The werewolf snarled in acknowledgement, saliva dripping from its fangs as it turned and leapt for Ottostein’s skull. Gripping one of the horns between its teeth, the wolf flipped itself over the demon’s shoulder and pulled with all its might.
The demon’s head jerked back, Sir Otto’s glue beginning to give at the front of its neck. Sensing danger, Ottostein slammed itself against the wall, trapping the werewolf and forcing it to release its grip.
The wolf collapsed to the floor and the demon bounded down the stairs and smashed clumsily out of the house.
“Luke!” As Resus scrambled to reach his friend, Luke’s body began to ripple and he slowly changed back to human form.
“My mum…?” he breathed.
“Cleo’s with her,” said Resus. “She’s OK, but your dad’s unconscious.” The vampire slumped back against the wall. “Short of building a demon of our own, I don’t see how we can even come close to defeating that thing!”
A smile spread slowly across Luke’s face. “That sounds suspiciously like a plan…”
Chapter Seven
The Plan
Luke gazed down at his father’s pale face in the silk-lined coffin. “At least you’re at rest now, Dad,” he said quietly.
“I most certainly am not at rest!” exclaimed Mr Watson, sitting bolt upright. “And I am not sleeping in a coffin. I’m going home.”
“There isn’t much of a home to go back to — the demon destroyed almost all of it,” Luke reminded his father as he climbed unsteadily to his feet. “It’s good of Resus’s parents to let us stay here until we tidy things up, so don’t be ungrateful.”
“I’m not ungrateful, Luke,” said Mr Watson, clinging to the side of the coffin as a wave of dizziness came over him. “I’m scared. Your mum’s scared. We tried to fight that thing, and we lost. We’re not meant to be in this place. We don’t belong here!”
Luke hadn’t told his parents about his quest to open a doorway home; he didn’t want to get their hopes up. What if he failed in the task and they remained stranded in Scream Street? He left the room, fighting back the feeling that his quest might actually be making things worse for them.
Bella Negative stepped out of the next bedroom and gave Luke a smile. “Do you want to go in and see your mum?” she asked. “She’s awake.”
Luke shook his head. “I’ll let her rest and pop in later.”
He found Resus and Cleo waiting for him outside. “What now?” asked the mummy.
Luke looked at his friends with determination on his face. “We get back into Sir Otto’s lab and build ourselves a demon.”
“I’ll have tulips and daffodils, Otto,” barked Queenie Sneer as she ambled through the gardens of Sneer Hall, “and I want them all dyed black before you put them in my room.” The landlord muttered an insult under his breath before reluctantly dropping to his knees to pick the flowers.
“Oh look, Mummy!” squealed Dixon, his arm through his mother’s. “Snapdragons! Snapdragons would look lovely in my bedroom.”
“You heard the boy,” ordered Queenie. “Pick him some snapdragons.”
Sir Otto clambered to his feet and bit down hard on his cigar. “If that idiot wants snapdragons, let him get them himself,” he barked defiantly.
Queenie Sneer slapped her brother across the back of the head, sending him crashing back to the ground. “That’s for not doing what you’re told…” she snarled before kicking him hard on the bottom. Sir Otto fell forward, his face landing in the prickly thorns of a rose bush. “…and that’s for calling my darling boy an idiot!”
Watching the scene from behind a hedge, Resus stuffed the corner of his cape into his mouth to stifle his laughter. “This is brilliant!”
“It’s little enough punishment for what he’s done by creating that demon,” Cleo pointed out.
“It’s a start, though,” said Luke. “Come on, let’s get into Sneer’s lab while they’re busy playing happy families.”
Resus took one last glance behind him to see Queenie and Dixon relaxing on a double swing, ordering the sweating landlord to push them. Grinning widely, the vampire followed his friends towards Sneer Hall.
Once inside the lab, Luke closed the door behind them. “Right,” he said, “we’re looking for parts to build a monster.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” said Cleo as Resus began to rummage through the Oddbods crates. “Even if we find an entire body’s worth of bits, how do we assemble them?”
Luke scanned the jugs of bubbling liquid and test tubes of mysterious coloured powder that filled the room. “The answer’s got to be in here somewhere,” he said. “I thought you might be able to figure it out.”
“Me?” demanded Cleo. “Why?”
Luke shrugged. “You’re the one who brews her own herbal teas.”
“There’s a world of difference between inventing hot drinks and creating life itself, Luke Watson,” Cleo exclaimed.
“Well, it’s a darn sight closer than anything I can do,” retorted Luke. “My only skills involve getting to level seven in Martial Arts Madness II and being able to turn my eyelids inside out!”
“Right,” interrupted Resus as he lay a collection of body parts out on the vast chrome table. “I’ve got three hands, some spare fingers, a leg and a couple of bellybuttons.” He leant in to peer a little closer. “At least, I hope they’re bellybuttons…”
“Wonderful!” groaned Luke. “We can build ourselves a demon, but one that’s limited to playing the piano and collecting fluff!”
“I don’t see why we need all this stuff when we’ve got a perfectly good body sitting back at Everwell’s Emporium,” Cleo commented.
Luke and Resus stared at her.
“Say that again,” said Luke.
“I’m simply wondering why we’re scrabbling around for parts to build a demon from scratch when the Horseman’s body is sitting back at Eefa’s doing nothing,” she said. “We just need a head for it.”
“And it didn’t occur to you to suggest this before I spent ten minutes rifling through assorted body parts?” asked Resus.
“Come on!” said Luke, grabbing the handful of loose fingers and dumping them back into one of the crates. “I know what to do.”
He turned to pull open the door to the laboratory just as Sir Otto Sneer pushed it from the opposite side. There was a brief moment’s silence as Luke, Resus and Cleo stared at the landlord in surprise, then Sir Otto leapt into the room and slammed the door behind him.
“Hide me!” he hissed.
“What?”
“Hide me! She’s coming!”
“Who’s coming?” asked Cleo.
“My insane sister,” growled Sir Otto. “Who do you think?” The landlord’s clothes were filthy and his face was covered with a thin veil of sweat. He dashed around the lab, opening drawers and cupboards as he searched for a place to conceal himself. “She’s only been here for a few hours, and I can’t take any more!”
“Oh, Otto … where are you?” Queenie Sneer’s voice echoed along the corridor. With a squeal that would have made a four-year-old girl proud, Sir Otto dived under the table and lay there, quivering.
“Er… He doesn’t appear to have mentioned that we’ve broken into his secret lab,” Resus said to Luke.
“Maybe he’s got other things on his mind?” suggested Cleo.
“Which puts us at an advantage,” smiled Luke. He knelt down and peered at Sir Otto under the table. “What will you give us if we hide you from your sister?”
“Take anything you want,” whispered the landlord. “Just keep her as far away from me as possible!”
“What I want,” said Luke, “is for you to call off your demon.”
“Can’t be done,” answered the landlord. “You saw the remote control: it was smashed. Once that happened, the connection to the demon was severed.”
“So,” said Cleo, “connect it up again.”
“Impossible,” said Sir Otto. “It has to be pow
ered by the same batteries.”
“That monster runs on batteries?” exclaimed Resus.
“Not the kind you’re thinking of,” replied the landlord. “Normal batteries would run down too quickly, so I powered the demon with electrically charged bats.”
Cleo paled beneath her bandages. “You killed bats to make your … thing?”
“Of course not,” said Sir Otto. “What use would they be to me then? I simply zapped a couple until they were fizzing a bit. When they’re flapping around inside the creature’s body, they generate power of their own.”
“You disgust me!” exclaimed Cleo, rushing over to the door and flinging it open. “I’m going to find your sister and tell her where you’re hiding.”
“You already have,” bellowed Queenie Sneer as she stormed along the corridor towards the laboratory. “I wondered which of these rooms Otto would be cowering in. And he appears to have found some trespassers!”
Cleo tried to close the door again and Luke and Resus dashed forward to lend their weight, but, with a single shove of her black-gloved hand, Queenie sent the trio sprawling. Bottles and jars smashed as they scurried to join Sir Otto beneath the table.
The remaining body parts fell from the table and landed in Resus’s lap, including a slice of flesh sporting a jagged scar. He held it to his forehead and turned to Luke. “Now do I look like your precious wizard?” he asked.
Chapter Eight
The Deal
“How do you freaks suggest we get ourselves out of this?” demanded Sir Otto as he peeled what seemed like the millionth potato in a row.
“Well,” said Resus, pausing in the middle of chopping a mountain of carrots, “for one, we haven’t actually agreed to help you yet — and two, I’d stop calling us freaks if you want us to.”
The landlord blew out a huge cloud of cigar smoke and muttered something rude but carried on peeling. Queenie had put Luke, Resus and Sir Otto to work in the kitchens of Sneer Hall, preparing a huge banquet for the new lady of the house and her son.
Resus added another handful of chopped carrots to the pile beside him. “It shouldn’t be difficult to break out,” he said.
“We’re not going anywhere without Cleo,” said Luke firmly. After calling Queenie an overbearing sack of spanners, the mummy had been dragged away along the corridor for the insult, leaving the others to prepare the food. Queenie wanted “the little troublemaker” where she could see her.
“If we do hide you from your sister,” Luke said to Sir Otto as he mixed together a huge bowl of eggs, “you have to help us build our own demon to take on yours.”
“For a whole demon,” said the landlord, “I’ll need a more permanent solution to the Queenie problem.”
“Permanent?” gasped Resus. “You don’t mean…?”
“Of course not!” snarled Sir Otto. “I’m not going that far. I’m just talking about pushing her back through the Hex Hatch and into another G.H.O.U.L. community. It doesn’t matter which one — anywhere will do!”
Luke held out his hand to Sir Otto. “Deal?”
The landlord shook it. “Deal!”
“Now that’s something I never thought I’d see,” grinned Resus.
“There is, however, one small problem,” said Sir Otto. “If we’re going to build a fully functional demon, we’ll need to get out of here.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Luke. “The best time to make our move would be when we’re—”
“Shh!” hissed Resus. “Someone’s coming!”
The kitchen door flew open and Dixon waltzed in looking pleased with himself. “Mummy wants to make a few changes to the dinner menu,” he announced. “First, there are to be only egg whites in the omelette; second, the potatoes are to have their skins left on; and third—”
Sir Otto glared at his ginger-haired nephew. “…anything resembling a carrot is to be chopped into tiny little pieces?”
Dixon swallowed hard but stood his ground. “Now, now,” he gulped. “Don’t make me call Mummy in here to sort you out … Otto.”
“Otto?” roared the landlord. “How dare you? It’s Sir Uncle Otto — I mean, Sir Otto — to you!” Dixon screamed as his uncle charged through the mound of potato peelings and leapt upon him.
“I guess now would be when we’re making our move, then,” shouted Resus as he and Luke threw down their utensils and raced to pull Sir Otto and Dixon apart.
“I’ll chew him up and spit him out!” yelled the landlord as Luke struggled to hold him back. Resus wasn’t so much holding Dixon back as stopping him from running to mummy. The last thing they needed was interference from Queenie.
“Tie him up,” said Resus, pulling a length of rope from his cloak. As Luke got to work, Sir Otto grabbed a handful of cutlery and began knotting forks and spoons to Dixon’s lank, ginger hair.
“This way,” explained the landlord, “if he shapeshifts into something slim enough to escape his bonds, we should be able to hear him coming a mile off!” Ten minutes later, Dixon’s hair clanged like a wind chime whenever he moved.
“OK,” said Resus. “What now?”
Luke snatched up a silver tray and began to pile it with food. “Now,” he said, “we serve up some revenge!”
“Do you know,” said Queenie Sneer as she sipped at her goblet of champagne, “I’ve never really spent any quality time with one of you little freaks before. I think I might like to keep you.”
Beside her at the dining table, Cleo sat tied to a chair with her own bandages, guarded by Sir Otto’s two ravenous hellhounds.
“What a wonderful idea,” the mummy replied sarcastically. “You could keep me in a kennel and teach me to fetch a stick.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far!” laughed Queenie, missing the edge to Cleo’s words. “I’m sure there’s more than enough room in the cellar for you to sleep.”
“Why are you like this?” demanded Cleo. “You married one of us ‘freaks’! Dixon’s dad is a shapeshifter, isn’t he?”
“I was young and foolish,” snarled Queenie, “and naive enough to think he could shape-shift into something a little less weird once we’d moved to a more up-market G.H.O.U.L. community.” She sighed. “You can take the freak out of Scream Street, but you can’t take Scream Street out of the freak!”
There was a moment’s silence and then Queenie frowned. “Where is that son of mine?” she asked no one in particular. “I only sent him to deliver a message to the kitchen staff.”
“I’m afraid Dixon has been unavoidably detained,” answered Luke, entering at that moment with a covered tray. “He’s a little tied up,” he added, winking at Cleo. Resus and Sir Otto followed, laden with plates and dishes.
Luke placed the silver tray before Queenie and lifted the lid to reveal his bowl of uncooked omelette mix.
“What’s this?” the woman demanded.
“Oh, nothing serious,” snarled Sir Otto from behind her. “Just a bit of a yolk!” And with that he grabbed his sister’s head and pushed her face deep into the bowl. “We have to get rid of her now,” he shouted to Luke as Queenie spluttered angrily in the raw egg, “or my life won’t be worth living!”
Chaos erupted on all sides. Using a knife he’d brought from the kitchen, Resus sliced through the bandages securing Cleo to her chair, then tossed the mummy a soup ladle. Catching it, Cleo turned just as one of the hellhounds leapt for her throat. She swiftly bopped it on the head with the ladle and the dog fell down, unconscious.
Queenie lifted her face from the bowl, gasping for air. Sir Otto ducked as she wiped sticky egg yolk from her eyes and threw a heavy salt cellar in his direction. It smashed against the wall just above the landlord’s head.
Luke took the opportunity to hurl a bag of flour at Queenie, which split and covered its target with fine, white powder.
“Careful,” quipped Resus as he fought off the second hellhound with a loaf of bread, “she’ll claim you battered her!”
“If you think omeletting you get
away with a gag like that…” said Luke.
Resus grinned, but not for long as Queenie swung at him with a bowl of tomato soup. He pulled back just in time and the hot, red liquid spilt down the front of Queenie’s dress, causing her to yell.
Sir Otto roared with laughter as his sister stumbled forward and cracked her shin on the leg of the dining table. Queenie quickly retaliated, however, by grabbing two halves of an onion and grinding them into her brother’s eyes.
Sir Otto screeched in pain and dropped to his knees, blinded by the onion. As he crawled in the direction of the door, his fingers came upon a shoe and, thinking it was Luke, he reached his hand up for help. “Come on!” he snapped.
“Don’t make me do it!” squealed a familiar voice. Sir Otto squinted up through burning eyes to find Dixon — all his hair lopped off — holding a huge pumpkin over him.
“You haven’t the guts,” sneered his uncle. “You’re nothing but a wimp!”
At this, Dixon’s eyes flooded with tears, and as he went to wipe them, he accidentally released the pumpkin. The massive vegetable fell, wedging fast over Sir Otto’s head.
Luke slapped the second hellhound across the face with a raw fish. “This is more like the Halloween I know!” he whooped.
Suddenly terrified at what he had done, Dixon grabbed Queenie’s hand and dragged her out of the room. The hellhound gave chase.
Finally free of the snarling dog, Resus jumped up onto a chair and opened one of the small, high windows. “Time to get out of here!” he yelled.
Cleo looked doubtfully up at the tiny opening. “You’ll never get through there,” she said.
“I don’t need all of me to get out,” said Resus, producing a megaphone from the folds of his cloak. “Just my voice.” He turned and yelled through the window, “Oi, Ottostein — you big, ugly, do-it-yourself demon! Come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough!”
Skull of the Skeleton Page 4
