Fiend of the Seven Sewers

by Steven Butler

  For my lovely friend Filip Krenus

  SB

  For Glebe Primary School, especially class 3 Lenton and Eloise Manwaring who designed the Giant Were-Rabbit on page 179

  SL X

  ROOM SERVICE

  ‘RUN, BANISTER BOY! FASTER!’ Princess Viscera Von Tangle yipped with glee as we whizzed round another corner of the tenth-floor corridors. ‘NOW, GO THIS WAY! AND THAT WAY! WOO-HOOOOO!’

  I was pushing the old food trolley and sprinting as fast as I could, while Viscera was standing on top, clutching tightly onto a pair of salt and pepper shakers like a demented charioteer, whooping as we bumped along.

  Of all the chores that Mum and Dad make me do around the hotel, delivering room service is definitely one of my new favourites, and not just because I get to clatter about the place with the wobbly wheeled trolley and an over-excited piskie princess.

  After all the DISASTERS we’ve had here lately, knocking on all the doors and seeing what our weird and wonderful guests are getting up to in their rooms feels HONKHUMPTIOUS. And in a place like The Nothing To See Here Hotel, the UK’s number-one holiday destination for magical creatures, you can bet your life that our customers aren’t doing anything boring, like playing tiddlywinks or taking a nap or reading a long book.

  Nope! Things are always bonkers around here. Weird is normal to my BRILLIANT family, let me tell you…

  Just last week, Mum knocked on the door of room 357 with a bowl of snatchling steaks and was nearly washed all the way back to reception in a flash flood! The geriatric puddle-nymph who was staying in there wasn’t in the mood to hobble down to the hotel pool and had decided to run all the taps, turning her bedroom into a luxury aquarium for one.

  Dad was furious. It took him and our team of home-sweet-home hobs an entire week to mop that mess up!

  So…

  Before we get stuck into the juicy bits of the story and in case we haven’t met before, this is probably a good moment to tell you that my name is Frankie, Frankie Banister. Hello!

  I know it sounds a bit loop-de-loop crazy, but I’m the sixth generation of the Banister/Bulches, a hugely-muddled bunch of humans and trolls, and all sorts of other magicals in between. I’ve stuck our family tree at the beginning of the book for you to have a look at, if you’re feeling nosier than an armful of ogre bogeys.

  Us lot have been living and working in The Nothing To See Here Hotel for well over one hundred years, ever since my great-great-great-grandad, Abraham Banister, fell in love with a honking brute of a troll, my great-great-great-granny, Regurgita Glump. They got married in a snog-a-lumptious ceremony down in the sewers under Brighton high street, and the rest is history. I swear I’m not fibbing!

  A century later, Granny Regurgita still lives in the tallest tower of the hotel, and the ghost of Grandad Abe recently checked back in from the land of the dead to stay with us.

  These days, the old spook mostly spends his time haunting the staircases and spouting romantic poetry to his warty wife while she’s grumbling in bed. Granny absolutely hates it, but Abraham is convinced she’s a total beauty-toot and won’t give up trying to woo her.

  Bleeuurrgh!

  Now, I know this all sounds very strange indeed, but it’s also very true – and if you haven’t read any of my books before now, then you’ve got a whoppsy load of catching up to do.

  This summer alone has seen underwater rollercoaster rides, goblin princes getting gobbled, screaming lawns, chicken-powered caravans, cursed dentures, skeleton mermaids, Trogmanay feasts ruined by marauding shrunken heads, whispering wallpaper, yetis arriving in a blistering blizzard, bones in a box, hypnotised ghosts, Arctic ulks, fountain statues springing to life… and that’s only the boring bits.

  I haven’t even filled you in about my great-great-uncle, Oculus Nocturne, returning from oblivion and trying to destroy the hotel and all my family –TWICE!

  I told you things were weird, huh?

  But stick around for a few more pages and you’ll see that it’s all about to get a WHOLE lot weirder.

  Don’t panic! I know it’s a lot to take in, but I can catch you up on all the gory details of my BONKERS uncle and the rest of the craziness as we go along, I promise.

  * * *

  Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes… room service! Already that night we’d dropped off a platter of dung-beetle doughnuts to Old Gringus the pine dryad in room 276, three huge bowls of sugar lumps to the Molar Sisters in room 581, and a sizzling skillet of curried mud-whifflers with extra-spicy mango chutney to Gladys Potts the werepoodle in room 863.

  ‘Where next, Viscera?’ I panted as we rounded a bend so fast the food trolley nearly hit the wall.

  ‘That’s Princess Viscera to you, quarterling!’ the tiny piskie snapped. ‘The blunking cheekiness!’

  ‘All right!’ I huffed, rolling my eyes and secretly smiling to myself.

  Ever since I’d rescued the princess at the bottom of the ocean and we’d made our escape from being eaten by a Gundiskump, I’d grown quite fond of Viscera Von Tangle – although I wouldn’t admit it to her. You see, there’s no denying she’s a snooty royal pain in the bumly-bits, but the tiny princess is actually lots of fun, especially when she comes along on the room-service rounds.

  Watching her squawking orders like she’s the most fearsome ruler in all the worlds, while holding on for her minuscule life between the salt and pepper, is rib-ticklish, if you ask me.

  ‘Where next, your most excellent highness?’ I tried again.

  ‘Wait, impatient boy! Give me a second!’ Viscera was standing on the piece of paper that Nancy, our giant spider-chef, had written all the deliveries, and she glanced down between her pea-sized feet to read for a moment.

  ‘ROOM 1043!’ she hollered in a voice barely louder than the trolley’s rusty wheels. ‘Squirrel-milk pancakes and a side of battered sea-cucumber nuggets. GO!’

  With that, I rattled the trolley round the next corner of the hallway, and we swerved just in time to avoid crashing into Maudlin Maloney as she was coming out of the mud spa, muttering to herself.

  ‘GAH!!’ the ancient leprechaun shrieked, flailing her stumpy tattooed arms as she fell back against the door, sending her pet chickens flapping in all directions. ‘What the BLUNKERS are you playin’ at, you wee eejit?’

  In her fluffy dressing gown covered in stains, with her ratty dreadlocks wrapped in a towel, Maudlin looked hilarious. It didn’t help that she had a green seaweed slime-pack smeared all over her face.

  ‘Umm… you look wonderful, Maudlin!’ I blurted, trying to think quickly and distract myself from giggling. ‘Very fresh and rested.’

  I’d have to be noggin-bonked to make fun of the grizzly old grunion at a time like this – or to stop running, for that matter. The tatty bad-luck fairy had been in a foul mood ever since her caravan-home had been grunched by the Gundiskump a few weeks ago, and even though Dad and our handyogre, Ooof, had built her a new cottage in the hotel gardens, she was still hopping mad and being a right grumpus about it.

  ‘THAT’S IT! I’ve had it! I ought to hex the bejingles out of yer!’ she squawked as we raced past. ‘And that pimple of a princess too! Don’t think I didn’t spot you there, Viscera Von DUNGLE!’

  ‘Sorry, Maudlin!’ I yelled over my shoulder, trying to speed up and get out of sight round the next bend before she started dishing out her worst spells. Only two days ago Maloney had put a curse on the painting of my great-aunt, Crumpetra Glump, that hangs in the foyer, because she thought it was looking at her rudely. The dusty portrait sprouted carbuncles and oozed disgusting yellow gloop all the way down the wall above reception, and I certainly didn’t want to suffer the same fate. ‘Have a lovely evening!’

 
‘You watch yourself, Frankie Banister!’ I heard Maudlin yell behind me. ‘You’re not too old for a smacked rump, donchaknow… and I smell trouble in the air tonight! Trouble for you!!’

  TROUBLE

  ‘Done!’ Viscera beamed, after we’d served the last plate of dinner to Reginald Blink. She looked up at me and grinned a mischievous grin. ‘Now for the exciting part, Banister boy!’

  ‘Let’s go!’ I cheered and pushed the cart back in the direction of the great staircase. All this running about delivering meals was totally worth it because of the ride back to reception. ‘Hold on to your crown!’

  I promise you, there is nothing more fun in the worlds than hopping on the back of the food trolley and clattering all the way down and around ten flights of spiral stairs to the ground floor below. The rusty old thing is under an enchantment to stop it from ever toppling over, so, no matter how rough and rumbly the ride gets, we always make it down in one piece. And it’s far better than walking. Haha!

  Run, run, run… turn left!

  Run, run, run… skid right!

  We had almost reached the tenth-floor landing, when…

  ‘FRANKIE!’

  A yell-a-phone receiver buzzed on the wall next to us.

  ‘FRANCIS BANISTER, ARE YOU THERE?’

  It was Mum’s voice. How did she always know exactly where to find me? If she wasn’t completely human, I’d swear Mum had magical locating powers.

  I looked down at Princess Von Tangle, who pulled a face and shrugged, then I stopped the trolley and walked nervously over to the trumpet-shaped contraption.

  Mum and Dad only ever call me Francis when they’re about to throw a wobbler and tell me off, so I knew this wasn’t going to be good news on the other end.

  ‘H-hello?’ I said in my most ‘WE HAVEN’T BEEN RACING WITH THE TROLLEY AGAIN’ voice. ‘Everything all right, Mum?’

  ‘Francis!’ Mum’s voice barked up the pipes from the kitchen. I could practically hear her scrunching her nose in temper. She always does that when she’s angry. ‘I’ve just had Maudlin on the yell-a-phone telling me that you and Viscera nearly squashed her flat in the hallway!’

  ‘No!’ I said. ‘It wasn’t like that…’

  ‘What have I told you about speeding in the corridors, young man? Imagine if you’d actually crashed into Maloney, of all people. She’d hex the entire hotel in a heartbeat! We’d all be chickens! CHICKENS WITH CARBUNCLES!’

  ‘I know, but…’

  ‘NO BUTS! Have you delivered all the room service?’

  ‘Yep!’ I said. ‘It’s all finished.’

  ‘Good!’ Mum snapped. ‘Now get back down to the kitchen this instant, Francis, and don’t you dare race that rusty cart about the place anymore. I mean it!’

  The yell-a-phone line clicked and went dead. So much for having fun…

  I groaned and turned back to Viscera, then slowly pushed the trolley across the landing to the top of the stairs.

  ‘Right, hop off,’ I said to the tiny piskie, holding out my hand for her to climb onto it. ‘Let’s go, Princess.’

  Normally, once all the room-service deliveries are finished and I’m being well behaved, I press a tiny button on the side of the trolley handle and the whole thing shrinks and curls itself into a little metal disk the size of a giblet-jam-jar lid. It’s a super handy bit of troll magic. That way I can pop it into my uniform pocket ready for next time.

  ‘Shan’t!’ Viscera scowled up at me, then folded her arms. ‘No!’

  ‘Come on, we’ve got to get downstairs pronto or Mum’s head will explode.’

  ‘We can go much faster if we – ’ she grinned and flicked her gaze in the direction of the stairs – ‘if… we… travel… on…’

  ‘We can’t!’ I half-gasped/half-whispered. ‘We’re already in a whoppsy load of trouble!’

  ‘Exactly!’ Viscera squeaked, pointing a tiny finger at me. Her eyes were wide with excitement. ‘You’re already in hot water… what’s a bit more? I’m your ruler and I demand it. LET’S GO, BANISTER BOY!!’

  MUM’S GONE WONKY

  The trolley wheels hit the black and white tiles of the reception floor with an ear-splitting squeal, then skid right out into the middle of the room.

  ‘Woo hoo!’ Viscera yelped, letting go of the salt and pepper shakers and twirling about. ‘That was our whooshiest one yet, I think.’

  I opened my eyes and glanced about the foyer. It was mostly quiet. Phew!

  Ooof was at the carved stone reception counter checking in a gaggle of scullery blights who were coming in to land on their rusted spoons and forks through an open window, and my great-great-aunt Zennifer had clomped and creaked down from her fountain-perch and was stretched out on a sofa, snoring.

  ‘Hello, Frankie!’ Ooof called with a toothy grin on his face. He waved one of his massive green arms and swatted an unfortunate scullery blight straight back out of the window. ‘You very fast tonight!’

  ‘Evening, Ooof!’ I replied, feeling myself relax. Our handyogre would never tell Mum we’d been racing again, and my great-great-aunt Zennifer was a statue and couldn’t speak. Apart from the family of impolumps we’d practically terrified to death as the trolley clattered around the staircase near the seventh-floor landing, I thought Viscera and I had got away with another terrific high-speed trolley dash.

  ‘Well done, me hearty!’ I growled to the little piskie princess in a voice like one of the heroes I’d seen in my Adventures of Captain Plank comic books. ‘Another honkhumptious adventure.’

  ‘I’m not your HEARTY!’ she scoffed as she straightened her paperclip crown. ‘I’m your leader, stupid quarterling!’

  I rolled my eyes and smiled to myself, hopped off the back of the trolley and started pushing it in the direction of the hallway that led to the kitchens. We’d barely passed the empty fountain in the middle of the spiral floor, when…

  ‘Frankie, darling, can you come in here for a moment?’

  It was Mum calling from the library. I stopped dead and felt the hairs prickle on the back of my neck.

  Why was Mum in the library?

  She must have rushed to reception and hidden to try and catch us in the act! There was no way she’d have missed us whizzing down the stairs with all the racket we were making.

  ‘Oh, squits!’ Viscera whispered. She folded her tiny arms and shook her head at me like I was the only one who’d disobeyed. ‘You’ve been well and truly rumpled, Banister boy. There’s going to be BIG TROUBLE for you.’

  ‘Hurry, darling, it’s important,’ Mum’s voice called again. ‘Come, come…’

  I pushed the trolley over to the library entrance, lifted Viscera down to the floor, then clicked the button on the metal handle. In an instant, the rickety cart twisted and shrank into a small metal disk and I tucked it into the front pocket of my jacket, where I keep my lucky piece of Gundiskump tooth and some folded photographs of my family.

  ‘Good fortune, quarterling,’ the princess squeaked as she peeked round the edge of the library archway.

  I nodded down to the tiny piskie, then peered round the corner too.

  ‘There you are, my little dove,’ Mum said when she spotted me. ‘I was waiting for such a long time.’

  LITTLE DOVE?! Mum had never called me that in my life. Occasionally, if I’ve ever done something MEGA-naughty and Mum is about to explode like a muskrumple with measles, she has this super-secret mum-weapon where she pretends everything is absolutely fine. Then, just when I relax and think I’m not in hot water… ROAR! SCREAM! POINT! HUFF! BLARG! I’ve been sent to my bedroom and I’m not allowed any seagull-snot ice cream with crumbly acorn topping after dinner for a week.

  If Mum was calling me ‘little dove’, it looked like I was about to witness the biggest strop-wobbler of the century.

  ‘Everything all right?’ I stammered.

  The library was completely dark and Mum was standing with her back to one of the high-arched windows.

  ‘What are you waiting for,
silly?’ she giggled. ‘Come closer.’

  I didn’t move. Being a kid with troll-blood in my veins, I can see perfectly well when the lights are off, but the street lamps and the flashing glow of Brighton Pier outside meant I could only make out Mum’s silhouette and… well… I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something wasn’t right. Her left shoulder was much higher than the right, and one of her feet was turned inwards.

  It looked like the time Mum pulled a muscle lifting Hoggit, my pet pygmy soot-dragon, and she had to lie down on a pack of frozen pronglepeas from Nancy’s freezer for days.

  ‘Frankie,’ Mum chuckled again. ‘I said come here, you sweet thing. I’ve got a surprise for you.’

  I still didn’t move. A strange tingle of fear crept up my spine and I felt the urge to return to the reception desk and get Ooof to come into the library with me.

  Glancing back to where Viscera had been standing near the archway, I saw she was now gone. I should have known that stern little stropling would abandon me to get into trouble on my own.

  ‘Frankie,’ Mum cooed like she was singing a nursery rhyme. ‘Come here.’

  ‘Are you feeling okay?’ I asked into the shadows. ‘Why are you standing in the dark?’

  ‘It’s a secret. I have an early birthday present,’ Mum’s silhouette said. ‘Me and Daddy took ages to pick it out. Don’t you want it?’

  A BIRTHDAY PRESENT!? Ha! So that’s what all this was about. I practically laughed out loud thinking how stupid I was for getting all worried. It made perfect sense now. Honktober 31st was only a week away. No wonder Mum was sounding so weirdly nice. This had obviously been a trick to get me downstairs for the grand unveiling of my pre-birthday prezzie.

  I hurried into the room, racking my brains for what it could be. I’d asked for a set of warp stones and a gravity-defying duvet cover so I could sleep on my bedroom ceiling. That would be AMAZING if my parents had actually got me—