People around them stopped what they were doing to listen to the woman’s complaints as her voice rose above the general din.
“There are no costumes here, madam!” exclaimed Sir Otto. “I assure you that everything you see is the genuine article.”
“Come off it,” snarled the woman. “I’ve been to scarier tea parties!”
A man with a thin moustache joined the group slowly building up around Sir Otto. “That shopkeeper wouldn’t let my family inside to buy souvenirs,” he complained.
“The ‘zombie’ you sent me to look at was nothing more than a tramp,” said another voice.
“I want my money back!”
“Me too!”
The trio looked on as the normals continued to argue with Sir Otto.
“I thought we were going,” said Cleo.
“What, and miss Sneer trying to squirm his way out of this?” grinned Luke.
Resus pulled a steaming paper bag from inside his cloak. “Popcorn, anyone?”
Sir Otto began to back away as the crowd closed in around him, all now demanding their money back. “B-but, this entire street is packed with weirdoes and oddities,” he stammered.
The surly woman planted her hands on her hips. “Prove it,” she said mockingly.
The landlord grabbed his nephew by the scruff of the neck and dragged him into the middle of the mob. “Show them what you can do,” he commanded.
Luke’s grin quickly faded. Dixon was a shape-shifter, with the ability to transform into any living creature he chose. Once he revealed his extraordinary power, the tourists would have no doubt about Sir Otto’s claims that Scream Street was packed with abnormal residents.
“Come on, you moron,” Sir Otto yelled. “Show them!”
A hush fell over the crowd as Dixon stepped forward. He cleared his throat, struck a theatrical pose and proclaimed:
“I put my goldfish on the floor,
He isn’t very fit.
He only did ten sit-ups,
Then lay still — that was it!”
Nobody spoke for a few moments. The angry crowd shuffled their feet and Luke, Resus and Cleo exchanged confused glances.
Dixon, taking the silence as a good sign, raised his face to the sun and continued:
“I used my cat
As a bike crash-hat
And tied him to my head.
The road had a lump,
I fell off with a bump,
And now my cat’s a bit dead!”
Sir Otto, his face slowly turning purple, let out a low, gurgling scream. “What, in the name of all that’s wicked, are you doing?” he shrieked.
Dixon swallowed hard but stood his ground. “You s-seem to think, dear uncle, that I cannot be cultured. Well, I have been perfecting my art alone in my room for the past few weeks, and now it is time to offer myself to my public.” He paused dramatically. “I am a poet!”
“You’re wasting our time,” shouted the surly woman. “I want my money!”
Sir Otto looked as if he might explode. He grabbed Dixon by the ears and pulled his face up against his own, the burning tip of his cigar threatening to slide up his nephew’s left nostril. “You are not a poet,” he growled. “You are a shapeshifter. Now, do what I tell you and change into a banshee or a goblin and get these cretins off my back!”
“You’d better give us cretins a refund now, before we take it from you by force!” yelled another angry voice as the crowd pushed forward once again.
“Dixon!” roared Sir Otto. “Do something!” His ginger-haired nephew took a deep breath and began another verse:
“I wandered lonely as a clown…”
As the irritated visitors continued to demand their money back, Sir Otto caught sight of Luke, Resus and Cleo laughing hysterically.
“This is brilliant,” giggled Cleo.
“I demand more of Dixon’s poetry!” declared Resus.
“It’s not as easy to exploit us as you thought, is it?” Luke called out to the landlord.
“There!” shouted Sir Otto, pointing desperately at the trio. “There’s a vampire right there.”
The surly woman glanced over her shoulder at the trio. “Don’t try that nonsense with me,” she scowled. “Anyone can dress a kid up in a vampire cloak and stick a pair of plastic fangs in his mouth!”
Right on cue, Resus pulled out his fake fangs and held them up. “She’s not wrong, Otto.”
“The mummy, then,” bellowed Sir Otto. “Look at the mummy!”
Cleo pulled a miserable face. “The nasty man said he’d punish me if I didn’t let him wrap me up in bandages,” she wailed.
“The boy!” Sir Otto roared finally. “That annoying, self-satisfied brat of a boy. He’s a werewolf. If I’m lying, I’ll give everyone double their money back!”
As one, the crowd turned to glare greedily in Luke’s direction.
“The best thing is — you don’t even have to wait for a full moon!” Sir Otto Sneer puffed on his cigar and gave a malevolent smile. “All you have to do is make him angry…”
Chapter Five
The Plan
The crowd slowly advanced upon Luke.
“Make him angry enough and he’ll transform into a werewolf,” Sir Otto reminded them.
Luke began to back away. “What are you doing?” he exclaimed. “Two minutes ago you were demanding a refund!”
“A refund he’ll double once we prove you’re not a werewolf,” said the woman, pointing to Sir Otto.
“He’s not a werewolf,” insisted Resus, stepping forward. “Really, he isn’t!”
“Why should we take your word for it?” asked a man near the front of the crowd. “You tried to fool us into thinking you were a real vampire!”
“Please stop,” pleaded Cleo.
“Butt out, little girl!” warned the surly woman.
“I think we’d better get out of here…” hissed Resus, catching Luke’s and Cleo’s eyes. Luke grabbed Cleo’s hand, and, without a moment’s hesitation, the trio turned and ran as fast as they could across the square.
“Forget double refunds,” bellowed Sir Otto. “The reward for the first person to make that freak transform is a thousand pounds!” Without needing a second invitation, the crowd quickly gave chase.
“I’ll make Sneer pay for this!” panted Luke, his feet pounding against the concrete.
“Try to stay calm,” said Cleo. “He wants you to get angry, remember?”
“Yeah,” agreed Resus. “Once those normals get a glimpse of your werewolf, they’ll never go home!”
The trio had almost reached the other side of the square when a camera bag came flying through the air towards them. The strap caught around Luke’s ankle, tripping him up and bringing him crashing to the ground. The crowd were upon him in seconds.
“Make him angry!” shouted the surly woman. “I want that reward!” She kicked Luke sharply in the leg. He yelled out in pain and clutched at his shin.
“Think calm thoughts,” commanded Resus, pulling his friend to his feet as the normals jostled them around. “Don’t let them get to you!”
But it was too late — Luke’s anger was building and the rage already flowed through his veins. He threw back his head and howled as werewolf fangs burst through his gums, pushing his own teeth to one side.
“He’s changing!” hissed Cleo.
“We can’t let them see him like this,” said Resus, and he swiftly unclipped his cloak and threw it over Luke’s head just as the first few patches of brown fur began to appear.
“They’re hiding him!” shouted a furious voice.
“Get that cape off!” roared another.
As the crowd tried to pull the cloak away, Luke’s transformation continued in the shadows beneath.
“What are we going to do?” wailed Cleo.
“Whatever it is, we’d better do it fast,” replied Resus, trying to restrain the struggling figure. “He’s in the mood to tear someone to pieces!”
“Oi!” hollere
d a gruff voice above them. “Up here!”
Cleo and Resus looked up, and to their amazement they saw Twinkle hovering above the crowd, his tiny wings flapping to keep him aloft. The hefty fairy reached a plump arm down to them.
“Tie ’im up wiv summink,” ordered Twinkle.
“Fairy ’nuff!” quipped Resus, grinning with relief.
Cleo quickly unwrapped a length of bandage from her leg, which Resus wound around Luke’s writhing form, tossing the other end up into the air. Twinkle caught it and began to pull, his muscles straining.
Resus and Cleo in turn clung onto Luke, and Twinkle lifted the three of them off the ground. The angry crowd stared up in astonishment.
“I warned you,” grunted Twinkle as he carried Luke, Resus and Cleo up into the air and away over the rooftops. “Never mess wiv an angry fairy!”
“They’re still out there,” Resus reported, leaving the window and slumping into one of the huge plush sofas in Mr and Mrs Crudley’s grand living room.
“They’ll be looking for me so they can claim that reward,” sighed Luke, resting his feet on the edge of the coffee table. “I doubt they’ll go anywhere while there’s still a grand up for grabs.”
One of the pulsating bog monsters slithered over and knocked Luke’s feet off the table. “Do you mind?” she gurgled. “It’s bad enough that I’ve had to invite so many people into my home, without you giving me extra housework!” She wiped at an invisible shoeprint, slopping tendrils of slime from her own arm over the furniture as she did so. Luke obediently tucked his feet under the table.
“How are you doing?” Cleo asked him quietly.
“I don’t know,” admitted Luke. “I really thought I was starting to control my transformations — but this one was all wrong.”
“How do you mean?”
“I don’t usually transform fully unless I decide to,” said Luke. “Recently I’ve been able to choose which part of my body changed. But this time I just lost it.”
Cleo patted his arm comfortingly. “It was just the crowd,” she assured him. “All the noise and the way they were pushing you around. You’ve never had to deal with anything like that before.”
Luke fell silent. Twinkle had taken him, Resus and Cleo back to 13 Scream Street, where Luke’s parents had helped to lock him in his bedroom until his transformation reversed. While the werewolf was out of harm’s way, Resus and Cleo had spread the word about an urgent residents’ meeting that night. The Crudleys’ house had been chosen because it had the largest rooms.
“Well, I don’t see why these children had to open that ridiculous doorway in the first place,” spluttered Mr Crudley, spraying goo all over a nearby tree nymph as he spoke.
Luke’s mum stood to face him. “They did it for us,” she retorted. “So Luke could take us back to our old lives.”
“Then I suggest he does exactly that,” said the bog monster. “Once you’re through that doorway, it will close behind you and we’ll all be left in peace!”
“We’re not going anywhere,” insisted Mr Watson, jumping to his wife’s defence. “Luke belongs in Scream Street just as much as you do.”
Mr Crudley’s yellow, watery eyes narrowed. “Maybe he belongs here,” he gargled, “but you two don’t. You’re normals, just like those others out there.”
“Now, you wait a minute—”
“Dudes!” yelled a voice as Doug lurched into the fray. “Let’s keep things in the spirit of friendship, here.” He smiled to reveal a family of cockroaches scuttling around his teeth. “Share the love, man.”
“Doug has a point,” agreed Dr Skully. “If we start fighting among ourselves, we’re no better than the people outside that window.”
“I found the bat from Everwell’s cowering in my underwear drawer,” said Diana Spectre, Fool Spectre’s wife. “The poor thing was terrified!”
Dr Skully sighed, and as he did so the bones of his ribcage rose and fell. “And they dare to call us the monsters…”
“I want to know why G.H.O.U.L. isn’t helping us,” said Eefa Everwell. “Why can’t it get rid of the normals?”
Zeal Chillchase stepped suddenly out of the shadows. “So far this situation has avoided the attention of G.H.O.U.L.,” he said calmly.
Resus shuddered and leant in to Luke. “I wish he’d stop appearing like that!” he whispered.
“I can only help in an unofficial capacity,” Chillchase continued. “If I were to ask it for help, G.H.O.U.L. would almost certainly banish the children to the Underlands for using the relics to open the doorway and thus breaching the rules of Scream Street.”
“Good riddanssse to them, I sssay,” hissed a snake-like creature from the back of the room. “The wolf-boy can take hisss normal parentsss with him, too!”
“The Watsons are staying right here,” announced Bella Negative. “They’re our neighbours, and our friends. Besides, we can’t close the doorway with so many normals still in Scream Street. They’d be trapped here.”
“It would serve them right for the way they’ve behaved,” declared the ghost of Fool Spectre. A handful of other residents applauded his comment.
“But we don’t want the normals here!” rumbled Mr Crudley, spitting slime down the front of his waistcoat. “They’re vile, disgusting creatures!”
“So we need to find a way to get rid of them before we close the doorway,” said Resus’s mum. “And I think Luke should be the one to decide what we do next.”
Luke looked surprised. “Why me?” he asked.
“Because you had the strength and the courage to help your parents in the first place,” said Bella kindly. “We should be able to trust you to help the rest of us.”
“I don’t see what I can do,” admitted Luke. “The minute I step outside, they’ll attack me again! I just wish things would go back to normal…”
“That’s it!” exclaimed Resus.
“It is?” asked Luke.
“You saw how they reacted when they thought Sir Otto was running some sort of scam,” replied Resus excitedly. “They couldn’t wait to get their money back and leave. So we just have to convince them that we’re all normals! That way, they’ll think visiting Scream Street just isn’t worth the money.”
“How can we do that?” asked Cleo. “They saw Twinkle fly!”
“We could make them think he was attached to wires,” suggested Alston.
“Brilliant!” said Resus.
“What about the houses?” asked Fool Spectre. “Everything around here is twisted and terrifying to them — we can’t disguise all that.”
“If anyone asks, we’re waiting for a government grant to do the place up,” said Luke. “The normals will just be too pleased they don’t live anywhere as run down as this to question it further.”
“But what about the rest of us?” asked Dr Skully. “Some of us don’t exactly look or act like normals.”
Mr Watson stood, his eyes twinkling. “Just leave that to me…”
Chapter Six
The Arrival
“No, no, no!” cried Mr Watson. “That’s not how you do it at all!”
Doug sighed and scratched at the starched collar buttoned around his neck. He was dressed in one of Mr Watson’s old work suits and had even allowed Tibia Skully to wash the dried blood, dirt and dead insects out of his hair. With a little make-up on his cheeks, he looked almost alive.
Luke watched from the corner of the room as his dad scurried over to give Doug some acting tips. Could this really be the same person who only a few weeks ago had almost lost consciousness every time he saw one of their unusual neighbours? Things had certainly changed since they’d been moved to Scream Street.
“OK,” said Mr Watson, “let’s try it again — and this time, with feeling!”
Frowning in concentration, Doug crossed the room, trying his best not to stagger, and approached Berry, a female zombie, who had also received a makeover.
“Dude,” he began. Mr Watson gave a cough. “Er, I mean… My g
ood lady, would you be so kind as to tell me the time?”
Berry smiled politely, pulled up the sleeve of her blouse to reveal a delicate watch, and said, “Brains!”
“Stop, stop!” ordered Mr Watson. “I have not spent six years as the lead in my local amateur dramatic company for nothing! I want you both to go and work on your characters.” As the zombies lurched away, shamefaced, he called, “Next!”
Mr Crudley slithered into view, a trail of brown gloop staining the carpet behind him. A small bowler hat was perched on his massive, blubbery head.
“And what are you supposed to be?” Mr Watson asked.
“I’m the man about town,” replied the bog monster. “Your average, everyday chap in the street.”
“You don’t think you look more like an average, everyday compost heap?”
“How dare you?” demanded Mr Crudley. “Some of my best friends are compost heaps — but they don’t carry umbrellas.”
“Er, you’re not carrying an umbrella….”
“Yes, I am!” spluttered the mound of mud and goo. “It’s right… Ah, now, where is it?” He plunged his fist into his slimy side and eventually pulled out a broken umbrella.
“I think you and your wife had better remain indoors until all this is over,” Mr Watson suggested tactfully. Mr Crudley sludged away, muttering.
“Are you ready for us now, Dad?” called Luke from his spot in the corner.
“Go on, then,” said Mr Watson. “Although I’m not holding out much hope…”
Luke indicated for Resus to bring his parents into the room, and Mr Watson gasped. The difference was astonishing. All three vampires had exchanged capes for jeans and jumpers, and Resus had washed off his pale make-up and even spiked his hair with gel.
“You look amazing!” cried Luke’s dad. “Do you think you’ll be able to keep up the pretence that you’re normals?”
Neither Alston nor Bella Negative replied; they simply smiled sweetly, their mouths firmly closed.
“I said, do you think you’ll be able to convince the normals that you’re just like them?” asked Mr Watson.
Invasion of the Normals Page 3
