready, Dixon stepped up to the microphone and cleared his throat. Everyone in the square winced.

  “Sorry!” gulped Dixon.

  “Get on with it!” roared Sir Otto Sneer behind him.

  Dixon nodded. “Uncle Otto has asked me to…”

  “Sir Otto!” bellowed the landlord.

  “Sorry!” squeaked Dixon. “Sir Uncle Otto has asked me to introduce a man who needs no introduction – so to be honest, I don’t know why he’s getting me to do this at all—”

  “DIXON!”

  “Er … the man who needs no introduction…” A look of horror flashed across Dixon’s face. “What’s his name again?” he asked in a stage whisper.


  “You are a moron!” exploded Sneer.

  “That’s it!” beamed Dixon. “Please welcome U. R. A. Moron!”

  There was a squeal as Sir Otto dragged his nephew away. Acrid Belcher took his place and surveyed the residents for a moment. Then he raised his swampy hands high in the air and gurgled, “I am your saviour!”

  An unsettled murmur rippled across the square.

  Acrid Belcher waited patiently for the noise to die down, then continued. “For centuries, unusual life-forms like you and me have cowered in fear – fear of being recognized for what we are, forced to leave our homes and sometimes even attacked for being different.

  “Tortured and murdered, simply because we didn’t look or act like them!” He thrust an accusing gloopy finger in the direction of the captured normals. “People just like these … these normals.” He spat the word out. “They are the ones who have insisted that we’re locked away from the rest of the world – moved to secure communities such as Scream Street, from which we cannot escape.

  “For too long we have been expected to accept that living in purpose-made neighbourhoods was a good thing, for our own safety. But I stand before you today to say that we are the victims. This is not housing unusual life-forms for their own safety – this is imprisonment!”

  Some of the residents began to applaud. Resus turned to Luke as they clapped. “He’s got a point…”

  Cleo punched his arm. “Don’t you dare agree with anything he says,” she hissed. “He’s an evil nutter!”

  Resus opened his mouth to reply, but Acrid Belcher’s rasping voice was echoing around the square once more. “Let us not dwell upon the past, however,” he gurgled. “Today I announce a new world order. A world where the normals are housed in sealed-off communities, and we – the unusual life-forms – are at liberty to roam the planet as free men, women and monsters.”

  The slime beast fixed the residents of Scream Street with a steely glare, and proclaimed: “The world shall be ours and ours alone!”