Fang of the Vampire

by Tommy Donbavand

“Confiscated?” said Luke. “Who confiscates a book from a teacher?”

  Chapter Six

  The Hellhounds

  “Sir Otto Sneer?” asked Luke as he, Resus and Cleo arrived at the gates to a sprawling mansion opposite Everwell’s Emporium. A sign read: SNEER HALL.

  “The nice man who disconnected your gas supply,” said Resus.

  “And he confiscated Skipstone’s Tales of Scream Street?”

  “He confiscates everything,” said Cleo. “Spells, potions, souvenirs. I had a pet hamster until he decided it was against the rules!”

  “He does it to keep us in our place,” said Resus. “Whenever he thinks we’re satisfied with life he just takes stuff from us, or rations it out.”

  “Like the gas?” asked Luke.

  Resus nodded. “My dad says we used to have electricity, too.”

  “Did he confiscate the sun as well?” said Luke, looking up as a blanket of dark clouds rolled in to obscure the stars. “We’re supposed to be on our lunch break but it looks like the middle of the night!”

  Resus grinned. “I guess that living in constant night will take a bit of getting used to!”

  “Why would Sir Otto want the book?” asked Cleo.

  Resus tried the gates; they were locked. “I’ve no idea, but I don’t think he’ll be too happy that we’ve come to ask about it.”

  Cleo reached up and pulled the bell cord. A window in the mansion flung open with a crash and the landlord appeared, cigar jutting from his mouth.

  “What?” he roared.

  “Mr Sneer, it’s Cleo Farr—”

  “SIR Sneer!” thundered the landlord.

  “Sorry,” said Cleo. “Sir Sneer. We were hoping we might be able to take a quick peek at the book you, er … borrowed from Dr Skully recently.”

  “Who is it?” roared a voice in the background. Luke stared as the face of Sir Otto began to change. The skin pulled tighter and long ginger hair sprouted from the landlord’s scalp. Within seconds, Dixon was smiling down at them.

  “Fooled you!” he giggled, waving. “It was me all the time!”

  “Dixon is Sir Otto’s nephew,” whispered Resus. “He’s a shapeshifter, but not exactly the sharpest fang in the mouth, if you know what I mean!”

  Dixon was shoved roughly aside as the real Sir Otto appeared at the window. “Which book are you talking about?” he demanded.

  “Skipstone’s Tales of Scream Street, sir,” said Luke. “Can we see it?”

  “Certainly not!” bellowed the landlord. “How dare you freaks expect decent, normal people to share their belongings with the likes of you?” Sir Otto slammed the window and disappeared from view.

  “No!” yelled Luke, reaching for the bell again.

  Cleo grabbed his arm. “It’s no good,” she said. “He won’t listen.”

  “But we have to read that book!” said Luke.

  “And we will,” smiled Resus. “But there’s more than one way…” He reached inside his cloak and produced a can of beer.

  “I don’t know what the law is here in Scream Street,” said Luke, “but in my world we’re much too young to drink.”

  “It’s not for us,” said Resus, crouching on the grass beside the path and pulling back the can’s ring pull. It opened with a tshh! and, almost instantly, a hand with green cracked skin shot out of the soil beneath his feet and grabbed it.

  “Brewski!” beamed the zombie as his face appeared. “Cheers, little dude!”

  “Doug,” said Resus. “We need a favour.”

  Luke followed the zombie through the tunnel he had dug out for them, delighted that Resus had found a way to get inside the mansion and, at the same time, terrified the earth would collapse around them at any moment.

  “Are you sure you little dudes want to visit this place?” asked Doug from the front of the line. “I heard there’s some heavy stuff goes on in there!”

  “We have to,” replied Resus. “Sir Otto’s got a book we need to look at.”

  “Well, if it’s in the cause of literature,” beamed Doug, satisfied. “You know, I wrote a book once.”

  Luke smiled. “Amazing,” he said. “And I thought zombies were all about killing people and eating brains. What was the book called?”

  “Top 10 Ways to Cook Human Flesh.”

  Resus fought back a laugh as he heard Luke catch his breath.

  Doug reached up and burst through the roof of the tunnel. Fresh air flooded Luke’s nostrils as the zombie helped him to climb out next to a side door to Sneer Hall.

  “Thanks for your help,” said Resus.

  “Any time, dudes!” grinned the zombie. “Always happy to stick it to the man!” And with a wink he disappeared into the hole, dragging earth over himself.

  Resus turned to the door. “Time for a little breaking and entering,” he said. He slid a long fingernail into the lock of the door and wiggled it about.

  “Will that work?” asked Luke.

  “Strong enough to cut glass,” grinned Resus. “You just have to be careful not to forget about them and scratch your bum.”

  With a soft click, the lock released. Resus gripped the handle. “I hope the alarm’s not on.” He pulled open the door. Silence. “I think we’re safe,” he said. Then the vampire’s smile faltered as a deep-throated growl rang out behind them.

  Luke spun round to discover two large black dogs running their way. Fire flickered in their eyes and saliva dripped from their mouths, burning the ground with a hiss. “What,” he said, his eyes wide, “are they?”

  “Hellhounds!” screamed Cleo.

  “Quick!” yelled Resus. “Inside!” He pulled Luke and Cleo through the door and slammed it behind them. They were plunged into darkness.

  “Where are we?” whispered Cleo.

  Luke felt around, knocking over a wooden pole. “I don’t know.”

  The gloom was pierced by the beam of a torch. Resus waved the light. “Look what I found in my pocket,” he said.

  “I’ve got to get one of those cloaks,” said Cleo.

  In the dim light, Luke realized they were in a small store cupboard filled with gardening equipment. The pole he had knocked over was a rake. “This isn’t an entrance to the house at all!” he moaned.

  The door shook as one of the dogs threw itself at it from the other side. “That lock won’t hold out for long,” said Cleo. The door rattled again.

  “They’re not going to give up,” said Luke. “What do we do?”

  “Can’t you transform into your werewolf and fight them off?” asked Resus.

  Luke shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that. I’d need to be angry and—”

  Without a word, Resus swung the torch round and hit him across the head.

  “Ow!” yelled Luke. “What did you do that for?”

  “I’m trying to make you angry!” said Resus.

  “Is this some sort of joke to you?” snapped Luke.

  “Of course not,” said Resus. “Chill out.”

  “Chill out?” demanded Luke. “You’re trying to change me into the creature that brought my parents here, and you want me to chill out?”

  “Luke, I’m sure he didn’t mean…” began Cleo.

  “Why don’t you bite them?” demanded Luke. “You’re the scary vampire!”

  “Please!” begged Cleo. Another thud as the dogs attacked the door.

  “‘I’ll only bite you if you annoy me,’ you said. Well, I’m annoying you now, Resus, so either bite me or get out there and bite those dogs!”

  “Stop it!” shouted Cleo, grabbing his arm.

  Luke shook himself free. “I’ll tell you why you’re not going to fight those hellhounds,” he roared. “It’s because you’re a coward!”

  “No!” yelled Resus. “It’s because I’m a normal!”

  Luke stared at Resus in the torchlight. “That’s not true,” he said. “You’re a vampire. Your parents … I’ve seen them. They’re vampires!”

  Resus wiped his eyes with his cape,
smearing the dark rings around them. It was face paint. “My parents are vampires,” he said. “I’m some sort of genetic freak. Born with blond hair; you can see my reflection in mirrors … and the only thing that happens to me in the sunlight is that I get a tan.”

  “But – your nails!” said Luke. “You picked the lock with your nails!”

  Resus held up his hand and showed Luke where the metal fingernails fitted over his own. “Fake,” he said. “Just like these.” Reaching into his mouth, the vampire unclipped his fangs and took them out.

  “I-I didn’t know,” said Luke.

  “I try to be scary,” said Resus quietly. “I try to act threatening so that people won’t know the truth, but it’s no use. I’m not a real vampire at all!”

  The hellhounds continued to throw themselves at the door.

  “Then there’s only one way out,” said Luke, picking up the rake. “We fight.”

  Chapter Seven

  The Library

  The door burst open, hitting one of the hellhounds and knocking it off balance. Luke leapt out, twirling the rake as if it were a staff. He swung it round, catching the legs of the other dog and sending it tumbling.

  Resus followed, wielding a shovel that he brought down on the first dog’s head as it staggered to its feet. It crumpled back to the ground, whining.

  The second hellhound barked, fire raging in its eyes. It lunged for Resus, but Cleo jumped in its way and knocked it to one side with a metal dustbin lid. The trio stood firm, makeshift weapons raised, as the hellhounds shook their heads and snarled.

  “If we can push them back, we might be able to get round to the main doors,” said Luke.

  “We’d better hope they’re not locked,” said Resus, “or we’ll be just as trapped there.”

  Luke nodded. “One of us should go and find a way in while the other two keep these things occupied.”

  “I’ll do it!” shouted Cleo, dropping her dustbin lid and running off.

  Resus grabbed for her bandages but she was moving too fast. “She never learns!” he groaned. He snatched the dustbin lid from the ground and used it to hold the dogs at bay.

  The two hellhounds split up, advancing from either side and forcing Luke and Resus to stand back-to-back. One of the hounds darted for Luke, teeth bared. Luke swung the rake around, catching the dog in the throat.

  Its companion howled with rage and leapt forward, its front paws shoving Luke to the ground. The dog scraped a claw across his face, scratching his cheek and drawing blood. Luke tried to hit it with the rake but his arms were trapped beneath the hellhound’s back legs. He was pinned down.

  The dog growled down at Luke, deadly saliva threatening to drip into his eyes at any moment. As it lunged for his throat, Resus swung the dustbin lid at the creature’s face. The dog fell to the grass, howling with pain.

  “Thanks,” said Luke as Resus helped him to his feet.

  “Any time,” replied the vampire, keeping his eyes on the dogs as they approached again. One of the hellhounds reared up onto its back legs and Resus was forced to hold the dustbin lid out like a shield to protect himself.

  The dog dropped down, spotting the reflection of Cleo running for the doors in the shiny metal lid. Barking a warning, it turned and raced after the fleeing mummy, its companion following.

  “Cleo!” bellowed Luke.

  Cleo turned to see the dogs on her tail and picked up speed, her feet pounding against the grass as she ran. She could hear the growling of the hellhounds as they got closer, and she fixed her gaze on the doors ahead. She had to reach them. Had to get inside.

  The first dog pounced and landed squarely on Cleo’s back, pushing her to the ground and ripping at her bandages. The second dog grabbed her foot between its teeth and bit down.

  Cleo screamed as acidic saliva burned into her skin. She tried to crawl away but the dogs pulled her back, nipping and scratching at her; toying with their prey before they destroyed it.

  Luke and Resus ran as fast as they could towards the mummy, knowing they had only seconds to save her from the rabid hounds.

  Luke raised the rake into the air and brought it down hard onto the dog at Cleo’s throat. It yelped as the metal prongs pierced its flesh. Resus hit it with his shovel, and the dog collapsed to one side, unconscious.

  The second dog pulled back its lips and snarled angrily at the boys. Resus snorted back a laugh. “You’re not the only one with teeth!” he shouted.

  The young vampire turned his eyes upwards until only the whites were visible. Opening his mouth wide, he licked the tips of his fake fangs and hissed. The hellhound yelped in terror and raced away across the flower-beds.

  Luke dropped to his knees beside Cleo. Her bandages were ripped and burnt by the dog’s drool. She wasn’t moving.

  Cleo opened her eyes. She was lying on a plush couch in a room built of iron and glass. Plants filled every available space.

  A face appeared among the foliage: Resus. “Morning, sleepy!” he joked.

  Cleo sat up, wincing as a throbbing sensation filled her skull. She touched a tender lump on her forehead.

  “You hit your head on a rock when the dog pounced,” explained Resus. “Knocked yourself out cold. We thought it was a lot worse for a moment, though.”

  Cleo looked down at her bandages. Some of them were missing and had been replaced with strips of silky red material. “What happened?” she asked.

  “Your bandages were covered with that acid the dogs were drooling. We had to get them off before they burned your skin too badly.”

  Cleo ran her fingers over the red material. “Wait, this is the lining of your cape,” she said.

  Resus shrugged. “What do I need it for? Only real vampires have capes.”

  Cleo scowled. “You are a real vampire, Resus!”

  “He certainly is,” said Luke, pushing his way through a small jungle of plant life. “You should have seen the way he scared off that hellhound!”

  Cleo stood, testing her leg. It ached when she put any pressure on it, but at least she was able to walk. “Where are we?” she asked.

  “Sir Otto’s conservatory,” said Luke. “The front doors were locked, but we found an open window here. It wasn’t easy getting you through it. Have you ever thought about going on a diet?” Cleo slapped him playfully on the arm.

  “Did you find anything?” asked Resus.

  “No sign of the book yet,” replied Luke, “but there is something rather interesting out in the corridor…”

  Luke, Resus and Cleo gazed up at the portrait of the vampire.

  “That,” said Luke, “looks like you!”

  “It does,” agreed Cleo.

  “It’s my ancestor,” explained Resus. “Count Negatov.”

  “Wasn’t he one of the first residents of Scream Street?” asked Cleo.

  Resus nodded. “He was forced out of Transylvania and came here to build Scream Street, along with the other founding fathers. My dad told me about him.”

  “Sounds like your family and Sir Otto’s go back a long way,” grinned Luke. “You sure you can’t just go up—”

  “Someone’s coming!” hissed Cleo, quickly pulling Luke and Resus into a gap behind a nearby sideboard. Sir Otto’s nephew, Dixon, appeared at the end of the corridor, singing to himself: “You put your left arm in, your left arm out…”

  “He’s coming this way!” said Cleo.

  Luke searched for a better hiding place. There was a doorway opposite, but no way of crossing to it without being spotted. They needed a diversion.

  Dixon paused to pull faces at himself in a mirror and Luke saw his chance. He grabbed a vase from the sideboard and hurled it along the corridor. It soared through the air over Dixon’s head and hit a suit of armour.

  The armour swayed to one side then back again, crashing down on top of Dixon. He screamed. “Help! It’s attacking me! Help!”

  Luke darted across the corridor and opened the door. He, Resus and Cleo hurried inside, closing it behind t
hem. They found themselves in a richly decorated room lined with bookshelves.

  “I guess this is the library,” said Resus.

  “Well,” said Luke, “if the book’s anywhere, it will be in here.”

  “Right,” said Resus. “Let’s start searching.”

  “Not again!” moaned Cleo. “We’ll be here all nigh—”

  The door to the library crashed open and Dixon entered, his arms piled high with pieces of armour. “I’m telling you, Uncle Otto, it jumped on top of me!”

  Luke and Resus ducked under a large desk as Cleo dropped to the floor and slid beneath a leather couch.

  Sir Otto entered the room behind Dixon, cigar clamped firmly between his lips. “Jumped on top of you, indeed! You’re a waste of DNA!”

  Resus nudged Luke and pointed to a silver-backed book the landlord was carrying. “That’s it,” he mouthed. “Skipstone’s Tales of Scream Street!”

  Dixon dropped the armour onto the floor with a clatter.

  “Be careful!” roared the landlord. “That armour is centuries old.”

  “You should get new stuff, then, Uncle Otto,” said Dixon. “Something with silver sequins – or purple to match your face when you get angry!”

  “Don’t be cheeky!”

  Sir Otto waddled over to one of the shelves and pulled a book out of its place. There was a click and a whirr as a doorway in the shelves slid open. The landlord disappeared through it. Dixon remained in the library.

  “How’s it going with the book, Uncle?” he called.

  “It’s not!” said the landlord. “The stupid thing still hasn’t told me anything.”

  “Do you want me to try?” asked Dixon. “I like books!”

  Sir Otto reappeared without the book, the doorway closing behind him. “The only books you can cope with are the kind you have to colour in,” he sneered.

  “That’s not fair!” Dixon’s lower lip trembled as he followed his uncle out of the library. “I like comics, too!”

  As the door closed, Luke, Resus and Cleo climbed to their feet.

  “We have to get into that secret room,” said Luke. “Then we can find out what Samuel Skipstone wrote about how to leave Scream Street.”