The Vampire Shadow Dog – preview chapters 1-5

The Vampire Shadow Dog

1

‘Race you to the top!’ I shout, getting a head start. ‘Hey, that’s not fair,’ Violet cries behind me.
     Our shoes clatter on the flagstones as we charge up the 199 Steps towards the Abbey.
I am Jack and this is Goth Weekend in my favourite place. Whitby.
     We’ve been given an hour to play out. Back before it gets dark, my dad said. We’re staying in one of the cottages on Henrietta Street for the whole weekend with our neighbours from home, the Pearsons.
     Violet, Tom (who is Violet’s brother) and I are best friends, though Tom can be a bit annoying because he is only nine and always moaning about being hungry. He is a very good climber though so we let him play with us, specially if we go to the park.
     It’s been grey all day. Coming down the steps towards us are loads of adults in Goth costume; big frocks, top hats, goggles just like Dad and Mr Pearson wear. They are carrying brass telescopes and fancy umbrellas. Some of them look really silly, if I’m honest, and some look cool.
     We weave in and out of the adults as we race up.
     At the top of the steps is the graveyard around the old church. There are hundreds of ancient tombstones with stuff written on them about sailors who died at sea. The wind has worn down some of the stones so much that they are full of holes like Swiss cheese and you can’t read any of the writing anymore.
     I win the race, obviously, and run off to crouch behind a tombstone to scare the others when they arrive. As I catch my breath I can see out over the harbour and the lighthouses. It’s awesome but it is starting to rain.
     Thirty seconds later, I’m getting wet and there is still no sign of the other two. Which is strange because, to be honest, Violet is usually faster than me.
     Cold raindrops are tickling the back of my neck. I hate that.
     Where are they?
     I lean out from behind the tombstone to look down the path. Nothing. Nobody about. Even the adults have gone.
     This is beginning to be annoying.
     I step out and start walking back down the path. Maybe the other two are too scared to come into the graveyard and …
     A horrible orange face full of sharp teeth appears over a tombstone.
     ‘YAAAAAARGH!’ growls a really creepy voice behind me.
     I jump back.
     ‘Don’t hurt me,’ I moan. ‘I’m just a kid and …

2

‘Got you!’ Violet removes her ugly latex vampire mask and shoves it back in her jacket pocket. She steps onto the path and starts to do a victory dance in front of me.
     ‘That’s the way to do it,’ Tom says in a funny voice, emerging from behind a stone. He takes something out of his mouth. ‘It’s a swazzle,’ he explains. ‘My dad bought it for me. It’s what they use to make the funny olden-days Punch and Judy voices.’
     ‘What a scaredy-cat,’ Violet laughs, pointing fingers at me like she’s shooting pistols.
     The pair of them are laughing so hard that they fall onto the grass rolling about. A pair of cackling hyenas.
     ‘Ha ha. Very funny,’ I say. ‘IDIOTS.’
     ‘Have you seen his face!’ Tom says, gasping for breath. ‘He’s got the screamie-jeemies.’
     ‘I have not,’ I protest. ‘I’m not scared of anything.’
     Violet suddenly stops laughing and pulls her I-am-disgusted look. ‘Yecch!’ she groans as she lurches up off the grass.
     Her top is covered in white streaks. And so is Tom’s.
     ‘Oh, I am so sorry about the seagull poo,’ I say in my saddest voice. ‘It really isn’t at all funny.’
     ‘Shut up, Jack,’ Violet says.
     The other two try to get the mess off their tops by rubbing their backs against the tombstones, which just spreads everything about and makes things worse.
     ‘Your mum is going to go ballistic,’ I suggest helpfully.
     ‘I said SHUT … UP.’
     ‘Oh, look!’
     ‘What?’ Violet snarls.
     ‘Here.’ I point at the faded words on a tombstone.
     ‘It says ‘Jack Oxton. Lost at sea. 23 years. That is so creepy.’
     ‘Maybe you go back in time and die on a ship,’ Tom suggests helpfully.
     ‘Maybe you go back on the grass and get seagull poop all over your face,’ I suggest helpfully.
     Eventually we finish kicking and pushing each other and the other two agree that tombstones aren’t as good as washing machines and we head back towards the 199 Steps.
     Lights are coming on in the houses below.
     ‘Fish and chips!’ says Tom gazing hungrily at the shops lit up like Christmas lights across the harbour.
     Violet sneezes a few times and finds a tissue.
     ‘And now I’ve got a cold,’ she says crossly as if the day could not get any worse. ‘Typical.’
     Little does she know.
     We go down the steps towards the old town. The old street lamps have come on, like luminous boxes on their black posts, glowing in the blue-grey sky.
     We are almost halfway down the steps when we see it. All at the same time. We stop and stare, not daring to breathe.
     ‘What is it?’’ Tom whispers
      ‘Don’t know,’ Violet says in a tiny voice from behind the tissue she has wrapped around her nose. It doesn’t make any sense.
     In the pool of light beneath one of the street lamps there is a dog-shaped shadow on the stone steps, moving back and forth.
     But where is the dog?

3

There is no dog. Or at least no dog that we can see. There’s just the shadow of a dog.
     We watch in silence as the dog shadow jumps about then stops. It seems to be looking up at us.
     ‘Is it a magic trick?’ Tom says softly. ‘I saw a video once where the …’
     ‘Does your brother have an on/off switch?’ I ask Violet.
     ‘I think the shadow is looking at us,’ Violet mutters under her breath.
     ‘This is so weird.’
     ‘You’re weird,’ says Tom helpfully.
     Violet is right, the dog shadow or shadow dog, whatever it is, is facing us. On the step below its sort-of-there sort-of-not-there body, its shadowy tail wagging.
     As if it wants to play.
     I take a step forward. The shadow dog’s ears prick up and it turns to face down the steps, looking back at us over its shoulder.
     ‘I think it wants us to follow it,’ says Violet.
     ‘I’m hungry.’
     Violet and I ignore Tom.
     ‘We can stop when we want to,’ I say.
     Violet nods.
     As we approach the shadow dog, it spins round and bounds off down towards the old town, pausing from time to time to check we are following it. Because there is no body above the shadow it looks like a strange snake sliding down the steps.
     At the bottom of the steps the shadow heads towards Church Street, its body rippling over the bumpy lumpy cobbles like a black stain. It pauses by the house next to the pub. Against the white wall, the shadow is very, very dog-like. Smaller than an Alsatian but bigger than a Chihuahua, if that helps. Violet and I follow the shadow down Church Street.
     Tom hangs back near Justin’s chocolate shop, staring at the chocolate coffins with drool dribbling out of his mouth until realises he is alone. He rushes to catch up with us and does so just as the shadow dog disappears into a passage that leads to one of the yards.
     ‘I am not going down there. It’s nearly dark,’ Tom says. ‘Forget it.’
     ‘That’s OK. You can wait here. All by your little self,’ I say.
     Tom does his angry eyes stare.
     ‘Come on,’ I say to Violet
     ‘I’ll tell Mum,’ Tom says to Violet.
     Violet rolls her eyes. ‘You’re such a baby.’
     We enter the passage.Tom trudges along behind us, muttering to himself.
     The yard is narrow with cottages on one side and what look like sheds on the other. It is already quite dark and gloomy. There is no sign of the strange shadow dog.            
     Violet and I are already back in the passage on our way home, when Tom whispers,   ‘Look!’
     He points up the yard at one of the front doors. There is a darker patch moving slowly on the door! As we stare open-mouthed, two orange eyes light up in the middle of the shadow. They look at each of us in turn, then disappear as the shadow turns its head and steps through the door. The last thing we see is the tail-wagging shadow and then it is gone.
     ‘Wow! Did you see that?’ I say.
     ‘What should we do?’ Violet says. ‘Do you think we should follow it?’
     ‘Through a locked door? Good luck with that.’
     Violet sticks her tongue out at me. ‘What I meant was, shall we try to open the door and follow it?’
     ‘We can’t,’ Tom says smugly. ‘That’s private property.’
     Before I can say anything Violet steps forwards and before she even reaches the door, it opens with a soft click. Violet doesn’t wait. Without looking back, she walks straight inside!

4

Tom and I are standing there, open-jawed, wondering what to do, when someone shouts at us from the other end of the yard.
     ‘Hey, you young lads. Yes, you. Hop it or we’ll call the police.’
     Two old men are standing in a doorway, lit up from inside the house. I glance back at the open door. From where they are standing the old men cannot see the open door. Should we ignore them and step inside after Violet?
     There is a tug at my sleeve. Tom shakes his head. He looks like he is about to cry.
     ‘We have to go,’ he says simply.
     ‘What about your sister?’
     Tom is biting his lip.
     ‘Are you moving?’ shouts the other old man. ‘Maybe we need to go down and teach them a good lesson,’ says the first man.
     I sigh and trudge away towards the passage. ‘About time! And don’t come back.’
     ‘I hate them,’ I mumble.
     I feel really bad about abandoning Violet.
     Once we are in the passage, we hear a door slam shut. I turn back. There’s no light in the yard, the old men must have gone back inside. I head straight back into the yard.        ‘Wait! Wait!’
     I ignore Tom. Violet is my best friend, I cannot leave her alone in that cottage. I’m really nervous but I walk right up to the open door and step inside, with Tom shuffling along behind me making blubbing noises.
     Tom can be so annoying
     ‘Violet! Violet!’ I can hear my teeth chattering in my head.
     There are no lights on in the cottage. We hear the slow tick … tock … of a big clock. Tom is squeezing my arm so hard it’s beginning to hurt. There are strange sniffling noises in the darkness.
     Suddenly a burst of brilliant light on the door straight ahead reveals a huge bat flying towards us. Then the light cuts out.  
     ‘AAAAARGH!’ I shout. ‘VIOLET! We have to get out NOW!’  
     A door creaks open to our left.
     My legs are shaking so hard I’m worried my trousers will fall down.
    ‘Why are you making so much noise?’ Violet says in the doorway.
    ‘There’s a huge bat and …’
    ‘There’s not,’ Tom laughs beside me in the dark. ‘It’s just my Halloween projector torch. I was trying to help.’
    ‘Not helping. Not helping at all,’ I snarl, feeling stupid.
    ‘Stop arguing and come in here,’ Violet says then sneezes.
    The only light in the room is spilling in from outside through the window. We’re in a dining room with an old wooden table and six high-backed chairs. In the far corner is a grandfather clock and beside that is a massive wardrobe that almost touches the ceiling.
     On the table is a metal biscuit tin, like the ones that adults give each other at Christmas when they cannot think of anything else. Before we can stop him, Tom leans forwards, grabs the box and opens it.
    ‘Yay! Chocolate biscuits!’ he says.
    The box is almost empty. Tom hands one biscuit to me, one to Violet and shoves one in his mouth.
    ‘Mm. Chocolate fingers, my favourite,’ Tom mumbles with his mouth full.
   ‘That’s a shame,’ I say. ‘There’s only one left. I would have liked to give two fingers to those old men in the yard.’
    Violet and I laugh like donkeys. Then I put the biscuit in my mouth.
    ‘YUUUUCK!’ I say, spitting the half-chewed mess out of my mouth onto the table. ‘I don’t know what that is, but it isn’t chocolate!’
    ‘Tastes like dog biscuits wrapped in dinosaur vomit,’ Violet agrees, her face wrinkling up like a prune.
    ‘Well, I like it,’ Tom insists.
    We are interrupted by a groaning, rumbling noise. ‘It’s not me,’ Tom declares before either of us can blame him.
    Groaning, rumbling noises usually come from Tom’s stomach which is why he generally has a squashed sandwich or a pasty shoved in one of his pockets.
    In case he feels hungry.
    The sound is coming from the hallway. We all look at each other and realise we have been pretty stupid. We cannot get out of the house without going into the hallway!
    ‘Shall I use my torch?’ Tom asks.
    ‘That will just let whatever is out there know where we are,’ Violet tells him.
    We walk out into the hallway. The slow tick … tock … comes from another, even bigger, grandfather clock.
     A whisper of creepy green luminous mist is drifting across the floor from beneath the door at the far end of the hall. And, standing in the green mist, is the shadow of four furry feet.
    ‘Let’s get out of here,’ Violet says, wiping her streaming nose with a tissue.
    ‘Why? Are you scared?’
    ‘Of course I’m scared, only an idiot or a monster wouldn’t be scared.’
    I don’t tell her but I am glad she says that because I am so scared my head is spinning. I walk quickly to the front door with the other two right behind me, grab the door handle and turn it and …
… And nothing happens. The door is locked!

5

No matter how hard I rattle the door handle, it stays locked. We can’t get out.
     ‘Maybe we can climb out through the window in the dining room,’ Violet says.
     We retrace our steps. Violet and I drag a dining chair up to the window, climb up and fiddle with the catches. There’s a bit that turns and a bit that slides but none of it is working. Perhaps it has all rusted over.
     ‘Do you think anybody lives here?’ Violet asks, struggling with another tissue.
     ‘You’re dripping onto the chair,’ I tell her. ‘It’s disgusting. We’re going to slide on your snot and slip off.’
     ‘Hey! The wardrobe door was closed before, wasn’t it?’ Tom says, trying to climb up onto the chair with us.
     ‘There isn’t room,’ Violet protests, pushing him away. She sneezes in the gloom.
     Tom is right. The wardrobe door was closed when we came in.
     ‘I’ve got a bad feeling,’ I say.
     I turn back towards Violet, and I am so surprised I fall of the chair. I can’t speak. I point a shaking finger up at her face
     ‘What?’
     ‘Your face!’ I blurt. ‘You’ve got ectoplasm pouring out of your face!’
     ‘What’s etoplasm?’
     ‘Shut up, Tom,’ I explain helpfully.
     ‘You flakehead, Jack!’ Violet pulls the tissue out of her nose. ‘I was using it to catch the drips.’
     ‘What’s etoplasm?’ Tom insists.
    ‘It’s ectoplasm not etoplasm. It’s the supernatural gunk that oozes out of your body when you’re in a trance,’ Violet tells her brother. ‘Only this isn’t ectoplasm it’s just a tissue.’
    ‘A tissue full of disgusting gunk,’ I chip in. ‘So it is more or less ectoplasm.’
    ‘Ha ha. I’m not laughing,’ Violet says.
    Why do we decide that looking in the wardrobe is a good idea? Maybe it is because we are struggling to open the window. I don’t know.
     Anyway, we are just discovering that it is very dark inside the wardrobe when we hear a voice behind us.
     ‘Can I help you?’
    We all jump. So high we could probably win gold medals at the Olympics. We turn and find ourselves face to face with a girl who is dressed as a Goth, long black dress, dark hair and a face as pale as the moon.
     She is about the same age as Violet and me.
    ‘Hello, I’m Lucy,’ she smiles.
Her mouth is full of long sharp fangs.
    ‘Great costume!’ says Tom, which takes the edge off things. A little.
     ‘I wish my mum and dad would buy us proper costumes,’ Tom continues.
    ‘You really scared us!’ I say, before I can stop myself. ‘We thought you were a …’
    ‘No, we didn’t. You thought that,’ Violet explains to Lucy. ‘He scares easily.’
    ‘I do not.’
    ‘We came inside because the shadow dog led us here,’ Violet continues. ‘We were on the 199 Steps and the dog was there on one of the steps. Or not there. We followed it and when we reached the yard it disappeared into this cottage and the door clicked open and we …’
    ‘Her proper name is Mina Barker,’ Lucy smiles, ‘but I call her Victoria Snuffles. Do you want to meet her?’
    ‘Maybe tomorrow,’ I say. ‘It’s getting late and our parents will be having kittens because we’re late.’
    ‘Oh, that’s funny,’ laughs Lucy. ‘They are having kittens and Snuffles is having puppies. I’ll show you, if you like.’
    I am outvoted. Lucy leads us out into the hall and down to the door at the end. There is something weird about Lucy but I can’t put my finger on it. I think she is looking at us like she is hungry, but that’s stupid isn’t it?
    She doesn’t actually touch the door. She sort of lifts a hand and it opens.
    We follow her through the doorway and into a very curious room. The floor is a moving carpet of luminous green mist. There are tall candles burning everywhere. You can hear the melting wax dripping onto the ice-cold floor.
      The room is bigger than I expected, and very damp.
      ‘She’s over here in the corner,’ Lucy says brightly.
      Violet takes my hand as we walk between a row of long boxes that are sort of made of wood. But not wood. Tom is walking behind us, really close.
     Two things happen at the same time.
     We see Snuffles, the real dog not just the shadow. And the door behind us slams shut so hard that half the candles go out.