100% Hero (12 page)

'How do you know about that?'

'Because . . .' Cripp's voice lowered and his staring
eyes began to steam up his glasses. '. . . I shot him
there!' He licked his lips.

Sugar sat back in revulsion.

'Why would you do such a terrible thing?'

'Because it is an unnatural creature,' said Dr Cripp
dismissively. 'I should have killed him when I had the
chance. Now you have him captured, we can finish
my work.' He cackled madly.

'Never!'

'It is a monster and must be destroyed!' Cripp
slammed his crayon across the drawing.

'It is an animal and must be protected,' Sugar
cried. '
World's Most Wanted
only wishes to help Mother
Nature's wildlife.'

Cripp laughed again. 'He is no creature of
nature –' he held up another picture, which showed
the wolf transforming to a stick man – 'but a Fangen
– a
werewolf
!'

'There's no such thing . . .' Sugar stammered.

'Look into its eyes and you will see that they are a
human's eyes.' Cripp nodded again. 'The wild wolfboy
is his son, and I know where to find him.' He held
up his drawing of Farfang Castle. 'They are all impure,
creatures of tainted blood, evil beyond reclaim. We
must destroy them, before they destroy us!' Dr Cripp's
glasses were now completely steamed up.

Sugar shook her head. It was impossible to believe
and yet . . . she had looked into the wolf's eyes many
times, and he had not seemed like a mere animal.

'Help me escape this place and I will give you the
biggest story the world has ever known.'

Sugar's eyes brightened; it was her dream to be the
world's greatest reporter.

Cripp pushed back his greasy hair, licked his lips,
and gave what he imagined was a charming smile.

Sugar stood up uncertainly. 'I need time to think,'
she said, and ran from the room.

Late that night, Sugar walked across the floodlit green
and up to the cage that held Flasheart. She gave the
marksman in his tower a wave and he nodded at her,
unconcerned, and turned away.

As soon as he saw her, Flasheart jumped up and
walked over. His green eyes sparkled at her through
the bars. Sugar looked at him curiously.

'What are you really?' she whispered.

The wolf only stared back in reply.

Perhaps Cripp was right?

'Frederick, I vish to zee you in my office!' Madam
walked into the studio. The girls all seemed to be
practising karate, rather than their dance steps.

Freddy began to feel a little nervous as he walked
to the headmistress's office. His nerves increased
as she looked at him knowingly and turned on the
television. The clips from
World's Most Wanted Wildlife
played across the screen. Freddy gasped when he saw
a news update of his father pacing across his cage.
Then his worst fears were realised as the images of his
Blavendoch flashed onto the screen.

'
Have you seen the wild wolf-boy?
' the advert asked.
'
Reward now ten thousand pounds.
'

Madam flicked the television off and held up a
photograph. Freddy recognised himself lying on the
outhouse floor wrapped in the shower curtain. His
birthmark was unmistakably the same as that of the
boy on the TV.

'Traitors,' he muttered, thinking of the twins. It
was against the Pact of the Fangen ever to reveal the
identity of the werefolk.

'I do not know vhat you have done, boy, and I don't
care.' Madam smiled. 'I cannot loze. Eizer you disobey
me again, zen I haze a ten zousand pound reward, or
elze you obey me and danze at ze festival. Vhich iz it?'
Her mole hairs wiggled at him.

'I'll dance.' Freddy scowled.

'Exzellent! Now ve return to ze ztudio.'

Not even looking at Priscilla or the twins, Freddy
stomped into line with the ballerinas.

'Now! Von two zree.'

Madam hit the beat and Freddy, proud werewolf
hero, pointed his tippiest of toes – defeated.

Very early that morning, Batty had dragged Freddy's
bag down to the front gates of Farfang. She gave a
loud bark when she saw the milkman's van trundling
around the corner. She and Freddy often hitched a lift
into town on the back of it.

'Well, morning there, Batty.' The milkman waved
as he replaced the empty bottles with full ones. 'No
Freddy today?'

Batty gave two loud barks and jumped on the back
of the truck. She had a little difficulty pulling the large
bag up after her.

'Here we go.' The milkman gave a laugh and threw
the bag up for her. He ruffled her ears. Really, it was
impossible not to like her.

Batty travelled into Milford looking ahead eagerly.
The wind wafted her fur and her tongue lolled out
of her mouth. When the milkman's deliveries were
complete, he parked his truck for the day. The dairy
was next to the railway station. With a bark of thanks,
Batty jumped off the back and pulled her bag down
after her.

It was still very early and not many people were at
the station. Skilled at manoeuvres, Batty waited until
the ticket lady's back was turned, and then she pulled
her bag onto the platform. She saw a pile of parcels
on a trolley waiting for the train. In a minute she had
dragged her bag to the pile, and in another, she had
climbed inside it. After much struggling with her teeth
and claws, she managed to pull the zip closed. She left
a small hole from which one eye could peek, and one
nostril could breathe, then she lay quiet.

Half an hour later, the Great Northern Train
approached with a whistle, and Batty became very
still. The porter looked at the label on the bag.

'Long journey for this one,' he called and threw the
bag into the luggage car. Batty held back her groan as
she slammed onto the hard floor.

'Drumbogie House – near Inverness.' He laughed.
'Bogie!' he called to the driver. 'Get it . . .
Bogie
?'

The train began to pull away from the station and
Batty let out her breath in relief. She was on her way.

Freddy practised all day. As much as he hated to
admit it, he appeared to be a natural. Steps that would
normally have taken students weeks to perfect he
picked up in an instant.

'You're a born dancer, Freddy,' Ginger said in
admiration.

'I am not!' Freddy insisted, as he pirouetted
perfectly on his toes, his kilt swinging as he went. 'I'm
a fearsome creature.'

'You're funny,' Ginger smiled, tripping over again.

'Try to keep up, Clip-Clop,' Priscilla said with a
scowl.

Lunch was a miserable business of broccoli and
green beans, but at least it was food.

In the afternoon, Freddy's nimbleness on his dainty
toes impressed even Madam.

'Now for ze lift.' She tapped her stick. 'Vhere is my
Zinderella?'

Priscilla walked up and looked at Freddy coolly.
'Don't drop me, wimp!'

Freddy pushed out his chin and his tongue in reply.

'So-ooo pathetic.' Priscilla shook her head.

'Muzic!' Madam called and the twins began to
play.

As Freddy hopped around on pointy toes, Priscilla
skipped elegantly across the floor and launched herself
through the air.

'Oh, stinky feet!' Freddy's eyes goggled as the girl
flew towards him. To the gasps of the ballerinas, he
caught her with both hands above his head. 'Oh no!'
he groaned, feeling his non-existent muscles giving
way.

'Hold ztill and turn!' Madam cried, banging her
stick.

Sweat ran down Freddy's face. He turned and saw
Vinny and his friends peering in the window, leering
and laughing.

'Groof!' Freddy lost his concentration and collapsed
in a heap, dropping Priscilla on her bum, their arms
and legs in a total tangle.

'You idiot!' she cried.

'Ow,' Freddy groaned. 'OW!' he groaned again, as
Priscilla trod on his head.

'Practice makes perfect. Again!' Madam called,
unmoved.

'No way, he's a total shrimp!' Priscilla cried. 'He
can't do it!'

'Oh, yes I can!' Freddy jumped up to the challenge.
He glanced nervously at the window but the boys
had gone. It may be a sissy girly ballet, but nobody
called a Lupin a shrimp and got away with it. 'Let's go,
Cinders, or are you chicken? Hi-ya!'

By that evening he was exhausted and every muscle
in his body ached. Dancing was much harder work
than he would ever have dreamt.

'Must have food . . .' he croaked as he and Ginger
entered the dining room.

'What's this?' He slumped on the table in despair,
and held up the slop in his spoon.

'Lentil and brussels sprout curry,' the dinner lady
replied, shovelling more in his bowl.

He managed to raise his head. 'Need meat.'

'No meat, laddie – lentils!' The grumpy lady pushed
the bowl under his nose just as Freddy's head flopped
down again. His face splattered into the bowl. He was
too tired to care.

'Up you get, foolie.' Ginger laughed and hauled his
head out of the mush.

'Sausages,' he whimpered.

'Open up.' Ginger wiped the lentil curry off his
face with a spoon and held it in front of his nose. 'You
have to keep your strength up.'

'Won't.' Freddy shook his head. He had never eaten
a lentil in his life – he wasn't going to start now.

'Choo-choo!' Ginger started weaving the spoon
towards him. 'Here comes the train into the tunnel.'

Freddy clamped his mouth shut and went crosseyed
as he focused on the approaching spoon. Ginger
suddenly clasped his nose in her other hand.

Not fair, he couldn't breathe – he had to open his
mouth.

'Aha!' Ginger whipped in the lentil curry.

Freddy was about to spit it out again when he
paused, his taste buds waking up. It was actually nice!

Freddy perked up. He ate three bowlfuls before he
spoke again, and that was to ask for more.

'Feel better now?' Ginger asked.

'Better!' Freddy nodded and carried on eating.

Freddy ate almost his own body weight in curry
and afterwards had to lie down, while Ginger fanned
him with a magazine.

'Perhaps I'll die here,' he said weakly. 'And never
see my family again.'

'You're just full of lentils, foolie,' she assured him.

'Tired now. Must sleep. Go bed.' Freddy carried his
swollen tummy in his hands, and wandered from the
room in a daze.

'Hey, Frederick-smell-of-sick . . .' the twins began.

Freddy didn't care; he staggered to his tiny
room and fell facedown onto his mattress, already
unconscious.

Once the train had begun to pull away, Batty emerged
from her bag. She climbed out onto the loaded
luggage, and watched the countryside flashing by.
She had had no idea that the world was so enormous.
So many green fields, forests, houses and roads. How
was she ever going to find Freddy in so big a place?
Still trying to be brave, she sank down to sleep and
wait.

It was many hours later that the train began to slow
and pull into Inverness Station. Safely back in her bag,
Batty was unloaded and placed on a trolley, which was
taken into the parcel room and locked until morning.
When all was quiet, Batty snuck out and inspected
the dark room. How hungry she was. She lay on her
stomach and wondered if Freddy was nearby. Then
she dreamt about sausages.

Freddy was likewise dreaming – that he was a wolf
running through the forests, howling at the moon.
He twitched in his sleep and gave little howly moans.
The lentils were having a most unusual effect on his
brain, for it was not a food meant for Fangen. The
next moment he was a wolf in a pink tutu, dancing
across the stage. In the bed, Freddy threw his hands
up over his head and pointed his toes. Next he was
a sausage dog – running around sizzling hot, while
the Baa-Van came screeching down to suck his blood
dry.

Freddy shot up in bed, still in a dream but with
his eyes open. His Fangen blood was stirring and he
shifted his nose from side to side, sniffing the air. The
curry had filled his stomach but not satisfied his need
for real food. The scent was faint, but distinct to a
wolf – red meat. In a strange waking sleep Freddy, his
arms reaching forward, opened the door and walked
down the corridor. The old clock on the wall struck
midnight as he opened the heavy front door and
stepped onto the gravel driveway. The wind battered
his hair to and fro and, in the distance, away on the
moors, was the sound of a lady laughing eerily – but
Freddy heard nothing.

'Sausages,' he mumbled vaguely and stepped like a
zombie down the driveway into the dark.

In the boot camp, Vinny and his friends were cooking
sausages on the campfire for a midnight feast. Their
faces were painted with black cream, like all action
soldier guys. They had been on adventures all day and
were relating the great stories, interrupted by many
loud burps.

'Argh!' Two of the boys leapt up in fright as a
zombie entered the circle of light.

'Sausages . . .' the creature of the night moaned,
its blank eyes staring and its deathly arms reaching
forward.

'Hoo-aah!' Vinny tackled the creature and they
rolled over, in a struggle to the death.

'Great howls!' Freddy awoke in total confusion,
lying on the ground. He seemed to be in a camp, with
Vinny's nose on his.

'What, how, why, when?' he cried.

'Chill out, lads.' Vinny laughed and let him go. 'It's
just the sissy girl again, dressed in a skirt.'

'It's not a skirt, it's a highland warrior's kilt.' Freddy
leapt up, readjusting himself.

'Warrior?' Vinny snorted. 'We saw you dancing,
fluff bunny.'

'It's harder than it looks,' Freddy said defiantly.

'What a wimp!' one of the boys roared.

'Say that again if you dare, human!' Freddy
pulled himself up to his full height. He just about
came to the boy's shoulder. His eyes opened a little
wider.

'Wimp!' the boy repeated, bending down.

'Hi-ya!' Freddy leapt high in the air with a karate
kick, and the boy jumped back in surprise.

'Oh yes! Do not underestimate the power of the
Fangen.' Freddy sprinted forward and grabbed a
string of sausages. 'I owe you one,' he called over his
shoulder as he ran.

'Get him!' Vinny roared, as Freddy disappeared
down the road into the dark.

'Don't mess with the second greatest sausage thief
in Milford,' he called back.

Batty had trained him well. There was one thing
Freddy was good at – running. He ran now, as fast as
he could, back towards Drumbogie House.

'Hoo-aah!' The tough boys were in pursuit.

'Eat my snot, losers!' Freddy yelled behind him
as he ran. There was no way they would ever catch
him.

'Groof!' Freddy tripped over his trail of sausages
and rammed his chin into the ground. With a gasp of
fright, he rolled into the ditch to hide. The boys roared
past. Freddy took a moment to gather his breath –
and eat a sausage or two – then he carefully began to
sneak his way back.

Freddy was almost back at Drumbogie when he
heard a wolf's howl. He froze and looked up at the sky.
There was no full moon – it wasn't possible! And as
a human he shouldn't be able to understand Wolfen.
And yet there was no mistaking the words in the
howl . . .

'Run, laddie! Run!'

Then he heard her laugh. It was like a high scream
of hysteria. The Baa-Van.

Freddy's scalp went tight with fright, and he
sprinted for the house. He collided with Vinny
running in the opposite direction, his eyes wild.

'Argh!' the two boys yelled.

'Shssh!' they hissed at each other.

'There's a ghost. I saw her.' Vinny pointed to the
moors.

'She's not a ghost, she's a bloodsucking vampire-witch-
fairy-thing,' Freddy corrected him.

'That don't make me feel better.' Vinny jumped up.
'Because she's coming this way.' He made to run, but
Freddy stopped him.

'You'll never make it back to the camp; she'll get
you. Where are the others?'