“Unbelievable,” growled Liz, and she jumped on her moped.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Uh, y’know,” I said. “Could be better.” I looked at Liz and pointed at the phone.
“Some of the guys are going to a midnight movie. Maybe . . . can you come?” he asked.
“A movie?” I said aloud so Liz could hear. I thought maybe Victor inviting me on a sort-of, kind-of date might cheer her up, give her hope, but she did not share my enthusiasm.
She sped off on her moped. Through the cloud of exhaust blasting in my face, I saw her red taillight streak into the dark road, stranding me in the middle of nowhere.
“Uh. Can I call you back?”
I hung up the phone and ran. The glass lens slipped out of my hand and fell into the grass. I rummaged through the brush, found the heavy disk, jammed it into my pocket, and ran after Liz’s vanishing taillight, flailing my arms like a foolio.
Yep. Just a kid.
26
“Liz! Wait!”
I felt the flashlight bobble around in my backpack as I darted after the moped.
I am going to be in so much trouble. My phone battery is going to die again, and my only hope of a ride is speeding away from me. Then I’ll be lost in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by monsters.
“PLEASE!” I screamed out, my voice cracking.
My lungs were on fire. The whine of Liz’s moped brakes bounced off a long fence made of rocks and slate ringing the edge of a field. Her red taillight illuminated the plume of exhaust rising before a large apple orchard. I hunched over to catch my breath.
“Dude, are you serious?” I shouted.
Liz clasped her hands, mockingly. “‘I’m not weird, Victor. I’m just trying to go to Camp Cool Kids.’ Me, me, me,” Liz snapped, jabbing her finger at me. “The whole night that’s you. You’re just like everyone else. You don’t care.”
I swiped her hand away.
“I do too care,” I said.
Liz leveled her eyes at me with laser-like intensity. “I’ve been sitting for Jacob ever since he was six months old. He’s like my little brother. He’s the only family I’ve got. But to you he’s just a trip to Camp Miskatonic. So go to your movie, Kelly. Go suck up to the cool kids.”
“I’m sorry about what happened to your brother. That must be the worst thing ever—”
“You have no idea—”
“What it feels like when no one cares about you?” I shot back, heart pouring into my mouth. “Like you’re invisible? Yeah, I wouldn’t have a clue how that feels, Liz.” I made a sarcastic sneer at her, but in my mind, I was flooded with memories of walking alone in the halls of Willow Brook Middle School, feeling like a ghost.
She looked at me, a flicker of understanding and thankfulness softening her eyes, but then something in her reached up and dragged her back down into the darkness. “I don’t need you,” she retorted, scowling. “I don’t need anyone.”
“Yeah. You do.”
Liz’s upper lip curled into a cruel smirk. “Unlike you, I don’t need people to tell me I’m awesome. I know I’m awesome.”
I was in her face now, yelling. If she punched me in the nose, fine. I wasn’t afraid of her anymore.
“Oh yeah? Well—well—you’ve been hanging out with monsters so long you turned into one!” I shouted.
Lightning crackled. It sounded like the sky was being ripped apart over our heads.
“You and me!” Liz shouted over the coming thunderstorm. “We’re over.” She sliced the air with her hand.
“You and me”—my voice cracked—“were never even a thing!”
In a flash of lightning, the wooden sign nailed among the apple trees glowed bright: “Dunwich Farms.” Another flash of light revealed a dark figure on a distant branch, propped up on one elbow. Its long legs ticked back and forth. Its yellow eyes smiled at us. The sky faded to black.
“And don’t even think about applying for the Order of the Babysitters.” Liz was screaming at me. “I’ll make sure you never get in.”
“Liz,” I said, keeping my eyes on the tall creature in the trees.
Hooves for feet.
A sick, runny feeling sliding down my guts.
“I’m not talking to you,” she said, gunning the moped’s engine.
My hand shot out, grabbed her, and turned her to face the orchard.
KRAKA-BAM!
I pointed at the branch where the Grand Guignol had been reclining. A fork of lightning sent the trees flickering with electric fire. The perch was empty.
27
Thunder marched. Wind reeled flecks of ice and hail, stinging my cheeks.
“‘The two little kittens, they lost their mittens, /And they began to cry.’”
That voice. I knew that low, crooning voice. . . .
“‘What! Lost your mittens, you naughty kittens! Then you shall have no pie.’”
A memory of hooves stepping from my closet. A tail snaking in the air.
Hooves. Clopping across the branches, cracking dead leaves and twigs.
My breath shuddered into cold plumes. The distant figure sprang off his haunches and scuttled up a tree trunk. He pranced across the branches with the poise of a dancer.
“Hello, little girls,” said the goat-legged demon. “Or should I say, young ladies?”
I had seen this monster before. He had come for me once. And now he was back to collect.
“It’s him,” Liz said, stiffening.
My heart broke for her. The last time she saw this creature, it was stealing her little brother and destroying everything she loved. I stood beside Liz so this guy would know that we were a team.
“‘Meow, meow, meow, We smell a rat close by!’”
THUMP. He dropped onto the dead grass and skipped toward us. I looked to Liz for her big brilliant plan of action. Her hand snaked into her backpack.
“Where’s my zapper?” she whispered.
“I dropped it back at Peggy Drood’s,” I said out of the side of my mouth. “Sorry.”
A frustrated breath shot from Liz’s clenched teeth. From her pack she removed a brass tube engraved with dragons. There was a cap with a chain corked into the top.
“Grand Guignol!” Liz shouted.
“You got me, baby,” he said, shaking his hips, holding out his arms.
Liz aimed the brass cylinder up at the Grand Guignol.
“As commanding babysitter of the Rhode Island chapter of babysitters, I—I—hereby demand you return Jacob Zellman to our care immediately!” she yelled, voice wavering.
The slender monster paused. He sniffed the air and cocked his head at the brass object in Liz’s hand.
“Is that you, little Lizzie?” he sneered.
Liz swallowed. She struggled to hold up the quaking tube.
“Couldn’t be. Not this . . . dark, sad little creature I see before me,” he said, the words oozing out of his mouth.
My fingers curled into fists. I hated his mocking tone and cruel smile. I wanted to grab him by his chicken wattles and punch his face, but I was too frightened to move.
“What did you do with Kevin?” Liz whispered.
“Kevin . . . Kevin . . . let’s see . . . ,” he said, putting his finger on his lip. “So many children, you see. Ah! Kev. How could I forget. Little Kev.”
He stared at Liz, lingered on her sadness, and he laughed a meaty, deep chuckle that shook my spine.
“What did you do to him?” she screamed, aiming the dragon-covered weapon at the Grand Guignol.
With a wicked smile, he sprang back on his hands, arcing gracefully tail over head, vanishing deeper into the dark orchards. Liz gunned the moped past the stone wall. Holding the brass tube, she veered down the corridor of rotted apples.
I chased after her. “LIZ!”
Deep in the cathedral of trees, the Grand Guignol vaulted from branch to branch like a ballerina. Liz’s moped stopped in a swish of mud. She aimed her strange cylinder up and yanked back on the
chain. I was running to Liz’s side when a loud flash of purple light exploded from the end of the tube. Everything went bright, and we were thrown backward by the blast.
A steady ringing filled my ears. Branches and rocks cascaded all around us. The air smelled like sulfur and roasted apples. Fire crackled through the trees. I choked in the smoke curling in the blazing orchard.
“What was that?” I gasped. My voice sounded small and far away.
“Chimera dragon breath,” Liz mumbled. “Emergencies only. Where is he?”
Black shapes rose behind the wall of flames. The ground trembled with the thundering of hooves. Liz snatched me by the backpack and yanked me to my feet as skeletal horses crashed through the towering fire, dragging a black carriage. The Grand Guignol was clutching the reins, cracking a long whip.
“Holy shiitake mushrooms,” I said.
The horses barreled toward us, trees cracking under their powerful steps. Liz cranked the gas on her moped. The back tire shot mud as it spun around.
“Hop on,” Liz said.
The fire roared behind us. We launched away from the heat of ripping embers.
The Grand Guignol stood atop the carriage, snapping the reins. The horses’ galloping hooves left the ground. In a rush of dark wind, the entire carriage flew over our heads.
The Grand Guignol leaned down from his soaring perch, caught Liz’s backpack, and hauled her up into his clutches. Toadies clawed at her from inside the flying carriage, yanking her into a dark cage.
“Liz!” I screamed.
The moped, short a driver, veered sharply to the left, launching out of the orchard and toward the edge of a sea cliff.
I jumped off as the moped dove over the side, tumbling down and smashing into the jagged rocks and water. I hung from the side of the precipice, fingers and toes jammed into the dirt wall. Misty waves smashed two hundred feet below. Sea spray dampened the legs of my jeans.
Don’t look down. Don’t you dare look down.
My whole body shook as I dug my hands into the mud and began pulling myself up. I clamored over the dirt wall and flopped onto the weeds, chugging air. I lay on the cold ground and stared up into the stormy sky, watching helplessly as the phantom carriage vanished into the thick clouds above.
Over the roar of the waves and the crackling fire raging in the orchard, I heard the high-pitched laugh familiar from my nightmares: the stomach-turning cackle of the Boogeyman.
28
Ashes fluttered from the smoke-choked sky. Wind shrieked through the pines as I stumbled down a long, dark road, away from the ocean. I held Berna’s business card in my trembling hands. Only 1 percent battery was left on my phone. I wanted to call Tammy and tell her everything that had happened, but she wouldn’t understand. I wanted to tell my parents, but they would freak out.
An avalanche of texts shook my phone.
Victor:
That was crazy.
These were followed by more frantic texts from Victor throughout the night that I had missed while dragging Liz from the killer cats.
R U OK?
I’m worried
Kelly
U alive?
C U @ movies?
Wow, I thought. His texting game is bad.
I quickly opened Google Maps and texted my location to Berna right as my phone died. My reflection stared at me from the dark glass of my blank screen. Black circles hung under my eyes. My hair was in sad, hopeless tangles.
I was a million miles away from home. I never felt so alone and small before in my entire life. Every part of me wanted to scream and curl into a little ball by the side of the road. Maybe a neighbor saw the fire and called the cops. Maybe they’ll be here any minute with a nice loud fire truck.
Neighbor? Look around, Kelly! The only thing that lives out here is probably some seven-headed cougar or a killer with an ax.
My feet stopped. I tried to walk, but they just wouldn’t move.
Liz is gone. You lost her too.
Life seemed cruel and unfair. The bad guys won. The good guys never even stood a chance.
I clamped my eyelids shut and inhaled a shaking breath. Crickets and wind-whispers surrounded me. I listened for that voice within myself, the one that sounded like Mother Earth, the one that had helped me survive Peggy Drood’s cats, but all I heard was my own frightened, tiny voice.
Liz is gone. Jacob is gone. And it’s all your fault.
A roar blasted through the trees. I jumped off the side of the road and hid behind the stone fence as the howling and shrieking of what sounded like a parade of screaming goblins rumbled toward me.
When I peeked over the edge, I saw an old 1994 black Ford van with a large metal plow welded on the front bumper screech around the corner. There were cages around the windows, and iron racks on the roof.
The devilish screaming was old-school rock ’n’ roll exploding from the van’s speakers. And not the lame stuff my dad listened to. This was nasty and shrill. The music shrieked, “Stayed awake all night! Stayed awake all night!”
The driver slammed on the brakes. I held my breath and gathered dead leaves over me. Camouflage was my only hope. I heard the van’s side door roll back with a bang.
I listened, waiting for heavy footsteps to crunch across the gravel.
Please, no, no, no.
Images of the fighting how-tos from the guide flashed in my brain. The Whispering Nanny. Rock the Cradle. Birthday Party Surprise.
My muscles coiled, ready to spring. Whoever was inside the creepy van was going to feel the full wrath of my anger in a serious knuckle sandwich.
“HIIIYAH!” I screamed, and vaulted myself up, throwing out my fist.
A woman in her midtwenties, with a long serpent’s braid of hair, flung around to face me. Her hand caught my wrist and yanked me forward. I kicked, but she blocked me and stamped her palm into my chest, sending me stumbling back into the fence.
“Sit,” said the woman. She wore a hooded robe over a pair of worn-out denim overalls.
I held my shaking fists up, slowly realizing that this woman looked familiar. Though she was in her twenties, her hair was silver and gray, like a wolf’s coat. And she wasn’t wearing any shoes. I made out heart and star tattoos on the tops of her feet. Her eyes were bright green and beautiful. She held out her empty hands in a gesture of peace.
“Nice moves, kiddo,” she said, dimples flashing.
I blinked.
“Kiddo” . . .
“My old babysitter used to call me kiddo.” I gasped for breath, lowering my fists.
She threw her three-foot-long braid of silvery white hair behind her shoulder. Crystals and amulets around her necklace clanked.
“Who you calling old?” she said, hands on her hips. She cartwheeled lazily back over the fence, where the giant black van purred like a wicked cat.
“Veronica . . . Preston?” I gasped. “You’re Mama Vee?”
29
I let out a goofy, excited laugh and embraced her. I’d never been happier to see anyone ever, especially my old babysitter. “How?” I mumbled.
Veronica Preston, aka Mama Vee, glanced into the dark woods. “Where’s Liz?”
My breath caught in my throat. “She’s gone. Jacob’s gone.”
Mama Vee’s eyes bulged. “Get in,” she said.
I sat on a beanbag in the back of the van, which was surprisingly cozy compared to its military-grade outside. It was like a traveling gypsy den. Vee climbed in after me, rolled the side door shut, and the van rocketed forward. The sound of birds’ wings rattled from the back of the vehicle as it shot off.
A throaty voice from the driver’s seat mumbled, “Where’s LeRue?”
We were not alone in the van.
Mama Vee peered out of a periscope in the back of the van wall. “Somewhere we gotta be, Wuggie,” she replied. “Get the others and step on it.”
I watched a leathery tail snake out from the driver’s seat and wrap itself around the stick shift. The van kicked forw
ard. I froze and stared at the back of the driver’s seat as the nub end of the thick green tail pressed a button. Heavy metal exploded in the van, and I jolted in my seat.
“Turn it down!” Mama Vee shouted over the music.
I carefully leaned forward to see a squat hobgoblin with his scaly, three-fingered hands on the wheel. His nostrils flared, with a gold ring pierced in the center, like a bull. A gnarled horn poked out of his “We’re #1” trucker hat.
My jaw hung open, and I pointed dumbly at the hobgoblin.
His head snapped around to face me so fast that the gold ring in his nose shook, like a door knocker.
“Check yer guide,” he said in a ragged, gravelly voice. “Point a finger at a hobgoblin, and it might get bitten off.” His crooked tusks snapped at me. I pulled away and Mama Vee laughed.
“He’s kidding,” she said, squeezing his chunky, lizard-skin arm. “Been blood-free seven years, right, Wugnot?”
“Eight if you don’t count that relapse,” Wugnot muttered.
His tail pulled his hat down lower over his eyes. Mama Vee gave me an assuring nod. “Not all monsters are evil.”
I nodded along with her, but inside I was freaking out.
NAME: Wugnot (WUG-not)
HEIGHT: 3’
WEIGHT: 184 lbs
TYPE: Hobgoblin
ORIGIN: Truck stop off Route 39
WEAKNESSES: TERRIBLE driver
SMELL: His feet smell like patchouli and stinky cheese.
SIGHTINGS: Usually with Mama Vee or in the basement of Sitter HQ
ALLIES: The other members of the Order of the Babysitters
The van pitched as we turned another corner. I heard an angry chirp come from a box covered in cloth. I tried to get a better look at it, but Mama Vee cleaned the dirt off my face with a baby butt–wipe. She removed a kettle bubbling in the kitchenette and poured me a cup of hot tea. My insides warmed with the flavor of cinnamon and honey.
“Talk to me,” she said, tossing me a bag of homemade cookies.
Only when I crammed the cookies into my mouth did I realize just how hangry I was. I handed her Jacob’s drawing of the cloven-hoofed Boogeyman.
A Babysitter's Guide to Monster Hunting Page 13
