“The soup wasn’t too salty?” the skull said, eventually.
“Not at all!” Lisa assured him. “It was perfectly seasoned. And the dessert! Best chocolate mousse ever – so rich!”
The skeleton seemed to reach a decision. He sprang to his feet. “It’s all in the ingredients,” he said. “You have to use clotted cream, and only Belgian chocolate.” He stuck out his hand for Lisa to shake. “Yes, I’m Skully. Pleased to meet a connoisseur!”
Lisa shook the proffered hand. It was hard and dry. She could feel thin cables and wires contracting, taking the place of muscles and tendons as Skully closed his hand. Ingenious, really. Lisa wasn’t sure what to do now. She’d definitely discovered the secret of the kitchen, and boy was it a big one. Luckily, Skully took the lead. “You know, I’m happy you dropped in. Harriet or Viktor would be pretty upset if they knew you were here, but I won’t tell them if you won’t! The thing is, I ain’t got tastebuds. And that is a big problem for a chef – especially when he’s cooking for humans, am I right? So, do me a favour and taste this sauce.” The skeleton dipped a wooden spoon into a saucepan and held it out to Lisa. “What do you think – needs more pepper?” Lisa took a sip of the creamy concoction and declared it perfect. “See,” said Skully, “that’s what I dig about cooking for humans. They understand subtlety. Nuances. Delicate flavours.”
Lisa narrowed her eyes, thinking that this might be the opening she needed to winkle out more information. “So, what sorts of things did you cook before the resort opened up and the guests arrived?”
“Well, Norm charges himself with a lightning rod up on the roof whenever there’s an electrical storm, and Blake catches his own fish, so they don’t even need me. Neither do the sisters, since they don’t eat. Same with Ankh. Viktor occasionally asks me to warm a cup of sheep’s blood for him – no talent required there, and Callie survives on honey and yoghurt – again not much for me to do except keep the yoghurt culture going. She even maintains her own beehives. And Harriet of course just has a raw steak most nights – except around the full moon when she goes hunting for pheasants or rabbits.”
“She goes hunting during the full moon!” Lisa exclaimed, starting. “She’s a werewolf?”
Skully pushed his Velcro eyebrows into a frown. “I thought you said you knew all our secrets?” he said, suddenly suspicious.
“Oh,” said Lisa. “Yes, of course. I mean most of them.” She thought about what clues Skully had just revealed. “Um…Viktor is a vampire,” she stated. Skully did not deny this, and Lisa felt her gut twisting in response. Viktor - a real vampire! The skeleton was still looking at her expectantly, so Lisa went on. “The doctor is a mummy,” she said, taking a not-so-wild guess, and again, Skully did not disagree. “And Callie is a… oh, what do you call those things…?” She trailed off, clicking her fingers, as if trying to remember a word, hoping Skully would fall for the trick.
“A gorgon,” Skully said, supplying the answer.
Cripes, thought Lisa. A snake-headed woman – like Medusa. I wonder if she can turn people to stone. She couldn’t work out who the sisters were or what to ask about them, so, hoping to expand her knowledge, she decided to just ask Skully outright. “What about the other staff – Violetta, and the babysitter woman, and Edgar and the caretaker and the riding instructor?”
Skully stared at her, eyebrows still in frown mode. His jaw clicked from side to side. Lisa could tell he was thinking. Eventually he sighed, and pushed his eyebrows back into a neutral position. “Harriet would explode if she knew we were talking. But you know so much already, I don’t suppose it would hurt to tell you about the others. You have to promise me you won’t tell anyone else though.”
Lisa nodded eagerly. “I promise.”
“Alright,” the skeleton said. “So, you want to know what I cooked for the others?” Lisa bit her lip, realising that Skully had misinterpreted her question. Lisa wanted to know what the others were, not what they ate. But she didn’t want to push her luck, so she nodded, and Skully continued. “Well, the babysitter is Barbara – she eats eggs. Eggs, eggs, eggs, all the blasted time. She’s cast some sort of spell over her chickens so that they produce ten times the normal amount. They used to be the only thing I ever cooked - poached, fried, scrambled. The rest of the staff, they’re all new. Sir Osis doesn’t eat – although he drinks. The Prof and the hunchback and Swizelsticks all eat human food, but they’re not what I’d call gourmets. They don’t appreciate what they’re getting – I can slap down any old muck, and they’ll shovel it up. And as for Violetta – well, she’s the same as Viktor of course – although between you and me, I don’t think she’ll be satisfied with just the sheep’s blood for very much longer.” He looked at Lisa pointedly, and manually raised one eyebrow. Lisa shivered. So, Violetta was a vampire. That meant that the witch had to be Barbara – which fit with putting a spell on chickens. “Anyway,” Skully said. “That’s enough about the staff. They’re pretty boring.” He pushed himself away from the bench he had been leaning on, and picked up another spoon. “Now, I need to know if the crème brulee needs more vanilla. Do you fancy a sneak preview?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sergio arranged his weapons and equipment on the bed, double-checking each piece for functionality. He was referring constantly to what he thought of as his shopping list, rearranging it as new ideas occurred to him. The order of operations was key – the process would run most smoothly if no one noticed anything was amiss. Since most of the staff were involved in ensuring dinner and entertainment ran smoothly, this would be a good time to begin laying his traps. That way, no one would be missed until midday tomorrow – and then hopefully it would be too late.
Sergio closed the word processing file on his palmtop computer and fired up the image editing software. He connected his camera’s USB port to the computer and downloaded an image file, shuddering as Barbara’s pointy-nosed, iron-toothed likeness filled the screen. She was certainly no oil painting. He disconnected the camera, connected the printer and was soon holding a photo of the witch. This was where he had to abandon modern technology in favour of the old ways – very old ways.
Consulting a compass, he turned to face north, then took a red silk ribbon and wound it around the photo, north to south. A black ribbon came next, wound west to east. As he tied the ends off, Sergio said aloud three times, “I bind you from doing harm to me.” Next he lit a candle, and let the wax drip on the knots he had tied, sealing them. Finally, he retrieved a glass bottle from the bed, rolled up the photo and crammed it inside, plugging the top with a cork stopper and then also sealing this with wax.
He put the bottle in his rucksack, along with a trowel, and then walked down to reception where Violetta greeted him, eyebrows raised in a silent question. He nodded to her in answer, but aloud, said “Good afternoon, Miss. I was wondering if I might have dinner brought to my room this evening.”
“Of course, Mr. Trepid,” Violetta agreed. Sergio thanked her, informed her that he was off to do a spot of bird watching, and left the castle. He walked to the top of the horse trekking hill and into the old orchard. At the base of a gnarled lemon tree, he buried the bottle, patting the earth on top in satisfaction.
#
“Nothing? The kitchen was empty?” Craig’s voice rose in incredulity.
“Nothing,” Lisa confirmed, feeling bad about lying, but remembering her promise to Skully not to reveal his existence. Lisa consoled herself with the thought that it wouldn’t be for long, anyway. After she’d met up with Skully another couple of times and earned his trust, she’d be able to suggest bringing the boys in on the secret.
“So why weren’t you in the dumbwaiter when the ten minutes were up?” Craig asked her. “When we pulled it up empty we didn’t know what to think. Anything could have happened to you.”
“Well, I got out to check for the heads in the pantry, of course, but then someone came into the kitchen, and so I stayed hidden and missed the deadline.”
&n
bsp; “And there weren’t any heads?” Craig asked, at the same time as Hayden said, “Who came into the kitchen?’
“It was Harriet, and no, I told you, there was nothing,” she answered them. “I don’t know why you keep asking me,” she added, defensively.
“Well, we got caught in the staffroom by that old witch,” Hayden said, and Lisa felt her chest constrict. How did they know the babysitter was a witch? She’d only just worked that out herself. Then she realised that they meant it figuratively.
“She yelled at us to get out, and threw an egg at me,” Craig said, “but I ducked and it hit the harpsichord. She was really mad. So we hoped that at least you had found out something to make it all worth the effort.”
Knowing what she knew about Barbara, Lisa was pleased the boys had escaped with only a telling off. She shrugged. “Sorry.”
“Oh well, maybe we’ll see something again tonight at dinner,” Craig said. “It’s nearly time anyway.”
“Mmm, crème brulee for dessert tonight,” Lisa said.
“How do you know?”
“I saw it in the kitchen, of course.”
#
Violetta balanced the silver service on one hand and knocked on Sergio’s door, resenting the fact that she was waiting on a man she despised. He opened the door, a wide, smug grin on his face, and invited her inside. “Well? Is it all go?” she asked him.
“I’ve bound the witch’s power,” he answered her, “and I’ve got some more work to do tonight, but yes, it’s all go. I need some info from you though.”
“I can’t be long,” she replied, looking pointedly at her delicate watch. “I’ll be missed.”
“Tell them Ken Trepid was asking you for information for the article he’s writing. That’ll keep them happy.”
“Very well,” Violetta said. She placed the tray down on the nightstand and then sat in one of the room’s armchairs, smoothed her skirt and looked at him expectantly.
“Okay, first up, I need to know where all the players are tonight, and what their schedule of movements will be.” Violetta told him as much as she knew – adding that the information was subject to change.
“And you’re sure that Blake and Norm are both at dinner tonight? Blake wasn’t there yesterday.”
“He’s there. Those two old biddies insisted, and he couldn’t get out of it.”
“Good. Right, what I need from you is to ensure they stay there for the next hour. Then, when they do go to leave, make sure Norm leaves no sooner than ten minutes after Blake. Got it? Also I don’t want people wandering around in the corridors.” Violetta nodded. Plus, I need you to let me into the Count’s chamber in the early morning, once he’s asleep.”
Violetta smiled. “Shouldn’t be a problem. He’s only sleeping from 4am to 5am these days. We both are, and it plays havoc with our body clocks,” she added.
“Well, it’s only going to get worse for him once he’s delivered, sweetheart,” Sergio assured her. “Now, give me your keys, before I forget, and remind me one more time about Viktor’s private security system. I wouldn’t want to overlook anything.”
#
The wetsuit was a bad idea, Blake thought, not for the first time. Sure, it was a great disguise when he was out in the water, but here in the dining hall it made no sense for him to be wearing it. He looked out of place. Not that Mrs. Trellis or Mrs. Meeks seemed to care what he looked like. For them, he would always be a youthful tanned and chiselled Hollywood hunk. They were sat opposite him now, twittering on about his various films. It was depressing to be reminded about the good old days. He tolerated their attention as long as he was able, and then made his excuses and stood up to leave.
Seeing him move towards the door, Norm also pushed himself away from his table – or rather sent his table rocketing away from him, upsetting several drinks. “Duh…hold on, Blake,” he said. “I’ll come with you.” Norm was again suffering the attentions of Dan and Mike as they relived every shot of that afternoon’s golf match. Norm had played with them and had got the highest score – and yet Mike was claiming that he had won – even though his score was lower than Norm’s and Dan’s! Norm thought it all very unfair, but knew he shouldn’t be arguing with the guests.
Immediately, Violetta appeared at the table. “Norm,” she said. “You’ll have to go get new drinks for everyone. And then I want to talk to you about something.” She looked at Blake. “You go on ahead – we may be some time.”
Blake shrugged and left the room as planned. He was itching to climb out of the clingy wetsuit and take a naked swim in the lake in the moonlight. As the door to the spiral staircase closed behind him, he began to wriggle out of his mittens, peel off his hood and unzip the wetsuit jacket. When he reached the pool, he took off the pants too, and plunged in, carrying the wetsuit. After a minute, his breathing had adjusted from lungs to gills, and he began to feel more comfortable. Ignoring the channel out to the lake which had been provided for the guests, he dived deep down into the pool and swam out through a secret side tunnel, heading for his underwater bedroom chamber, where he would hang up his wetsuit before heading out for a swim. As he entered the rocky cave that he called home, Blake unknowingly triggered a motion detector. The detector tripped a switch which released a burst of compressed air, firing a fishing net into the centre of the chamber. At once, Blake was caught up, hands and feet, knees and elbows entangled. It took a moment for him to realise what had happened, and then he was bewildered. He was caught in a strong commercial fishing net – the type used for catching large sharks in the ocean. He didn’t know of any village fisherman who used anything this sturdy in the local lake. And even if it did come from the lake, it seemed a massive co-incidence that it should have drifted along the tunnel and into his chamber. No, Blake thought, I smell something fishy – and he wasn’t referring to the previous contents of the net. After a moment, his suspicions were confirmed. A man appeared at the entrance to the chamber, a small oxygen tank on his back, mask and regulator attached to his face, obscuring his features. Blake struggled violently in the net, but it was no use – he was well tangled. The man nodded in satisfaction and swam away. Who was he? If it was a guest, then it had to be Dan, Mike, Phil or Ken as Albert Fisher was much fatter than the man Blake had just seen. But maybe it wasn’t a guest, he thought. Maybe it was an intruder – someone hired by Trevor Romanoff? But they had a deal with Trevor. Could it be Hugo Dixon, or Big Jim, bent on revenge, Blake wondered. Does this mean my friends are in danger too?
#
Norm finally managed to get away from Violetta. She had asked him to help her move some supplies from one storeroom to another. Norm didn’t see the point, but he knew Violetta was smart, and he wasn’t, so he did what he was told. But then, when he was finished, she changed her mind and had him move all the boxes back! What a waste of time. At last, when he was finished, and about to leave, she suddenly started questioning him about personal training, saying she wanted to lose some weight and develop some muscles. Norm looked her up and down. She was in perfect shape, and as a vampire, already extremely strong, but she seemed insistent, so he gave her what advice he could. “Da… lift heavy things… get strong…” She nodded as if this was sage wisdom, and then asked him some more questions. Finally, he had been allowed to leave. He trudged his way down the spiral staircase, hoping Blake had waited up for him, but his friend was not in the pool, so Norm figured he must have already gone out for a swim. He decided to have an early night, but as he crossed the gymnasium, he noticed one of the heavy iron balls had come loose from a weights machine and rolled into the middle of the floor. He scooped the weight up easily, and went to fix the problem. Lying down on the bench-press machine, he pulled out the pin that should have been holding the iron ball in place, and re-secured the wayward weight. Suddenly, with an almighty ping, a tight metal cable went flying, bringing down a second weight which smacked into Norm’s forehead. At once, other cables began to snap and whip through the air, twisting and looping the
mselves around Norm’s feet and wrists as he lay woozily on the bench-press, arms and legs splayed out. Weights began dropping, pulling his feet and hands to the ground. Another cable snagged him around the throat and one around the waist. Confused by what was happening, he turned his head to the side, and saw all of his exercise machines seemingly transforming themselves, turning on him, all of their weights shooting across to further encumber him. Norm knew he wasn’t too bright, but he was sure he hadn’t made this many mistakes in redesigning the dungeon equipment into weights machines. After all, he’d used them just fine with Dan and Mike that morning. Could someone have rearranged them into a trap? But who would do such a thing? Suddenly it occurred to him. The Professor! Yes – he was right. Someone was emerging from the shadows, chuckling softly. But, no – even from his awkward position and dizzy with concussion, Norm could see this man was not long and thin and lanky like the Professor. He looked a bit like that Ken Trepid guy – only without the hair. Norm struggled against his burden, but with every weight in the gym overloading him, he couldn’t move. The man approached Norm, reached into his track suit pocket and removed the key to the dungeon. Then he stuffed a cloth into Norm’s mouth, and finally unfolded a huge tarpaulin and threw it over the whole scene.
#
As he had been instructed, Reginald Osis pretended to walk all the way from the castle to the stables, just in case anyone was watching him. Once he was inside, he was free to dissipate if he chose, and he was looking forward to it. Maintaining solid form and carrying on conversations with humans was difficult. If only he had a little refreshment, he had told Harriet, then social interaction would be a lot easier for him. She had rudely snorted at this and then pointedly reminded Swizelsticks to keep an eye on the alcohol when Osis was around. However, she had also delivered some good news. Due to Phil’s accident that morning, all riding had been cancelled until new, live horses could be brought to the castle to replace the zombie horses. This meant that Osis would not have to do any work at all, yet could stay here for free. If only I could have a drink to celebrate, he thought wistfully.