Night of the Werecat (11 page)

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Authors: R.L. Stine

BOOK: Night of the Werecat
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E
mily whirled around. “I'm not falling for any more of your stupid tricks, Andrew!” she warned him.

Andrew scanned the trees—and saw the figure.

A figure in a long, sweeping cape.

The dark form slid out from behind a giant oak, inching closer and closer.

“There he is!” Andrew shouted. “Behind you!”

“Yeah, right.” Emily stood in place with her hands on her hips.

The figure stepped silently up to Emily.

It hovered behind her.

“Emily, I'm not kidding.” Andrew's voice quivered. “Run!”

Emily shook her head in disgust.

The figure raised his dark hands.

“Emily! Run!” Andrew pleaded.

Too late.

Andrew watched in horror as a pair of twisted fingers lunged for Emily's neck.

Emily screamed.

Her cries pierced the chill October air.

She twisted in the dark figure's grasp, struggling to free herself. “A vampire!” she cried. “Help me, Andrew!”

Andrew didn't move. He stared at the caped figure. At his long fangs dripping with saliva.

“Andrew, do something!” Emily shrieked.

“Vhat a screamer you are,” said the creature of the night. He released Emily from his grasp. He spit—and his fangs flew into his black-gloved hand.

Andrew fell to his knees—and laughed.

“Oh, man!” he cried. “That was awesome, T.J.!”

Emily smoothed her hair. She centered her pearl necklace.

“You immature creeps,” she growled. “You are so pitiful. You act like two-year-olds!” With that she whirled away from them. She marched toward the park exit.

“Oh, man!” Andrew said again. He watched his sister stomp angrily past the baseball diamond. “I wish I had that on video.”

“You'd think she'd be used to it by now,” T.J. said,
shaking his head. “But she falls for our pranks every time.”

T.J. picked up his backpack from behind a tree. He untied his cape and took it off. He folded it carefully and tucked it into the backpack. He placed his plastic fangs in their spot in his pen-holder compartment.

Andrew admired T.J. When he pulled a prank, he went all the way. T.J. wasn't very tall. In fact, he was short and stocky. But he'd slicked back his hair with some of his older brother's mousse, and somehow managed to look like a full-size vampire.

Andrew admired T.J. for another reason. He was loyal to vampires. Andrew loved all kinds of monsters. Werewolves. Mummies. Ghouls. Swamp things. But T.J. stuck to vampires. He knew everything about them. He was a specialist.

“This was better than when we scared Emily with the King Kong mask,” T.J. said. “It was even better than the time we slimed her.”

Andrew grinned, remembering. He'd gotten in trouble for that one. Mega trouble. But it was worth it. And Emily deserved it. She kept making fun of one of his monster books.
Alien Slime from Mars.
Then one night, he and T.J. arranged for her to see some slime for herself. Andrew giggled, thinking about how she stared in horror as green goo dripped down from her light fixture. How it plopped right down on her head. He was pretty sure that, for a
second, Emily believed it was alien slime from Mars.

*  *  *

The next morning, Andrew jolted awake. Somebody was screaming! Screaming his name! He sat straight up in bed.

“Huh?” he cried.

“Get up!” Emily shouted from the doorway of his room. “Now!”

With a groan, Andrew fell back onto his bed. He burrowed deeper under his covers. He shut his eyes. Clearly Emily had not forgiven him for the vampire prank.

“Turn off your stupid alarm!” Emily shouted.

Alarm? Oh. That's what was going
beep, beep, beep.
Andrew had been dreaming that a vampire was knocking on his window. The vampire said
beep, beep, beep.
Finally Andrew got up and opened the window for him. What a stupid dream. A
beeping
vampire.

Still half asleep, Andrew reached a hand out from under his blanket. He waved it in the direction of his clock. At last he made contact. He hit the alarm button. The beeping stopped.

“We are going to catch the first bus this morning, Andrew,” Emily announced. “If you aren't downstairs in fifteen minutes, I'm leaving without you. I don't care what Mom says.”

Andrew heard his sister stomp down the stairs. If Emily left by herself, their mom would have a fit.
Shadyside Middle School was pretty far away from their development—but very close to Fear Street. Close to the Fear Street Cemetery. Scary things happened there. All the time. If you believed the stories . . .

Andrew believed them. He knew that on Halloween, ghost kids rose from their graves. They tried to get real live kids to play a game with them. The game was called Hide and Shriek. The object of the game was to take the live kids back to the grave!

And then there was Miss Gaunt. She used to be a substitute teacher at Shadyside Middle School. Before she died, that is. Now she haunted the cemetery. She was always out searching for new students to teach—forever!

Mrs. Griffin always told Andrew that they were only stories—that she didn't believe there was any truth to them. But still, she liked Andrew and Emily to travel to and from school together.

With a groan, Andrew made himself open his eyes. He needed more sleep. Much more sleep. He wished he hadn't stayed up reading so late the night before. He wished he could sink back onto his soft pillow again. And close his eyes . . .

He jerked his head up. Any minute now, Emily would be back, screaming at him. He pushed himself up on one arm. Ow! His elbow hit the corner of his book. The one he'd been reading half the
night.
Running with Werewolves.
Boy, what a great story!

Now Andrew felt wide awake. He remembered where he left off in the story. Jason, the hero of
Running with Werewolves
, was about to join a werewolf pack.

Andrew had read all but the last few pages. He'd die if he didn't find out what happened. He glanced at his clock. He could skip brushing his teeth for once. And washing his face.

Andrew sat on his bed. His eyes skimmed the words. Jason was in big trouble. He was a werewolf now. But the head werewolf didn't want him in the pack. Jason and the head werewolf were about to engage in mortal combat! Only a werewolf can kill another werewolf. So one of them had to kill the other. Jason didn't stand much of a chance.

Andrew's heart pounded as the snarling head werewolf reached out his huge hairy paws. Reached out and grabbed Jason's neck. He squeezed, tighter and tighter. Choking Jason.

Andrew lifted his eyes from the book to catch his breath—and a hand from behind clutched his neck!

Andrew tried to scream. But no sound came out.

A voice came from behind Andrew. “Be ready in ten minutes!”

It was Emily's voice.

Emily let go of Andrew's neck. Then she reached around and snatched his book.

“Hey!” Andrew cried. He leaped up. But he was too late.

Emily was running out of his room with the book.

Andrew chased her. “Give it back!” he cried.

Emily whizzed down the stairs. She stood at the bottom, shaking her head. “Be down here in ten minutes, Andrew,” she said. “Or this book is history!”

Andrew sighed. He knew when he was beaten. He plodded back to his room. There, he pulled on a polo shirt and a pair of jeans. Maybe Mrs. Parma had a copy of
Running with Werewolves
in the school library. But probably not. Andrew would have to wait to find out what happened to Jason. He'd have to ask Emily for his book back. She might make him get down on his knees and beg!

Andrew got dressed. All but his sneakers. He felt around under his bed. He thought his sneakers were under there.

His fingers hit something. Something cold as ice. Not a sneaker. Definitely not. Andrew grasped the cold thing. He dragged it out from under his bed—and found himself gazing at a book.

An old black book. It looked important somehow. Boy, did it ever feel cold. So cold it stung his fingers.

The book had no title. Andrew ran his hand over the smooth black leather.
Why does this book feel like a frozen TV dinner?
he wondered.
And how did it get under my bed?

He opened the book. A blank page stared back at him. Andrew flipped page after page. Blank, blank, blank.

“Andrew?” Mrs. Griffin called from the bottom of the stairs. “What's keeping you, honey? Emily's waiting!”

“Coming!” Andrew called back.

He tossed the book down on his bed. He rummaged around, found his sneakers, and stuffed his feet into them. Maybe he'd take the black book to school with him. Show it to T.J.

But wait. That's who must have put the book under his bed—T.J.! It had to be T.J. It was definitely a T.J. kind of joke.

Andrew slipped his homework papers into his binder. He shoved his binder into his backpack. He reached for the black book. Then he stopped.

He squinted down at the cover.

It had been blank before. Totally blank. He was sure of it. But now spidery letters were beginning to appear. Old-fashioned letters—writing themselves onto the book!

Andrew could only stare and wait as the writing continued.

And then it stopped.

The title was complete.

Andrew felt his blood run cold as he whispered the words on the front of the book:

HOW TO BE A VAMPIRE

R.L. Stine
IS ONE OF THE BEST-SELLING AUTHORS IN
AMERICA AND HAS SOLD MORE THAN 300 MILLION BOOKS. HIS SERIES INCLUDE FEAR STREET, GHOSTS
OF FEAR STREET, FEAR STREET SAGAS, GOOSEBUMPS, AND GOOSEBUMPS HORRORLAND. HE LIVES IN
NEW YORK CITY WITH HIS WIFE, JANE.

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ALADDIN

An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing Division

1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandsSchuster.com

This Aladdin paperback edition May 2011

Copyright © 1996 by Parachute Press, Inc.

Night of the Werecat
written by Katherine Lance

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

ALADDIN is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc., and related logo is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

FEAR STREET is a registered trademark of Parachute Press, Inc.

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.

Library of Congress Control Number 2011920436

ISBN 978-1-4424-2698-6

ISBN 978-1-4424-8614-0 (eBook)

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