Full Moon Halloween (6 page)

Mr. Moon and his wife turned to the front hall. “Who could that be?” Angela asked.

“Don’t anyone move,” Mr. Moon ordered.

They both hurried to the door.

Tristan set his cup on the table. “Come on—” he whispered. “This is our chance. Let’s get out of here!”

“Now we can try the kitchen,” Ray said.

No one said another word. They all set their goblets on the table and took off.

Tristan found his way into the kitchen. He ran past the disgusting tray of animal parts on the counter.

The kitchen had one narrow window looking onto the backyard. Tristan tugged back the curtains.

“Oh no”

The window was barred like all the others.

Ray hurried to the kitchen door and struggled to open it. He twisted the brass knob one way, then the other. He tried pulling. Then he lowered his shoulder to the door and pushed hard.

“It won’t budge,” he groaned.

“The doors are bolted electronically,” Tristan said. “Like the bars on the windows.”

“There has to be a way out!” Bella cried. “I—I can’t stand this anymore!”

Rosa placed a hand on Bella’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll get out,” she said.

“But—how?” Ray cried, glancing around the big room frantically.

“The basement!” Tristan cried. “Maybe there is a way out through the basement.”

“If there are windows…” Ray muttered.

“But how do we get there?” Rosa asked, spinning around to search.

Tristan spotted a narrow hallway leading off the kitchen. “One of these doors has got to lead downstairs.”

They took off again.

As they ran, Tristan could hear Mr. Moon and Angela at the front door.

“What great costumes l”

“Very scary!”

“What are you supposed to be? A mummy?”

They were oohing and ahing over trick-or-treaters passing out candy.

We should have screamed for help, Tristan realized. Maybe the trick-or-treaters would have helped us.

Maybe they have a parent along with them. We should have run to the front door and shouted.

Too late.

He heard the front door slam.

Rosa pulled open a door at the end of the short hall. “Yes! Here it is!” she cried. “Basement stairs.”

They didn’t hesitate. They made their way down the stairs. Tristan shut the hall door behind him as he followed the others down.

The basement air felt cold and damp. Tristan heard the steady
drip drip drip
of water somewhere in the distance.

A huge gray furnace as big as a small house rumbled in the center of the room. It was surrounded by mountains of junk.

Piles of old newspapers and magazines. Stacks of old clothing. Beat-up furniture. Cardboard cartons piled to the ceiling.

“Check it out. That window isn’t barred,” Rosa said, pointing.

Tristan gazed at the small window. It was at the basement ceiling, at ground level.

Was it big enough to climb through?

He heard the ceiling creak overhead. He knew that Mr. Moon and Angela were searching for them upstairs.

We have only a few seconds, he realized.

Ray stood under the tiny window, gazing up at it. “It’s pretty small,” he said.

“The rest of us are too big. But you can squeeze through,” Rosa told him.

“I’ll give you a boost,” Tristan said.

He cupped his hands and allowed Ray to place one shoe in them. Then he tried to hoist him up the stone wall toward the window.

“Whoa.” Tristan cried out as Ray slid back to the floor. “You’re too heavy,” he groaned.

“I couldn’t reach anyway,” Ray said. He ran across the room. He grabbed a milk crate and slid it under the window.

Tristan slid another one over to it and piled it on top of the first. “Okay. Climb up.” He gave Ray another boost, onto the top of the crates.

Ray started to reach for the window handle—when they all heard a cough.

Behind them, something crashed to the floor. A carton?

“What was that?” Rosa asked.

Tristan turned to the stairs. Mr. Moon?

No.

He heard another cough. Then footsteps coming toward them.

“Someone is here with us!” Tristan cried. “We’re not alone down here!”

They all gasped as Michael Moon stepped into the light.

He had tried to wipe off the vampire makeup. But patches of white clung to his cheeks and chin. His hair was still slicked back on his head. He had changed into jeans and a gray sweatshirt.

“I—I thought you were my parents,” he said, glancing to the stairs.

“They’ll be here any second,” Tristan told him. “You have to help us.”

“I tried to warn you,” Michael said. “You should have listened.”

“We didn’t know,” Rosa told him. “We had no idea that your parents—”

“They’ve done this before,” Michael Interrupted. “You mean—capture a real werewolf?” Tristan asked.

“They do it every year,” Michael answered. “I tried to stop them this time. I really did. But they wouldn’t listen.”

“How can we get out?” Ray asked. “Can you help me up to that window?”

“The window up there doesn’t open,” Michael replied, frowning up at it. “You’d have to break the glass. And there isn’t time.”

He gazed down at Rosa’s hand. “Those puncture marks. Don’t tell me—” His face filled with horror.

“A plog bit me,” Rosa said. “Your father had them in a big carton. He said—”

“Did he put them back in their box?” Michael asked. “He didn’t let them escape this time—did he?”

“They all escaped,” Tristan told Michael. “What difference does it make? We have to hurry. We—”

“Oh, wow.” Michael Moon shook his head. “This is bad.
Really
bad. They turn into hunters,” he said, staring at Rosa’s hand. “After they’ve been free for a short while. They need meat. They’re tiny—but they become so vicious, so deadly.”

Tristan jumped when he heard a soft
thud
behind him.

He turned—and saw them. Five plogs, moving silently across the basement.

Coming from all directions.

Their dark quills stood straight up. Their tiny eyes glared coldly from between the quills.

Michael ducked behind a stack of cartons as the plogs attacked.

All five of them jumped at once. With high squeals, they leaped into the air.

“Hey!” Tristan screamed as one of them hit the front of his shirt—and stuck.

He felt a stab of pain as the sharp points poked through his shirt into his skin.

“No!” he grabbed it with both hands and heaved it across the basement.

“Help me! Help!” Bella shrieked.

She was struggling to pull a plog from her hair. “Owww! It’s digging into my head!”

Two plogs had attached to Ray’s tights. He kicked his leg back and forth and slapped at them, trying to knock them off.

Tristan spotted another stairway half-hidden in shadow at the back of the basement. “This way!” he cried.

He ducked as a plog leaped for his head. It flew over him and hit the stone basement wall with a soft splat.

Tristan took off, running to the other stairway. Glancing back, he saw Rosa help rip a plog from Bella’s hair.

Then all four of them were running to the stairs. Taking the stairs two at a time.

Tristan turned and saw the five plogs following after them, sliding over the basement floor, quills raised.

Gasping for breath, Tristan pushed open the door at the top and kept running.

The long, dark hall had rooms on both sides. Tristan passed a small home office…a bathroom…bedrooms.

“Where does this lead?” Rosa asked breathlessly. The hall ended suddenly at a tall, dark door. The four of them stopped outside it, breathing noisily.

They turned and saw the plogs, moving in a group now. Scooting toward them down the hall.

“Quick—open It,” Bella urged. “Hurry!” Tristan grabbed the doorknob.

But a sound on the other side made him jump back.

He heard a hard
bump
against the door.

He heard something pawing the floor. Scraping sounds.

Animal panting.

Another hard bump on the door.

And then a low growl.

“Oh.”

Bella’s mouth dropped open in fear. “No, wait! Don’t open it, Tristan.”

They listened to the frantic pawing sounds on the other side of the door. The low growls.

“A werewolf,” Ray muttered. “They’ve already captured one. There’s a werewolf in there.”

“Don’t open it,” Bella repeated.

Another growl.

Tristan turned. The plogs had pressed together to form a line. They were preparing to leap.

We’re trapped, Tristan realized.

I have no choice.

He grabbed the door, held his breath, and pulled it open.

A dog! Tristan realized.

An enormous black Lab.

Panting hard, the dog burst into the hallway.

It ran past Tristan and his friends, big paws thudding on the hard floor.

With a growl, it attacked the plogs.

It lifted one of the prickly round creatures in its teeth and tossed it against the wall. The plog squealed as it hit the wall, then leaped away.

Squeaking loudly, the other four plogs scattered, darting down the hall after the first one.

Barking at the top of its lungs, the big dog bounded after them. It turned a corner and disappeared.

“I see you let Bully out,” a voice boomed. Mr.
Moon stepped into the hall. “You really shouldn’t have done that.”

“Let us go!” Ray screamed. “Those animals—they dug their teeth into us and bit us!”

Bella had her hands on the sides of her head. “My hair. Did they tear out my hair?”

“It’s okay,” Rosa told her.

“I’m going to call Bully back,” Mr. Moon said.

“Bully is a good dog. But he doesn’t like werewolves. In fact, Bully becomes truly vicious when there is a werewolf in the room.”

The teacher’s eyes flashed. “Shall I call Bully back?”

“No—please! Tristan cried, tossing up his hands. “Enough. That’s enough. You can let my friends go. I confess! It’s me! I’m a werewolf!”

Tristan’s friends all gasped.

“Wait! Don’t call the dog back—please,” Tristan begged. “You’ve caught me. I’m the one.”

“Tristan—what are you
saying?
” Bella cried.

“It’s true,” Tristan said, raising his right hand as if swearing an oath. “He has caught me. I don’t know how you knew. But I’m a werewolf.”

Mr. Moon nodded. His grin grew wider. “Another victory,” he muttered. He moved quickly to capture Tristan.

Tristan backed against the wall. “You’re going to put me in the cage—right?” he asked.

The teacher nodded. “It’s almost midnight. I need to lock you up before you start to change.”

“And this means you can let everyone else go home?” Tristan asked. “You’ve got me. I have confessed. So you can let my friends go right now?”

Rosa stared hard at Tristan. He could see her thinking hard.

Does she realize what I’m trying to do? he wondered.

If Mr. Moon allows the others to leave, they can go bring back help. They can bring someone to rescue me.

Rosa stepped in front of Tristan. “I—I want to confess, too,” she told Mr. Moon.

“Really?” He couldn’t hide his surprise.

“I’m a werewolf, too,” Rosa said. “That’s why Tristan and I are such good friends. Because we’re both werewolves.”

“Really?” Mr. Moon repeated. His eyes moved excitedly from Rosa to Tristan. He rubbed his hands together. “Well, well. This is a lucky night.
Two
werewolves for the price of one!”

He clapped his hands on their shoulders and began guiding them down the hall.

“Are you taking us to the cages?” Tristan asked. “Does this mean that Bella and Ray can go home?”

Mr. Moon didn’t reply. He brought them all to the kitchen.

Angela was seated on a high stool at the kitchen counter. She held a white mug of coffee between her hands.

She had finally removed her halo. Her blond hair was still piled high on her head. And she hadn’t changed from her white angel robe.

Angela took a sip of coffee and set down the mug. “What’s happening?” she asked her husband.

“We have captured
two
werewolves tonight!” Mr. Moon declared. He shoved Tristan and Rosa forward. “These two have confessed.”

“How wonderful!” Angela exclaimed.

She glanced at the kitchen clock. It read eleven thirty. “This means we will have them in the cage before they can do any harm tonight.”

“And it means Bella and Ray can go home—right?” Tristan repeated.

Please let them
go, he thought.

Please let them go get someone to rescue Rosa and me from these two lunatics
.

“We can’t let them go just yet,” Mr. Moon said. “Not until I know for sure that you and Rosa are telling the truth.”

“But we’ve confessed!” Rosa cried. “We are the werewolves. Why would we lie about it?”

“Lock us up before midnight,” Tristan warned. “Hurry. Rosa and I don’t want to hurt any innocent people tonight.”

“And let our friends go home,” Rosa said.

Mr. Moon didn’t reply. He led all four of them back into the dining room.

“I will let them go,” he said, “as soon as you prove you are werewolves.”

Tristan gasped. “Huh? Prove It?”

Mr. Moon picked up a silver goblet from the dining room table. He handed it, to Tristan.

“I believe we were all about to have a little drink of wolfbane,” he said. “But we got interrupted.”

Tristan stared at the dark red liquid in the cup. His heart started to pound.

“Pick up your glasses, everyone,” Mr. Moon instructed. “Let’s drink it down.”

“Do Ray and I have to drink it, too?” Bella asked.

Mr. Moon nodded. “Everyone drinks the wolfbane,” he said. “If Tristan and Rosa are telling the truth, they will instantly become very sick. If they are lying—or if someone else is the secret werewolf—we will know it at once.”

“Wolfbane makes werewolves very, very sick,” Angela said, standing in the doorway.

“Go ahead. Prove it,” Mr. Moon said to Tristan and Rosa. “Prove that you are telling the truth. Let’s see if the wolfbane poisons you.”

Tristan and Rosa gazed across the table at each other. Tristan could see Rosa’s hand tremble. She gripped the goblet in both hands.

Tristan dipped a finger into the liquid. It felt warm and thick, thicker than maple syrup.

He glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner.
Only twenty minutes until midnight arrived.

“Come on, everybody. It’s getting late,” Mr. Moon said. “I know some of you want to get home. And some of you need to be locked away in the cage.”

“Drink up, everyone!” Angela said.

Tristan took a deep breath.

Then he raised the glass to his lips and started to drink.