Amos and the Vampire (4 page)

“And you call him C.D. because …”

“If it’s any of your business, his family name is Drago. And since he’s due to become a count any day, I thought C.D. sort of suited him. Don’t you think so?”

“Yeah, real cute.” Dunc hesitated. “Amy?”

“What is it now?”

“Do me a favor and be real careful when you’re alone with that guy.”

Amy winked at him. “Why, Duncan Culpepper, I didn’t know you cared.”

“He doesn’t.” Amos appeared at the top of the stairs wrapped in a towel. “Nobody does. For all we care, C.D. can have every ounce of your sorry old blood. It’ll probably poison him anyway.”

Amy looked at Dunc. “It’s finally happened. The little nerd has flipped out. I’d call for a strait jacket, but I need him tomorrow night. Don’t forget to give him my message.” Amy pushed a strand of blond hair behind one ear and sauntered out of the room.

Dunc sighed. “Sure, Amy. No problem.”

“Amos, you’re supposed to be helping me find information. We can’t afford to make any more mistakes.”

“There’s nothing wrong with looking at informative magazines.” Amos turned a
National Geographic
sideways. “This one happens to be very educational.”

Dunc grabbed the magazine. “Cut that out. We came to the library to get as many facts on vampires as possible before tomorrow night.”

“I don’t need the facts. You do. Melissa’s party is tomorrow night, and I’m not going to miss it—even if Amy pulverizes me for it.”

“I’ve got that all worked out. C.D. is picking us up at seven o’clock, and Melissa’s party doesn’t start until eight. You’ve got a full hour to help me out. By the way, did your invitation ever arrive?”

“It probably got lost in the mail. But don’t worry. I’m not gonna let a little thing like that stop me.”

“Somehow I didn’t think you would.”

“Ahem.” At the next table, a tall, thin man with a pencil mustache cleared his throat. Then he whispered, “Did I hear you say you were looking for information about”—the man straightened his glasses and glanced around to see if anyone was listening—“vampires?”

Dunc nodded. “Why? Do you know a good resource book?”

“Better.” The man scribbled something on a piece of paper, folded it, and slid it across the table. “Tell him that Simpson sent you.”

The tall man quickly gathered his things and practically ran out of the library.

“If that doesn’t beat everything.” Amos scratched his head. “This town gets more crackpots every day.”

Dunc opened the paper. “This one may
not be a crackpot, Amos. Take a look at this.”

Amos read the name. “Bertram Watson. Who’s that?”

“Don’t you remember?
Dracula of the Night?
Bertram Watson is the guy who wrote it. This is his address. He’s staying at the old Moonlight Inn.”

“That proves he’s a crackpot. Nobody stays there except winos, bums, and criminals.”

Dunc pushed his chair in. “Come on, Amos. You and I are going to pay Mr. Watson a visit.”

“Do you know what time it is? The poor man’s probably an early sleeper. I’ll bet he’s already in bed—where we would be if we had any sense.”

“I have a feeling about this, Amos.”

Dunc waved at Mr. Kibble, the librarian, who was putting the
CLOSED
sign in the front library window. The elderly gentleman tottered to the door and unlocked it to let them out. He patted Amos on the head. “That’s what I like to see. Young people studying, filling their minds with knowledge, not out
playing those ridiculous video games till all hours of the night.”

“You know me, Mr. Kibble.” Amos put his hand on his heart. “I’d rather study than eat.”

Mr. Kibble winked at Dunc. “Next time keep him away from the magazine section.” He waited until they were through the door and then locked it behind them.

Amos ran his hand through his hair. “How did he know?”

Dunc unlocked his bike. “Mr. Kibble is pretty sharp. I heard in his younger days he was an agent for the CIA.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Maybe. But I wouldn’t have any overdue books if I were you. He’s been known to use jujitsu.” Dunc jumped the curb and waited.

Amos was still staring at the library.

“Get your bike, Amos. We don’t have all night.”

“I’m coming. Say, you wouldn’t be interested in bringing back a couple of slightly overdue books for me, would you?”

Dunc smiled. “We’ll talk about it later—after you help me get rid of the vampires.”

“Of all the people in the universe, why did you have to be my best friend?” Amos asked. “No one else in the world would bring me to a place like this in the middle of the night.”

Dunc looked at the motel. It was filthy and falling down from age. Only three letters flashed off and on in the neon sign—
G, I,
and
N.

Amos rolled his bike around a wino in the driveway. “Well, at least the name fits. What’s the room number?”

“Thirteen.”

“What else?”

Dunc found the room. The three was
hanging upside down by a loose nail. “This is it.” He knocked loudly.

The door opened a crack, and a raspy voice called out, “Simpson?”

“No, but he sent us,” Dunc said.

The door opened wider. “Come in. Hurry, we don’t want them to see you. They’re everywhere, you know.”

Dunc studied the chubby little man. He looked like he’d come from another time. His suit was made of green tweed, and he carried a bowler hat. “Who exactly don’t we want to see us, Mr. Watson?”

The man gave him a cross look. “Why, the Dragos of course. They know I’m here. I’ve been following them for years. That’s why you came, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes, but …”

“Then sit down and listen. There’s not a moment to lose.” Mr. Watson jerked the curtains closed and turned off all the lights except the lamp by the bed where the boys were sitting. He dragged a tattered chair over from the side of the room.

“The Dragos are an old and dangerous family. Their ancestry can be traced all the
way back to the Count himself … Dracula.”

Amos gasped. “Then it’s true? They really are vampires?”

“Of course it’s true, boy. Now be quiet and pay attention.” He scooted the chair closer. “I almost had one of them in France. Tricked the old man into staying out until it was nearly dawn. But he had a hideout nearby and made it back in time. Now that they know I’m after them, it’s harder to catch one of them unaware.”

“Mr. Watson.” Dunc sat forward. “My friend and I have been invited to their house for dinner tomorrow night.”

Mr. Watson clapped his hands with glee. “It couldn’t have worked out better if I had planned it.” He ran to the closet and pulled down a suitcase. “We may have them this time.” The round little man knelt on the floor and snapped open the case. “Here it is. My own secret formula, you know.”

He handed Dunc a white envelope. “This contains the only thing in the world that will poison a vampire. Extract of garlic. Pour it in their glasses at dinner.”

Dunc stared at the envelope. “Poison?”

“Don’t worry, boy. You’re safe. It won’t hurt humans.” He moved to the door. “Now off with both of you. You’ll need your sleep if you intend to outwit the Drago family.”

“Amos, you can’t wear that.”

“Why not? I figure if I put on everything except the head, I’ll be ready in case something comes up and we’re a little late to Melissa’s party.”

“Well, for one thing, Amy isn’t going to be too thrilled if you go to the Dragos’ dinner wearing the bottom half of a Bambi costume, and for another, you don’t want to ruin it. I borrowed it from my dad’s friend, the casting director over at the college.”

“I’m not going to ruin it. I’m taking very good care of it. See, I wrapped up the antlers in this sheet.”

“That’s another thing, Amos. What are
you going to do? Carry a deer head around with you all evening?”

Amos folded his arms stubbornly around the sheet. “I don’t care what anybody says. Melissa is more important than any old vampire dinner.”

A horn honked from the street below.

Dunc looked out the window. “It’s C.D., Amos.”

Amy yelled from downstairs. “Get down here, maggot-heads. Our ride is outside.”

“Boy, your sister really has a way with words. I can’t wait till she sees how you’re dressed.”

“With any luck she won’t know until it’s too late.” Amos peeked out his door. “She’s already outside. You walk in front of me to the car.” He stopped halfway down the stairs. “Did you bring the envelope with the vampire poison?”

“That’s the fourth time you’ve asked me.” Dunc patted his shirt pocket. “I told you, it’s right here.”

Amos reached for the doorknob. “Let’s get this over with as fast as possible. It’ll probably ruin Melissa’s whole night if I’m late.”

“I wouldn’t spend too much time worrying
about that if I were you.” Dunc stepped out the door in front of Amos.

“Wait. What do you mean by that?”

“Justin Smeltzer said she invited Biff Fastrack and half the football team. If you don’t show up, I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to console her.”

The mansion looked different at night. It loomed eerily before them, shrouded in mist. As C.D. pushed open the massive front door, its rusty hinges seemed to cry out in agony. He motioned for them to enter.

“Wow! This is some layout you have here.” Amy chomped her gum and looked around appreciatively. Then she noticed Amos. Her eyes turned to tiny green slits. “I’m going to kill you.”

C.D. licked his lips and smiled at Amos.

“Are these your little friends, darling?” A distinguished-looking man entered the hall.
On his arm was a tall woman with long dark hair.

The woman looked at Amos from under drooping eyelids. “Interesting clothes these Americans wear. Bring them into the parlor. We’ll talk and have something to drink before dinner.”

They followed her into a small room to the left of the entryway. The furnishings were old and dusty, and cobwebs hung thickly in every corner.

When they were seated, the hunchbacked man who had eaten the bug a few days ago brought in a tray of iced tea and set it on a small table. Now he was dressed in a butler’s uniform, and he acted like he’d never seen the boys before.