The Vampire’s Revenge

A wizened old crone gives Igon a warning.

‘Twelve hours from now you may be in mourning’.

Vernon felt good and full of life. The magnificent seven policemen were patrolling the centre of every main street in Katchem.

Victor and Valeeta were having a row. Because he was so over-weight, he was flying too low and kept hitting the branches of the trees.

Things were going Vernon’s way. He took off and flew towards Bloodstock Castle, high on the hill; the castle he had lived in with Victor and Valeeta, his brother Valentine and, of course, Igon. How could he forget Igon? He was number one on his hit list.

Special Prince Igon looked back into the stage-coach, after staring into the blackness of the countryside. He spoke to the pretty stewardess.

‘Not long now, Sir, maybe another two hours, three at the most,’ she simpered. ‘We’ll pick up speed again when we change horses and drivers at the next changeover stop, a place called Watchit. We’ll get a good meal there – well, we should, it’s a Trust House Twenty.’

The coach went over a large stone and threw her forward, almost into his arms. She blushed the colour of a glass of port. She seemed in no hurry to get back. Even through her embarrassment she stayed close to Igon. He, being a gentleman, apologised for the coach going over the stone. She, being a lady, accepted the apology. She carried on talking.

‘I have heard there have been some severe storms and some flooding near Katchem, but I don’t know for sure.’ She giggled as she sat back on her own seat.

A very old lady in the corner of the coach, who hadn’t spoken to anyone the whole trip, even when they had stopped to change drivers and horses, put her hand out and gently touched Igon on his arm.

‘Are you the Igon who used to live at Bloodstock Castle? The Igon who was changed from an ugly-looking horrid thing into what you are now, a handsome and rich prince?’

The pretty stewardess lowered her eyes and at the same time coyly fluttered her eyelashes. The other people in the coach looked at Igon as if he was now something different, which of course he was.

Igon tried to avoid the inquiring looks. He held the old woman’s hand and said gently: ‘Well, not rich, and not really a prince for that matter and as for handsome, well, I don’t really think that, er, I, er …’ His conversation fluttered to a stop, as the stewardess’s eyelashes carried on fluttering, seeming as if they would never stop.

‘Well, yes I, er, suppose so,’ he answered softly and nervously. He loosened her arm from his own.

It was direct and heard by all in the coach. Even the wheels seemed, for that sentence, to stay quiet.

‘Oh really,’ he said in a dry cracked voice. ‘Maybe it’s a rumour.’ The corners of his mouth twitched with uncontrollable tiny nerves.

‘Oh no, Sir, it’s no rumour, I can assure you. An old crone like me knows a rumour when she hears one. Vernon has escaped and that’s the truth.’ She laughed throatily, with a sound like fifty whips being cracked.

‘Your hand, Sir, may I look at your hand. No charge, not even half a rem.’ She took his hand in hers before he could answer yes or no. She held it open and looked hard at it. Igon felt something akin to fear run through his body.

‘Do not be afraid, young sir. I’m sure that no harm will come to you, at least not tonight. Oh no, not tonight.’

‘Thank you. At least that’s a comforting thought.’ He tried to sound brave.

She held his hand with the strength of a bear. ‘You will meet someone tonight whom you won’t recognise because you can’t see him, but he’ll talk to you. No, my Prince, no harm will come to you tonight … but tomorrow,’ she looked at the fear in his eyes, ‘tomorrow, well, that could be different, couldn’t it? Who knows what the future holds?’

She dropped his hand and leaned back in the corner. He noticed that everybody in the coach was very silent, trying to look as if they hadn’t heard a word, but Igon knew they had.

‘An old woman prattling,’ Igon told the coach. He looked across at the old lady, whose piercing eyes were still fixed on him. He closed his eyes but he knew that he wouldn’t sleep that night.

Vernon arrived at the castle. Iron bars had been put up at every window. Every door was locked and bolted. No-one could have got inside, except maybe Vernon. He flew round the castle once and came to rest at the castle entrance. He walked to a sign hanging on the huge castle doors. He read:

Vernon read it three times before he thought he understood it. President! Valentine was President. But President of what? A bank, maybe? It went through his mind over and over again. ‘President Valentine. President Valentine. President Valentine. Then there is my mother and father – and Igon. Where’s Igon? Where is he?’

He read the sign again. “All enquires at the police station.” He took off quickly, heading for the village, and the police station in particular.

Vernon flew back to the village non-stop. He was feeling so exhilarated that, for the first time in the history of flying, he did something that had never been attempted before by anyone, bird or Vampire: aerobatics. He zoomed up and down, along and close to buildings, cattle and trees. He found the pure feeling of freedom.

It was on that trip that he performed the first ever loop the loop; that is, a loop inside another loop. He was doing one very large loop, not thinking of doing another, when suddenly, at the peak of the first loop, his top hat fell off. While he was looking heavenwards, his hat was tumbling earthwards. Vernon put his hands together, straight out in front of him, like a diver diving from a great height. This gave him the extra speed that he needed. He caught up with the hat and snatched it, while at the same time he zoomed upwards, back towards the heavens. All this was done inside the first loop he had already done. Of course it wasn’t called loop the loop in those days. It was known as catching the topper.

Vernon glided to the centre of the village, with his arms spread out and the wind billowing his cloak. His highly-polished patent shoes flicked first to the left and then to the right, guiding his body to the place of touchdown opposite the police station.

He was so in control of himself and his flying, that he resolved to land on one foot. A one-footer was very difficult to do without a hop or a skip after touchdown. The wind, or what little there was, seemed to keep out of his way. He had never done a one-footer before. Very few Vampires had. Vernon seemed to remember that his uncle Varicous had done it – but he had to because he only had one leg anyway.

Vernon felt very confident and somehow knew that the Great Drac himself was on his side. He came in for the one-footer, his heart pounding four to the dozen. He landed with perfect precision on the flags of the pavement, a one foot landing with the toe of his shoe fitting right into the join of the four paving stones. He felt very proud of himself. So much so that he looked up at the sky, tipped his top hat and shouted to the Great Drac, ‘Follow that, kiddo!’

Vernon had been there, opposite the police station, no more than one minute when he looked up the long, dusty road. He saw his mother, ex-Queen Valeeta, come in for an almost perfect female landing; that is to say, she landed on both her high heels at once and in no way did she allow her ankles to lean over either to the left or to the right.

A small puff of dust exploded beneath her feet as she came to a halt, right in the middle of the main street. She stood still for two seconds, then wiped her left shoe on the back of her right leg, followed by her right shoe on the back of her left leg. After looking down to check that her shoes were clean again, she raised her eyes and looked along the metaphorical landing strip that her husband Victor was about to come in on.

From the shadows, Vernon watched his father with eyebrows raised in disbelief. ‘This,’ he thought, ‘is the man who holds the oldest and least endorsed of all Vampire flying licences.’

Oh great and mighty Drac

Please don’t let me land on my back.

Vernon had only ever flown with the élite ‘Crazy Bat Squadron’ whose motto was: ‘Reach for the Throat’, and he felt ashamed, but not sorry, as he saw his father come in for a landing that could have been done better by a three-month-old Vampire. It was the first time he had seen anyone land on his stomach. It was a three point landing, Vernon thought: chin, stomach and toes.

The ex-Queen waited with resigned tolerance for her husband to get back on to his feet. As he did, he gave her an embarrassed shrug of his shoulders. She looked at him, then away from him, as she flicked his bow tie straight, expelling a heavy breath that seemed to say, ‘Oh dear’. Vernon kept well in the shadows not wanting to be seen by them, nor anyone for that matter.

Victor and Valeeta, unknowingly watched by their son and heir, entered the police station to ask Sergeant Salt if he had any news about Vernon. Sergeant Salt looked up from the report he was writing about the poor deceased man who was lying on a bench not more than three feet away. The ex-King held back the ex-Queen as they made their way to the desk.

‘Gutt Evenink,’ Victor smiled and flourished his hat in the style of a conjurer about to make the whole world disappear. ‘Hi ham the ex-Kink Victor, ant this is mine ex-Queen Valeeta.’

The Sergeant looked at the ex-Queen and said, ‘Good evening Madam, is there anything I can do for you?’ He was as nice as he could be. He knew that they were Vampires almost on probation. He also knew that they were the parents of the wicked Vernon who had almost definitely killed the man lying on the bench. But he knew that they were not to know that as yet.

The ex-Queen, putting on her best smile, softly said, ‘Have you seen anything of my son since the statue fell down?’

‘Yah,’ added Victor. Then, looking at the man on the bench he added, ‘Drunk?’

‘Dead drunk?’ Victor laughed out loud, a sound reminiscent of a man being choked to death.

‘Oh, I’ll show you, Sir. I’ll show you, all right?’ The Sergeant moved round his desk and quickly made his way to the dead man. He moved the unfortunate man’s cravat, exposing the two puncture marks in his neck.

‘That was how he was killed, Sir,’ Sergeant Salt said, leaning a little heavy on the sarcasm.

‘No, Sir,’ the Sergeant said slowly and deliberately. ‘Not with a fork, but with teeth.’ He pointed to his own teeth. ‘With teeth maybe a little longer than mine.’

‘I’m not too sure. Maybe an hour, maybe a little less, I don’t know.’ The Sergeant was getting tired. He had had a long day and now it was going to be a long night.

The ex-Queen was drumming her long fingers on the desk top. ‘I have no wish to be rude, but could you please tell me, have you seen Vernon or heard from him?’

The Sergeant spoke very softly but with a firmness that insisted on your attention: ‘No Madam, I have not seen or heard from Vernon. But there is one thing you can be sure of.’ He pointed to the man on the bench. ‘He has.’

‘Leaf this to me, mine little royal relish,’ Victor said, realising the Sergeant was about to lose his temper. He smiled in the direction of the law, as he said: ‘Now, mine fine policeman frent …’

‘Yah,’ the old King said. Then changing his tone of voice, he said, ‘Right. First of all, you must pick up the man on the bench ant hold him hup on his feet, yah?’ The Sergeant looked puzzled as Victor continued, ‘Please, you must trust me. Vot I’m going to do, I’m doink for the best.’

This time the ex-Queen interrupted. ‘You are not thinking of doing the B.H.B.T.L., are you?’

‘No he can’t,’ snapped the ex-Queen. ‘And the reason he can’t is very simple. He hasn’t got enough magic power left in him. One has to be supremely fit to attempt a B.H.B.T.L.’

‘Yah, you are right, mine little vol-au-vent. But, as you keep sayink, I am only half fit. Now you, mine little madrigal, are very fit. At least a gut three-quarters fit. Yah? So now then, if ve combine our strengths ant our powers, then ve will be a gut one ant a quarter fit, yah?’

The ex-Queen and the Sergeant looked at the man on the bench, then to the old King, then to each other.

‘Can it be done? Can the two of you B.H.B.T.L.? Him?’ The Sergeant started to get quite excited.

Valeeta looked deep in thought as she said, ‘Well, there’s no reason why not. But it’s never been done that way before. Yet I see no reason why at least it shouldn’t be tried. Power is power and magic is magic.’ She looked at her husband asking, ‘Do you think you can remember what to do? And can you still go into the trance, the deep one I mean?’

‘Of course, mine little mahatma. I go into a trance every time I look at your beautiful face, mine little daughter of Dracula.’

‘Ven? How? Vere? Ant besides, you said I ham on a diet.’ He chucked her under her chin.

‘Please, mine policeman frent, pick the man up ant put him into a standink position, yah?’

That done, Victor went into a small dance, the Vampire Trance Dance. The dance was specifically to ask the Vampirian gods to let the dead man be released from the unhappy haunting grounds.

Valeeta sang in a soprano voice, so high that only Vampire gods and Vampire dogs could hear her.

Oh my Drac, get out of the sack.

Can you give us what we lack?

We lack what you can give us,

can you give this man the Shivers?

(She pointed to the dead man)

Nic Nac Paddy Wac, give a man a bite.

This old man seems quite all right.

Hack heck hock,

Hick hike hook.

The Sergeant held the man as straight as he could. He watched as Victor suddenly started to float above the desk. He watched as smoke came out of his ears. Red smoke. The red smoke whirled around the room and around the dead man’s ears. The Sergeant saw the red smoke actually enter the dead man’s ears, and his hand, the one over the dead man’s heart, felt a slight bump from inside the body he was holding. A few seconds later he felt another one.

The ex-Queen was now also floating with her husband. They seemed to be dancing a waltz, but a waltz about two feet off the ground. Another heartbeat followed by another, then another, only this time stronger than the ones before. Thump, thump, thump. Three in a row. The man the Sergeant was holding seemed to be getting lighter.

The office door opened as Inspector Speekup came bravely out to give his orders. He saw a smile on the dead man’s face and two people in full evening dress waltzing two feet above the ground. He saw his Sergeant crying with happiness and relief. That was when he left the world for a few fainting seconds.

The Sergeant could see the strain on the faces of Victor and Valeeta, who were oblivious to all around them. The colour was slowly coming back into the face of the once-dead man. He was now ‘not fully dead’. An eye flickered in the faces of both the dead man and the Inspector. They opened their eyes at the same moment.

The Inspector was the first to speak. He looked at the cheerful corpse and said, ‘Aren’t you dead?’

Victor fell heavily to the floor from around four feet up. His work over, he was almost too tired to rise from the sitting position he was now in. He did manage to say that the newly-born man would be slightly deaf for a little while.

The ex-Queen floated gently down to the floor with the words, ‘By the Drac, I’m hungry. Expelling all this magic always gives me an appetite. Are you hungry, dear?’ she asked her husband.

‘Two lumps in mine,’ said the ex-corpse. He looked at Victor and his wife. ‘Thank you so very much for doing whatever it was that you did. Thanks to you, I’m a new man. Well, at least I’m a new old man, or an old new man. No matter, the most important thing, as far as I’m concerned, is that I’m here and alive again, thanks to you two and, of course, the Sergeant.’

‘Well, it’s good to see you up and about,’ the Sergeant said happily. ‘But can’t you remember what happened? You know, er, before you, er, died?’

‘Oh yes,’ replied Fred Garden, only too happy to be of assistance. ‘I was walking past the police station when a figure stopped me and asked me if I knew the way to Zanozay and, before I could answer, his face came very close to mine and I did notice a strong smell of sulphur …’

The ex-dead man carried on, ‘A second after that, both his arms grabbed my shoulders. The next thing I felt was two sharp pinpricks at the base of my neck. Life then just seemed to ooze out of me. There was nothing I could do. As I slowly floated down to the ground, the last thing I remember seeing before I died, was this face with two very long teeth somehow growing over his bottom lip and deep black eyes that seemed to shine. There was blood on his chin. I remember thinking maybe he’d cut himself shaving, but now I realise that it was my blood.’

The old King and Queen were sitting on the bench, listening to the poor man and, although they were both very tired, they still listened.

The Sergeant asked the R.R.T.L. (recently returned to life), ‘How do you feel now? Is your hearing any better?’

The ex-Queen broke into their conversation. ‘The man who asked you the way to Zanozay, I don’t suppose you noticed, when you were falling down, which direction he walked off in?’

The Chief Inspector returned after his lungs had been filled with air at the station door, unseen by anyone … except Vernon.

‘Katchem, Katchem-by-the-Throat,’ the voice shouted outside the coach station.

Vernon heard the coach arrive in the distance and the voice announce its arrival. He remained patient. He waited for his parents to leave the police station so that, if he wished, he could follow them home. Eventually he saw his mother and father emerge out of the station. He thought, ‘How tired they look.’ He looked hard at his father and noticed he wasn’t as pale as a fit Vampire should be. He then looked at his mother. She was very pale. As a matter of fact she was so pale she looked supremely fit.

‘But,’ Vernon thought, ‘That could just be makeup and, underneath that pale makeup, she may not be as pale as she looks.’

He felt no sympathy towards them as they walked down the police station steps, dragging their feet down to the street level. Neither of them had the strength left to fly home so, as it was quite a nice night, they decided to walk.

As they walked away from the station hand in hand, like two young lovers, Vernon followed, keeping a discreet distance behind them, all the way to their cottage. He then flew back to Bloodstock Castle, working out his plan to rid Gotcha of all his enemies and anyone else who happened to get in his way.

CHAPTER 4