Monster Problems: Vampire Misfire

by R. L. Ullman

  “Now yer may wanna hit the showers before class. A zombie could smell you comin’ a mile away. Room number thirteen. Up the stairs, third level on the left. Good luck, Murray.”

  “Er, thanks,” I say.

  Well, she’s frightening.

  I head back to the entrance hall and tackle the staircase. A group of students coming down shoot me odd looks, including a girl with a trunk for a nose who whispers, “Pee-ew,” to her friend.

  Now I’m feeling self-conscious and I realize it’s been days since I’ve showered. Finally, I reach the third-floor landing and hang a left. There’s a handwritten sign on the wall that reads:

  HOME OF THE MONSTROSITIES.

  KEEP OUT!!!

  YES, THAT MEANS YOU!

  Okay. That doesn’t look promising.

  For a second, I consider going back downstairs to ask Vi for another room assignment, but that just might give her an excuse to eat me. So, I press on, passing several doors until I hit room number thirteen. I pull out my key when it dawns on me that I’ve actually never held one before. I rub my finger along the metal edges.

  Funny, I’ve probably stayed in hundreds of rooms, but no one has ever given me a key before. I guess this is a major step up.

  I unlock the door and push it open, slamming it into the face of some blond-haired kid who was about to exit.

  He falls to the ground backwards.

  Hang on. I know that kid.

  It’s Rage!

  I’m about to tell him how sorry I am when he lowers his arm from his face and I realize something is seriously wrong. He’s bent over, breathing heavily like I’ve clobbered him with a baseball bat. Then, I notice his entire face is… purple?

  “Butterflies and puppies,” he pants. “Just think about… butterflies and puppies.”

  “A-Are you okay?” I ask. “I’m so sorry.” I have no idea what’s going on. But by the color of his face it looks like he’s going to self-combust or something.

  “Butterflies…,” he says, breathing in and out slowly. “Just think… happy thoughts.”

  “Um, maybe I should come back later,” I say, backing into the hallway.

  “N-No,” Rage says, waving his arm. “Come in. I-I’m good. I’m good.”

  I step inside as Rage gets to his feet. He leans over a chair, catching a second wind. He’s sweating profusely, but his face looks like it’s back to its natural coloring.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say. “I was told this was my room.”

  Then, I notice it’s a double. There are two beds, two dressers, and two desks.

  “I guess we’re going to be roommates,” I say.

  “Really?” he says. “That’s great news! When I first got here, they told me I couldn’t have a roommate. I guess I’ve gotten better.”

  Oookaaaayyy. What’s that supposed to mean?

  “That’s your half,” he says, pointing to my left. “I tried to keep it neat, just in case they changed their minds. My side looks like a train wreck. Sorry.”

  “No problem,” I say, sitting on my bed. Well, he’s right about the train wreck part. While my side is empty, his side is an absolute disaster zone. His bed is unmade, his clothing is strewn all over the floor, and his books are scattered everywhere. I wonder if Van Helsing gave him decorating tips.

  “Can I see your class schedule?” Rage asks.

  “What schedule?” Then I realize it’s probably in the envelope Vi Clops ‘the boy-eating monster’ gave me. I open it up and pull out a bunch of papers. One of them looks like a class schedule, so I hand it to him.

  “Interesting,” he says, studying it intently. “We’re in the same section. That’s pretty surprising since they usually group kids by skill level and you haven’t even been assessed yet. Oh, well. Here you go.” Then he hands it back to me.

  I look at it, fully expecting to see the usual subjects like Math and Social Studies, but this class schedule isn’t like any schedule I’ve seen before. It reads:

  MONSTEROLOGY 101​​09:00

  SUPERNATURAL HISTORY​101​​10:30

  PARANORMAL SCIENCE 101​​13:00

  SURVIVAL SKILLS I​​16:30

  “What’s with the weird timings,” I ask.

  “It’s a Van Helsing thing,” Rage says. “He likes to use military timing.”

  “Well, these classes certainly look interesting,” I say.

  “They are,” Rage says, “but the teachers are really tough. Especially Hexum. He teaches Survival Skills. I thought I’d die in his class like, five times.”

  I wait for him to laugh, but I realize he’s serious.

  Then, I notice the clock. It reads: 8:23 AM.

  If I’m going to de-stink before our first class at nine, I’ll need to shower now.

  “Hey, where’s the bathroom?” I ask. “I’d love to shower and feel like a normal person. Well, sort of normal, I guess.”

  “Down the hall and to the right,” he says. “But you’d better hurry. Oh, hang on.” Then he races to his closet. “Here’s one of my towels. I just did laundry so it’s clean. And here’s a fresh bar of soap and some shampoo.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I say, taking the toiletries. Then I realize I don’t have any clothes to change into. “Ugh, I guess I’ll have to put these back on after.”

  “No, wait!” he says excitedly, digging into his dresser. “I wondered why all this stuff showed up last night. Now it makes sense. It was way too big for me, so they must have left it for you.”

  He hands me a pile of clothes. There’s a shirt, pants, socks, and clean underwear. I’ve never been so happy to see clean underwear in my entire life.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “You better be fast,” Rage says. “You’ve only got about fifteen minutes. Oh, and look out for InvisiBill, he likes to play practical jokes.”

  I don’t know what that means, but I grab all of the stuff and head for the shower.

  ***

  Let me tell you, there’s nothing better than a warm shower after spending days caked in your own sweat. I can’t remember the last time I felt so clean. I probably stayed in there longer than I should have, but the water felt great against my skin, and I really needed it.

  What I don’t need, however, is to be late for my very first class. I dry off quickly, and for the first time in a long time I’m feeling surprisingly optimistic. Despite all of the craziness, maybe this will work out after all.

  Then, I rip open the shower curtain and realize something’s wrong.

  My clothes are missing.

  What happened to my clothes?

  I know I set them down on the bench right outside the shower. They couldn’t have walked off on their own.

  Then, I remember Rage’s warning.

  InvisiBill.

  Wait a minute.

  Invisi – Bill?

  As in, ‘Invisible?’

  Seriously? That kid with the sunglasses must be invisible under all those bandages! He must have snuck in here and stolen all of my clothes. There’s no way I’ll make it class on time now. So much for feeling optimistic.

  “Hey!” I call out. “InvisiBill! Bring my stuff back!”

  But there’s no answer.

  I bet that jerk is having the time of his life right now, laughing at my expense.

  I don’t know what to do. If I use my super speed, I can probably make it back to my room before anyone notices. But then I’ll have to put my old, stinky clothes back on.

  I call out again, but InvisiBill still doesn’t show up.

  There’s no choice, I’ll have to go for it. I tighten the towel around my waist and throw open the bathroom door. Only to find—

  “Surprise!” comes a chorus of voices.

  Rage is standing there, along with Stanphibian, Hairball, and… Aura! They’re all grinning ear to ear.

  This is so embarrassing.

  Then, to their right, I see my clothes!

  They’re floating in mid-air.

  “Is this a bad tim
e?” Hairball asks.

  I’m so humiliated I don’t know what to say.

  “When you attend the Van Helsing Academy,” Aura says, “you’re taught to believe in things you can’t imagine. That means you can’t let your guard down. Not even in the shower. It could mean the difference between life and death.”

  “I tried to warn you,” Rage says.

  He warned me, but he could’ve been more specific.

  “Don’t be angry at Rage,” Aura says. “Let’s just say you’ve been taught your first lesson. You’d better learn it fast if you want to join the Monstrosities.”

  “What are ‘the Monstrosities?’” I ask.

  “Not ‘what,’” Aura says, “but ‘who.’ We’re the Monstrosities. It’s the name of our section. We consider ourselves to be the best of the best. But just because you’re in our section doesn’t mean you’re one of us. You’ve got to prove yourself first. So, I guess we’ll see what your made of. InvisiBill, give him his clothes back.”

  Suddenly, my clothes come flying at me. I catch them all, nearly dropping my towel in the process.

  “And you get one of these,” Rage says, putting a black sweater on top of my pile. It’s just like the sweaters they’re wearing, but without a badge.

  “Silver badges are for Monstrosities only,” Aura says. “If you want one, you’ve got to earn one. Got it?”

  “Yep,” I say. Although I have the distinct feeling that’s not going to be so easy.

  “By the way,” Rage says. “The closet in our room is filled with new clothes for you.”

  “Of course it is,” I say.

  “See you in class,” Aura says. “And don’t be late. Detention is with Headmaster Van Helsing himself.”

  A CRASH COURSE IN VAMPIRE

  Thanks to my super speed, I make it to class with seconds to spare. That was fast, but I realize even faster that my education at the Van Helsing Academy is going to be unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.

  ​Case in point, my first class is Monsterology, the study of monsters, taught by Professor Lucy Holmwood, a middle-aged woman with green eyes, red hair, and an unusually cheery disposition given the macabre nature of her subject matter. It takes me a few minutes to get used to her English accent—I mean, is ‘gobsmacked’ really a word? But as soon as she launches into the four categories of monsters, I’m hooked.

  The first group she describes are shapeshifters, which are creatures who can take on other forms. There are two types of shapeshifters: lycanthropes and doppelgangers.

  Lycanthropes turn into monsters when naturally occurring events happen, like full moons. Werewolves are the most popular type of lycanthropes, but other ‘were’ creatures are known to exist, like wererats for instance.

  Yep, you heard me. I said wererats.

  The other type of shapeshifter is a doppelganger. This creature replicates the exact physical and vocal characteristics of someone else. Professor Holmwood explains that doppelgangers are rare and none have been seen in the last century. But then again, how would anyone know for sure?

  The next category of monsters are spirits. Spirits were once living people whose souls never moved on to their next destination. Now they just hang around, haunting the living. In fact, some spirits don’t even know they’re dead—talk about awkward conversations! Spirits come in two types: ghosts and skin-riders.

  Ghosts are exactly what you think they are, bodiless souls that can drift through walls, windows, and your local McDonalds. Typically, they’re stuck here for a reason, but whatever that reason is, it’s usually a mystery to them.

  Skin-Riders, on the other hand, are a nastier kind of spirit. They’re stuck between worlds like ghosts, but they can possess the body of a living person, using them to carry out devious deeds, like monopolizing your video game console.

  The third category of monsters is the undead. These are the ones Van Helsing talked about earlier. These fun-suckers were once dead, but now they’re back alive again. This group includes all of your Halloween favorites, like vampires, mummies, and zombies. No need to go into the gory details, we know these guys all too well.

  The fourth and final group are the abnormals. Abnormals are a catch-all category for anything that can’t be classified into one of the previous buckets. In here you’ll find your one-of-a-kind beasts, science experiments gone wrong, and bizarre freaks of nature. Think Frankenstein, Godzilla, or the Blob.

  It’s not until the bell rings that I’m able to put down my pen. I’ve never taken so many notes in my life! It seems like the ninety minutes flew by in a snap, and I can’t believe everything I just learned. Apparently, there’s a whole secret monster world out there I never knew existed, and a rather frightening one at that.

  But before I can process it all we’re off to Supernatural History. With the word ‘history’ in it, I thought it would be a real snoozer, but boy was I wrong. The class is taught by Professor Lawrence Seward, a heavy-set man with thinning hair and a thick, handlebar moustache. With his red bowtie and tan duster jacket, it looks like he fell out of a 1920s photograph.

  Professor Seward starts lecturing before we even take our seats, sending everyone scrambling for their notebooks. And what he’s teaching is simply incredible. I had no idea how far back monster history went. Van Helsing told me the whole vampire thing started in the fifteenth century, and I thought that was old. But according to Professor Seward, monsters have been running around for ages.

  I learn about the Zombie Crusades of the 1100s, the Werewolf Inquisition of the 1200s, and even the Ghost Rebellion during the Revolutionary War. They never taught us this stuff in public school!

  Then, Professor Seward sidetracks into a discussion about Supernatural items. Apparently, certain household items have powerful effects on certain monsters. For example: silver destroys werewolves, salt repels spirits, and garlic can hold a vampire at bay. I guess the trick is remembering not to spray garlic on a werewolf or throw salt at a vampire.

  Then, Professor Seward offers bonus points for anyone who can answer questions about ancient Supernatural artifacts, like:

  “What is the Spear of Darkness?”

  “When would you use Holy Water?”

  “What is the Crossbow of Purity?”

  Of course, I’m clueless, but Aura’s hand shoots up after every question. I have to admit I’m impressed. This girl definitely has game. Then, Professor Seward asks a question that really gets my attention.

  “What is the legend of the Blood Grail?”

  The Blood Grail? I remember Van Helsing talking about the Blood Grail. The Dark Ones are searching for it. Of course, Aura is all over it.

  “According to legend,” she begins, “during the War of the Turks, King Vlad Dracul of Wallachia knew his armies were far out-numbered by his Turkish enemies and were likely to be destroyed. Trapped in a narrow mountain chasm, the King bled a quart of his own blood into an empty wine chalice and had his sorcerers perform an ancient spell over it.”

  Whoa! Van Helsing didn’t give me that kind of detail.

  No wonder it’s called the Blood Grail.

  “Then,” she continues, “Vlad Dracul ordered a contingent of his best men to take the chalice and sneak through enemy lines, returning it safely to his kingdom in Wallachia without spilling a single drop. In the cover of night, the men did just as the King instructed. And the very next day, just as Dracul predicted, his forces were overrun, and he was killed on the battlefield.”

  Well, most of that matches up to what I was told.

  “But before the Turks could claim his body,” Aura continues, “his loyal subjects retrieved his remains and returned them to Wallachia. There, they collected the chalice—now called the Blood Grail—and poured King Dracul’s blood over his lifeless body, miraculously returning him to life from the dead. From that moment forward, he became known as Count Dracula, Lord of the Undead.”

  So that’s the legend of the Blood Grail, huh? And to think, the Dark Ones are out there
looking for it right now. I hope it’s smashed into so many pieces Gorilla Glue couldn’t put it back together.

  After class, we break for lunch. As I enter the cafeteria, I’m shocked to discover dozens of tiny winged creatures with pointy ears and horns on their heads fluttering all over the place. One of them lands on a table and picks up a dirty fork with both hands.

  “Imps,” Rage says. “They work in the cafeteria. But look out, they like to play pranks. Last week they put strawberry jelly on my burger instead of ketchup. I nearly barfed.”

  “Great,” I say.

  I move through the buffet looking at all of the options. There’s more food here than I’ve seen in my entire life, including chicken, steak, salads, and sandwiches, but nothing for me. Then, at the end of the line I see something bright red. It’s pizza but without the cheese! I grab a few slices when one of the imps comes flittering around the corner with a large silver shaker that says “Pepper.”

  Before I can react, he hovers over my pizza and turns the shaker over. But before the black flakes hit my food, Rage sticks his hand over my plate.

  “Yuck!” Rage says, smelling the specks on his palm. “That’s not pepper. It’s chopped liver. Now shoo.”

  The imp sticks out its tongue and flies away.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “Told ya,” Rage says. “Now I’ve got to wash my hands.”

  When he comes back, we sit together in the crowded cafeteria. Hairball and Rage have steaks larger than their heads, Stanphibian slurps some algae concoction through a straw, and we’re all forced to watch InvisiBill chew his chicken fingers into mush before swallowing them down his invisible gullet.

  But Aura isn’t eating anything at all. She’s just sitting there, watching us with her sad, blue eyes.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” I ask.

  “Nope,” she says, pushing back her hair. “Ghosts don’t get hungry.”

  Suddenly, it hits me. All of those monster classifications I just learned about. They apply to us as well! Which means—

  “S-So, you’re, like, dead?”

  “I suppose,” she says casually. “I really don’t remember much about it. Headmaster Van Helsing has been trying to help me figure out what happened. Just like Professor Holmwood said, I’m probably here for a reason. I just don’t know what.”