I turned to Caramel Cole. “And what do you get out of this?”
Cole smiled. “The ‘president’ will be so impressed by tomorrow’s performance that he will make a donation of one billion dollars to my circus – direct from the US Treasury. My circus will become the best in the world!”
“You won’t get away with this,” Fangs snarled.
“Of course I will,” said Holly. “Now, why not resign from MP1 and rule the world at my side?”
“Never,” said Fangs. “Truth and justice are the only mistresses for me.”
Holly rolled her eyes. “I think I might throw up.”
“You’re forgetting something,” I said. “You may be able to fool the rest of the world, but Fangs and I know the truth. You can’t stop us from telling everyone what we know.”
Holly changed back to her usual shape. “Yes, I can,” she said. “I can kill you both.”
“She’s got a point,” Fangs said to me. “Killing us would stop us from revealing what they’re up to.”
“No,” said Caramel Cole. “I want them both alive. With you gone, Holly, I’ll need something to replace your Will Pill volunteers. I can’t creep up on people and tickle them myself. And what better than a nightly battle between an angry werewolf and a furious vampire?”
I shuddered beneath my fur. “What?”
“The world has gone soft,” spat Cole. “Once upon a time, freaks like you would have been dragged from county fair to county fair, where people would pay to gaze at you in sheer horror. Now you’re an acceptable addition to polite society. But … if I were to capture a rogue werewolf and vampire who still held onto those old, violent ideals…”
“I won’t do it,” I said. “You can’t make me fight Fangs. He’s my best friend!”
“She’s right,” agreed Fangs. “You can’t force us to do anything.”
“Oh, but I can, and I will,” said Caramel Cole. He turned to Holly. “Would you be so kind as to ensure these two keep our secrets to themselves?”
Holly grinned wickedly. Then her skin rippled again as she once more changed into the Tickler. She darted between the bars of the cage and flew straight for me, all eight sets of fingers twitching. I fought the tickling feeling as she massaged my pressure points – but in the end, I couldn’t help but giggle.
Then she began to whisper in my ear, and the world went black.
Monday 1144 hours: Caramel Cole’s Circus, Pittsburg, USA
“Puppy … PUPPY!”
I forced my eyes open as a blast of cold water hit me in the face.
I looked around. I was in a cage surrounded by chunks of raw meat. Fangs was a few metres away in a cage of his own, and he was spraying me with water from Cube’s fountain pen.
“OK, OK,” I glugged as another jet hit me in the face. “I’m awake.” I pulled myself to my feet. “How long have I been asleep?”
“You haven’t been asleep,” said Fangs. “You’ve been in a trance for hours and hours. We both have. I came round about fifteen minutes ago and I was back in my normal clothes.” He clipped the lid back onto the fountain pen and tucked it into his pocket. “What did the Tickler whisper to you?”
I thought hard, but my mind remained blank. “I can’t remember.”
“Neither can I,” Fangs admitted. “Let’s get out of here.”
I looked down at my waist – my utility belt was gone. I still felt woozy and I wanted to sit down, but the floor of my cage was covered in what appeared to be blood. Chunks of raw meat also littered the floor. I picked one up. “These are made of rubber,” I said. “And this is stage blood. It’s all fake.”
“I think it’s Cole’s way of making you look like a violent werewolf,” Fangs said. “I’ve got plastic bats in my cage.” He was silent for a moment. Then he said, “You know I don’t want to fight you?”
“I know,” I said. “But with Tickler around, we may not have a choice. We have to get out of here.”
“We will,” Fangs assured me. “I just need to—”
He was interrupted by approaching voices.
“…And this, Mr President, is our newest attraction – the Fighting Freaks. I wanted you to be the first to see it.”
The tent flap lifted and Caramel Cole stepped inside, dressed in a brand-new, sequined ringmaster’s waistcoat and hat. He was followed by four men in dark suits and Chuck Starburger, the president of the United States. “Well, well … what do we have here?” The president beamed.
I began to smile.
Caramel Cole had made a big mistake. The US president knew all about MP1 – there was even a branch of our organization in Washington D.C. He’d listen to me.
“Mr President,” I began, “it’s very important that you-oooOOOOOWWWLLL!” I hurled myself against the bars of my cage and roared angrily.
President Starburger stared at me in horror.
I staggered back, shocked. I hadn’t meant to do any of that. “I’m sorry,” I croaked. “But I have to tell you-ooOOOOOWWWLLL!” Once again, I flung myself against my cage, this time pushing my paw between the bars and raking at the air with my claws.
What was happening to me?
“Fangs,” I hissed. “You have to tell the president what’s going on.” But my boss was unable to help. He was hanging upside down in his cage, his cape wrapped around him like the wings of a bat.
President Starburger approached our cages cautiously.
“Now you ain’t gonna tell me this here werewolf and vampire are going to fight each other, are you?” he asked Caramel Cole. “Surely those days are long gone.”
“Not for these two, Mr President,” said Cole. “We found them tearing each other apart in the Rocky Mountains a few weeks ago. They haven’t integrated into society at all. Caging them was the kindest thing we could do.”
“No!” I cried. “That’s not true‑oooOWWWLL!” I roared again and rattled the bars of my cage. I couldn’t speak about the plan. Every time I tried I ended up howling.
The president burst out laughing. “Well, ain’t that somethin’.” He slapped Caramel Cole on the back. “You sure know how to put on a show, boy!”
“Speaking of which,” said Cole, “the show is about to begin, so if you would like to follow me…” He led the president and his men out of the tent.
I slumped back against the cage. The Tickler must have used the power of the Will Pill to make us pass out and prevent us from telling anyone about their plans. I shuddered to think what would happen if and when she ordered us to attack each other.
As soon as the president and Cole had gone, Fangs slumped to the ground. “Thank goodness,” he said. “The blood was starting to rush to my head, but I couldn’t move at all. It must have been the Tickler’s spell. I almost ended up with rosy cheeks.”
“Let’s get out of here,” I said, bending to peer at the lock on my cage. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to pick it with my claws.
“Just as soon as I’ve straightened myself up a little,” said Fangs. “Wanda’s out there somewhere.” He pulled a plastic comb from his pocket and began to tidy his hair. As he did so, a red laser beam shone from the handle, just as it had done back in the lab.
Fangs squealed and jumped back in alarm.
“That’s brilliant, boss,” I cried.
Fangs looked from the comb to me and back again. “It is?”
“Of course. You’re going to use Cube’s laser comb to burn through the locks on our cages.”
“Er … yes,” said Fangs. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Well done for spotting it, Agent Brown. Now, stand back and cover your eyes…” Cautiously, he began to comb his hair again, this time aiming the laser directly at the lock on his cage. The metal hissed and spat as it melted away.
Two minutes later, as the lock from my cage fell to the floor, we heard the circus music begin to play.
“The show’s started,” said Fangs. “Come on.”
We were dashing out of our tent and racing for the big top wh
en a horrible thought occurred to me. “Boss,” I said, grabbing Fangs’s arm to stop him. “The president and his men think we’re wild supernaturals, ready to tear each other’s throats out. I dread to think what they’ll do if they suspect we’ve escaped from our cages.”
“Then we’ll need a disguise.” Fangs looked around and spotted the caravan belonging to Lumpy and Grumpy on the other side of the field.
The lock on the clowns’ trailer was easy to pick with my claws, and once inside, we found spare bits of costume and plenty of make-up. Fangs picked out a strongman’s leotard and boots.
“This looks ridiculous,” I said, peering at myself in the mirror. No matter how much make-up I used, I couldn’t hide my fur. “I look like a poodle.”
“There’s a ballerina’s costume hanging up over there,” said Fangs, pulling on a pair of spotted braces. “With the white face paint and the tutu, you’ll look just like a performing puppy, Puppy.”
As much as I wanted to argue, I knew we didn’t have long. So, a few minutes later, the new strongman and Trudy, his canine sidekick, were charging across the grass towards the entrance of the big top.
The horses and their riders were just coming to the end of their act as we pushed our way through the backstage area and invaded the circus ring. The four dancing girls – now dressed in brilliant, white-feathered costumes – glanced nervously at us as we dashed onto the stage.
“What is the meaning of this?” Caramel Cole cried. He raced towards us, microphone in hand. He grabbed Fangs by his leotard. “How did you get out?” he demanded, his voice echoing through the sound system.
Fangs snatched the microphone from Cole’s grip. “Ladies and gentlemen, my name is … er … Rocky Thunder. I’m the circus strongman. And the president is in terrible danger.”
The big top fell silent – and then President Starburger began to laugh.
Seeing that the president was enjoying himself, the tension in the crowd vanished and they began to laugh along with him, thinking that this must be a special performance that had been arranged for the president’s visit.
I glanced up and saw the Tickler glaring at us, so I left Fangs to deal with Cole and ran for the ladder leading up to the trapeze. Climbing in a tutu wasn’t the easiest thing I’d ever done, but I knew I had to keep moving. I looked down to see Caramel Cole trying to wrestle the microphone from Fangs’s hands. The audience, still thinking this was part of the act, was howling with laughter.
I climbed onto the tiny platform, high above the ground, and faced the Tickler. “This is over, Holly,” I said. “Give yourself up.”
But before the tiny pixie could reply, Cole finally got control of the microphone. “Tickler, do it now!” he screeched.
Monday 1244 hours: Caramel Cole’s Circus, Pittsburg, USA
I threw myself across the metal platform, hand outstretched, but the Tickler simply flapped her wings and rose into the air. “It’s over, all right,” she squeaked. “Over for you!”
Then she plunged into a dive – heading straight for President Starburger.
She landed on the president’s shoulder and began to climb down his jacket to reach his waist. At first, I couldn’t understand why his security team didn’t pull her off – and then I remembered that only Caramel Cole, Fangs and I knew where she was. The bodyguards were completely oblivious to the fact that the president was under attack.
I looked down to see that Fangs was wrestling with Caramel Cole – the audience was cheering them on. They still thought this was part of the show.
Below me, the Tickler began to tickle Chuck Starburger’s belly. “Hee-hee-hee!” cried the president. “HO-HO-HO!”
Even from this height, I could see that the president’s expression was glazing over and his pupils were growing wide. He was under the spell of the Will Pill and would now do whatever the Tickler told him!
With Fangs still grappling with Caramel Cole, I knew it was up to me to save the president. I threw myself off the trapeze platform.
The Tickler was whispering into the president’s ear when…
CRASH!
I landed on top of President Starburger and sent him tumbling to the ground, with the Tickler still clinging to his shoulder.
The crowd let out a scream. A flying poodle had just attacked the president live on national TV!
“Freeze!” one of the bodyguards said. “You’re under arrest for assaulting the president of the United States.”
“I’m an MP1 agent,” I cried. “And I’ve just saved his life.”
The bodyguard held his position. “How?”
I pointed to the Tickler, who was still hanging onto the president’s jacket. “I know you can’t see her,” I explained, “but the presidooooooooo-OOWWWWLLL!”
The bodyguard looked bemused. “What?”
“She’s right there!” I cried. “On the president’s shoooOOOOWWWLL!”
It was no good! I was still under the Will Pill’s influence and couldn’t tell anyone what was really happening.
“Come on, Puppy.” The pixie grinned. “Spit it out.” Then she went back to whispering in President Starburger’s ear.
“Fangs,” I cried. “The Bloodhound.”
Fangs knocked Cole to the ground with his fist. Then he snatched the glittery remote from the ringmaster’s pocket and hurled it at me.
In one move, I caught the Bloodhound, aimed it at the Tickler and stabbed a button. “Say hello to the nice security people,” I snarled.
Her disguise chip was instantly deactivated, and she shimmered into view. The president cried out in alarm and knocked the tiny creature from his shoulder while his security team quickly surrounded him.
“You’re too late!” the Tickler spat. “I’ve already told the president to pack up and leave the White House as soon as possible. I’ll have taken his place by nightfall.”
“No, you won’t,” I said. “You’re going to give yourself up.”
The pixie laughed. “And what gives you that idea?”
I smiled. “You did…”
The Tickler’s smug grin faltered. “Wh-what?”
“If Fangs’s Bloodhound can disrupt my blue tooth and your disguise chip, then let’s see what it does to the Will Pill.” I pressed the remote control into the Tickler’s stomach and activated the device.
“No!” she screamed. “You can’t do that. It will reverse all my alterations. I’ll be completely … under … its … control… I’ll have to obey everything anyone says.”
The Tickler’s eyes swam out of focus. It had worked!
“Now,” I said, “I want you to show these nice bodyguards your true shape, and tell them exactly what you planned to do – after which you will undo everything you whispered to the president.”
For the final time, the creature known as the Tickler flapped her wings and rose into the air. Then she began to grow and stretch as she transformed back into Agent Holly Delta. The president and his men stared in amazement, as did the circus audience and, I imagine, the millions of people watching at home.
“I have something to confess,” she said. “I have been trying to depose the president of the United States with the help of Caramel Cole.”
There was a yelp from the circus ring. I turned just in time to see Cole making a dash for the exit. Fangs was on his heels in a split second, and I quickly followed.
We chased Caramel Cole out of the big top and into the sunlight. He pushed his way through the crowd, knocking over food stalls and dragging stacks of prizes to the ground in an effort to stop us following him. Fangs and I leapt over a pile of tumbled teddy bears and struggled to keep sight of Carl’s sequined waistcoat.
Bernie Gobb, the fire-eater, stepped out from behind the carousel in front of Cole, forcing him to stop. “Mr Cole,” he said. “We want to talk to you!”
“Not now,” barked Caramel Cole, darting to his right – only to find someone else in his way.
“Yes, now,” Cass Cade, the juggler, insisted.
Cole tried to fight his way through the circus acts closing in around him. “Get out of my way,” he bellowed.
“Not until we get some answers,” shouted one of the horse riders.
“That’s right,” cried Bullet Drop, the leader of the trapeze troupe.
Caramel Cole’s eyes were wide with terror. Whenever he turned, he found himself faced with another angry performer. There was no way out! And then a hand clamped down hard on his shoulder. It was Fangs.
“We’ll be able to answer your questions,” my boss told the circus performers, “just as soon as we’ve put this guy away. Caramel Cole, you are under arrest for— ARGH!” He sank to the ground, groaning in pain.
Cole had snatched Wanda’s sword and sunk it deep into Fangs’s right thigh.
“Oh no,” shouted Wanda. “You do not do that to such a sweet clown, or strongman – or whatever he is now – especially not with one of my own swords.”
As one, the circus performers took a step towards Caramel Cole. He was surrounded. But he still had one route he could take … up!
After leaping onto the spinning platform of the carousel, Cole began to climb the pole of one of the wooden horses. Leaving Fangs to be tended to by Wanda, I went after Cole.
Having reached the top of the pole, Caramel Cole pushed one of the wooden tiles in the decorated ceiling of the carousel aside and disappeared through the gap. I followed, to emerge on the roof of the twirling merry-go-round.
I fixed my gaze on Cole – or, more specifically, on the drops of Fangs’s blood dripping from the blade of the sword he was still clutching. Not only would keeping my eyes on one fixed point stop me from getting dizzy as we spun round and round, but I wanted to keep his weapon in view at all times.
Codename: The Tickler Page 5
