by R. L. Stine
“I couldn’t reach anyway,” Ray said. He ran across the room. He grabbed a milk crate and slid it under the window.
Tristan slid another one over to it and piled it on top of the first. “Okay. Climb up.” He gave Ray another boost, onto the top of the crates.
Ray started to reach for the window handle—when they all heard a cough.
Behind them, something crashed to the floor. A carton?
“What was that?” Rosa asked.
Tristan turned to the stairs. Mr. Moon?
No.
He heard another cough. Then footsteps coming toward them.
“Someone is here with us!” Tristan cried. “We’re not alone down here!”
20
They all gasped as Michael Moon stepped into the light.
He had tried to wipe off the vampire makeup. But patches of white clung to his cheeks and chin. His hair was still slicked back on his head. He had changed into jeans and a gray sweatshirt.
“I—I thought you were my parents,” he said, glancing to the stairs.
“They’ll be here any second,” Tristan told him. “You have to help us.”
“I tried to warn you,” Michael said. “You should have listened.”
“We didn’t know,” Rosa told him. “We had no idea that your parents—”
“They’ve done this before,” Michael Interrupted. “You mean—capture a real werewolf?” Tristan asked.
“They do it every year,” Michael answered. “I tried to stop them this time. I really did. But they wouldn’t listen.”
“How can we get out?” Ray asked. “Can you help me up to that window?”
“The window up there doesn’t open,” Michael replied, frowning up at it. “You’d have to break the glass. And there isn’t time.”
He gazed down at Rosa’s hand. “Those puncture marks. Don’t tell me—” His face filled with horror.
“A plog bit me,” Rosa said. “Your father had them in a big carton. He said—”
“Did he put them back in their box?” Michael asked. “He didn’t let them escape this time—did he?”
“They all escaped,” Tristan told Michael. “What difference does it make? We have to hurry. We—”
“Oh, wow.” Michael Moon shook his head. “This is bad. Really bad. They turn into hunters,” he said, staring at Rosa’s hand. “After they’ve been free for a short while. They need meat. They’re tiny—but they become so vicious, so deadly.”
Tristan jumped when he heard a soft thud behind him.
He turned—and saw them. Five plogs, moving silently across the basement.
Coming from all directions.
Their dark quills stood straight up. Their tiny eyes glared coldly from between the quills.
Michael ducked behind a stack of cartons as the plogs attacked.
All five of them jumped at once. With high squeals, they leaped into the air.
“Hey!” Tristan screamed as one of them hit the front of his shirt—and stuck.
He felt a stab of pain as the sharp points poked through his shirt into his skin.
“No!” he grabbed it with both hands and heaved it across the basement.
“Help me! Help!” Bella shrieked.
She was struggling to pull a plog from her hair. “Owww! It’s digging into my head!”
Two plogs had attached to Ray’s tights. He kicked his leg back and forth and slapped at them, trying to knock them off.
Tristan spotted another stairway half-hidden in shadow at the back of the basement. “This way!” he cried.
He ducked as a plog leaped for his head. It flew over him and hit the stone basement wall with a soft splat.
Tristan took off, running to the other stairway. Glancing back, he saw Rosa help rip a plog from Bella’s hair.
Then all four of them were running to the stairs. Taking the stairs two at a time.
Tristan turned and saw the five plogs following after them, sliding over the basement floor, quills raised.
Gasping for breath, Tristan pushed open the door at the top and kept running.
The long, dark hall had rooms on both sides. Tristan passed a small home office…a bathroom…bedrooms.
“Where does this lead?” Rosa asked breathlessly. The hall ended suddenly at a tall, dark door. The four of them stopped outside it, breathing noisily.
They turned and saw the plogs, moving in a group now. Scooting toward them down the hall.
“Quick—open It,” Bella urged. “Hurry!” Tristan grabbed the doorknob.
But a sound on the other side made him jump back.
He heard a hard bump against the door.
He heard something pawing the floor. Scraping sounds.
Animal panting.
Another hard bump on the door.
And then a low growl.
“Oh.”
Bella’s mouth dropped open in fear. “No, wait! Don’t open it, Tristan.”
They listened to the frantic pawing sounds on the other side of the door. The low growls.
“A werewolf,” Ray muttered. “They’ve already captured one. There’s a werewolf in there.”
“Don’t open it,” Bella repeated.
Another growl.
Tristan turned. The plogs had pressed together to form a line. They were preparing to leap.
We’re trapped, Tristan realized.
I have no choice.
He grabbed the door, held his breath, and pulled it open.
21
A dog! Tristan realized.
An enormous black Lab.
Panting hard, the dog burst into the hallway.
It ran past Tristan and his friends, big paws thudding on the hard floor.
With a growl, it attacked the plogs.
It lifted one of the prickly round creatures in its teeth and tossed it against the wall. The plog squealed as it hit the wall, then leaped away.
Squeaking loudly, the other four plogs scattered, darting down the hall after the first one.
Barking at the top of its lungs, the big dog bounded after them. It turned a corner and disappeared.
“I see you let Bully out,” a voice boomed. Mr. Moon stepped into the hall. “You really shouldn’t have done that.”
“Let us go!” Ray screamed. “Those animals—they dug their teeth into us and bit us!”
Bella had her hands on the sides of her head. “My hair. Did they tear out my hair?”
“It’s okay,” Rosa told her.
“I’m going to call Bully back,” Mr. Moon said.
“Bully is a good dog. But he doesn’t like werewolves. In fact, Bully becomes truly vicious when there is a werewolf in the room.”
The teacher’s eyes flashed. “Shall I call Bully back?”
“No—please! Tristan cried, tossing up his hands. “Enough. That’s enough. You can let my friends go. I confess! It’s me! I’m a werewolf!”
22
Tristan’s friends all gasped.
“Wait! Don’t call the dog back—please,” Tristan begged. “You’ve caught me. I’m the one.”
“Tristan—what are you saying?” Bella cried.
“It’s true,” Tristan said, raising his right hand as if swearing an oath. “He has caught me. I don’t know how you knew. But I’m a werewolf.”
Mr. Moon nodded. His grin grew wider. “Another victory,” he muttered. He moved quickly to capture Tristan.
Tristan backed against the wall. “You’re going to put me in the cage—right?” he asked.
The teacher nodded. “It’s almost midnight. I need to lock you up before you start to change.”
“And this means you can let everyone else go home?” Tristan asked. “You’ve got me. I have confessed. So you can let my friends go right now?”
Rosa stared hard at Tristan. He could see her thinking hard.
Does she realize what I’m trying to do? he wondered.
If Mr. Moon allows the others to leave, they can go bring back help. They can bring so
meone to rescue me.
Rosa stepped in front of Tristan. “I—I want to confess, too,” she told Mr. Moon.
“Really?” He couldn’t hide his surprise.
“I’m a werewolf, too,” Rosa said. “That’s why Tristan and I are such good friends. Because we’re both werewolves.”
“Really?” Mr. Moon repeated. His eyes moved excitedly from Rosa to Tristan. He rubbed his hands together. “Well, well. This is a lucky night. Two werewolves for the price of one!”
He clapped his hands on their shoulders and began guiding them down the hall.
“Are you taking us to the cages?” Tristan asked. “Does this mean that Bella and Ray can go home?”
Mr. Moon didn’t reply. He brought them all to the kitchen.
Angela was seated on a high stool at the kitchen counter. She held a white mug of coffee between her hands.
She had finally removed her halo. Her blond hair was still piled high on her head. And she hadn’t changed from her white angel robe.
Angela took a sip of coffee and set down the mug. “What’s happening?” she asked her husband.
“We have captured two werewolves tonight!” Mr. Moon declared. He shoved Tristan and Rosa forward. “These two have confessed.”
“How wonderful!” Angela exclaimed.
She glanced at the kitchen clock. It read eleven thirty. “This means we will have them in the cage before they can do any harm tonight.”
“And it means Bella and Ray can go home—right?” Tristan repeated.
Please let them go, he thought.
Please let them go get someone to rescue Rosa and me from these two lunatics.
“We can’t let them go just yet,” Mr. Moon said. “Not until I know for sure that you and Rosa are telling the truth.”
“But we’ve confessed!” Rosa cried. “We are the werewolves. Why would we lie about it?”
“Lock us up before midnight,” Tristan warned. “Hurry. Rosa and I don’t want to hurt any innocent people tonight.”
“And let our friends go home,” Rosa said.
Mr. Moon didn’t reply. He led all four of them back into the dining room.
“I will let them go,” he said, “as soon as you prove you are werewolves.”
Tristan gasped. “Huh? Prove It?”
Mr. Moon picked up a silver goblet from the dining room table. He handed it, to Tristan.
“I believe we were all about to have a little drink of wolfbane,” he said. “But we got interrupted.”
Tristan stared at the dark red liquid in the cup. His heart started to pound.
“Pick up your glasses, everyone,” Mr. Moon instructed. “Let’s drink it down.”
“Do Ray and I have to drink it, too?” Bella asked.
Mr. Moon nodded. “Everyone drinks the wolfbane,” he said. “If Tristan and Rosa are telling the truth, they will instantly become very sick. If they are lying—or if someone else is the secret werewolf—we will know it at once.”
“Wolfbane makes werewolves very, very sick,” Angela said, standing in the doorway.
“Go ahead. Prove it,” Mr. Moon said to Tristan and Rosa. “Prove that you are telling the truth. Let’s see if the wolfbane poisons you.”
Tristan and Rosa gazed across the table at each other. Tristan could see Rosa’s hand tremble. She gripped the goblet in both hands.
Tristan dipped a finger into the liquid. It felt warm and thick, thicker than maple syrup.
He glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. Only twenty minutes until midnight arrived.
“Come on, everybody. It’s getting late,” Mr. Moon said. “I know some of you want to get home. And some of you need to be locked away in the cage.”
“Drink up, everyone!” Angela said.
Tristan took a deep breath.
Then he raised the glass to his lips and started to drink.
23
The liquid felt warm and thick in Tristan’s mouth. He tried to swallow it quickly. But it had big lumps in it that stuck to his tongue and the roof of his mouth.
He turned and gazed at his friends. Bella had the silver cup to her lips. She was taking short sips, her face twisted in disgust.
Ray tilted his goblet and tried to swallow the wolfbane in one gulp. But he started to choke and spit out a thick red glob.
“It tastes like garbage!” Ray cried. The red liquid oozed down his chin.
“Drink up,” Mr. Moon said sharply. “If you waste it, I’ll just pour another cup for you. Come on, down the hatch. Drink up, everyone!”
“There Is plenty for everyone l” Angela exclaimed. “All four of you must drink at least one cup,” Mr. Moon ordered.
Rosa had the goblet pressed to her mouth. She swallowed noisily. When she pulled the cup away, she had a dripping red mustache above her lip.
“It tastes so bad,” she said to Tristan.
Tristan struggled to swallow a thick lump.
“Yuck. Totally gross.”
It caught in his throat, and he choked it down.
“Is this enough? How much more do I have to drink?” he asked Mr. Moon.
“All of it,” the teacher replied sternly. “Pretend you are drinking a milk shake.”
“It doesn’t taste like a milk shake,” Ray groaned. “It tastes like spoiled tomato juice mixed with lumpy, sour buttermilk.”
“The wolfbane herb is bitter,” Mr. Moon said, watching them intently. “But the liquid is poison only to werewolves. The rest of you will be okay.”
“Drink fast and It will be over,” Angela chimed in.
“We’ll never get the taste out of our mouths,” Bella moaned.
Ray swallowed hard. “It felt like an eyeball!” he gasped. “Like I just swallowed an eyeball!”
Tristan choked down the last thick drops of liquid. Even after the cup was empty, he kept swallowing. Trying to swallow the sour taste away.
He turned and saw Rosa set her cup down. She wiped the red goo off her face with her hand.
Bella’s whole body shook. She burped loudly. She grabbed her stomach. “I’m going to puke. Really.”
Mr. Moon stepped toward her quickly. “You don’t feel well? The wolfbane is starting to work on you?” His eyes flashed with excitement.
“That stuff would make anyone sick,” Bella groaned. “Not just werewolves.” Then she burped again.
Tristan took a deep breath. Then another.
Mr. Moon had his eyes on the clock. “Let’s all count to twenty-five,” he said. “By that time we will see who gets sick. And we will know if Tristan and Rosa are telling the truth.”
“One…two…three…” Angela began to count.
Tristan stared hard at Rosa. She gripped the edge of the table with both hands. Her chin was trembling. Her eyes were wide with fright.
“Eighteen…nineteen…”
Angela didn’t get to finish her count.
Rosa opened her mouth in a terrifying scream. She grabbed her stomach with both hands.
“It hurts! Ohh…it hurts!” she cried.
Tristan staggered back. He let out a sharp cry and grabbed his stomach.
He saw Bella and Ray staring at him in shock.
“Can’t breathe…” he whispered. “Help me! Please help!”
He doubled over. “Ohhh, it hurts. It hurts! I can’t breathe. Sick…I feel so sick.”
24
Tristan and Rosa held their stomachs, groaning in pain.
“It’s poison,” Tristan whispered. “It really is poison.” “I…I don’t believe it!” Ray cried. “Tristan and Rosa were telling the truth!” Bella exclaimed. “They really are werewolves!”
Tristan dropped to his knees. He let out a whim per and hugged himself tightly.
Rosa’s eyes rolled wildly in her head. “Poison…” she murmured weakly.
“Are you going to capture them?” Ray asked Mr. Moon. “Are you going to lock them in the cage?”
Mr. Moon shook his head. A thin smile crossed his face. “They�
��re faking,” he said.
Ray and Bella both uttered cries of surprise.
“Tristan and Rosa are faking,” the teacher repeated. “They are not our werewolves.”
Tristan dropped facedown on the floor. “Help me,” he whispered. “Someone…help. I can’t stand the…pain.”
Rosa collapsed to the floor and rolled onto her back. “It hurts…It hurts so much!”
“Get up. Both of you,” Mr. Moon snapped.
“But they are in pain,” Bella said. “Why do you say they are faking?”
“The wolfbane is a fake,” Mr. Moon explained. “Angela made It last night.”
“It’s tomato juice and chocolate pudding and raisins and olives,” Angela said.
“We don’t have any wolfbane herb,” Mr. Moon said. “I don’t even know if wolfbane exists.”
He reached down and tugged Tristan to his feet. “The drink tastes bad, but It Isn’t poison,” he said. “Tristan and Rosa are faking.”
Rosa angrily climbed to her feet. She glared at Mr. Moon.
“I knew what you and Tristan were trying to do,” the teacher told her. “It was a lame idea. Did you really think I would let your friends go running for help?”
“We knew it wasn’t real,” Rosa said. “But we want to get out of here. Let us out!”
“No one can leave before midnight,” Angela said. “No one can leave before we know who the real werewolf is.”
She started to gather the goblets and place them back on the tray. “Almost midnight,” she told her husband. “We will know the truth in a few minutes.”
“Let me help you with the tray,” Mr. Moon said. “I’d better prepare the cage for tonight’s victim.”
He picked up the tray and began to follow her to the kitchen.
“You’d better let us go—right now. We promised our parents we’d be home by eleven,” Tristan called.
“They’ll be worried,” Rosa added. “They’ll be over here any minute.”
“Fine. Let them come,” Mr. Moon replied. “It will be a total thrill for your parents to see us capture a real werewolf.”
He and Angela disappeared into the kitchen.
Ray walked over and slapped Tristan on the back. “Nice try,” he said. “I really believed you were poisoned. I really believed you and Rosa were werewolves.”
