SCREAM STREET
BLOOD OF THE WITCH
TOMMY DNBAVAND
Blood trickled down the vampire’s fangs. A long tongue flicked out and licked the sticky fluid from sharp glistening teeth. The vampire’s mouth twisted into a smile as it savoured the taste. It wanted more.
Lashing out, the vampire used its yellowing talons to tear another hunk of meat from the carcass. Pausing only to drench it in the nearby pool of blood, the creature bit into strips of flesh, veins and tendons swinging below its salivating jaw. Suddenly a cry rang out.
“Dad! Leave some for everyone else!”
Alston Negative glanced around the dinner table and slowly placed the chicken wing back onto his plate. “Sorry,” he mumbled, shamefaced.
Resus Negative, the vampire’s son, reached inside his electric-blue-lined cape and produced a knife and fork. Handing them to his father, he added, “And you know you should be using cutlery when we have visitors.”
As Alston fumbled with the unfamiliar tools, Resus nudged his friend, Luke Watson. “You don’t make that much mess when you eat — and you’re a werewolf!”
Luke grinned as he watched the older vampire push the chicken wing off his plate, catapulting potatoes across the black dining-room carpet.
“Being a vampire does have its advantages,” joked Alston, leaping from his chair. “When I’m tired of biting necks, I double as a vegetable rack!” He pecked at the carpet and reappeared with a potato stuck to each fang.
“Dad,” groaned Resus, embarrassed. “You’re not funny!”
Luke roared with laughter and turned to his parents to share the joke. His face fell when he realized that the get-together hadn’t worked. His mum and dad were still terrified of their vampire neighbours.
“A toast!” beamed Alston, pulling the potatoes from his teeth and raising a glass of wine. “To the Watsons, and your first week in Scream Street!”
“The Watsons!” echoed Resus, lifting his tumbler of milk. He clinked it against Luke’s and drank deeply, his fangs tinkling against the rim of the glass. Instead of drinking his own milk, Luke reached out to take his mum’s trembling hand and guide it towards her wine.
Mrs Watson forced a smile. “Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely.
Luke and Resus shared a glance. Luke’s family had been moved to Scream Street by G.H.O.U.L., Government Housing Of Unusual Life-forms, after he had transformed into his werewolf form and attacked a school bully. Since then his parents had lived in a state of sheer terror.
In order to open a doorway back to his own world, Luke had begun the search for six relics left behind by the community’s founding fathers: their combined power was Luke’s only hope for taking his family home The first relic, a vampire’s fang, was now locked away in a golden casket under his bed.
“Now,” said Bella Negative as she entered carrying a jug of thick red liquid, “who wants more blood on their meat?”
Mr Watson stared at the jug and paled. “I think I’m going to be sick …”
“I’ll get you some water,” said Luke, racing into the kitchen. Reaching for the cold tap, he stopped. The sink had three taps. “Resus!” he called.
The young vampire hurried in. “You summoned me?” he teased.
“Which one is cold water?” Luke asked.
“Isn’t it obvious?” replied Resus. He gestured from left to right. “Hot water, cold water, blood.”
“Blood?” exclaimed Luke. “You’ve got a tap for blood?”
“Of course,” said Resus. “How else do you think vampires get their fix? We need a regular supply.” He spun the tap, allowing a torrent of crimson blood to flow out into the sink. It spattered against the stainless steel, leaving behind small clots and scabs as it raced for the plughole.
“B-but a tap?” stammered Luke. “Where does it come from?”
“Whenever anyone has a nosebleed or a cut finger and they rinse the blood away, it ends up in the sewer system,” explained Resus. “The blood is filtered out and fed to vampires around the world.”
“That’s disgusting!”
“No more disgusting than how our ancestors used to get it.” Resus opened his mouth and bared his fangs at Luke with a hiss.
Bella Negative appeared behind him. “Getting a drink of blood?” she asked, ruffling her son’s hair.
“Luke knows I’m a normal like his mum and dad,” Resus sighed. “He knows I’m not a real vampire!” He unclipped his false fangs and rinsed them briefly under the water before re-attaching them to his teeth. Suddenly the stream of blood stopped, the last remaining drips pattering against the sink.
“That’s odd,” said Resus. He opened the cupboard under the sink and reached past boxes of coffin polish and fang-whitener to check the stopcock.
Luke crouched down beside him. “Maybe there’s a safety drive on and people have stopped grazing their knees,” he grinned.
“I hope not,” said Resus. “My dad gets really cranky without his daily pint!”
“Er, Luke,” called Alston from the dining room, “I think your parents are ready to go home now.”
Luke stood and turned to see his mum smiling bravely, his dad’s arm tight around her shoulders. “I’ve got to take them away from here,” he said quietly to Resus. “They’re never going to be happy as long as we’re in Scream Street.”
“You mean …?” began the young vampire.
Luke nodded. “It’s time to find the second relic.”
The following morning, Luke was examining the fang of the ancient vampire Count Negatov when a bandaged hand snatched it from his fingers. “Hey!” he shouted.
“I just want a look,” said the small Egyptian mummy. “I went through a lot to help you get that!” Cleo Farr was the third member of the relic-hunting team.
“Fresh air at last!” gasped a voice. With a smile, Luke reached inside the golden casket and retrieved Skipstone’s Tales of Scream Street. The face of its author, Samuel Skipstone, gazed up from the book’s silver cover.
“I appreciate the need for security,” it announced, “but do you have to keep me in this infernal box? It stinks!”
“Well, it did contain my lungs for nearly six thousand years,” said Cleo.
“Six thousand years?”
“They were removed before I was mummified,” explained Cleo. “I expect anyone’s insides would pong after that long!”
“I’m sorry, Mr Skipstone,” apologized Luke, “but for the time being this is the best place for you.”
“Yes,” agreed Cleo. “You don’t want to be found by Sir Otto again.”
Skipstone scowled. “The sooner this street is released from the grip of that vile man, the better,” he said. “If he were to find the relics of the founding fathers, he could make the lives of the residents a misery. You must keep me safe.”
Cleo poked her tongue out at the book through her bandages. “So, what do you reckon to my smelly casket now?”
The author smiled. “I shall bear my troubles with fortitude!”
“It’s only until we’ve found all the relics,” said Luke.
“I understand,” said Samuel Skipstone. “And I trust you have returned to ask the location of the gift of the second founding father?”
Luke nodded. “My mum and dad are unhappy. I have to take them home.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for Resus?” asked Cleo.
Luke checked his watch. Despite the stars flickering outside the window, it was actually only ten o’clock in the morning. The constant state of night that hung over Scream Street was playing havoc with his sense of time.
“He promised to be here first thing,” said Luke. “I’m sure he won’t mind if we start without him just once.”
Skipstone�
�s Tales of Scream Street opened itself and flipped through pages of handwritten articles, menus and experiments.
“Read carefully, my friends,” said its author.
Luke and Cleo watched as the book stopped at an article detailing the various uses of bat’s brains. Slowly the writing began to disappear, revealing hidden text beneath. They leant closer.
“Up above where deals are done,” said Cleo. “I wonder where—”
Before she could get any further, the bedroom door crashed open and Resus ran in.
“Guys,” he panted. “Something’s happened to my dad!”
“What?” demanded Luke.
Resus tried to catch his breath. “He’s gone missing!”
“It can’t be that bad,” said Luke as he, Resus and Cleo hurried along Scream Street. “He’s only been without blood since last night. Less than twenty-four hours.”
“Trust me,” said Resus, “my dad gets withdrawal symptoms. I swear he looked at my neck and licked his lips as I went to bed last night.”
“Isn’t it against vampire law to drink from your own family?” asked Cleo.
Resus nodded. “He’s desperate, though. My mum said he went out just after midnight and didn’t come back. We’re hoping Everwell’s Emporium will have something we can use to track him down. She’s waiting at home in case he comes back.”
“Isn’t your mum affected too?” said Luke.
Resus shook his head. “She’s been on a low-blood diet for years,” he replied. “It’ll take a lot longer for the effects to kick in with her.”
Luke pushed open the shining silver doors to the general store that stood on Scream Street’s central square. A bat perched above the door let out a shriek to announce the arrival of new customers. The emporium was empty.
“Where’s Eefa?” asked Cleo.
“No idea,” said Luke, “but I know where her latest batch of sweets is!” He snatched a sample of toffee from the counter and popped it into his mouth. “Mmm!”
“Look,” said Resus. “The storeroom’s open.”
Cleo glanced up from the make-up display where she was busy applying a deep pink blusher to the bandages on her cheeks. “She must be in there.”
Resus led the way through the back of the shop and found, among the boxes, an open manhole in the middle of the storeroom. “Eefa!” he shouted.
“Down here!” came the reply. Luke, Resus and Cleo crowded around the hole in the floor and peered into the darkness.
“What are you doing in the sewer?” called Cleo.
A candle appeared below the hole. The flame flickered beside Eefa Everwell’s flawless skin and glinted against her long white hair. As always, Luke was struck by how beautiful she was. He knew it was just an enchantment charm, but as he gazed at her he knew he would forgive Eefa anything.
“My blood supply has stopped,” complained the witch. “I hoped I might find the problem down here, but I can’t see anything in this candlelight.”
“I thought it was just vampires that had a blood supply,” said Resus.
Eefa climbed back up through the manhole. “I use blood in all sorts of potions and recipes,” she said. “It makes my home-made toffee nice and sticky, for one.”
Cleo laughed as Luke spat out his half-chewed sweet, realizing there was something he wasn’t prepared to forgive Eefa for after all.
“It’s the perfect dye for my blusher, too,” added Eefa.
Now it was Luke’s turn to laugh as Cleo rubbed furiously at the spreading pink stains on her cheeks.
“Whatever the fault is, I can’t find it,” sighed the witch.
“Our supply’s off too,” said Resus. “But we’ll take a look if you want.”
Cleo went first, carefully avoiding the old tree roots that had pushed through the walls of the stone pipe. She held the ladder steady for Luke and Resus to join her in the darkness. “We need some light,” she said.
“Voilà!” announced Resus, pulling a flaming wooden torch from his cape.
“I’m telling you,” said Luke. “You could make a fortune selling those cloaks. Where I’m from, there’s this thing called the Internet …”
Resus and Cleo didn’t reply. Instead they stood frozen to the spot, staring at the thousands of pairs of eyes now reflecting the flickering torchlight. They were surrounded by rats.
“Ugh,” shrieked Luke. “I hate these things. He swung a leg out towards the rats, shouting, “Go on, shoo!” The creatures didn’t move.
“They’re not so bad,” said Cleo, crouching down and extending her fingers towards them. “We used to have a family of rats in my tomb. So long as they don’t consider you a threat, they’ll leave you alo—”
She screamed. One of the rats had leapt forward and nipped her hand with its sharp teeth.
“I guess that one considers you a threat, then,” grinned Resus.
“What did it do that for?” demanded Cleo, rubbing at her fingers.
“It’s a rat,” replied Luke. “It doesn’t need an excuse to bite you.”
“That’s not it,” said Resus, holding out the torch to scare the rat back to its pack. “Something’s spooked them and they’re defending their territory.”
“Look!” hissed Cleo, pointing further down the sewer pipe. A figure moved in the shadows. Its pale face shone briefly in the torchlight, then it turned and ran.
“Who was that?” said Resus.
“And what are they doing down here in the dark?” added Luke.
“I don’t know,” said Cleo, “but it’s possible they’ve got something to do with the blood supply being disconnected. Let’s go after them!”
Luke gestured towards the swarm of rats still blocking their way. “Be my guest!”
As Cleo strode towards the rodents she was rewarded with another bite, this time on her toe. “There must be a way to get past!” she snapped.
Resus sighed. “Leave it to the vampire again.” He reached inside his cloak and pulled out a large black cat.
“No way!” said Cleo.
“Why not?” asked Resus. “It’s perfectly normal for me to have a metre-long piece of burning wood in my cloak, but when I pull out a cat, it’s unusual?” With a grunt he hurled the cat among the pack of rats.
The effect was instant. Squealing, the rats scattered in every direction as they tried to avoid the hissing animal. The cat caught one of the slower rodents in its mouth, shaking the creature violently from side to side until it stopped wriggling.
Then, with a yowl, it raced into the darkness after the others.
Resus bowed to Luke and Cleo. “After you,” he grinned.
The sewer pipe ended in an old rusted metal door, secured by a heavy latch.
Luke glanced down at a grille in the floor which was designed to carry waste water deeper underground. The concrete around the hole had broken away, and a clump of black fur clung to the ragged stone. “Unless whoever it was squeezed through that gap like the cat did, they went through this door.”
“It doesn’t look as though it’s been opened for years,” said Resus, running his hands over the rough surface. Rust crumbled away beneath his fingertips.
“Well, it must have been,” said Luke. “And if we want to find out who else is down here with us, it’ll have to open again now.”
Lifting the latch, Luke, Resus and Cleo pressed their shoulders against the door and pushed. Slowly, it began to open. Once there was room to squeeze through, Luke slid a block of concrete up against the door to wedge it open.
The smell inside the room was dreadful. Cleo screwed up her nose. “What is that?” she asked.
Resus held up the torch to find out. Machinery filled most of the room, with engines and control panels from floor to ceiling. Lying around the base of the machines were dozens of dead rats.
Resus took a step into the room. “Be careful you don’t slip …” he began before the torch was knocked out of his hand. It clattered to the ground, the fire extinguishing with a hiss as it landed in a
mound of rodent droppings.
“Stay away!” screamed a voice.
“I’m warning you,” shouted Resus, “we’re armed! We’ve got a werewolf, and we’re not afraid to use him!” The vampire’s fingers touched something and he clutched tightly to an unseen arm. “Luke, I’ve got him!”
“You idiot!” bellowed Cleo. “That’s me!”
“Sorry!”
Luke felt a figure brush past him and he grabbed what felt like a wrist in the darkness. “Got you!”
The figure lashed out. An elbow made contact with Luke’s stomach and he crumpled to the floor, groaning as a familiar feeling began to wash over him.
“Luke?” said Cleo. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m … I’m starting to change,” gasped Luke.
“I can’t find you,” said Resus. “Keep talking! Cleo — find the torch.”
Luke tried to speak but couldn’t form any sounds. “I’m … here …” he mouthed. The words swam around his mind as his consciousness began to drift away. His skull stretched into a new, longer shape. Sharp fangs burst through his gums, pushing his own teeth aside as they fought to be free.
It was another of the partial transformations Luke had begun to experience since arriving in Scream Street. Only one part of his body would change to that of a werewolf. This time it was his head.
A thin film spread across Luke’s eyes and he found that he could now see more clearly in the darkness. Cleo was feeling for the torch while Resus pulled item after item from his cloak, searching for something with which to relight it.
A sound caused Luke’s head to snap round. The man was in front of him, turning the dials on the front of the largest machine. Luke pounced, knocking him to the floor.
“Please don’t hurt me!” the figure begged.
“Luke, stop!” yelled Resus. “I know that voice!”
A match hissed and the room was flooded with light as the torch burst into life. Cleo gasped.
Lying on the floor beneath Luke was Alston Negative.
Resus moved the torch closer. “Dad?”
Blood of the Witch Page 1
