Alfie the Werewolf 6: Werewolf Secrets

by Paul van Loon

  The wind whistled and the whistling turned into words and the words turned into a song.

  Close to the bank of the Silver River

  Where the windswept pine trees groan

  There stands Armando now and for ever

  Hear him sigh and hear him moan

  The singing stopped and the wind died down. Silence. Noura scratched her head.

  ‘What a strange song. Who was singing it?’

  ‘That was a song wind,’ Alfie said.

  ‘Really? I’ve never heard of anything like that.’

  ‘Yep. That’s because I just made it up,’ Alfie grinned. ‘But this really is a strange place.’

  Noura nodded. ‘A weeping rock and a singing wind. Very strange! Let’s go somewhere else.’

  ‘Song wind,’ said Alfie. ‘I made it up so I know …’

  Noura was staring past Alfie.

  ‘Wrow. What is it, Noura?’ He turned and saw figures emerging from the bushes. Jagged shadows in the moonlight. Heads covered with fierce, spiky hair. Triangular ears. Sharp snouts and hairy coats. Alfie and Noura heard growls and whispers. Slowly the figures crept closer. Tails swung back and forth. Eyes gleamed in the darkness. Alfie grabbed Noura’s hand.

  ‘Wolves!’ said Noura. ‘And they don’t look friendly!’

  Alfie nodded. ‘Wrow, I’ll count to three and then we run. One, two …

  7

  Three!

  ‘Three!’

  Alfie and Noura tore off together, racing past trees and leaping over bushes. Alfie felt the wind ruffle his coat as Noura ran beside him. Behind them they heard growling. Ever closer.

  ‘Faster, Noura,’ Alfie growled. ‘They’re catching up.’

  Straining twice as hard, they ran on. Alfie’s tongue was hanging out of his mouth.

  The pursuers fell behind. Further and further. Alfie looked aside at Noura and smiled. Strangely enough, he suddenly felt fantastic. He’d almost forgotten about the mystery house and the weird rock. There was nothing he liked more than running through the woods, trees all around him and the full moon and stars overhead. It made him happy.

  ‘This is a fun race too,’ he growled. ‘I bet we win!’

  Noura looked back. ‘I don’t know, Alfie. They’re catching up again and I’m getting tired.’

  Suddenly she stopped.

  ‘Wrow, what are you doing?’ Alfie growled, stopping as well. ‘Come on, Noura, keep running! Otherwise they’ll catch up with us and then we won’t win.’

  Noura shook her head. An angry crease appeared over her eyes. She crossed her arms.

  ‘I’ve had enough. I don’t need to win. Why should we run away from those wolves? We’re werewolves after all. We’re like cousins to wolves. I can’t be bothered being scared.’

  The pursuers’ horrible growls were getting closer and closer. Noura stood in the middle of the path, spread her legs wide and planted her feet firmly on the ground.

  ‘Don’t do it, Noura,’ Alfie growled.

  Noura ignored him. She raised one paw.

  ‘Wraa! STOP!’

  8

  Pile-up

  ‘Wrow, Noura, what are you doing?’ Alfie could already see the first pursuer racing around the corner. Noura was standing on the path like a traffic policeman signalling the cars to stop. Her eyes blazed.

  ‘STOP,’ she growled again.

  ‘No!’ Alfie cried, hurling himself in front of Noura. Shocked and trying to slow down, the front wolf tripped over a tree root and did a somersault. Sand, leaves and branches flew through the air. The wolf landed flat on its stomach right in front of Alfie.

  ‘Ooph!’ it groaned. Almost straightaway another wolf fell and landed on top of it. SMACK! Then, one after the other, all of the pursuers crashed into each other. BOF! THUNK! SPLAT! WHAM! KLUNK!

  It was a wolf pile-up. They flew over each, whizzed through the air and crashed down until the whole troop was lying on the ground, groaning and growling. Legs and tails were tangled together. Some of the wolves had gone cross-eyed from the impact.

  Alfie quickly counted them. There were six. They don’t actually look that dangerous any more, he thought. Especially not with their eyes crossed like that.

  ‘What did you do that for?’ Noura asked.

  ‘Wrow, er, I … I was trying to protect you.’

  Noura looked at the pile of dazed wolves. ‘You did a good job of it, then. It was sweet of you, Alfie, but it really wasn’t necessary. I wasn’t scared, you know.’

  The wolves shook their heads and struggled to untangle their tails and legs.

  ‘What do you want from us?’ Alfie demanded.

  The wolves growled and snarled amongst themselves, then looked back at Alfie and Noura. They seemed to have something to say.

  Then something strange happened. One after the other they stood up on their hind legs. Only now did Alfie notice: the wolves were all wearing dark-grey tracksuits with the letters WWW on them.

  Wolves in clothes! That could only mean one thing.

  ‘Wrow! You mean you’re werewolves too?’

  The biggest wolf cleared his throat. ‘Arrgh, ahum. I’m Igor.’ He gestured at the others. ‘That’s Olga, Nelson, Kim Li, Inouk and Ashanti.’

  In turn each of the werewolves growled a greeting. Noura raised an eyebrow in anger.

  ‘Why were you chasing us?’ she snapped.

  Igor shrugged, twisted his mouth and gave a growling snigger. ‘It was a game. We wanted to play with you. We never see any other kids, let alone werewolf kids. We thought you’d like it …’

  ‘Really? Is that what you thought?’ Noura said. ‘Well, you were wrong!’

  ‘You’ve got really nice hair,’ one of the girl werewolves said, and Noura’s angry expression disappeared immediately.

  ‘Really?’

  The girl werewolf nodded. ‘Definitely. I’m Olga.’ She held out a paw.

  ‘Noura,’ Noura said, shaking paws.

  Alfie could hardly believe it. So many werewolves in one spot …

  Igor growled. ‘We thought you might like to be our friends.’

  ‘Wrow, werewolf friends; – that sounds good to me,’ Alfie growled. ‘It’s pretty cool actually and—’

  Suddenly there was a bloodcurdling howl. The six werewolves looked up in fright. The howl sounded angry, terrifying and sorrowful all at once. It was coming from the direction of the house on the hill.

  ‘Mooma,’ Igor whispered. ‘She’s found out that we’ve escaped out of our rooms.’

  ‘Mooma? Who’s that?’ Alfie asked.

  Igor looked at him with trembling ears. ‘The head. We have to go!’

  The werewolves turned and ran off, ignoring Alfie and Noura.

  ‘Igor, Olga, wait,’ Noura shouted. ‘What does WWW mean?’

  The werewolves kept running without looking back and in just a few seconds they’d disappeared in the darkness.

  Alfie and Noura stared in astonishment at the empty spot where six werewolves had stood a moment before, then looked at each other.

  ‘Too bad,’ Noura said. ‘We almost made some werewolf friends. Strange, them just running off like that.’

  ‘Wrow!’ Alfie said. ‘Maybe we’ll see them again tomorrow. We’ve had enough strange things for one night. I’m tired.’

  They ran back to the cottage, where they climbed up the drainpipe and over the window ledge into Alfie’s bedroom. The moment he saw his bed, Alfie started yawning.

  ‘Ah-wahhh, good night, Noura.’

  ‘Goodnight, Alfie,’ Noura laughed, softly closing the door behind her. Alfie flopped down on to his bed.

  This is going to be a fun holiday, he thought, stretching his arms and extending his claws. There’s a mystery house, a troop of young werewolves, a weeping rock and a song wind! Does Grandpa Werewolf know? Maybe that’s why he sent us here.

  That was as far as his thoughts went, because the next second Alfie was sleeping like a log.

  Friendly werewolves appeared i
n his dream, wanting to play with him. But suddenly there was a great big one, singing at the top of her voice.

  I’m the ox, the great big box

  The great big, big-bad bully box

  I’ll grab you, I’ll nab you

  I’ll squeeze you, I’ll squash you

  And wring you out like sweaty socks

  Alfie shot up in bed with sweat running down his back. The sun was shining into his room and outside the birds were singing.

  He looked at his hand. The fur and claws were gone. It was morning and he was back to being an ordinary boy.

  9

  Sculpturer

  Late in the morning, Alfie walked into the kitchen, still feeling a bit wolfish. Noura was already sitting at the table and Alfie noticed that she too had a fierce look about her. Her hair was tangled and there was a pale-yellow gleam in her eyes. They were often like that when it was full moon, because that was when Alfie and Noura changed into werewolves for three nights in a row, and sometimes you could still see a remnant of it in the daytime. Especially when they’d had a long, wild night.

  Tim joined them looking like he’d had an excellent night’s sleep. That was because Tim wasn’t a werewolf who goes out under the full moon at night. Tim was Alfie’s best friend and Tim’s dad was standing at the stove.

  ‘Good morning, sleepyheads,’ he called, looking over his shoulder and winking.

  Tim’s parents had adopted Alfie. They’d even done it after they’d found out that he was a werewolf. Alfie was crazy about them and they loved Alfie just as much as they loved Tim.

  Dad was wearing blue overalls, an apron and grass-green wellies. On his head he had a tea cosy shaped like an elephant. Dad loved being ‘different’.

  ‘Sit down, boys. The pancakes are ready.’

  Dad had been hard at work with the frying pan and a bowl of batter, and the kitchen smelt delicious. Carefully he carried an enormous pile of pancakes over to the table on a plate.

  ‘Look at this,’ he said proudly. ‘It’s a real work of art. It’s wonkier than the Leaning Tower of Pisa and almost as high. But a lot yummier.’

  Alfie sat down next to Noura and whispered, ‘I’d rather have a raw steak.’

  Noura laughed quietly. Alfie could see that her teeth were still a little pointy.

  ‘Dig in, kids.’

  Dad took off the apron and walked over to the worktop to pick up a special belt with all kinds of pouches and loops. It was his tool belt and it was full of chisels, knives and a hammer. Dad buckled it around his hips and winked.

  ‘Cool, I look like a cowboy.’ Then he put on a backpack. ‘There. Now I’m going hunting. Will you tidy up afterwards?’

  Alfie looked up with surprise.

  ‘You going hunting, Dad?’ Tim asked. ‘What for?’

  ‘Not for rabbits or deer, I hope,’ said Noura. ‘That’d be cruel. Even as a werewolf I wouldn’t want to hurt a poor little bunny.’

  Dad smiled. ‘No, of course not, sweetie. I’m going hunting for rocks. My hands are itching. My hammer and chisels can’t wait. I want to start hacking, so I’m going out to look for a really beautiful one. Grandpa Werewolf said that this forest is wonderful for sculpturers.’

  Alfie looked up. ‘Really? Did Grandpa Werewolf say that?’

  Dad nodded. ‘He said, “There are very beautiful rocks.” So I’m going looking for them. I’ve been feeling very artistic lately. We artists are like that. Inspiration can hit us at any moment. So there’s no time to lose. Bye!’

  Astonished, Alfie stared at the closed door.

  ‘Artist?’ he said. ‘Since when?’

  Tim smiled. ‘You know what Dad’s like. He’s crazy about change. He’s started calling himself a sculpturer.’

  ‘A sculpturer?’ said Noura. ‘You mean a sculptor?’

  Tim grinned. ‘No, Dad’s different. He’s a sculpturer.’

  Alfie smiled. ‘OK. Let’s have breakfast before the sculpturer’s pancakes get cold.’

  While they were eating, Alfie told Tim what had happened that night.

  ‘Other werewolves?’ Tim said. ‘Cool!’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Noura. ‘Except they ran off really fast.’

  ‘Oh, tough,’ said Tim.

  Alfie took a big bite of pancake. ‘Mmm, this is as yummy as raw steak after all.’ Still chewing, he looked at Tim. ‘When’s Mum coming?’

  Tim shrugged. ‘Not till tomorrow, I think. She’s come down with a virus.’

  ‘Really, what’s she got?’

  ‘A cleaning virus. She wanted to give the house a good scrub first.’ He stuffed a piece of pancake into his mouth and swallowed it whole. ‘And apparently that’s a lot easier with us out of the way. Lucky for us we got to come on holiday early.’

  Alfie sniggered and pushed his plate away.

  They were just clearing the table when they heard brakes squeal outside, followed by a dull thud and some rattling.

  10

  Surprise

  ‘That’s the Dentmobile,’ Tim shouted happily. ‘Mum’s here.’

  They all ran outside, where a small yellow Fiat was crunched up against a tree. The damage wasn’t too bad as far as they could tell. It was just a little dent in the bumper. You didn’t even notice it, because of all the other dings and dents at the front, the sides and the back. Even the roof was bent. That was why Tim and Alfie called the car the Dentmobile. Mum had got her driving licence back just a few weeks before.

  The door swung open and Mum climbed out with a bag slung over her shoulder. She smiled at the tree.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I thought you’d get out of the way.’ She rummaged through her bag, found a plaster to stick on the tree, then spread her arms to hug the three children.

  ‘Hi, sweethearts. Grandpa Werewolf talked me into coming sooner. Keeping a house tidy is important, but I’m glad to be here with you.’ She studied the cottage approvingly. ‘What a great little holiday home! Good thinking of Grandpa Werewolf to send us here. It really is beautiful. Although I’ve heard you can get a lot of rain here too. And thunderstorms.’

  ‘We haven’t noticed, Mum,’ said Alfie. ‘We haven’t had a drop of rain yet.’

  Mum clapped her hands. ‘All the better. And, um … Of course, I’ve brought a surprise for you.’

  ‘Really?’ said Alfie. ‘What? I love surprises.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Tim.

  Mum smiled. ‘And what about you, Noura? Do you love surprises too?’

  Noura nodded shyly. ‘Yes, I quite like them.’

  ‘Thought so,’ Mum said. ‘Have a look on the back seat.’

  Tim, Alfie and Noura hurried over to the car and peered in through the side window. Hunched up on the back seat was a sleeping figure dressed in a hat and a raincoat and hugging a walking stick. The hat had a wide brim, but beneath it you could clearly see a black wolf’s muzzle.

  11

  Snoring

  ‘Grandpa Werewolf!’ Alfie cried, pulling the door open. The figure on the back seat woke with a start and almost rolled out of the car. He grabbed hold of the seat just in time.

  ‘What? Who? Where? Are we still alive? What a suicide jockey!’ Grandpa Werewolf struggled up out of the car. ‘Hi, Alfie, Tim, Noura.’

  Alfie hugged him.

  Grandpa was always a werewolf. He didn’t have to wait for the full moon any more. That was something only very old werewolves could do, if they wanted to.

  ‘How was the trip, Grandpa?’ Alfie asked politely. He was actually bursting with impatience and dying to ask him something else. Grandpa Werewolf yawned with gaping jaws.

  ‘O-wahhh, I survived, Alfie. I’m glad of that. But that mother of yours was snoring the whole way. That was a pain, because it kept me awake.’

  ‘Oh. Can I ask you—’

  Mum started laughing. ‘I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Grandpa Werewolf. I wasn’t snoring! I was at the wheel! You can’t drive and snore at the same time.’

  Alfie cleared his throat ver
y loudly.

  ‘Er-hmmm! Do you know that house on—’

  ‘I still heard snoring the whole time,’ Grandpa mumbled. ‘I swear it on the grave of my own werewolf grandfather!’

  Mum grinned. ‘Maybe you were the one who was snoring.’

  Grandpa Werewolf shook his head. ‘I don’t believe that for an instant. It was someone else.’

  Mum looked at Alfie, raised her eyebrows and winked. ‘Oh well, why don’t you go and have a nice nap now, Grandpa Werewolf?’

  No! thought Alfie. There’s something I want to find out first.

  Grandpa picked up his walking stick.

  ‘I’ll do that,’ he mumbled. ‘I have to make sure I’m fit later, because all kinds of things still need to happen.’

  Alfie tugged on Grandpa’s coat. ‘Grandpa, do you know anything about a mysterious house and—’

  Grandpa Werewolf looked back. ‘No, Alfie. At the moment I don’t know anything. I want to have a good sleep first.’

  The old werewolf turned and stomped into the holiday home.

  12

  A Tent

  ‘Did you see that? Grandpa Werewolf wouldn’t even listen to me.’

  Alfie was walking through the wood with Tim and Noura. Birds were singing and squirrels were running along branches. Mum was having a rest in the cottage and Grandpa Werewolf had lain down on the sofa and gone straight to sleep.

  ‘He’s not usually that grumpy,’ Tim said. ‘But I understand. Everyone’s always exhausted after a ride in Mum’s Dentmobile.’