The Monster Hunter

by Guy Bass

  “An EXPLORDER?” the Creature interrupted.

  “Uh, yes!” said Stitch Head.

  “She TRANQUINIZED me?”

  “Well, yes, she—” said Stitch Head.

  “Because she thought I was MONSTROUS?” said the Creature.

  “Yes!” cried Stitch Head.

  The Creature scratched its chin with its third arm, and looked thoughtful (or thoughtfully confused). Finally, it beamed and cried, “I KNEW it! I’m the BEST at Let’s Pretend We’re Monsters!” it boomed.

  With that, it bounded back up the stairs, roaring and growling with gleeful madness.

  “Now where’s it going?” huffed Arabella, taking off her hat and wiping her brow.

  “Creature, wait!” Stitch Head cried. They all sped after it, but the Creature’s great bounding steps took it to the top of the stairs in moments. Then, as they emerged from the stairwell, they heard a familiar…

  …And watched the Creature slump to the floor once again.

  “No…” Stitch Head whispered. “No, no, no…”

  “Great thunder, the brute broke my rope and tried to eviscerate me!” Dotty said with a yawn, looming over the unconscious Creature, pistol in hand. “And before I’ve even had my first cup of tea. What a marvel of monstrousness! What a perfect example of—”

  “What is this terrible noise?” said Ivo. “It cannot be Creature’s tap dancing because Creature is unconscious.”

  Stitch Head recognized the sound immediately. Something was hammering against the Great Door – wall-shaking thuds he could feel in his teeth.

  Grotteskew was under attack!

  “Oh good, they’re here,” Dotty cried. “And about time, too!”

  “Let’s get that door open while it’s still in one piece, shall we?” grinned Dotty Dauntless, following the din through the castle.

  “Open the Great Door? We – we can’t!” Stitch Head cried. He hurried after her, instinctively reaching for the key he wore concealed around his neck. “No visitors! No visitors! No visitors!”

  “Fret not, little Scamp, they won’t be staying long!” said Dotty, striding through the courtyard as Arabella, Ivo and Pox caught up with them.

  “Ain’t no one opening nothing, Stitch Head,” Arabella said. “That door’s locked tight and we’re the only ones with keys. Yours is around your neck and mine’s safe where I left it in … um… Now, where did I leave it?”

  “Under your pillow!” Dotty bellowed, brandishing Arabella’s key as she reached the castle door.

  “Blimey,” said Arabella, pushing her hat up on her head. “She’s good.”

  Dotty pushed Arabella’s key into the lock and turned it with a CRUNCH and a CLANK.

  “Don’t—!” cried Stitch Head, racing for the door as Dotty swung it open.

  In an instant, a huge monstrous tentacle reached through the doorway and wrapped itself around Stitch Head’s chest. He was immediately hoisted into the air and shaken from side to side, his borrowed bones rattling almost as much as the potion bottles in his bag.

  “Stitch Head!” screamed Arabella and Ivo.

  “SWaRTiKi!” added Pox.

  “Timbo!” said Dotty Dauntless. “Better late than never!”

  As he dangled upside down, Stitch Head caught sight of his assailant. His mismatched eyes had witnessed numerous horrors and more than a few wonders … but he’d never encountered anything like this.

  A vast, grey-skinned elephant occupied the entire doorway. It was larger than any of the creations, with legs as thick as pillars. Its hide looked as rough and hard as dried earth, and its two majestic tusks protruded menacingly into the courtyard. It grunted loudly, fanning bellow-like ears. Stitch Head had seen a picture of such an animal in one of the professor’s childhood story books, but it did no justice to the giant who now held him in its trunk.

  “Put him down, Timbo! He’s a pet, not a toy!” Dotty instructed.

  The elephant grunted angrily before releasing Stitch Head from his grip.

  Stitch Head landed with a PLUD and an “Uff!”

  “Don’t mind Timbo – like the milk of the camelopard, he does not travel well,” explained Dotty Dauntless, patting the elephant’s trunk. “He cannot bear this inclement weather, or the fact that he’s thousands of miles from home. But since I rescued him from a pit of quicksand with naught but a piece of string, two coconuts and my own teeth, he has refused to leave my side. He goes where I go, like a loyal pup or a persistent case of dropsy!”

  “You’ve got your own elephant?” said an impressed Arabella, as Pox flew around the beast’s head with a “GruKK!” and “YaBBiT!”

  Stitch Head scrambled to his feet, hoping this was all just a bad dream. But as the elephant squeezed through the Great Door and into the courtyard, things could not have felt more real. Timbo took a few boom-ing steps forwards and Stitch Head saw that he was pulling an impressive wagon, the contents of which were concealed under a brightly patterned tarpaulin of every imaginable colour and shade.

  “Darkenfire!” cried Dotty Dauntless. “Come and meet my new companions!”

  Stitch Head looked up and saw a stout-bodied, spindly legged old man sitting atop Timbo’s shoulders. He was wearing a tatty, crumpled version of Dotty’s explorer outfit and had an implausibly bushy white beard that seemed to occupy his entire face. The plump passenger clambered awkwardly down from the elephant (Timbo offering his leg as a step) and landed in front of Stitch Head. He surveyed the odd assortment of characters, seemingly without surprise or judgment. Then he bowed slightly and touched the tip of his hat with his fingers.

  “Gentlefolk and hoddities, hit is my most profound pleasure to meet you hall,” he said, in an accent as thick and impenetrable as his beard. “F. Darkenfire, fellow hexplorer and hassistant to Miss Dotty Dauntless, hat your service.”

  “H-hello,” said Stitch Head, feeling helpless to stop this strange invasion.

  “Mr Darkenfire is the reason I am here!” Dotty Dauntless explained, giving Darkenfire an unnecessarily firm slap on the back. “With my sixtieth year fast approaching, I had come to the grim realization that I might never win my bet with the Venture Club. Then along came Darkenfire, with tales of Castle Grotteskew and its myriad monsters! He is surely the key to my victory!”

  “Hoh no, indeed!” Darkenfire said, his beard jumping up and down as he spoke. “Miss Dotty, you’re too kind – I ham but an ’umble servant, keen to follow in the footsteps of hadvneverenturesome hexplorers such has yourself.”

  Stitch Head nudged Arabella, but dared not ask his question out loud: how does Darkenfire know about the castle? He must have glowered at Darkenfire however, because the old man immediately offered an explanation.

  “To hilluminate,” Darkenfire began. “I recently received a correspondence from a cousin of mine, a hoccupier of this ’ere nearby town of Chuggers Nubbin. He told me the ’ole town was in the grip of ’orrors … spoke of a castle filled with monsters! I promised myself to steer clear of such a hunspeakable place, but then I hencountered Miss Dotty…”

  “And I knew this castle was the answer I had been looking for!” cried Dotty Dauntless. “A way to win my bet!”

  Stitch Head felt weak at the knees. Was it possible? Could word of the castle have spread beyond the town? Grubbers Nubbin had endured more than its fair share of monster attacks in recent months – it would be hardly surprising if the townsfolk had been talking about their experiences. What did it mean? Would others be coming to Grotteskew, to exploit his master or try to take over the castle? The thought made his borrowed blood run cold. It felt as if the world was closing in on him.

  “Now I’m back in the game and on the verge of glory!” Dotty Dauntless added, grabbing the wagon’s tarpaulin. “All I need is a monster to fill this!”

  With a grand flourish, she tugged the sheet from the wagon. It fell to the ground, revealing a huge iron cage, almost as tall as the elephant itself.

  “Oh no,” whispered Stitch Head.

&nbs
p; “Imagine mighty Timbo conveying my discovery through the streets, tongues wagging and minds racing … and the grand unveiling of my monster before the gathered explorers of the Venture Club,” cried Dotty Dauntless, banging the bars of the cage. “I’ll wager there won’t be an un-dropped jaw anywhere!”

  Stitch Head pictured the Creature, locked in the cage … dragged through the streets … paraded as some sort of prize.

  One way or another, he had to stop them.

  “Great thunder, let’s get my monster into the cage before it awakens! The Venture Club is waiting!” cried Dotty Dauntless, rolling up her sleeves.

  “Miss Dotty, perhaps you might permit me a moment’s respite,” groaned Darkenfire. “I ’ave been steering a particularly pig-headed pachyderm for seven hours straight…”

  “Very well, but rest quickly!” ordered Dotty. “I shall load the beast into the cage myself, then we shall away!”

  As Darkenfire limped down the corridor (presumably looking for a place to lie down) Stitch Head leaped in front of the cage.

  “Please, you can’t take the Creature! You just can’t!” he begged.

  “I am agreeing with this,” said the tiny Ivo, joining his side. “You should not do this thing you are planning to do.”

  “Yeah, what they said!” said Arabella, standing shoulder to shoulder with Stitch Head. “You want the Creature, you’re going to have to go through us.”

  “GRuKK!” added Pox.

  As Timbo grunted and readied his trunk to bat them out of the way, Dotty Dauntless just laughed.

  “There is no need for grandstanding, friends! I am not a thief, nor do I take what is not mine,” Dotty Dauntless replied. She raised her voice. “Darkenfire! The deeds, if you please!”

  A moment later her valet returned, no more rested than a moment ago (but a bit more disgruntled). Dotty held out her hand and, with a nod, Darkenfire obediently produced a folded piece of paper from a pocket and gave it to her.

  “I did not become the world’s greatest explorer without learning to plan ahead,” said Dotty Dauntless, unfolding the paper carefully. “These are the deeds to Castle Grotteskew. It seems Professor Erasmus was more concerned with mad science than good accountancy and, to cut a long story short, the lease upon the castle lapsed. Which means that, as a result of legal machinations so dull that they would make your hair fall out, your professor is not the legal owner of the castle.”

  “The castle isn’t … the professor … he isn’t…?” muttered Stitch Head, beside himself with disbelief.

  “What’s more, Grotteskew was up for grabs!” added Dotty Dauntless. “So I did what anyone with piles of cash and a can-do attitude would – I bought it. You are looking at the proud owner of Castle Grotteskew and everything in it!”

  Stitch Head took a fearful step forwards, peering at the deeds Dotty Dauntless held out. How could this happen? How could the castle not belong to the professor? There was so much about the land beyond Grotteskew Stitch Head did not know or understand. It felt as if the outside world was spilling like a tidal wave into the castle.

  “It – it can’t be…” he muttered.

  “I am not understanding,” said Ivo, as Dotty Dauntless folded the deeds and slid them into her jacket. “Dotty Dauntless owns us?”

  “Ain’t nobody owns nobody, piece of paper or not!” growled Arabella. “You can’t own a life!”

  “Almost-life,” Stitch Head added in a whisper, the news ringing inside his brain. Wasn’t that Dotty’s point? Since the creations were made by the professor, they weren’t the castle’s residents … they were nothing more than its contents.

  “Will I be needed for this ’ullabaloo, Miss Dotty?” asked Darkenfire. “I could really do with a lie-down.”

  “Rest like the wind, my dear Darkenfire!” replied Dotty. “Once I have conveyed my monster into its cage, we must take our leave!”

  “Even if you do own the castle,” snapped Arabella, as Darkenfire sloped off again, “there ain’t no way you’re taking our friend!”

  “Friend? For the last time, that creature is a savage monster!” said Dotty.

  Timbo grunted threateningly.

  “For the last time, it ain’t!” snarled Arabella. “But even if it was – which’d actually be more fun, to be honest – it’d still be our savage monster.”

  Savage … that’s it, thought Stitch Head, a plan forming almost faster than his mind could race. He took a step forwards and looked up at Dotty Dauntless. “I bet you!”

  Dotty froze for a moment, as if time itself had stood still. She turned slowly to Stitch Head.

  “Did … you … say … ‘bet’?” she cried, her eyes lighting up. “As in, a wager? As in, the staking of that which has value upon an uncertain outcome? Great thunder, now we’re talking! Darkenfire!”

  After a moment Darkenfire hobbled back into the hall. “Yes, Miss Dotty?” he answered in an exhausted groan.

  “Did you hear that? A bet!” Dotty howled. “Little Scamp has a bet!”

  “Very good, Miss Dotty – now I’m hoff to rest my bones,” he sighed. He slunk away once more and Dotty glowered at Stitch Head.

  “I – I bet, um, I bet, uh…” Stitch Head began, wringing his hands and wracking his brain. “I bet I can find a monster even more monstrous than the Creature! Ten times more monstrous!”

  “I think I have not met this monster,” Ivo said. “It is sounding scary.”

  “I ain’t met them, neither,” said Arabella, suspiciously. “What’s your game?” she whispered to Stitch Head. “Two minutes ago you didn’t even want her to know about the other creations!”

  “A monster even more monstrous than my monster?” boomed Dotty, beside herself with excitement. “I cannot imagine such a beast, but the possibility intrigues me. Very well, what are your terms?”

  Stitch Head scratched the back of his head and took a deep breath.

  “If – if I find you a more monstrous monster by the time the Creature wakes up, you take that monster instead and leave the Creature here,” he explained.

  “Stitch Head, what are you—?” Arabella began.

  “And you give me the deeds to the castle!” added Stitch Head quickly.

  Dotty rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “High stakes indeed! You’re my kind of gambler, Scamp! But if you fail, I take my monster, keep the deeds…” She glanced around the room. “And I get the mad moppet’s boots!”

  “My boots? Not a chance!” Arabella howled, jumping into the air with such alarm that her hat slumped over her face. “No way! Ain’t nobody having my kicking boots! I wouldn’t give ’em for—!”

  “Deal!” said Stitch Head.

  “What?” shrieked Arabella.

  “Great thunder, then we have a wager!” replied Dotty, clapping her hands together. “Darkenfire!”

  Darkenfire returned yet again, grinding his teeth in frustration.

  “Now wha— I mean, yes, Miss Dotty?” he snarled.

  “It seems we are not in such a hurry after all!” Dotty replied. She turned back to Stitch Head. “You have until my monster awakens … three hours from now!”

  “Now hang on a blinkin’—” Arabella began, but Stitch Head looked at her with such desperation that she stopped in her tracks.

  “Trust me, I – I’ve got a plan!” replied Stitch Head quietly. “I think…”

  Stitch Head wasted no time putting his plan into action. First he insisted that Dotty Dauntless and F. Darkenfire remain in the castle courtyard while he located a monster savage enough to serve as the Creature’s replacement.

  “Stay ’ere, hin this yard, for three hours?” protested Darkenfire. “But … but there’s nowhere for a tired hold man to lay ’is ’ead!”

  “It’s, uh, for your own safety,” explained Stitch Head, crossing his fingers behind his back. “Because of, uh, all the really monstrous monsters.”

  “Did you hear that, Darkenfire? Really monstrous monsters!” cried Dotty excitedly. “A bet is a bet … and what
a bet! We shall not move from this spot.”

  With that, Stitch Head, Ivo and a still-fuming Arabella set about gathering the creations in a gloomy ballroom at the most distant corner of the castle. And though many were reluctant to emerge from the shadows, Arabella was more than persuasive. Still, it took almost two hours to gather every last one of the castle’s three hundred and thirteen creations, from beetle-bodied bug-boys to headless horses to six-armed slugs.

  “Time’s ticking on, Stitch Head!” growled Arabella, as the last of the creations filed into the ballroom. She took off her hat and ruffled her hair. “If your plan costs me my boots, Stitch Head, I’m going to kick you barefoot.”

  “GRuKK!” agreed Pox angrily, landing on Arabella’s head.

  “I also do not understand plan,” Ivo confessed, surveying the crowd. “Where are we to find monstrous monster? These ones are all very lovely.”

  “So why not just make a monster?” suggested Arabella. “Why not give the creations the prof’s potent potions – I’d be surprised if even Dotty would be able to cage a creation with a belly full of Beast Yeast…”

  “We can’t, it’s too dangerous!” insisted Stitch Head. Beast Yeast was the professor’s most powerful potion to date – it turned anything, creation or otherwise, into a savage, uncontrollable monster. Stitch Head had only just managed to develop a cure, and hadn’t even had a chance to test it yet. “Anyway, we don’t need to find a more monstrous monster – we just need Dotty to think we have,” Stitch Head continued. “If the creations can pretend to be monstrous until the Creature wakes up, then we’ll have bought all the time we need. Once they drop the charade, Dotty will finally see there are no monstrous monsters. She’ll have no reason to cage anyone, and no reason to stay!”