Fang of the Vampire

by Tommy Donbavand

  SCREAM STREET

  FANG OF THE VAMPIRE

  TOMMY DONBAVAND

  Chapter One

  The Chase

  The schoolboy leapt over the wall into the graveyard, his feet skidding on wet grass. Barely managing to keep his balance he ran on, dodging between headstones that jutted from the ground like rotten teeth.

  Behind him the creature landed in the mud, still transforming. It roared as its razor-sharp claws ripped through the black leather of its shoes and glinted in the weak sunlight. Tearing away what remained of its footwear with yellowing nails, the monster gave chase.

  The boy tripped and fell, banging his head on a gravestone. A flash of white filled his vision and he was temporarily stunned. Forcing himself to stand, the schoolboy rubbed at the cut on his forehead. Staring at the red liquid smeared across his fingertips, he heard a snarl.

  The creature was in front of him now, approaching, its eyes never leaving his own. The boy was reminded of nature programmes on TV in which lions stalked their prey. He stepped back and found himself pressed against the cold marble of an ornate headstone. He was trapped.

  The creature screamed as its face began to push outwards, bones splintering noisily and quickly reforming; muscles tearing, then instantly knotting together as its entire head changed shape. Strands of thick fur pushed out of every pore of its skin.

  The fully formed werewolf lifted its snout to the sky and howled.

  “N-no!” stuttered the schoolboy. “Please don’t hurt me!” He tried to run, but the werewolf was on him in a second, lashing out with its claws.

  Four crimson lines soaked into the material of the boy’s torn white school shirt as he fell to the ground once again. He pushed himself backwards across the muddy grass as the monster sniffed at the air, the scent of blood filling its nostrils. Baring its teeth, the wolf prepared to leap for its victim.

  Suddenly a yapping sound distracted the creature, and it spun to see a small Chihuahua bounding around its legs and nipping at its back paws. In the distance a voice could be heard to call out, “Fluffy! Here, boy!”

  The monster kicked the yelping dog away and turned back to its prey. As the schoolboy screamed, the chihuahua bit the werewolf hard on the leg and disappeared into the bushes.

  Roaring with rage, the wolf turned and raced after the dog.

  Chapter Two

  The Move

  Luke Watson turned the dog collar over in his hands, wiping dried blood from the name tag to reveal the word FLUFFY. The chihuahua had wriggled out of its collar and run away as the werewolf caught hold of it, a cut on the ear the only evidence that it had been in a fight at all.

  Hearing a sound on the stairs, Luke stuffed the collar under his pillow and grabbed the game-pad of his computer console, resuming his battle against the evil mechanoids. “Come in,” he called in response to a quiet tap on his bedroom door.

  His mum entered, carrying a tray of food. Luke glanced at the meal: vegetarian again. His parents hadn’t cooked him meat for almost a year now.

  “Got onto the next level yet?” his mum asked, putting the tray down on the desk.

  Luke shook his head. “I’ve got rid of the robot generals, but I need to kill the overlord before I can progress to the mother ship.”

  Mrs Watson sat down on the bed. She said nothing for a while, then softly cleared her throat. “I spoke to Steven Black’s parents.”

  “I thought Dad was going to ring them.”

  “He’s not back from work yet,” explained his mum.

  Luke tried unsuccessfully to hide the irritation in his voice. “Figures!”

  “Steven told his parents he hurt his chest climbing over a barbed wire fence,” said his mum.

  Luke concentrated on the game, silent.

  “Why him, Luke? You’ve got few enough friends at school as it is.”

  “He’s no friend!” snapped Luke, throwing the gamepad onto the bed. “He’s a bully! He nicked some girl’s bag on the way home from school; I was just trying to get it back for her. There was no reason for him to turn on me!”

  “He didn’t know what would happen,” said his mum. “He didn’t know that you would…” She sighed, leaving the sentence unfinished. “The scratches aren’t deep,” she said. “It’s going to be OK. This time.”

  Luke studied his mum as she picked up the gamepad and did her best to fight a battalion of robots wielding laser pistols. Neither of his parents had smiled for a long time. Not since he had first transformed into a werewolf.

  “You know,” he said with a grin, “you suck at this game!” Mrs Watson punched him playfully on the arm as he snatched the controls from her. “You only ever press one button at a time. But if you press a combination—”

  A smash came from downstairs.

  Luke bounded down the stairs two at a time and skidded to halt. The living room and hall were full of blond-haired men packing the family’s belongings into crates and carrying furniture out of the house. Each wore a shimmering purple jumpsuit with G.H.O.U.L. printed across the back.

  One of the men was clearing up the remains of a broken vase. Luke’s dad, just home from work, was struggling to pull the pieces away from him. The man simply raised a hand and pressed it over Mr Watson’s eyes. Luke watched in terror as his dad crumpled to the floor.

  “Mike!” yelled Luke’s mum, rushing in. She dropped to her knees beside her husband and grabbed his wrist, checking for a pulse. The blond man laid his palm over her face and she too collapsed, with a moan.

  Luke raced across the room, fighting to get to his parents. One of the men gripped his arm and pulled him back so that two of his colleagues could pass by with a large picture. They stepped over Mr and Mrs Watson as if they were nothing more than lumps in the carpet.

  Luke grabbed the shoulder of the man whose touch had knocked out his parents, spinning him round. “What have you…” The words stuck in his throat.

  The man’s head had no features – no eyes, nose, ears or mouth. Just a smooth layer of skin. Luke glanced around the room. All the men were the same.

  “Who are you?” he demanded, backing away. He fell onto the sofa, kicking out as the man pressed three fingertips to the side of his head. Luke suddenly became aware of a voice flooding his mind.

  “We are the Movers,” said the voice. “You are being moved.”

  Luke stared up into the featureless face. “Why?”

  “You attacked a boy.”

  “But he got away when I…” Luke stumbled over his words. “When the wolf chased the chihuahua! He won’t tell anyone about me, honest!”

  The explanation made no difference. The Mover pulled his hand away and turned to pick up a framed photograph. Luke jumped to his feet and dashed after the man, stopping as he noticed that his parents had gone.

  “Where are they?” he shouted. “What have you done with my parents?”

  The sound of a zip being closed caught his attention and Luke dashed to the kitchen to discover another Mover sealing his mum inside a purple bag. An identical bag, presumably containing his dad, lay on the table.

  “Let them go!” he screamed, launching himself at the faceless man and trying to unzip the bag. Luke didn’t see the second Mover until his hand covered Luke’s face and the world dissolved into a fizzing pool of purple light.

  Luke woke up in near darkness. He was lying on his bed, a dull pain throbbing behind his eyes. Groaning, he reached for the glass of water on his bedside table. A few gulps cleared his dry throat, and he sat upright.

  Luke froze. He was on his bed, but this wasn’t his room. A large glass chandelier hung from the high ceiling above him. The walls were painted green and the floor was a deep, polished wood. A purple bag, smaller than the one in
which he had seen his parents wrapped, lay over the end of the bed.

  The tray of dinner sat beside his homework on the desk and the games console was in its place on top of the now dark computer monitor. Luke leant over and pressed the ON switch but the screen didn’t seem to be working. Sliding his hand beneath his pillow, he pulled out the blood-soaked dog collar. All his stuff was here; this just wasn’t his bedroom.

  Luke swung his legs off the bed, stuffing the dog collar into his pocket. He found his trainers and slid them on, then went over to the bookshelf and ran his fingers over his books to check they were all real. They were.

  Opening the heavy door, Luke found himself standing at the top of an ornately carved stairway. A thick black rug at his feet appeared to be moving, and it was a moment before Luke realized he was looking at hundreds of spiders. They crawled across the landing as one, dragging tiny webbing sacks of dust and leaving behind a trail of clean, red carpet. The spiders were vacuuming.

  Luke crossed the landing and checked inside the other rooms on the top floor of the house. His parents’ bedroom was as it should be, their wrought-iron bedstead and wardrobes all in place. Two purple body bags lay, discarded, on the bedroom floor.

  The bathroom was basic, with a bare stone floor and an ancient bathtub. Gas lamps hung from the walls. Luke reached out to test one when he heard muffled voices.

  Heading downstairs, he found a living room lined with dark wood panelling; the family’s brightly coloured sofa looked out of place in such ornate surroundings. Spiders were at work here, too, cleaning the deep-pile carpet.

  Hearing the voices again, Luke went back out into the hallway. He pushed open a door on his right to reveal an old kitchen. His parents sat together at one end of a long wooden table.

  “Mum!” yelled Luke as he ran across the kitchen and flung his arms around her. She was shaking. “Where are we?”

  “We don’t know,” said Luke’s dad. “We came round to find ourselves on our bed in some room upstairs. We found you but couldn’t wake you up.”

  “And we’re wearing these,” added Mrs Watson, holding up her arm to reveal a bracelet, like those used for hospital patients, stamped with the number 13. Luke checked his own wrist and discovered an identical band.

  Someone hammered at the front door.

  “Stay here,” said Luke, tearing the strip of paper from his wrist and dashing back out into the hallway.

  “Luke, no!” His mum grabbed for his arm, but he was already leaving the room.

  Three figures were silhouetted against the frosted glass of the front door. Luke approached cautiously, sliding back the solid brass bolts and opening the door just enough to peer out into the cold air.

  “Welcome to Scream Street!” boomed a voice. Luke swallowed hard. Standing on the doorstep was a family of vampires.

  Chapter Three

  The Attack

  The tallest vampire threw his cape aside, grabbed Luke’s hand and shook it furiously. “Alston Negative’s the name. This is my wife, Bella, and our son, Resus!”

  “We’re your new neighbours,” said the woman, striding past Luke towards the kitchen doorway. Mr and Mrs Watson stood there, mouths open.

  “No!” Luke shouted, struggling to free himself from the handshake. Before he could move, the female vampire had reached beneath her cape and produced a vase of dead roses, handing the gift to Luke’s mum. Thick red liquid filled the container. It was blood.

  Mrs Watson paled. Luke ran, catching her just as she began to faint. The vase smashed to the floor, spraying blood up the walls. The younger vampire darted past his father and helped Luke to sit his mum on the stairs, wafting his cape in front of her face.

  Luke studied the boy. He looked about the same age as himself, although he had jet-black hair and ; white skin with dark rings around his eyes. Sharp fangs protruded from the boy’s mouth.

  “Are you a real vampire?” Luke asked.

  Resus stared at him. “What do you think?”

  “Why don’t you two boys head upstairs and play?” said Bella, stepping in to take charge of Mrs Watson. “We’ll clean up and make sure your mum is all right.”

  “I think I should stay,” said Luke, squeezing his mum’s hand as she came round from her faint.

  “It’s OK,” said Mr Watson. “I think we need to find out what’s going on.”

  “If you’re sure…” said Luke, checking for the slightest indication that his parents wanted him to remain with them. Mr Watson nodded, and Luke reluctantly led Resus Negative up to his room.

  Resus grabbed a gory horror novel from the bookshelf and flopped onto the bed to read. Luke closed the door and watched the young vampire for a moment. “So, are you going to bite my neck and suck my blood?”

  Resus didn’t look up. “Not unless you annoy me.”

  Luke took a deep breath. What type of conversation did you have with a vampire? “Have you read that one before?” he asked, gesturing towards the book.

  “We’re not backward here, you know,” said Resus, turning the page.

  “I didn’t mean that. I just thought…”

  There was an awkward silence. Luke noticed black droplets trickling down the vampire’s neck. “Your hair dye is running.”

  Resus spun round, pulling his cape up higher around his neck. “It’s not dye!” he snapped. “My hair is naturally this colour! All vampires have black hair.”

  “I was just saying,” replied Luke. “Check it in the mirror if you like.”

  “I can’t,” growled Resus. “I’m a vampire. I don’t have a reflection.”

  “But I can see your reflection,” said Luke, pointing to the mirror above his desk.

  Resus slammed the book closed. “Look, I’m not happy about being sent up here either,” he said, “but my dad asked me to be pleasant to you.” He opened the book again as if to continue reading. “I thought you were going to be another vampire or, at the very least, a troll. But you’re just a normal. G.H.O.U.L. had no business bringing you here.”

  “G.H.O.U.L.!” gasped Luke. “That was written on the backs of the faceless men. What does it mean?”

  “Government Housing Of Unusual Life-forms,” muttered Resus. “And by ‘faceless men’ I presume you mean the Movers?”

  “You’ve seen them?” asked Luke.

  “They’re everywhere when we have a new family move in,” said Resus. “Although I think they went to the wrong address this time.”

  Luke sighed. Unusual life-forms. Is that what people thought of him now? “What’s a normal?” he asked.

  Resus turned another page. “You don’t know anything, do you. You’re a normal! Someone from the outside. Someone who doesn’t belong here.”

  Luke turned to gaze out of the window. Resus pulled a can of black hairspray from inside his cloak and gave his fringe a quick blast.

  “I’m a werewolf,” said Luke.

  Resus stuffed the can back inside his cape. “For real?”

  “I first transformed a year ago, on my birthday,” explained Luke. “My parents thought I was having some sort of fit until the claws appeared.”

  “Do I have to be wary of you when there’s a full moon?” asked the vampire.

  Luke shook his head. “That’s just in films. I change whenever I get angry.”

  “And that’s what happened the first time?”

  “My dad missed my party because he was working late,” said Luke. “When he came home I remember shouting at him, then nothing else. Next thing I know, I’m strapped to a hospital bed being injected with everything the doctors can find.” Luke stared at the ghostly reflection of himself in the window. “That’s when they told me I’d attacked my dad.”

  “Did you hurt him?” asked Resus.

  “It would have been worse, but my parents managed to tie me up. If they hadn’t, I don’t know what I—”

  A book bounced off the back of Luke’s head and he spun round angrily. “What was that for?” he shouted.

  “That
wasn’t me!” said Resus. “It just flew across the room!”

  “Yeah, right,” said Luke. “A book jumped off the desk by itself and hit me.”

  “It’s true!” said Resus. As he spoke, Luke’s desk lamp rose into the air. The vampire ducked as the lamp smashed against the wall behind him.

  Within seconds, everything was moving: books, CDs, games – each item taking flight. Luke raced for the door. “What’s happening?”

  “It’s a poltergeist attack!” said Resus as the tray of cold food hit him full in the face. “Lentil bake?” he asked scornfully.

  Luke dodged a thick science textbook. “I’d kill for a beefburger!”

  The boys dashed downstairs to discover the two older vampires in the kitchen, doing their best to protect Luke’s parents from soaring items of furniture.

  “Dad! What can we do?” yelled Resus, jumping as a chair whizzed past.

  “Go to Everwell’s!” shouted Alston. “See if Eefa has finished that spell yet.”

  Nodding, Resus ran for the open front door and disappeared into the darkness beyond. With a glance back at his mum and dad, Luke followed.

  Outside, Luke got his first look at Scream Street. Number 13, his new home, was tall and misshapen, towering high into the air. Its black slate roof appeared to almost pierce the thick grey clouds lurking above.

  Gas lamps flickered on the tops of iron posts, casting spindly shadows of the dead trees that punctuated the pavement. A cold wind howled, banging gates and slamming window shutters.

  “What’s Everwell’s?” asked Luke, catching up with Resus.

  “Everwell’s Emporium,” explained the vampire. “Eefa Everwell is a witch. She’s been working on a spell to stop the poltergeist attacks.”

  “Polterwhat attacks?” asked Luke, pulling Resus into a hedge as a metal dustbin shot along the pavement towards them.

  “Poltergeist!” shouted Resus as the dustbin clattered past. “A type of ghost that can move things. They’re known to have a bit of a temper!”