100% Hero (15 page)

Mrs Mutton sat in the cell where the two men had
locked her. She could hear them arguing as they
searched every inch of the castle. They were pulling
down tapestries, moving furniture and rolling up
carpets. She gave a small laugh at their useless attempts
to gain information from her.

Now and again, one of them came down to visit her.

Hotspur raged and fumed about Chester.

'Never could stand him, madam. He's nearly human,
hardly even a Weren. Doesn't have a plan. But when we
find this treasure – I'll show him, sir. I'll show him!'

'You're in a lot of trouble, Hotspur. It won't be long
before the Fang Council comes here looking for you.
Give yourself up now and they'll be easy on you.'

'Never!' Hotspur's red eyes glowered. 'I will never
return to Dundaggard. I will be the Grand Growler
once again. That I will, sir!'

'Your brother is Grand Growler.' Mrs Mutton
narrowed her eyes.

'Not for long, madam,' the big man laughed coldly.
'First I find this treasure – whatever it is – then I deal
with Flasheart. Sitting there in his cage like a helpless
animal.'

Next it was Chester's turn.

'May I say that you are looking very fine today, Mrs
Mutton.' He twitched his moustache.

'Stow it, slimeball,' the old lady fumed. 'Where
have you sent Freddy?'

'Oh, don't worry about that fool – he's safely out of
my way. He's too much of an idiot to be any trouble
and Priscilla can keep him quiet.'

'You'll be getting more than the wooden spoon
when Flasheart discovers what you're up to.'

'Oh, I doubt it. My man has orders to shoot him
if anyone attempts a rescue. I'm not worried about
the famous "Grand Growler", or magical powers, or
the honour of the Lupins – I just want the treasure.
The only reason Hotspur is here is because I brought
him.'

'You won't ever get your hands on that treasure.
Hotspur can't help you.' She smiled knowingly.
'Only Flasheart can find the entrance you seek – so
you'd better not shoot him, had you?'

Hideously early the following morning, Priscilla
awoke with fright at a bugle blast. The twins
screamed like terrified piglets. They were all sitting
in the tent where they had been dumped the night
before. Vinny had released them from the sacks,
warned them to keep quiet and then tied the exit
shut from outside.

'Will you shut up?' Priscilla glared at the Putrid
Pair, her hands clamped over her ears.

'Why should we?' Harriet stuck out her tongue.

'Yeah! You're not the boss of us.' Chariot giggled.

'You're not the boss, you're not the boss . . .' they
chanted over and over.

'No –
I
am the boss!' roared a massive voice.

Everyone jumped back as the zip was pulled up
and the tent flap yanked open.

A huge angry face, bright red with fury, peered in
at them – its eyes bulging.

'Get out now, you lazy, repulsive, slimy little
worms.' Then the face disappeared.

Very, very nervously the three crept out, blinking
in the bright sunlight. There were rows of boys
and girls all standing to attention outside their
canvas tents. Priscilla's eyes scanned for Vinny, but
he was nowhere to be seen. The red face belonged
to the biggest man any of them had ever seen. He
was dressed in army camouflage. The heads of the
Pukesome Twosome drifted up to stare at him, their
mouths open.

'Get into line, you smelly little farts,' he roared.

The twins jumped into formation, not daring to
squeak. Priscilla, however, was not so easily daunted.

'Excuse
me
!' she snapped at him.

'Excuse me,
Sergeant Major
!' he cried.

'Hell
ooo
– no need to shout. I'm not deaf.' Priscilla
gave a snort.

All the children in formation drew in their breath.
The sergeant major took a step nearer and stared at
her as if he had never seen a human before.

'There has been a mistake,' Priscilla said
confidently.

'A
mistake
?' the soldier repeated.

'Well, a crime, actually,' Priscilla corrected.

'A
crime
?'

'Yes, it's not fair – I'm not actually supposed to be
here with these . . .' she looked around '. . . scruffy
people. I was kidnapped.'

'
Kidnapped?
'

'Yes, so if you wouldn't mind calling the police,
I can be getting home to Papa.' She leaned towards
him. 'I have certainly had enough of Scotland.'

She planned on getting the next train down to her
father – and then the Lupins would pay!

The soldier took in a deep breath and stepped
back.

'Who here
volunteered
to come to boot camp?' He
stamp-stepped around, his little beret at an angle on
his head.

Nobody replied.

'Raise your smelly hand if you fink a
mistake
was
made sending you here.'

All hands shot up.

'Put your hand back down if you fink it's not
fair
,'
he cried.

All hands went down.

'Put it up again if you fink you was
kidnapped
.'

All hands up.

'Put it down if you want to go home to
Pa-pa
.'

All hands down.

'No, you don't understand.' Priscilla laughed at his
stupidity. 'I really was kidnapped. I am the daughter
of the Archduchess of Boldovia. If you call my
father . . .'

'And I am the Archduke of Dorksville! Nobody
wants to be at boot camp!' The sergeant major's eyes
almost flew from his head as he roared.

Priscilla jumped back.

'No-one finks it's
fair
– that's the point! Now you
two, over to the fat farm – you have a mountain to
run up.'

The twins' faces fell in shock.

'And you, my pretty princess –' the sergeant
major smiled and held up a tiny toothbrush – 'toilet
cleaning.'

Priscilla's lower lip wobbled in disgust.

'NOW!' he screamed.

With a little yelp, Priscilla sprinted off. The
nightmare was just beginning.

A mile away, Vinny, who had just about squeezed into
Freddy's newly laundered Prince Charming outfit,
walked into the dance studio. He looked a little nervous.
Ginger had told the ballerinas of Freddy's escape plan –
without mentioning werewolves or poodles, of course.
All the girls had rather liked him, had not been too
keen on Priscilla, and had absolutely hated the twins,
so everyone agreed to keep the secret.

The girls all giggled and waved at Vinny, and he
blushed madly. This didn't seem to be a good idea
after all. What if the old lady wasn't fooled – or if
his friends couldn't keep the twins or Priscilla from
talking . . . what if he couldn't dance after all?

'It'll be fine.' Ginger grinned at him.

Madam hobbled into the room. She was very
grumpy when she could not find her spectacles. She
squinted her eyes nearly shut and glared over at the
boy. Everyone held their breath.

'You, boy, hurry up – ve carry on wiz ze grand
finale. Vhere iz Zinderella?' She stared around the
room blindly.

'Priscilla's not feeling very well, Madam. She's got,
like, yellow diarrhoea and it smells like cat's vomit,'
Ginger informed her. The girls all blinked innocently.
'But I know the steps.'

'Ze clump-clopper as Zinderella?' Madam scoffed.
'Not pozzible. Who elze can do it?' She moved her
head in an arc around the room. Nobody said a word
or raised their hand.

With a sign of disgust, Madam threw up her hands.
'Very well! Zinderella jumps into Charming's armz –
practise.'

With a nervous laugh, Ginger skipped across the
floor and for once she did not trip or stumble, but
launched herself at Vinny. The boy caught her easily
and all the ballerinas clapped and screamed.

'Zilence!' Madam cried and stamped her stick.

Ginger and Vinny gave a small smile of relief. So
far, so good.

Freddy and Batty had snuck onto the first train
leaving Inverness at five o'clock that morning. They
had burrowed a tunnel into the sacks of letters
and parcels heading south and fallen into a deep,
exhausted sleep. The train pulled into Milford station
some eight hours later. When he awoke, Freddy was
still a poodle – the effects of the Blavendoch had not
worn off so far.

'First things first – sausages,' Freddy yipped as they
jumped down and scampered across the platform.

'The red meat shop!' Batty laughed in delight. How
she loved tormenting the butcher.

Early in the afternoon, after the sausage raid, the
eyes and muzzles of the two dogs peered around the
gates of Milford Zoo. Freddy wanted to see his father
straight away.

'Not yet, Stinky,' Batty growled, waiting for the
security guard to turn his back.

'I know, I'm not stupid. What do you think
happens when I don't have you to tell me what to do?'
he complained.

'You get dognapped, or locked in dungeons, or
sent to a girls' kennel,' Batty said, thinking of the
ballet school.

'Humph!' Freddy stamped his dainty foot. He
wished he could deny it.

'Let's go.' She nudged him and pointed the way
with her ear.

The two dogs scampered into the zoo and tried
their best to hide among the crowd.

As they approached the big green area in the
centre of the zoo, Freddy saw the crowd gathered
around Flasheart's cage – but something was wrong.
They weren't talking excitedly but sounded hushed,
confused and concerned.

Freddy's heart beat painfully – was he too late?

'Be careful, Stinky,' Batty growled as the poodle
sprang forward.

'Great howls!' Freddy yelped in dismay.

The door to his father's cage stood open. It was
empty, except for the marksman with the rifle, who
was pacing the enclosure angrily.

'What's happened? Where's your dad?' Batty woofed.

'I don't know.' Freddy sat up on his hind legs and
strained to overhear the humans nearby.

'They say it escaped,' one lady said, looking around
nervously. 'Imagine – a huge wolf on the loose.' She
pulled her children in closer.

'No, I heard that it was stolen,' a man replied.

'No,' said a third. 'It was shot. I know it for a fact.
They carried its body out in the night.'

'It's a trick,' said another. 'Just Sugar Smith trying
to keep
World's Most Wanted Wildlife
in the news – just
like that made-up wild wolf-boy story.'

Freddy felt sick to his stomach. He managed to
tell Batty each of the theories he had just heard. She
growled in sympathy.

'It's all my fault,' he groaned.

'Shush, Freddy.' She whacked him with her
tail. 'They don't know nothing. I'm sure your dad
is okay – I can feel it. Let's go home. If Flasheart
has escaped that's where he'll be going. And besides,
we have to make sure the Red Wolf isn't up to
nothing.'

Freddy leapt onto his elegant toes with renewed
determination, remembering Chester and his uncle.
Mrs Mutton might be in trouble and he, Second
Greatest Werewolf Hero Ever, would come to her
aid.

'Let's run, my friend,' he said. 'We have heroics to
perform!'

'That's more like the pongy poodle I know,' Batty
woofed, and they faced for Farfang.

'Oi! I am not pongy!' Freddy cried as he followed
her.