Vampire Breath (8 page)

We ignored him. We kept pawing through the bottles, working faster, faster.
Desperate to find the full one first.

And then—my hand landed on it.

I sucked in a deep breath when I realized it felt heavier than the others. My
hand trembled as I carefully lifted it out from the others.

Yes! It definitely felt heavy. Yes! It was still sealed shut. Yes!

“I found it!” I cried, jumping to my feet. “Cara—look! I’ve got it!”

I raised the full bottle up to show it to her—and Count Nightwing grabbed
it from my hand.

“Thank you,” he said.

With an eager smile, the old vampire raised the bottle and reached to open
it.

“Noooo!” I howled.

I leaped at him. Caught him by surprise.

I shoved my shoulder into his chest. He felt light and feathery, as if he had
no bones at all.

He uttered a startled choking sound.

The bottle of
Vampire Breath
flew from his hand.

I reached out—and grabbed it in the air.

Holding it tightly in both hands, I backed toward the shelves.

Count Nightwing recovered quickly. He narrowed his eyes at me, and once
again, I felt his strange power holding me, holding me in place.

“Freddy, you will hand the bottle to me now,” he ordered in a soft, calm
voice.

I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

“Hand the bottle to me now,” the old vampire insisted, floating toward me, his bony hand outstretched. “You will hand it
to me, Freddy.”

I swallowed hard. I couldn’t give him the
Vampire Breath.
I knew that
Cara and I were doomed if Count Nightwing opened it.

But I couldn’t move. He had frozen me there. I was helpless!

“Hand it to me,” he insisted. He reached for the bottle.

“Monkey in the Middle!” I heard Cara call.

She seemed far away. And at first, her words didn’t make any sense to me.

“Monkey in the Middle!” she called again.

This time, I understood.

I sucked in a deep breath. It took all my strength to move my arm.

Count Nightwing swiped at the bottle. His bony fingertips brushed against it.

But I tossed the bottle high over his shoulder.

Cara bobbled it, fumbled it into the air—and then grabbed it. “The catch of
the day!” she cried.

With an angry groan, Count Nightwing spun around. “Give me that!” he rasped.
He dove toward Cara.

She pulled her arm back and heaved the bottle to me. A low toss which zipped
past the old vampire’s knees. I caught it at my shoelaces.

Count Nightwing whirled back to me. His strange eyes narrowed in fury. “I
want that bottle!” he snarled.

I tossed it high, over his head. Cara caught it in one hand.

When we baby-sat for Tyler Brown, Cara and I played Monkey in the Middle all
the time. That little shrimp could never take the ball away from us. We could
keep him running back and forth for hours!

But I knew Count Nightwing would soon run out of patience. There was no way
Cara and I could win this game.

But what else could we do?

The old vampire dove for Cara, his hands outstretched, his cape flying.

Cara tossed off-balance. I stretched for the bottle. But it sailed past my
open hand.

And crashed into a shelf.

Bottles toppled and broke.

Count Nightwing flew to the shelf. He grabbed blindly at the bottles.

But I got there first. I picked up the bottle and tossed it to Cara.

“No—!” Count Nightwing rasped. “Enough!”

He hurtled toward Cara.

She tossed the bottle to me, a high throw over the old vampire’s head.

I raised my hands to catch it.

But to my surprise, Count Nightwing flew straight up—and caught the bottle
in both hands.

As he sailed slowly back to the floor, a pleased smile spread over his face. “I win,” he said softly, his eyes flashing. “I
win. It helps to be able to fly.”

He raised the bottle in front of him.

“No—don’t!” I begged.

His smile grew even wider. He reached out—and pulled the top off the
bottle.

All three of us froze. And stared at the open bottle in Count Nightwing’s
hand.

“No,” Cara murmured. “No—please.”

A few seconds passed. A few more seconds.

“Nothing is happening,” Count Nightwing whispered. His smile faded. He raised
the bottle to his face and tilted it to see inside.

Beneath the purple cape, his slender shoulders slumped. He sighed, a long,
dry sigh. “Empty,” he said. “This bottle is empty, too.”

Cara and I exchanged glances. I suddenly knew what had happened. In my wild
scramble to pick up the bottle, I had grabbed the wrong one off the shelf.

Sure enough. I turned to the shelf—and spotted the full bottle right in
front of me.

“I have it!” I cried. I picked it up carefully from the shelf. “I have it!”

The old vampire let out a furious growl. He leaped at me.

“Cara—catch!” I screamed.

I heaved the bottle to her.

But Count Nightwing swung his arm. His hand slapped the bottle in midair.

“Oh—!” I gasped as the bottle sailed into the wall.

It bounced off. Crashed to the floor. Cracked open.

And the sour, dark mist poured up into the room.

“We’ve lost,” I murmured. “We’re doomed.”

I tried to hold my breath, but it didn’t help. The foul odor of the rising
fog seemed to seep into my skin.

Across the room, I saw Cara cup a hand tightly over her nose and mouth. Her
dark eyes grew wide in fright. She waved her other hand frantically, trying to
fan the smelly fog away from her.

I choked on it. My eyes started to burn. I closed them. Felt hot tears seep
down my cheeks.

When I opened my eyes, I couldn’t see Cara anymore. The fog had grown too
thick.

I could see Count Nightwing’s purple cape, dark inside the mist. Then it
disappeared, too.

And I was alone. Alone inside a thick, billowing cloud.

I dropped to my knees. Covered my face with both hands. I tried not to breathe. I could taste the foul mist on my tongue!

How long did I kneel there? I’m not sure.

But when I finally opened my burning eyes, the fog was fading.

Count Nightwing’s purple cape came back into view as the mist lowered itself
to the floor. And I saw Cara across the room, shielding her face with one arm.

The fog continued to melt away.

The room came back into focus.

And I realized I was staring at an air hockey game.

I blinked several times. A pool table stood in the center of the room.

Pool table? Air hockey?

Cara came running over to me, her dark eyes flashing with excitement. “We’re
back, Freddy!” she cried happily. “We’re back in your basement!”

“Yesssss!” I cheered. I pumped both fists in the air. “Yessss!”

I staggered across the room and hugged the air hockey game. Then I kissed the
wall. I actually kissed the wall!

“We’re back! We’re back!” Cara chanted, jumping up and down. “The
Vampire
Breath—
it brought us back to your house, Freddy!”

“Noooooo!”

I turned to see Count Nightwing toss back his head in a long, angry wail. He
swirled his cape behind him, then clasped his hands into tight fists.

“Noooooo! Noooooo! This can’t be happening!” he cried hoarsely.

Cara and I huddled together as the vampire advanced on us.

“I don’t want to be here!” he declared. “I must go back. I must find my
fangs! Without my fangs, I will not survive. I will perish!”

He rose up over us. His eyes burned angrily down at us. His dry lips
quivered. He stretched out his cape as if to trap us inside it.

“I must go back!” he rasped. “Where is the
Vampire Breath
? Where is
the blue bottle?”

My eyes glanced quickly around the room.

No sign of it.

“It didn’t come back with us,” Cara announced.

The old vampire tossed back his head in another angry wail.

Then, raising his cape even higher, he swooped down to attack us.

Cara and I staggered back against the pool table.

The vampire moved quickly, wrapping his heavy, purple cape around us both.

We were trapped. Nowhere to move.

Then, suddenly, the cape slid off. Count Nightwing took a step back. His mouth dropped open in surprise.

I followed his gaze—and saw Mom and Dad hurrying into the basement. “Mom!”
I cried. “Dad! Look out! He’s a vampire! He’s a real vampire!”

Count Nightwing squinted at my parents, his mouth still open in shock. He
locked his stare on my mom. “Cynthia—?” he cried. “Cynthia, what are
you
doing here?”

Mom smiled at him. “Daddy, you finally woke up!” she exclaimed.

“Huh?” Cara and I both gasped in shock.

Mom rushed forward and threw her arms around the old vampire. She hugged him
for a long time.

“Daddy, you’ve been napping down here for at least a hundred years,” she
said. “We didn’t know whether to wake you or let you sleep.”

Dad came rushing over, too, a big smile on his face. He rested a hand on my
shoulder. “Did you meet our son Freddy?” he asked Count Nightwing. “This is
Freddy—your grandson.”

Grandson?

Me?

I’m the vampire’s grandson?

Count Nightwing stared down at me, shaking his head. I could see that he was
as confused as I was!

“Cynthia—?” he said to my mom. “Cynthia—my fangs. I’ve lost my fangs.”

Mom slid her arm around the vampire’s waist. “Daddy, your fangs aren’t lost,”
she told him. “They’re in the glass in the bathroom. Right where you left them.”

“Here. Over here,” Dad said. He led the way to the little bathroom in the
corner that we never use.

A few seconds later, Count Nightwing stepped out, adjusting the fangs over
his gums with both of his thumbs. “There. That’s better,” he said. “Now let’s
fly out of here. I’m so thirsty! It’s been a hundred years!”

Mom and Dad turned to me. “We’ll be home soon,” Dad said. “Make yourself a
sandwich upstairs, okay? Make one for Cara, too.”

I stared back at him, unable to get over my shock. “But if you and Mom are
vampires, am I a vampire, too?” I asked in a trembling voice.

“Of course,” Mom replied. “But you’re way too young to get your fangs,
Freddy. You have to wait at least another hundred years!”

I wanted to ask a million more questions. But the three of them began to flap
their arms. Up and down. In seconds, they changed into bats and flew out the
basement window.

I stared at the window for a long while, trying to calm down, trying to slow
my racing heart. When I started to feel a little more normal, I turned to Cara.

“Wow,” she said, shaking her head. “Wow.”

“I don’t believe it, either,” I replied softly.

She grinned at me. “I knew you were weird, Freddy. But I didn’t know you were
that
weird!”

I wanted to laugh at that. But I was still too shocked to laugh, or cry, or
scream—or do anything!

I turned away from Cara and counted to twenty, trying to get myself together.

It isn’t easy to find out that you’re a vampire.

I really think Mom and Dad could have broken the news to me in a little
better way.

But I guess they didn’t think it was any big deal…

The door to the bathroom stood open. I stepped inside. “We never use this
bathroom,” I muttered. “We use the one across the basement.”

Cara followed me in. The mirrored door to the medicine chest was partly open.
She pulled it open the rest of the way.

The shelves were jammed with all kinds of jars and bottles. Strange medicines
and tubes of ointments.

I saw a green glass bottle on the top shelf. “What’s that?” I wondered. I
stretched my hand up to pull it down.

But Cara grabbed it first.

“Give it back!” I cried. I shoved her.

She shoved me back.

She turned the glass bottle in her hand and read the name on the label to me:
“WEREWOLF SWEAT”
.

“Cara—put it back!” I ordered. “No. Really. Put it back. Leave it alone,
Cara. Don’t open it. Don’t—”

She teased me. Grinning, she pretended to pull off the top.

“No—!” I cried.

I swiped at it. Tried to pull it from her hand.

But I missed—and tugged off the top instead.

“Whooooa!” Cara cried out as a yellow liquid squirted over both of us.

I rolled my eyes. “
Now
what?” I cried. “
Now
what do you think
is going to happen?”

“Grrrrrrrrowwwwwrrrrrrrrr!”
Cara replied.

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