Horror Holiday (6 page)

Mr Wild stood up and slapped his belly with satisfaction. “Time for a stroll. Fancy coming?”

“No, thanks,” said Mr Montague, finishing his raw steak. He looked paler now, and was clutching his stomach. “I think I’ll just turn in. Long day and all.”

“A good jog can help the digestion, you know,” said Mr Wild.

“No, really,” said Mr Montague with a groan. “I could do with a bit of a lie down.”

Mr and Mrs Wild shrugged and disappeared into the mist. Maud didn’t believe they were going hiking so late at night, but she didn’t want to think about what they
were really up to.

“Try not to stay up too late,” said Mr Montague. He trudged back to the caravan, followed by Mrs Montague, who quickly tucked her steak into the rubbish bag and fished a packet of
peanuts out of her pocket. As soon as her parents opened the door, Maud could hear Milly whining. Even though her tent was caked with mud, she was glad she wasn’t sharing the caravan with her
sister.

Maud pulled her steak away from the fire and examined it. The edges were slightly browner, but it was still pretty much raw. This was going to take for ever.

Penelope grabbed a skewer and stuck her steak on the end of it. She wiggled her fingers, muttered under her breath, and fire whooshed around the meat, making it sizzle. She pulled out the skewer
to reveal a perfect, well-done steak.

“Monstrous!” said Maud. “Will you do that to mine?”

“No, I don’t think I will,” said Penelope, taking a bite. “This really is excellent, though. Yum-yum-yum.”

Maud didn’t want Penelope to see she was jealous, so she concentrated on turning her own steak around in the meagre flames.

“That really was first class,” said Penelope, when she’d finished. “Off to my nice, dry tent now. Good luck with the cooking.”

On the other side of the campfire, Wilf was gathering the litter his family had tossed aside.

“Can I talk to you about something?” asked Maud.

“Sure,” said Wilf. He tied a knot in the rubbish bag and sat down next to her.

“Paprika flew over to our house today,” said Maud. “He came to warn me about something called the ‘Beast of Oddington’. Have you ever heard of it?”

Wilf glanced around before leaning in. “There aren’t many things that can scare us werewolves,” he whispered. “But the Beast of Oddington is one of them. Even Dad’s
frightened of it. Everyone’s told him he’s mad to keep coming back here every year, but I think he’s taken it as a challenge.”

“So you’ve seen it?” asked Maud.

“No,” said Wilf, “but last time we were staying here, we heard these strange howls in the night. And the next morning, there were giant scratch marks all down the
truck.”

“What sort of beast is it?” asked Maud.

“No one knows,” said Wilf. “Nobody who’s seen it has lived to tell the tale. But I’ve heard it has twenty-four eyes, long, sharp teeth and nostrils that breathe
fire. And it must have pretty massive claws, judging from the scratches.”

A twig snapped in the trees behind them. Maud and Wilf jumped up and spun around.

Maud could feel her heart beating faster as she peered into the murk. There seemed to be something moving.

“Roooaaaarrrr!”

Maud shrieked and Wilf yelped. Inside Maud’s pocket, Quentin squeaked.

“H-h-hello?” said Maud. “Is anyone there?”

A figure emerged from the mist. It lurched closer and closer, until finally it stepped into the light of the campfire.

“Sorry,” it growled. “Stubbed my toe.”

Maud breathed a sigh of relief. It was just Warren.

A mocking laugh came from Penelope’s tent. “Don’t tell me you dweebs thought Warren was the Beast of Oddington?” she said.

“Of course not,” said Maud. She sat down by the fire and held her steak over the flames again.

“Let me help with that,” said Penelope.

Maud heard her muttering from over by her tent. It wasn’t like the witch to be helpful, but Maud was so hungry she wasn’t going to complain. She stared at her steak, waiting for the
flames to engulf it.

There was a short clap of thunder and a tiny cloud appeared above the bonfire. A short, heavy shower pelted down on it, and within seconds the fire was out.

Penelope held up her copy of
Weather Spells for Beginners
and smirked. “Oh dear, I seem to have cast the wrong spell. Silly me!”

Warren grunted a guffaw.

Maud couldn’t believe that witch. Playing nasty practical jokes was one thing, but now she had nothing to eat. “Why do you always have to be so mean?” she demanded.

Thunder cracked above them. Dark clouds swept in to join the tiny one above the campfire, and fat globs of rain started to fall. Maud lifted her hood over her head.

“That’s enough, Penelope,” said Wilf, lifting up his collar. “You’re spoiling it for everyone.”

“Don’t be such a wimp,” said Penelope. But she sounded unsure, and she glanced up at the clouds, which continued to thicken above them.

Warren growled at the sky and pulled the back of his jacket over the top of his head.

There was another loud clap, and the rain pelted down even harder. Within seconds, it had turned the mud into a watery swamp.

Maud leapt up as her canvas stool began sinking into the ground. Rain was running down her legs and into her wellies, and the front pocket of her jacket was filling up. Inside, Quentin had
started practising his swimming.

“This isn’t funny,” said Maud. “Turn it off!”

Penelope looked up at the sky and down at her book. She wiped the rain off the pages and scanned through them.

The mud rose up the tyres of Mr Wild’s car and the front of Maud’s tent.

“You don’t know how to make it stop, do you?” asked Maud.

“Of course I do,” said Penelope. “I just …”

There was a loud creak ahead of them. The mud was now so deep that the caravan was floating across it like a boat. The flowing slime was pushing it to the far end of the clearing.

“Quick!” shouted Maud. “My family’s in there!”

“Uh-oh,” said Wilf.

The caravan settled on the edge of the clearing for a moment, wobbling back and forth. With her heart in her mouth, Maud watched as a fresh wave of mud suddenly lapped up. The caravan began to
slide down the treacherous slope to the swamp below.

M
aud ran over, her feet sinking deeper into the mud with every step. She glanced over her shoulder. Wilf and Warren were squelching along behind
her, followed by Penelope.

“Isn’t there a spell to stop the rain?” yelled Maud.

“There was,” said Penelope, “but the page is smudged and I can’t read it.” She flipped through the book as the rain lashed its pages. “Maybe I could try a
different spell. I could summon a gust of wind to blow the caravan back up.”

“No, no more spells! You’d probably blow them into the next village!” said Maud. “We’ll have to rescue them ourselves.”

At that moment, bright light flooded the clearing. Maud looked up to see a full moon shining between the rain clouds. At least it would be easier to see what they were doing now.

“Wilf, can you and your brother get around it and push it back up?” shouted Maud. “Wilf?”

There was no reply. Maud glanced over her shoulder and saw that the Wild brothers had both fallen to their hands and knees in the soupy mud. They looked up at the full moon and let out growls,
as their jaws stretched and their arms and legs jutted back into awkward, impossible shapes. They craned their necks up as one and howled, with no trace of the human left in their voices.

Where the two boys had been standing, there were now a couple of wolves with thick brown coats, slobbering muzzles, and long, bushy tails. The smaller wolf barked and ran off into the mist. The
larger wolf chased around in circles, trying to bite its own tail, before finally following.

“Come on,” said Maud to Penelope. “We don’t have any time to waste!”

Maud splashed on through the gloopy mud and reached the top of the slope, just as the back of the caravan was disappearing into the swamp. A rope tied to the tow bar was
uncoiling in the slime in front of her. She grabbed hold of it, and Penelope grabbed on behind her.

“Some use those boys turned out to be,” said Penelope through gritted teeth.

“They can’t help it,” said Maud breathlessly, her feet dragging through the mud like a waterskier. “Wilf can’t think straight when he’s in wolf form. He once
chased a squirrel for thirty miles and had to call his dad to pick him up.”

“I might have known you’d stick up for that pathetic puppy,” said Penelope. “It’s hardly surprising, given that you’ve only got two friends.”

“That’s still twice as many as you,” said Maud.

No matter how much they pulled, it was no use. The caravan was still falling deeper and deeper into the swamp.

Maud looked around desperately and spotted a thick tree-stump sticking out of the mud. She stretched the rope as far as it would go. It was just long enough to loop once around the stump. She
tied it in a double knot, hoping it would hold.

The rope twanged tight. Maud held her breath … and the caravan halted.

Maud breathed a huge sigh of relief. The bog was covering the bottom half of the caravan door. She wouldn’t be able to rescue her family just yet, but at least they were safe.