100% Hero (8 page)

'Oh dear, Freddy.' Priscilla frowned in sympathy.
'Yes and no? One has to be a lie – you lose!'

'Not fair!' Freddy cried.

'Dare,' Priscilla laughed in delight.

'Oh, great howls.' Freddy's stomach went tight
again. 'Do I have to?'

'Yes, if you really are the Second Greatest Werewolf
Hero
Ever
.' Priscilla nodded without sympathy. 'But
if you are just a cowardly poodle who has dogs for
friends, then no, I'd hardly expect you to keep your
word.'

Freddy flushed red, but he'd heard that scarylooking
guys often weren't so bad if you faced up to
them. Still, his legs shook a little as he walked down
the carriage. Priscilla watched in amusement as Freddy
halted next to Vinny and his friends. The boys were
throwing crisps into each other's mouths and burping
them back out. Vinny looked at Freddy and belched.
A soggy piece of crisp flew onto Freddy's nose. He
went cross-eyed as he focused on it.

'What do you want then, squirt?' Vinny hissed.

'Loser,' another laughed.

'Scum,' observed a third.

Freddy was outraged. Who were these oafs to call
him names? He was descended from the most noble
line of heroes. His picture was going to hang next to
Sir Rathbone's.

'Well, I've got a message for you,' Freddy
announced, 'from your
boyfriend
!' He nodded as they
all caught their breath at his cheek. 'He says you're a
"big girly fluff bunny", so who's the loser now? You,
sir!' He pointed his finger. 'With ketchup on!'

Freddy watched as Vinny's face began to shake,
ripples running over the black letters on his
forehead.

'Hoo-aah!' The furious boy jumped up and glared
at Freddy in disbelief.

'Oops!' Freddy's head tilted back as he took in
the bigger, stronger boy's full height. He turned and
sprinted down the carriage as Vinny leapt for him.
Priscilla squealed with delight.

'Sorry, whoops, coming through. Quick!' Freddy
yelled as he ran.

'Hoo-aah!' he heard behind him.

'Oh, great howls!'

His way was blocked by the refreshments trolley.
Freddy trampolined onto a seat and hurtled over its
back. He landed with a crash on someone's burger.

'Sorry,' he said to the man, whose face was covered
in squirts of tomato sauce and mustard.

'Hoo-aah!'

Freddy rolled onto the floor and scampered away
under the seats. Vinny lost sight of him and raced on
down the corridor. Freddy crept back a little, and lay
hidden behind a long bag, his heart beating fast.

After what seemed an age, Vinny gave up the hunt
and Freddy let out a sigh of relief. It was, in the end,
a very unheroic arrival he made in Inverness Station,
only crawling out from the dust when he was sure all
was safe.

It was late at night when their car drove over the
highlands and through the glens towards Drumbogie.

'I'm going to be really good at canoeing for sure,'
Freddy told Priscilla, who was doing her best not to
hear. 'I hate to brag, but because of my Fangen blood
I'm good at pretty much all extreme sports.'

'I'm so glad you hate to brag,' Priscilla said with
a bored sigh. 'Oh, Papa, are we nearly there yet? It's
taking forever.'

'Nearly there, my jewel.' Chester said, staring out
into the dark night.

'Sailing, climbing, abseiling, windsurfing . . .
which do you think I'll be best at?' Freddy leaned
forward from the back seat and tapped Priscilla's
shoulder.

'Oh, Freddy,' she gasped, 'I think you're going to
find your real talent at Drumbogie.' Then she gave a
loud laugh. Chester chuckled a little. Freddy glowed
with pride at her words. Priscilla had seen at last
just how fantastic he was. It was going to be the best
summer of his life.

It would be harsh to blame him for forgetting the
danger his father and all werefolk were in, or how sad
Batty might be feeling, for who wouldn't have been
excited at the thought of adventure camp, with perfect
Priscilla Puceley?

Freddy could hardly contain himself as the car turned
into a large stone gateway. Fierce, horrific gargoyles
with distorted faces glared down at them, sticking out
their tongues, their eyes bulging.

'Creepy Camp!' Freddy laughed, bouncing up and
down on his seat.

The gates clanged shut behind them. Freddy didn't
see the sign that had been placed on them. He strained
to see anything as the car drove along a dark winding
lane with thick rhododendron bushes on each side.
Then suddenly the car turned onto a gravel clearing
in front of a large, grim-looking grey house. Its many
small windows looked like dull black eyes. Again the
gargoyles stared down from the roof. Freddy looked
doubtful. He had imagined log cabins around a loch,
and sausages cooking over campfires.

'So far, so weird,' he said.

Priscilla didn't look that pleased either. 'Papa . . .'
she started to complain.

'Just remember why you're here, princess,' he
reminded her.

'Humph,' she sulked, throwing her bag onto the
floor. Chester whispered something in her ear and she
gave a small smile, her eyes glittering like precious
jewels.

Light shone onto the gravel as the front door swung
open with a loud creak. Freddy turned with a big grin
– which slowly slipped off his face. He had expected
to see an adventure leader – a big army sergeant or
RAF squadron leader – but instead a tiny little lady
with a walking stick and a tight black bun hobbled
out to meet them. She wore spectacles that made her
eyes look like tiny slits and was so thin she could have
hidden behind a lamppost. When she stood, her heels
clicked together and her feet pointed sideways. She
gave a little curtsy.

'My dear Madam Tarot, how marvellous to see you
again. And as beautiful as I remember.' Chester took
the lady's hand and kissed it.

Priscilla's feet were likewise turned sideways when
she gave a curtsy in return. The lady gave a slight smile
but, as she turned to Freddy, her thin lips squeezed
into a line of disapproval. Freddy noticed a huge mole
on her chin, from which long black hairs reached
out.

Freddy jumped up, gave the air a karate kick
and then landed like a ninja warrior. He gave her
the coolest nod ever performed by a mortal boy. He
would already be marked out as the best adventurer
in this camp. He could see that Priscilla thought so.
But the lady's eyes were like ice. She turned away from
Freddy.

'You muzt be Priszilla,' she said. 'I knew your
muzzer, ze archduchess. I hear you have inherited
her talent. Ve are honoured to rezeive you here at our
'umble school.'

Freddy looked over in surprise. He had no idea
that Priscilla was a famous extreme sports girl – so
much the better. He would need someone able to keep
up with him . . . just so long as she wasn't better than
him. It wouldn't do to be beaten by a girl.

'I'm famous too!' he butted in. 'I'm like almost
the world champion at rock-sailing, I mean windclimbing.'
His hands were on his hips and his ears
were waggling. 'And ab-surfing.'

Madam Tarot turned back to him with a raised
eyebrow.

'And zis, I zuppose, iz ze boy you spoke of,' she said
to Chester, while glancing at Freddy with disgust.

'Yes, I'm a mole!' Freddy had been staring at her
chin. 'I mean a boy! And don't worry, I won't try too
hard against the girls. Wart, erm, what I mean is, I'll
easily beat them without trying.'

Madam Tarot took a step closer and inspected
Freddy as if he were a type of insect she had never
seen before. She looked up in revulsion as Freddy's
stomach made the most appalling noise. It sounded
like a tiny brass band was trying to play trombones
through his belly button. He gave a loud burp.

'Oh, that's better.' He rubbed his stomach. 'I'm so
starving. If you show me to the boys' campfire, I'll be
okay once I get some food. I eat sausages every day,
sometimes twenty.'

'
Boyz' camp
?' Madam Tarot repeated with a scowl.
Freddy nodded eagerly. '
Zauzages
?' She pursed her
lips and looked over at Chester. 'Ze boy iz like you
zaid . . .
zun idiotten
.'

'He certainly is, Madam. One hundred per cent.'
Chester laughed, but all trace of his normal friendliness
seemed to be gone.

Freddy couldn't speak foreign languages and
so must have misheard, for he almost thought the
adventure leader had called him an idiot. That couldn't
be right.

'If you vill pleaze bring your bags zis vay.' Madam
Tarot turned away and hobbled into the hall.

Freddy, frowning a little in confusion, shouldered his
bag and entered the grim house. The door closed behind
them with a thud. Freddy looked at the walls – they
were covered in paintings and photographs of ballerinas
and men in tights. He gave a snort of laughter.

'So-ooo lame,' he whispered to Priscilla, who stared
at him as coldly as she had on that very first meeting.

Madam Tarot turned and glared at him.

'You make ze fun of my limp, boy?' she hissed.

'Oh, no, I didn't, that is . . .' Freddy's nose scrunched
up in embarrassment. 'Hairy moles, I mean, stinky
feet . . . I just meant ballet is for, you know . . . losers.'

'Loozers?' The lady could hardly draw breath.

'Well, yeah,' Freddy panicked. 'I mean,
he's
not
a dude who goes canoeing, is he?' He pointed at a
picture of a male ballet dancer. 'I'd never be seen dead
in tights.'

'You vill vear tights, boy, or never eat a zauzage
again.' Madam Tarot gave a cold laugh.

'Wart?' Freddy didn't understand. Who on earth
went rock-surfing in tights?

'There is no boys' camp, Freddo,' Chester said,
barely able to contain his laughter.

'Zere are no boys at all,' Madam Tarot said, with
a shiver of disgust. ''Orrible, smelly, noizy creatures.
You vill zleep here.' She flung open a door to a tiny
room that had an old mattress on the floor, and mops
and buckets against the wall.

'What?' Freddy didn't understand anything. He
looked at Priscilla for an explanation. 'Where are the
tough, extreme-sports guys?'

'There are none, idiot, just one wimp instead. You!
Welcome to ballet school . . . loser.'

Freddy's voice failed him. Now it all made sense.

'I'm not staying,' he said, jumping to the door.

'Oh, yes you are, Freddo,' Chester growled and
pushed him back in the room. 'You will stay here and
keep out of my way for as long as I say so.' He hissed
so Freddy alone heard him: 'And don't even think
about trying to contact the Fang Council, because I
have a gun aimed at your father's heart, night and day.
All I need to do is give the word. The Treasure of Bane
will soon be mine, as it should have been Dravin's.
No-one is at Farfang to stop me.'

'But that's evil . . . I'll warn him! I'll save him!'
Freddy cried.

'How, idiot? You keep quiet or else,' Chester
hissed.

'Mrs Mutton will show you the wooden spoon,'
was all Freddy could mumble.

'Do you think I'll let an old woman stand in my
way? I'll pull Farfang down if I have to.' Chester shook
his head. 'And if I hear one complaint from Madam
Tarot, then your stinking mongrel pet will be at the
bottom of the moat, where all her kind belong.'

Freddy was speechless as he took in the meaning of
Chester's words. Priscilla gave a laugh at his stunned
face.

'Oh, Freddy! Did you really think you were my
hero? You're so-ooo pathetic – you scummy little
poodle.' Priscilla looked down her nose at him as if
he were dirt.

Freddy had really believed she liked him. He
stepped back in shock and tripped, landing on the
mattress, as Chester slammed and locked the door.
It was a total disaster. His family was in the gravest
danger again.

'It's all my fault,' Freddy croaked, looking at the
mop buckets. And then the real horror struck him.
'I'm at a ballet school!'

That night, the wind howled across the hills and rattled
the sign on the iron gates of Drumbogie House.

'Madam Tarot's Ballet School for Elegant Young
Ladies', it read. But some naughty boys had crossed it
out and written 'Madam Tarot's Ballet School for Total
Sissies'.

Freddy did not have a good night. He was cold,
miserable and worried for his father, Mrs Mutton and
Batty. Added to his fear for his friend was the shame
he felt when he saw how he had pushed her aside for
Priscilla. The mongrel had been loyal and faithful, but
Freddy had left her behind so that he could impress
such a horrible girl.

When he thought about Priscilla Puceley, Freddy
went cold with the creeps. How could anyone seem to
be so perfect, and yet be so vile? He had no idea what
the Treasure of Bane was, but he felt sure that the
Puceleys shouldn't have it – somehow he would have
to stop them. He wasn't the Second Greatest Werewolf
Hero Ever for nothing.

He dropped into a fitful sleep, only to jerk awake
in fright in the very coldest, darkest part of the night.
There was something outside! Freddy climbed onto
the mop bucket and managed to peep out over the
high window ledge into the garden below. His scalp
tightened with fright, and he only just managed to
hold back his shriek.

In the light of the moon he saw a beautiful pale
woman with long red hair and a green dress, which
was billowing behind her in the howling wind. She
seemed almost to float, so elegantly did she move over
the lawn. She drifted towards a stone archway in the
wall. The dust on the window ledge started to irritate
Freddy's nose. He gave an explosive sneeze.

The lady stopped immediately. Her eyes flew to
him, piercing fire through the dark. The whites turned
a ghastly blood-red colour and then her black pupils
grew to fill her sockets, the fire still burning bright
behind them. She started to smile, and then sped
towards him like an arrow, her arms reaching out.
Freddy dropped to the floor, shaking with fright. He
froze – he was sure he could hear a woman's laughter
and fingernails scraping on the window pane.