But Wugnot was right. As much as I wanted Victor with us, it was too dangerous to continue to break Law Number Three.
Wugnot hopped out of the van and swung open the door. “Out!”
Victor crossed his arms and stayed put. Wugnot easily scooped Victor up and tossed him onto the sidewalk.
“Hit the bricks, kid,” Wugnot growled.
“We can’t just leave him here,” I said.
“It’s okay,” Victor said, defeated. “I live down the block. I can walk. I don’t want to cause trouble.”
“But—” I started to say.
“Nice meeting ya,” said Wugnot, yanking the van door closed and hopping back into the driver’s seat.
I put my hand on the glass.
Forbidden love, thy name is Victor!
As Wugnot drove away, I looked in the rearview to watch Victor recede into the distance, like we were in some epic romantic movie, but he was already gone.
“I don’t make the rules, Kelly. I just follow ’em,” Wugnot said, slamming the gas.
“Don’t talk to me,” I said, staring out the window. “I’m pouting.”
FROM LIZ’S JOURNAL
“Kev! Stop!”
I chased my was-little-but-now-giant monster brother past the frozen cranberry bogs to our old house. I hadn’t been home since Mom left.
Kevin charged toward the window of our living room. Our dad was on the couch, watching the MMA Christmas Cage Match Royale.
I hopped off my dirt bike and tried to pull Kevin from the window, but the stinker growled, shaking my hand off his shoulder.
“What the devil?” I heard my dad gasp.
He sprang from the couch and wiped his mouth. “Thing from the news.”
“Aaaaaooooooaaaadddd,” moaned Kevin.
My dad ran from the living room. I had a terrible feeling I knew where he was going.
Dad returned, shotgun in hand.
“Run, Kevin!” I cried.
Kevin didn’t budge. He stood there, panting.
“Lizzie?” my dad said, looking between the two of us, confused. “What are you doing with that thing?”
I took a deep breath and stood beside my hairy, beastly brother.
“Dad, this is Kevin.”
Kevin’s feet turned in. His giant paw innocently waved hello.
“Merrrrrmoooo,” mumbled Kevin.
There was a small glimmer of recognition in my dad’s eyes. Maybe it was because Kev always stood that way when he waved hello, with that same sweet, small look in his eye.
“That ugly freak of nature is not my son,” said Dad.
Kevin threw back his head. “OOOOOOROOO!”
“Get out of here!” my father screamed, charging out of the house.
Distant dog barking erupted. The night filled with howls as Kevin ran away. My dad aimed his shotgun. My hand shot out, grabbing the barrel just as it boomed into the sky.
“Kevin, wait!” I called out, jumping onto my dirt bike.
I popped a wheelie and chased after him, leaving our dad in the dust.
Drivers on the highway screamed.
They swerved to avoid the eight-foot-tall furry creature on two legs. My bro scraped at the edges of a steel manhole cover.
“Don’t go down there, you big oaf!” I shouted.
A truck horn blared. It was driving right toward him. Kevin flung the metal disk, barely missing the windshield as the truck thundered right over the open sewer.
Brakes squealed, and the rig shuddered to a stop. Kevin was gone.
I darted over the concrete divider and peered into the dark hole.
The echoes of Kevin’s wails wafted up with the sludgy stink.
I flicked on my flashlight and dropped into the sewers.
Splash!
I tied a bandanna around my nose to block out the toxic smell, but that didn’t help much. The reverberations of Kevin’s sobs bounced off the moss-dripping patchwork. I found Kevin sitting at the edge of a small waterfall of sludge. He was staring into the well of water churning below, watching his angry tears be collected and washed down the drain.
I sat down beside him. Moonlight beamed through a sewer grate high above us.
“Dad didn’t mean it, Kev.”
Kev gloomily shook his head.
“One day he’ll understand.” I patted the sweaty clumps of fur on his back. “For now, we have each other. And I promise, I’m never gonna lose you again.”
Kev wailed, pointed to himself and then to me.
“I love you too, little bro.”
Kev threw back his head and howled at the moon. In harmony, I barked with him. “Arrrooooooh!”
WHAT LIZ DID NOT KNOW
(But Should Have Known)
Far across the sewers, Peskov the Sleeknatch was inspecting clumps of spider eggs that Serena’s trolls had planted beneath the town, basking in the thick steam rolling off the river of sludge, when he heard the echoes of monster sobs and cries bouncing off the aqueduct walls.
The six-eyed meatball instantly recognized the cry of the queen’s favorite servant. It was a sound it had heard many times.
The Sleeknatch rolled toward the noise, tumbling through the flies and gnat clouds. It slid down a moist concrete ramp, splashing into the muck. Its six eyestalks paddled through the slop with surprising speed. Excitement and desperation fueled it. The queen would be so pleased with it for finding Bullgarth.
The Sleeknatch stopped at the edge of a well. Looking up, its six wide eyes saw the hairy mutant talking with the girl with pink-and-black hair.
Liz. His human sister.
Imagine the Sleeknatch’s surprise!
In its hiding place, the squashy Sleeknatch jiggled with glee. Wait until the queen finds out about this. Its reward would be handsome. It would become her favorite, and this hairy beast would be chained up for life.
The Sleeknatch followed the brother and sister as they walked out of the sewers. The sticky glob rolled itself after them, narrowly being missed by a racing car. The powerful, hairy giant and his sister were too fast for the roly-poly six-eyed ball of snot. But then it heard their cries in the distance, and the Sleeknatch was back on their trail.
Brambles and thorns stuck to the Sleeknatch’s slimy skin as it somersaulted through swamps and bogs and backyards in pursuit of the babysitter and the traitor.
When he saw the babysitter open a secret pathway through the bushes and then lead her brother toward a brick cottage, the meatball creature let out a gurgling gasp. The large house looked like something out of a fairy tale. The Sleeknatch slithered its way after them, just as the hidden entrance closed behind it.
It watched the girl lean her dirt bike against a stone lion and unlock the heavily fortified front door.
One of its bloodshot eagle eyes managed to glimpse portraits of babysitters hanging on the wall before the girl led Bullgarth inside and shut the door.
The Sleeknatch’s onion eyes bulged. It had found the babysitters’ secret headquarters.
The queen would surely reward it for this.
30
On the way to headquarters, we drove past my block. Blue and red lights illuminated the street. Neighbors in their pajamas clustered around two patrol cars parked by my house. No sign of my parents. Wugnot slowed down. The police crowded around us.
Officer Muntz and lanky Sheriff Heep stepped forward. Wugnot pulled his trucker hat over his eyes and slipped on a pair of thick, horn-rimmed glasses.
“Hello, officers. That’s my house. Are my parents okay?”
“They’re doing just fine, miss,” said Muntz with a big smile.
The night seemed still. I glanced around the street.
Where did all the spiders go? And where were my parents?
Wugnot grunted, chewing on a toothpick.
“Ambulance took ’em,” said Sheriff Heep with an even bigger smile. “Why don’t you step out of the car, and we’ll take you to them.”
His heavy utility belt creaked. He h
ad his nightstick in his hand. Even though it was freezing outside, his jaw was slicked with sweat.
My blood rushed in my veins.
“Actually, I think we’re good,” I said.
“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” Wugnot said, shifting into drive.
“WAAAAAAH!” cried Theo.
In unison, all the police and my neighbors turned their heads in our direction.
“She has the child,” one of them whispered.
“Drive!” I screamed.
Wugnot’s clawed foot slammed the gas.
Sheriff Heep grabbed at the van’s door handle, and I saw two fresh spider pricks on his wrist before we sped away from his reach.
Neighbors charged toward us with evil in their eyes. “Give us the child!”
Sweet old Mrs. McGillicuty snarled at us. She had the nicest rosebushes on the block, and now she wanted to kill me.
“They’re bit!” I screamed again. “They’re all bit!”
“Move it or lose it, folks,” Wugnot said calmly, looking over his shoulder.
The van flew backward, swerving across the street.
“Ahh!” I heard a cry from the back.
“Someone jumped on the van?” I said, looking out of the window.
Two legs swung out from behind the rear, flailing from side to side.
I’d recognize those sneakers anywhere.
“Victor?” I shrieked.
“Slow down!” Victor shouted, hanging on to the back of the van.
“Slow down!” I yelled at Wugnot.
Wugnot sped up.
Victor’s head poked out from around the back. He was clutching the small ladder on the back door.
“Wugnot, why didn’t you see him?”
“Windows are tinted so we don’t get any lookie-loos.” He shrugged. “That is very dangerous and stupid, pal! I’m telling your parents.”
“Hang on!” I clambered into the back.
Wugnot jerked to a stop as I flung open the door and Victor climbed inside.
“I jumped on when you drove off,” Victor said innocently.
“You idiot!” I said, shoving him away from my face. “You could’ve been hurt! What are you trying to prove?”
The police patrol car raced after us, sirens wailing.
“Quit smooching and close the doors,” Wugnot said.
His tail switched on the stereo, blasting heavy metal “Jingle Bells.” “Gonna need to do a little off-roading,” the wild hobgoblin said, glancing in the rearview. “Hang on to something.”
31
The van slammed across the marshes.
“Is a silver bullet really the only way to kill a werewolf?” Victor asked Wugnot. “I’ve always wondered.”
Wugnot growled and maneuvered us through the woods. “Little busy here, kid.”
“Have you met the Loch Ness monster? Is it real? I know it is.”
Branches scratched the metal doors, sounding like fingernails going down a chalkboard.
“Why you wanna be a babysitter, kid? You think it’s cool? ’Cause I got news for you. The cool-wow-neat factor wears off pretty quick.”
Victor thought about it for a moment. Then with a serious look he said, “Let’s just say, I don’t like bullies.”
I looked at Victor. He grew self-conscious.
“Fascinating story. Now put a sock in it, bub,” Wugnot grunted, tossing a bandanna into my hands.
“Sorry,” I said as I blindfolded Victor. “Protocol.”
Wugnot pulled a lever, and a high-pitched air horn played a tune. The gnarled trees and vines parted before us. Through the secret entrance, up the gravel drive, past the stables. I took the blindfold off Victor’s eyes.
“Whoa,” he said.
“You’re gonna start saying that a lot,” I said, grabbing a sleeping Theo into my arms and leading him into our headquarters. “Just don’t touch anything.”
“Whoa!” he said, walking past the training room and into the laboratory where Dawn was asleep on a gurney.
Berna was FaceTiming with her mother. “I checked all her vitals, Mom. Kelly! Wugs! Victor?” Berna’s eyebrow arched. “Well, hello, handsome.”
“Hi, Mrs. Vincent!” I waved at her mom on FaceTime.
“I heard you didn’t pass Heck Weekend,” Berna’s mom said.
“Great talking to you, too.”
Berna shot me an amused smile. “I see someone didn’t read Law Number Three.”
I elbowed Berna. Dawn’s heart rate monitor beeped. The bite on her neck was inflamed with sickly black-and-blue veins. Baby Theo sputtered awake.
A golden light shot down the chimney. In a burst of snowflakes, Penelope, the recon pixie, circled us in a flurry of chimes.
“Vee’s in danger!” Berna said.
“You speak Pixie?” I asked.
“Her and Cassie and Curtis are at . . .” Berna narrowed her eyes and studied Penelope.
“Hargrave Manor,” I said.
Cold fear twisted through me. Berna’s eyes went big with worry.
“Muummmaaaa?” Baby Theo said, reaching out for Dawn.
“She’s resting, little turtle. Berna’s going to make her better,” I said quietly.
I took the duct-taped salad bowl out of my backpack. “You said you might be able to make some kind of cure from the venom, right?” I asked. A rustling of lettuce skittered as the spider hissed inside.
I handed Theo to Victor and carefully peeled back the tape from the salad bowl.
“Grit of the Sandman, please,” I asked Berna.
Berna rummaged through a rack of potions and handed me a bottle with glowing green liquid. I squeezed a few drops into the bowl and explained to Victor that Grit of the Sandman was a monster potion that would knock most anything unconscious.
I carefully scooped out the spider from the wilted lettuce. My stomach gurgled into my throat. My swallow felt shallow. My head lulled forward. Everything got all woozy.
“You okay, Kells?” Berna said.
“I don’t like spuh-spuh—” I gagged before I could finish my sentence.
“You got arachnophobia?” said Berna, shaking her head. “Go eat some chips or something.”
“No,” I said, standing firm. Also I didn’t want to wimp out in front of Victor. “I gotta . . . get over this.”
Its leg twitched as I set it down, belly up, on a metal tray. I jumped back, furiously shaking my hands. Berna’s scalpel sliced open the spider’s abdomen with an unsettling squish.
“Deees-gusting,” Victor said, leaning closer.
“Gaah,” I said, swallowing a ball of hot nervous stomach juices that was burning my throat.
“Venom glands are usually located in the chelicerae or under the carapace.” Berna chomped on her gum as she poked around its slimy organs. “The ducts extend through the chelicerae and open near the tips of the fangs.”
“Fascinating,” said Victor with a giddy glint in his eye.
Berna snipped and sliced and then tweezed out a thick, juicy, purple venom sack dripping with slime. She blew a huge bubble that popped. “And there you have the venom gland.”
She dropped it into a petri dish and stuck a syringe into it.
“Don’t get any on you, and be very careful not to spill any,” said Berna. “We need to inject the toxin in very small, controlled doses into some kind of animal. Then we extract the resulting antibodies from the host animal’s blood and transfuse them into the patient.” Berna held the needle up to the light.
She spun toward me. Berna looked like a mad scientist. “Wanna volunteer?”
“Can’t you just try it out on Dawn?” I begged.
“I need clean blood to make the antidote. Dawn’s already infected.”
“Gimme a second. I gotta change Theo’s diaper,” I said, ducking out of the doorway.
I cleaned up Theo and laid him in a crib inside the nursery, locked the door from the outside, and then pulled a heavy cabinet in front of it when I heard Liz and Kevin down the ha
ll.
They were in the library. Following Kevin’s hand signals and grunts, Liz was drawing an outline of Hargrave Manor. Kevin shot to his feet, towering over me.
“Whoa, big fella,” I said, putting up my hands and blocking the library entrance. “Is he cool?”
“Cooler than you,” Liz smirked.
She pressed Play on her phone and pumped a pop-punk song, and Kevin’s eyes lit up.
“Music chills him out,” Liz said.
Bigfoot Boy’s giant feet stomped the ground. WHAM! WHAM!
“I’ll put that in the guide,” I said, stepping back so my toes didn’t get crushed.
Liz nodded to the Hargrave Manor drawing on the chalkboard. “Kevin knows a way that we can sneak inside,” Liz said.
“Wonderful. Come to the lab. Berna needs a volunteer.”
As I led Liz and Kevin down the hall, I tore a blank page out of my notebook and ripped it into little strips and folded them up. In the lab I held the pieces of paper to Berna, Victor, Liz, Kevin, and Wugnot. Liz spotted Victor, and her eyes narrowed.
“Check the guide, newb,” Liz said. “Law Number Three clearly states—”
I threw up my hands. “I know what it states! Everyone knows what it states! He’s been very helpful! Now could we please stop talking about it?”
“Thank you,” said Victor.
“Whoever draws the shortest strip has to be Berna’s guinea pig,” I said, quick to change the subject as I held up the papers.
Berna tapped the syringe. Kevin recoiled and ducked behind his sister.
Nice to know even eight-foot-tall beasts are afraid of needles.
Wugnot put up his hands. “Don’t look at me. Monsters got different blood. Who knows what happens if that stuff gets into my veins.” He left the lab in search of a snack.
“Swearsville one of us won’t get turned into Serena’s puppet?” I asked.
Berna shook her head tensely. “You won’t. But I can promise you’ll experience some nausea and flu-like symptoms.”
“Vomiting and sickness? Sign me up,” Liz joked, taking a strip of paper.
We unfolded them and glanced at one another . . . Victor chewed his lip.
“My lucky day,” he said.
A Babysitter's Guide to Monster Hunting [Book 2] Page 13
