The Mystery of the Mystery Meat (13 page)

“Then let’s go,” Tuberculosis ventured.

Freekin took Pretty’s hand, and the group moved stealthily through the crowd, crossing the street on the opposite side of the building, keeping to the shadows. A stately brick wall separated the courthouse grounds from the sidewalk. Freekin bent down and hoisted Pretty to the top of the wall.

“What can you see?” he asked her. He heard Steve’s sharp intake of breath and realized he had asked a question aloud.

“Me see bus! And lotta kids,” she answered. Her fangs clicked. “And bad Mystery Meaters! Me see Ms. Balonee! Mr. Spew! Mr. Flatterwonder!”

“Woof!” Scary-corgi barked.

“Those are the people in on the scheme,” Freekin explained to the others. “Quick, Pretty, pull off my head and raise it up so I can see, too.”

“Okeydoke,” she said.

He held on to two thick vines of ivy while she bent over, laced her hands together beneath his chin, and yanked. His head popped off with a slick
thwwwack
and then he
had a headcam view as Pretty moved it in a slow arc.

Shuffling along behind the grim-faced brick building, a long line of kids was being led through the back entrance of the facility. There were a couple of adults, too—Mr. Cackle, who owned the Soul on Ice Skating Rink, and Mr. Moulder of the Wilting Fungus Day Spa.

Holding a bouquet of dead roses, Shadesse and another goth girl trudged behind the cheerleaders.

“Shadesse is walking with another goth girl,” Freekin reported. “And there’s Brian and Sam. And Brad Anderwater’s there, too! They’ve got nearly every single kid in Snickering Willows!”

“They can keep Brad Anderwater,” Steve said.

Then Freekin spotted Lilly, Deirdre, Janeece, and Molly, holding on to each other and looking very frightened.

“Lilly,” he breathed.

“Grrr,” Pretty growled softly.

“I feel the same way,” he assured her. “We’ll save her, Pretty. Put my head back on my body. I’m going to stop them.”

“We’re going, too,” Steve said.

“No, you wait here,” Freekin insisted. “You can’t just walk in there. They’ll arrest you, too.”

“We already stood aside and let you handle it,” Steve
reminded him. “And look how well that went.” He glared at Freekin.

“Freekin has a point,” Raven said. “He can’t be permanently harmed. But we are mere simple, living, breathing humans.”

“Fine,” Steve snapped. “You wimpy goths can stay here if you want.”

“You should
all
stay here,” Freekin insisted.

Pretty listened to the boys arguing, squared her shoulders, and gave her head a shake. Her ears danced and bobbed. She would prove to Freekin that she was his number one extra-special helper.

She handed Freekin’s head to Tuberculosis, who was standing closest to her. Then she hopped off the wall. Snow began to fall as she trundled forward.

“Pretty, what are you doing?” Freekin said, his eyes sliding to the right to follow her as she scooted past Tuberculosis, who was still holding his head.

“Me extra-special helper,” she announced. “Pretty makes a scene!”

“Let me get my head on straight! I’ll come with you! Tuberculosis, put me together! Pretty, wait!”

“Arrrrooow!” Scary-corgi added, trotting beside Pretty.

But she was past waiting. Scary loyally jogged with
her as she trundled toward the courtyard. Just as she reached the wall, she spotted bad men pushing Brad Anderwater and some of the other kids into the Juvenile Detention Facility.

Steam rose from Pretty’s head. Flames danced in all seven of her eyes. Smoke curled from her mouth.

“Pretty makes a scene!” she told the world.

Pretty was an old hand at setting sections of the Land of the Living on fire. She threw back her head and spread wide her arms (primarily for dramatic effect). Then she intoned the spell that would turn her into a terrifying, fire-spewing little monster:

“GAZEEKLIELKKEEEEEZA!KAZEELEELEELIO! AZEEELIILALALALALWAZU!”

Spouts of flames erupted from her eyes and her mouth. They blasted the courtyard wall, shattering it into smithereens of brick and sizzling vines of ivy that swooshed up into the air rather magnificently, if she did say so—and well out of harm’s way, as far as Freekin’s friends were concerned. Pretty wanted to scare the bad men into letting the kids go, but she didn’t want to hurt anyone.

Well, she knew that she wasn’t
supposed
to want that…

“Let’s go!” Freekin shouted.

She turned to see Freekin, Raven, Steve, and Tuberculosis racing through the hole she had blasted in
the wall as the orderly line of prisoners disintegrated into clusters of kids grabbing onto each other. But the guards were pushing Lilly, Molly, Janeece, and Deirdre into the building to get them out of harm’s way.

“Lilly, no!” Freekin bellowed, racing after her.

“Get him! It’s Freekin Ripp!” one of the guards yelled.

Half a dozen guards started running after Freekin. Pretty trundled forward like a very small tank, throwing flame in her path to make a barrier between Freekin and the bad men. In the distance, fire engine sirens blared.

“Stop, or I’ll—I’ll throw my handcuffs at you!” one of the guards yelled at Pretty, shaking a pair of metal handcuffs at her.

Grinning broadly, she clacked her fangs. “Me so barbecuing, you so hottie,” she warned the guard. Then she spewed fire in his direction—not too close, but forcing him to drop the cuffs and back off. He staggered backward, crashing into another guard, who grabbed him up and used him as a shield.

Pretty shot out more red-hot fiery breath…and something very unexpected happened: Skittering trails of yellow, orange, and scarlet flashed across the courtyard and ignited the bottom section of the brick building. The entire thing burst into flame! She didn’t know that bricks
could burn. Pretty was so shocked, her jaw dropped. Scary, still in dog form at her side, began to yip.

“No, Pretty, stop!” Freekin screamed. “The building is on fire!”

And then
he
disappeared inside.

“Baroow woodiwoodi!”
Scary-corgi protested.

“Aieee!” Pretty cried, so upset, she lost control and zoomed around in a circle like a gyroscope. This wasn’t going at all the way she planned!
“Gazeeki woodiwoodi lali!”
she added, so stressed out that she broke into the only other foreign language she knew—Phantomese—instead of English. “Dearie me!” she cried. “Me so making boo-boo mess!”

Gentle Reader, you may recall that during all this excitement and chaos, Scary had been masquerading as a dog. Still in corgi shape, he barked as he looked left, right, and over his shoulder, ensuring that no one was watching him. Then he galloped into the shadows, transformed himself into a giant fire hose loaded with water, and aimed it at the building. The stream of water hissed and sizzled as it began to put out the flames. Scary divided himself into another hose and another until he looked more like a crazed many-headed serpent instead of a timid shape-shifting phantom.

“Good! Good!” Pretty screamed, clapping.

Scary could see that the fire around the door was going
out, so he glided along the courtyard to the left, spraying as he went. Pretty trailed after him, urging him on. But to his consternation, the fire was rising from the bottom floor to the upper levels, and he split himself into more hoses.

He was just about to turn into a rain cloud when he spotted Lilly, her three cheerleader friends, and Freekin through a second-story window. Lilly and the girls were doubled over, coughing; Freekin had just picked up a metal desk chair over his head and was rushing toward the window with it.

“Woodiwoodi!”
Scary cried, and, without thinking, he immediately morphed into a tall fire ladder. Shooting from the ground to the windowsill, he used the tips of his wings to latch himself onto the outside of the window just as Freekin shattered the glass.

“Us saving you!” Pretty shouted, throwing open her arms. She started up the ladder, then zoomed back down, muttering to herself that she didn’t want to get in the way of the human beings or else they might become
refried
beings. Up, down. She skittered in a circle, fangs clacking with anxiety.

“Hurry, Lilly!” Freekin shouted, helping her climb down the Scary-ladder.

“No, the others should go first,” Lilly insisted. But she looked terrible, all sweaty and coughing and sick. She was very pink, limp, and floppy like smoked turkey breast. It was obvious to Pretty that Yucky Lilly needed to get some fresh air into her lungs right this minute. Her three girlfriends weren’t as bad off as she was.

“Come on, Yucky Lilly!” Pretty shouted from below. She clapped. “Here, girl, here, Lilly!”

Lilly could no longer put up much of a fight as Freekin helped her onto Scary’s top rungs.

“Scary, Geronimooo!” Pretty commanded, grabbing onto the bottom of the “ladder” and pulling on it, and Scary slowly folded himself down, lowering a protesting Lilly into Pretty’s outstretched arms. Lilly’s legs dragged along the ground like the slime trails of snails as Pretty trundled her away to safety, staring down at her rival and thinking that Lilly was awfully brave. Pretty didn’t want to say that she admired her…

…she really, really didn’t want to say that,

…but she did.

“You so admire-y,” she told Lilly.

“Take…care…of Freekin,” Lilly murmured up at her.

Then Lilly fainted dead away.

This is Belle. Are you saying that she DIED?

This is Elvis. No way! She didn’t die, did she?

Dear Belle and Elvis, you must wait and see.