100% Hero (7 page)

'That's because I switched the camera off. Don't
worry – there's no evidence,' Freddy told them.
Everyone ignored him.

'
But fortunately, viewers, Sugar had her own camera
and with it, she took pictures that you will not believe.
'

A photo appeared – it showed Freddy's hands
in Flasheart's hairy jowls, and the wolf licking his
forehead. Luckily, the boy's face was hidden. The
next picture was a murky image of Freddy as he
sprinted down the corridor. The last, much to his
purple-faced horror, showed his back and the top
of his bum as he sat on the window ledge, ready to
jump. The red Blavendoch birthmark was clear to be
seen on his buttock. He stared with mortification at
the screen.

'
So who is the wild wolf-boy?
' Sugar continued. '
Help
us, viewers – does this boy look familiar?
'

Freddy hid his face in his hands as the first photo
of him flashed up again and zoomed in on his black,
tufty hair and sticky-out ears. Then the last picture
appeared, zoomed in – tragically for him – on
his . . . Blavendoch.

'
In case the boy tries to rescue the wolf again, the zoo
is now in total security lockdown. Later today we will
transfer the wolf to a maximum-security compound.
So, folks, I'm Sugar Smith, signing off for
World's Most
Wanted Wildlife
.
'

One by one, every head turned to look at Freddy.

'It wasn't me,' he croaked, stepping back
uncertainly. He didn't wait to hear their opinions
of him. He turned, ran, and didn't stop until he
was under his bed. He was never coming out again.
Not only was he a national embarrassment, his bum
shown on every screen in Britain, but worst of all,
the chances of anyone being able to sneak into the
zoo and rescue his father were almost nil.

What would Priscilla think of him now?

The posters of Freddy were everywhere; in every shop
window, on every lamppost, even blown up high on
billboards. He couldn't bear the humiliation. Every
time he switched on the TV, his Blavendoch was sure
to pop up in an advert. His shame was complete.

Every hour, another member of the Moonlight
Gathering would telephone Farfang in concern.
Freddy could scarcely look at Priscilla.

The following morning, with Freddy forced to stay
at home in hiding, Hightail and Chester made a trip
to the zoo. Thanks to the publicity it was packed with
visitors. Flasheart was now in an enclosure behind
a tall fence, in the centre of an open green area.
Large floodlights and cameras were trained on him.
Children were queuing to look at the fearsome
creature. Flasheart padded slowly around his enclosure,
ignoring all the fuss. Hightail worked his way
to the front of the crowd and exchanged a small nod
with the wolf.

Hightail looked carefully at the mesh fence. It was
three metres tall – and electrified. High in a wooden
tower, the man who had shot Flasheart with the dart
sat watching the crowd, his gun in his hand. Chester
gave the man a significant look.

Hightail waited until there was a lull in the crowd,
then he leaned towards the cage. Flasheart made a
signal with several stamps of his paw. The old man
understood.

'I agree,' he said, 'it is too dangerous now. We
must wait until all the interest has died down. The
Moonstone is secure – you're safe here for now. If
matters change, give the signal of the High Howling
and the Fangen shall come, whatever the cost.'

Flasheart gave a snarling grin of agreement and
looked around at his thronging fans. He leapt towards
the bars and the crowd screamed and jumped back.
He wagged his bushy tail merrily – he could at least
have some fun while he waited.

Before he left the zoo, Chester had managed to
have his own secret conversation with the marksman.
It was short and to the point.

'If the wolf tries to escape, shoot it,' he said
coldly. 'Only this time, use these bullets, and not a
tranquilliser.'

The marksman held the silver bullets in his hand
and gave a low laugh.

'No problem – it's just a wolf,' he replied, not
realising the bullets' significance.

'Yes, nothing more,' Chester agreed. He didn't want
the werefolk's secrets to be exposed any more than
the other Weren.

'Why do you want it dead so badly, then? You
could make more money stealing it.' The marksman
narrowed his eyes.

'I don't pay you to ask questions . . . just to obey
your orders.' Chester scowled and walked away.

That evening the Fang Council gathered at the castle
to discuss the dire situation. The most important
werefolk in Britain were sitting around the table in
the Great Hall.

'This foolish pup has exposed the Grand Growler
to extreme danger,' Lady Whitehorn declared. 'How
could he possibly be caught on television?'

'He has shown his . . . Blavendoch to all! The
secret sign of the Fangen. I have never shown my
Blavendoch to anyone!' Colonel Slimpaw hit the table
so hard with his fist that Freddy and all the cutlery
jumped high.

'It will be obvious to any human that the boy and
Flasheart are Fangen,' Mr Snotte-Muzzel cried. 'And
he has exposed
us
to discovery. No werefolk will be
safe again.'

'We shall be hunted down,' his wife gasped in fright.

'I think we are all aware of the situation, Fangen
and Weren friends,' Hightail said calmly. 'But for now,
I think you should keep your fears in perspective.
No human knows the significance of the Blavendoch
mark. Nobody is suggesting that Freddy
is
the poodle.
They think the pooch is Flasheart's pet, along with
the mongrel. The country is in a frenzy about rumours
of a wild boy raised by wolves and living in the forests
of Britain – nothing more. No-one has even mentioned
werefolk . . . it's too far-fetched even for
World's Most
Wanted Wildlife
.'

The Fang Council began to see this was reasonable,
and everyone calmed a little.

'The pup has made a . . . well,
several
mistakes,'
Hightail continued, 'but he showed good foresight.
While Flasheart has the Moonstone, he, and our
secret, is safe and we have some time. For now,
Freddy must "disappear" until the country has lost
interest in him and forgotten about wild wolf-boys.
I will attempt to "buy" the wolf from the zoo,
for my
own private collection
. If that fails, we will break him
out, no matter what the difficulty. But we must not
be hasty.'

Freddy's face fell. He wasn't keen on the idea of
'disappearing'.

'May I?' Chester Puceley stood up – he had been
allowed to sit with the Council. 'I know just the
place to keep Freddo safe. My jewel, Priscilla, will be
travelling to Scotland tomorrow to attend summer
camp. Perhaps this pup could go with her. The camp
leader is an old friend of mine from Boldovia, and
sure to keep him out of trouble.'

'Adventure camp?' Freddy piped up.

'Well . . . of a kind. Especially designed for boys
of your
talents
.' Chester nodded with a friendly smile.
Freddy really liked him.

'What, like canoeing and rockclimbing and fishing?
Fantabulous!' Freddy punched the air.

'It is not a holiday, Frederick,' Hightail said gravely.
'You are now a danger to us all. You have to be hidden
for everyone's good.'

Freddy stared down at his feet – why was he always
in trouble? He wasn't a danger, he was a hero. He tried
to look sorry, but his eyes danced with excitement at
the thought of the camp. 'And can I take Batty?'

Chester gave a loud snort. 'Puceleys don't associate
with
dogs
, dear pup.' He tugged at his moustache and
raised an eyebrow.

Freddy flushed with shame. 'I can't go without
her,' he said quietly.

'But my darling Priscilla cannot travel with a dog,
Frederick. You must make your choice and behave
like a wolf.' Chester narrowed his eyes.

The temptation of adventure camp and Priscilla
was too much. Freddy was a little worried about Batty
– he wasn't sure how she would cope without him –
but then he remembered the canoeing and thought
she would probably understand.

But Batty didn't understand everything. She knew
that Flasheart had been captured, knew that Freddy
might still be in danger too, and she could see from
his packed bags that he was leaving. By nudging his
ear and wiggling his nose, Freddy said he was going
to miss her – but she didn't know where he was
going, for how long or why he wasn't taking her
too. He had always said that they were best friends,
and they had hardly spent an hour apart since
they met.

Freddy was trying to stuff his belongings into a
long, sausage-shaped bag.

Batty walked over to it and sniffed at a little luggage
label tied around the handle.

'That's where I'm going to camp,' Freddy said
excitedly, and ruffled her ears once again. In the end,
however, his belongings wouldn't fit in the long bag,
so he chose two smaller bags instead. Once they were
packed he placed the bags on his silver tray.

'Come on, Bats. Slide of Doom!'

With a bark of delight, Batty jumped on behind
him and down they went, spiralling round and round
– Freddy's hair shot upright and Batty's tongue hung
out of her open mouth. They came to a crashing halt
in the rosemary bush.

'Awesome.' Freddy laughed, as Batty licked his
face. 'You're the coolest,' he told her.

'That is so-ooo disgusting.' Priscilla was standing
nearby and looking down her perfect nose at him.
'You treat it like it's an equal. Like it can think.'

'Oh!' Freddy jumped up in surprise and, without
thinking, pushed Batty away. 'Get down, down,' he
ordered.

'She's just a pet,' he told Priscilla.

Batty's ears drooped and her tail fell between her
legs. Freddy gathered his belongings together.

'It's time to go – that is, if you want to come to
camp with
me
.' Priscilla twirled her golden hair.

'Of course I do,' Freddy shouted. 'I mean – yeah,
that's cool.' He gave a not-so-bothered shrug.

'So let's go then.' The perfect girl smiled and walked
away.

Batty watched her with a growl. She understood
now that Freddy was going with the hateful girl.
Why did he like her? Why couldn't he see just how
horrid Priscilla was? She didn't trust the girl, or her
father.

Freddy had all his bags ready and was twitching
with excitement. He pulled a baseball cap onto his
sticky-up hair.

'It's just for a few weeks, don't worry,' he said when
he saw his friend's ears droop ever further. He bent
down to stroke her.

'Freddy!' Priscilla yelled.

He drew back his hand with a guilty jump and did
not pat his friend.

'Oh well, see you then.' He ran to the door.

Batty watched the car depart with a sad heart.

Freddy, however, was not sad in the least. He sat
opposite Priscilla and her father on the train to
Inverness, rocking backwards and forwards eagerly.

'How long till we get there?' he shouted at Chester,
his sharp teeth showing.

'Eight hours,' that gentleman replied, flicking open
his newspaper.

'Cool.'

Priscilla was busy reading a magazine.

Freddy looked at the green hills and trees whizzing
by, his head still pumping to a silent beat. He began to
drum on the table with two pens.

Priscilla and Chester raised their papers higher.
Freddy played his teeth with the pens, like a xylophone.
He paused.

'What's the place called again?'

'Drumbogie House,' Chester replied irritably from
behind the page. It was going to be a long journey.

'Drumbogie House?' Freddy repeated with a guffaw.

No one answered him. '
Bogie
– get it?' Still they
ignored him.

Freddy found that if he made a constant low,
growling, retching noise, the sound of it changed as
the train rattled over the rails. If he put his fingers
in his ears, it was amplified, so he could play a tune
inside his head. It sounded even better if he held down
a nostril and honked. Chester's paper began to shake.
Freddy farted the tune in accompaniment.

'Great horned toads, boy!' Everyone in the carriage
jumped as Chester slammed his paper down. 'You
make more noise than the Boldovian National Band.'
It was the first time he had forgotten to be charming.
His moustache was trembling. Priscilla simply
continued reading with a sweet smile.

'It wasn't me.' Freddy shrugged, not seeing what all
the fuss was about. Chester was the only one making
noise.

Chester returned to his newspaper with a shudder.
A little boy, looking over the back of his seat,
seemed scared of the loud man. Freddy grinned at
him and made a circular sign next to his ear, then
pointed, to indicate that Chester was a nutcase. The
gentleman looked up. Freddy quickly leaned his
head on his hand, as if in deep thought. The little
boy laughed. When Chester disappeared behind his
paper again, Freddy stuck out his tongue at him. The
boy laughed again. Freddy would have to get used
to having adoring fans. Next he demonstrated his
great gurning abilities: he pulled his lower lip up to
his nose and dragged the skin under his eyes down.
The boy clapped. Freddy had a new idea. He stuck a
pen up each nostril and waggled his ears. The little
boy cheered.

Priscilla looked up. She was clearly impressed too!
Freddy gave a cheesy grin. It was going to be a fun
journey.

'You are, like, so-ooo . . .
cool
,' Priscilla observed
and turned back to her magazine. The Treasure of
Bane had better be worth it.

'How long till we get there?' Freddy stuck his head
over the top of Chester's newspaper. One of the pens
fell out of his nose and onto the man's lap.

'Seven hours and forty-five minutes,' Chester
growled, holding up the pen in disgust. A clinging
bogie was clearly visible.

Freddy took the pen and leaned back on his seat.
He saw the bogie and, after a second's thought, wiped
it on the chair next to him.

'Is this seat taken, young man?' an old gentleman
wearing a suit asked him, pointing at the empty chair
next to Freddy.

He stared for a moment at the bogie and then gave
a charming smile. 'No, it's free,' he nodded.

His smile stayed frozen in place as the old man
sat down gratefully. The little boy laughed again.
Freddy looked out of the window with an innocent
expression. His head began to beat again to the jolting
of the train.

His smile collapsed as he saw a massive pair of
buttocks approaching on a billboard in a field. 'Have
you seen the wild wolf-boy?' it asked. He hid his face
as his Blavendoch flew past. It took some time to
recover.

When the old man left the train two hours later,
Freddy was proud to see his bogie had gone too.
Mission successful.

'Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored,' Freddy
groaned, his head on the table. He was too weary with
tedium to lift it. Chester was snoring.

'How about Truth or Dare?' Priscilla said with a
smile.

'What's that?' Freddy opened one eyelid.

'Well, I ask you questions and you tell the truth –
or do the dare.' She leaned forward in her chair. 'Or
are you too chicken?'

'No way!' Freddy shot up in his seat.

'And you can't lie,' she warned, raising her eyebrow.

'I never lie,' Freddy lied.

'Yes you do. You told Mrs Mutton that it wasn't you
who flew her knickers from the flag pole.'

Freddy's eyes began to flutter and he felt his ears
twitching. 'They blew up there on their own,' he said
after a pause.

'No they didn't, I saw you.'

Freddy sulked.

'I'll know if you lie and then you'll lose,' Priscilla
continued

Freddy looked sceptical. 'How?'

'Because your eyes will blink and your ears will
waggle.'

'No way.' Freddy shook his head. It couldn't be
true. How terrible if he could never escape with a little
fib again.

'Say, "My name is Trixie-Bell",' Priscilla
demanded.

'But it isn't,' Freddy countered.

'Say it.'

'It's a girl's name.'

'Just say it – I dare you.'

'My name is Trixie-Bell!' he blurted.

'They're wiggling.' Priscilla laughed in triumph.

Freddy grabbed his ears, distraught.

'And you're blinking.' Priscilla sat back as if bored
with the world.

Freddy tried to keep his eyelids still.

'So-ooo easy. Now, Truth or Dare, and no cheating.'

Freddy really didn't want to play Truth or Dare
now, not if he had to tell the real truth, but he didn't
want to seem like a cowardly custard either.

'What's the dare?' he asked.

'See that great oaf over there?' Priscilla nodded
down the carriage.

'Which one?' Freddy craned his neck.

'Vinny,' she replied.

'How do you know his name?'

'Because he's written "Vinny" on his forehead with
a texta.'

Freddy knelt up on his seat and looked back. Vinny
was about thirteen, had a skinhead haircut, lots of
scary-looking muscles, and, as Priscilla had noticed,
his name written on his head in black pen.

Vinny caught Freddy staring and glared back.
Freddy slunk back down in his seat.

'What about him?' he asked nervously.

'If you lose, you must tell Vinny that he's a big girlie
fluff bunny!' Priscilla's eyes glittered.

'But he'll marmalatter me!' Freddy gaped in horror.

'Only if you lose.' Priscilla shrugged.

Freddy nodded. His stomach was starting to ache.

Priscilla spoke very quietly, so no-one else could
hear over her father's loud snores.

'What's your name?'

'Freddy Lupin.' So far, so easy.

'Are you a wolf?'

'Yes!' Easy-peasy.

'Are you a poodle?'

'Erm . . .' Freddy paused. '. . . Yes.'

'Are you a yellow-bellied-pathetic-little-lamebrainloser-
of-a-coward?' Priscilla smiled.

'No!'

'Oh, I didn't think so.'

She thought for a moment.

'Have you heard of the Treasure of Bane?' Her
voice dropped even lower, a bright sparkle in her
pretty eyes.

'No,' Freddy said without hesitation. Priscilla
narrowed her eyes, but his ears weren't moving – he
really didn't know.

She tried again. 'Is there a secret passage in Farfang?'
Freddy paused.

Chester had stopped snoring and was in fact
holding his breath. One eye opened ever so slightly.

Freddy was not supposed to tell
anyone
.

'
Truth or Dare!
' Priscilla sang and batted her
eyelashes.

'Yes, there is.' Freddy nodded, biting his lip a little.
'But I've never seen it.'

Priscilla smiled again. 'So where is the entrance?'

'I don't know.'

'You must know!' Priscilla cried. People looked
around.

'Only the Grand Growler knows,' Freddy said
honestly.

'Only your
Daddy
?' Priscilla snorted. 'But he's a
wolf now, we can't ask him.'

'Perhaps Uncle Hotspur knows – he was once the
Grand Growler too.'

Chester's eyebrows shot up and he started in
his seat.

'But he's been locked up in Dundaggard Castle
ever since
I
defeated him and saved all werefolk from
destruction.' Freddy posed heroically.

'Humph!' Priscilla pursed her lips. This idiot didn't
know anything.

'So do I win?' Freddy laughed in triumph.

'I haven't finished yet! Do you have a girlfriend?'

'No way! I hate girls.'

'Don't you like
any
girls?' she said evilly.

Freddy started to blink rapidly. 'No . . .'

'Not even a little teensy bit?' she grimaced in a little
sulk and twirled her hair.

Freddy's ears began to waggle.

'No,' he said desperately, his face purple with
humiliation.

'So you don't like
me
, Freddy?' Priscilla's bottom
lip came out and tears filled her eyes.

'Yes! No!' His ears and eyes were going mad.