Vlad the World's Worst Vampire Read online

  To Minkie, who is actually Malika and

  – like Minxie in this book – is Very Good Fun

  – A.W.

  To my amazing friend, Amanda

  (who may actually be related to Dracula)

  – K.D.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Extras from Jollywood Academy

  About the author

  About the illustrator

  Copyright

  A full moon was rising above Misery Manor. Its ghostly light shone on the tombstones, casting long shadows across the graveyard that surrounded the huge house. Bats circled the spires and turrets that threw larger, darker shadows over the hill where the manor stood.

  In the small town below, all was quiet and everyone was tucked up in bed.

  Inside the manor, however, the Impaler family had just woken up.

  One by one, they took their seats in the gloomy dining room at the grand oak table where they always started the night. The only light in the room came from a large chandelier that hung low over the table and was covered in cobwebs. A draught whistled in through the door and the old wooden beams creaked and groaned.

  Countess Mortemia Impaler sat at one end of the long table and Count Drax Impaler sat at the other. Grandpa Gory, the oldest member of the family, sat beside Drax. Once they were settled, Mulch, the butler, brought in the family’s breakfast.

  “Good morning,” he said in his deep voice. He put a tall glass of dark red liquid in front of each vampire and placed a fourth at an empty space opposite Grandpa Gory.

  “Thank you, Mulch,” Drax said. “And my newspaper?”

  “Here, Your Evilness,” said Mulch, taking a copy of the Vampire Times from under his arm. He bowed low. “Will that be all?”

  “Yes, yes. Off you go, Mulch,” said Mortemia, waving at him impatiently.

  After the butler had gone, Drax started reading the newspaper, and Grandpa Gory took a slurp of his breakfast and began leafing through a large book, peering closely at the pages.

  Mortemia was the first to break the silence. She rapped her long red nails on the table and snapped, “For badness’ sake! I can’t stand this a moment longer.”

  Drax did not even look up from his newspaper. “Hmmm?” he said.

  Mortemia tossed her long black hair over her shoulder. “Where is Vlad? You can be sure he has overslept again! I swear I shall lock him in the Black Tower if he keeps this up.”

  Drax put down his paper and picked at his fangs lazily. “Good idea,” he drawled.

  “I often wonder if he really is your son,” said Grandpa Gory. “He is so unlike you both. I sometimes think he has human blood in him. Mwhahahaha!”

  Drax gave a slow smile and raised his glass of blood. “Ah, well, we all have a bit of that in us, don’t we, Grandpa?” he said. “Mwhahahaha!”

  “Oh, mwhahahaha! That’s a good one, Drax!” Grandpa Gory laughed.

  Mortemia bared her fangs. “There is nothing funny about suggesting our son is a human!” she cried.

  Grandpa Gory muttered something under his breath and pretended to doze off, while Drax went back to his newspaper.

  Mortemia grabbed a pepper pot and slid it down the long table so that it hit Drax on the arm.

  “Ouch!” Drax complained. “What was that for?”

  “I need you to pay attention,” Mortemia said with a snarl. “Vlad is failing in all his lessons. You should be putting aside time to help me teach him instead of flitting off to Transylvania whenever the mood takes you.”

  Drax frowned. “Can’t this wait until later?” he asked. “I would like to have my breakfast in peace. Besides, I don’t travel for fun – someone has to bring home the blood money.”

  Mortemia’s eyes flashed. “Someone has to teach Vlad, too … and I don’t see why it should always be me! I am going to give him his report this morning and I want you to be here when I do. Oh, where is he?” she howled. “I blame Gory,” she added between gritted fangs. “Vlad spends far too much time with the old fool.”

  Grandpa Gory opened one eye and, checking that Mortemia could not see him, he stuck his tongue out at her. Then he quickly shut his eye again and was soon fast asleep for real, snoring loudly.

  “That’s it!” Mortemia said, smacking her hands down on the table and waking Gory. “Mulch, go and get Vlad!”

  She turned to look for the family butler and a figure stepped out of the shadows.

  “Oh!” Mortemia cried. “There you are, Vlad. You gave me a fright.”

  “You should be pleased,” said Vlad, under his breath. “You’re always saying I’m not scary enough.”

  A little bat flitted around his head. “Oooh! Scary Vlad!” it squeaked in bat language.

  “Do NOT talk to your mother like that, Vlad!” Drax roared.

  “That bat should be up in the belfry with all the others,” Mortemia said.

  “Quite right,” Drax agreed. He picked up his glass to drain the last drops of blood. “We’ve told you a thousand times, Vlad,” he added, dabbing at his mouth with a large white napkin.

  “But Flit is my pet!” Vlad protested.

  “Vampires do not have pets!” cried Mortemia and Drax in unison.

  “Ah well, that’s not strictly true,” said Grandpa Gory. “If you had read the excellent Encyclopedia of Curious Creatures, you would know that our ancestor Count Marcovia Impaler kept six werewolves. They used to sit with him at dinner every night—”

  “Do be quiet, Gory,” snapped Mortemia. “Vlad – sit down. I am going to run through your report.”

  “You’re in trouble now!” said Flit nervously, as he fluttered up to the safety of the chandelier.

  Here we go again, Vlad thought, as Mortemia brought a scroll of parchment out of the sleeve of her dress.

  He sat down and watched as his mother unrolled the parchment and began to read.

  “Bat-morphing skills – E minus,” she said with a sneer. “Everyone knows that vampires learn to fly as soon as they can walk. Not you, it seems.”

  “Sorry, Mother,” said Vlad sadly.

  “Evil laugh – E minus,” Mortemia continued. “You sound like a twinkling star.”

  Drax let out a sigh. “If you can’t fly or laugh like a vampire, there is no hope for you,” he said.

  Forget flying, Vlad thought, I’d like to be able to make myself invisible right now.

  “And your academic work is even worse!” his mother went on. “You are a disgrace to the vampire race. Vampire history – F minus. Vampire folklore – F minus. Transylvanian grammar – E minus. Vampire maths—”

  “Enough!” Drax cried, rising from his chair. “What have you got to say for yourself, Vlad?”

  Vlad shook his head. “I don’t … I don’t know,” he whispered.

  “What about that excellent horror story I gave you? Have you finished it yet?” Drax asked.

  “No,” Vlad admitted. “It gave me daymares.”

  “DAYmares?” Mortemia screeched. “From a traditional tale of blood, guts and gore? Blood Red and the Seven Bats,” she sighed. “How I loved that story when I was your age.”

  What, you mean two hundred years ago? Vlad thought. But he didn’t dare say it out loud.

  “So what are you reading?” asked Drax.

  “Erm, nothing really…” Vlad said, crossing his fingers behind his back.

  He thought of the book he had found one night
while he was exploring the old library in the West Wing of Misery Manor. It had been tucked between the pages of a huge book on mythical beasts. Jollywood Academy – the Best School in the World! it was called. Vlad couldn’t stop reading it. He had stayed up to finish it, which was why he had been late for breakfast. And then he had needed to hide the book carefully. His parents would be furious if they discovered he had been reading a book about the human world.

  “Well, this is very bad news,” said Drax. He stroked his pointy chin. “You need to start some intensive flying practice. I will be checking on you regularly, young devil. I can see I am going to have to take you in hand, now I am home.”

  “Surely you mean you are going to take him under your wing?” said Grandpa Gory. “Mwhahahaha! Get it? Flying lessons – under your wing?” He winked at Vlad.

  “Hehehe!” squeaked Flit from the chandelier. “Under your wing! That’s a good one.”

  “Silence!” Mortemia shouted. “I agree with your father, Vlad. As soon as you have had your breakfast, you must practise your flying. Now, drink up.” She nodded towards the glass in front of Vlad. “We pay a fortune for Red Cells Express to deliver to our door.”

  “In my day,” Grandpa Gory said, “we got our blood in the traditional way: by creeping up behind an unsuspecting human and sinking our fangs—”

  “That will do, Grandpa!” Mortemia said.

  Vlad pulled a face. He didn’t care if the blood came from a sterilized bottle, delivered by a clean white van. He would much rather have a taste of one of those wonderful-sounding drinks the humans had in Jollywood Academy: hot chocolate or a slurp of strawberry milkshake or fizzy lemon pop through a twirly pink straw…

  “Hurry up!” said Mortemia. “It will make you big, strong and handsome, like your father.”

  Drax flashed his pointy white fangs at his wife in what he clearly thought was a dashingly attractive manner.

  Vlad drank the red liquid in one go and tried not to pull a face. He was vaguely aware of his father and mother telling him how they expected him to improve but he had stopped listening.

  Instead he was nightdreaming that he was a human child at Jollywood Academy, the best school in the world! He thought of the pictures of happy human families dropping off their children at school. They all had colourful clothes and shiny hair – there was not a single pointy fang or a black cloak in sight. The children had lots of friends and were always smiling. Vlad wished his life was like that.

  Perhaps I could run away, he thought. He gazed out at the silvery moon. If only he weren’t afraid of the dark, he could slip out into the graveyard and hide. But the thought of all those shadows and night-noises made him shiver.

  “You’re not listening, are you?” his mother roared. “Right, that’s it! Go to your room and clean your fangs!”

  “Yes,” Drax said. “And if you can’t change into a bat by the end of the night, you will be locked in the Black Tower.”

  “Not the Black Tower!” Vlad whispered.

  “That’s a bit tough—” Grandpa Gory began.

  “GET OUT!” Vlad’s parents shouted.

  Vlad turned and ran out of the dining room, with Flit flying close behind.

  Back in his bedroom, Vlad flopped in to his coffin and put his head in his hands. “I’m too tired to try to fly,” he said in a muffled voice. “I want to stay in my coffin.”

  Flit was flying round him in little circles. “Cheer up, Vlad,” he said.

  Vlad looked up, his mouth quivering as a large tear rolled down his face. “It’s all very well for you to say ‘cheer up’,” he said in bat language. “You’re already a bat! I’m never going to get the hang of my transformations,” he finished with a sob.

  Flit landed on the coffin next to Vlad. “You can’t give up that easily,” he said. “Remember how brave you were when you rescued me from that owl?”

  Vlad sniffed and wiped his nose on his cloak. “I wasn’t brave. I shouted because the owl had flown into my room and I was frightened.”

  “Well, you managed to scare off the owl and make it drop me!” said Flit. “I wouldn’t have lived to tell the tale if it hadn’t been for you.” Flit hopped down beside Vlad and looked up at him with his beady black eyes. “And you’re very good at speaking bat, so technically you’re halfway there! Cheer up – for me?”

  Vlad tried a small smile.

  “That’s better,” Flit said. “Now, seeing as we’re stuck in here, how about I help you with your bat-morphing?”

  Vlad groaned. “I’m hopeless! And I’m covered in bumps and bruises from the last time.”

  “Going out in the dark is a lot less frightening if you’re a bat,” Flit said. “We bats aren’t frightened of anything!”

  “Except owls,” Vlad reminded him.

  Flit shook his wings. “True … but I was a baby then. Come on, try jumping off your wardrobe. You can put some blankets on the floor to make a soft landing. Flying is fun! And it’s much quicker than walking.”

  “I suppose…” Vlad said. “Although I can go fast on my skateboard.” He whipped it out from behind his coffin. He’d seen a picture of a skateboard in his Jollywood Academy book and had decided to copy it. He had used a plank of wood and some little wheels that he’d found in Mulch’s tool cupboard. He had painted the skateboard with beautiful swirls and stars until it looked almost as good as the one in the picture.

  “I love my skateboard!” Vlad cried as he zoomed up a ramp – he had made that, too, from a floorboard propped on to a chair. “Wheee!” he shouted, as he flipped the skateboard up against a large wooden chest.

  His bedroom was so huge that there was plenty of space for zipping around on the board. And because his room was in the East Wing, away from the rest of the house, he could make as much noise as he liked. He mostly used it in the day, when he knew the rest of his family were in their coffins. It was no wonder he fell asleep in his lessons sometimes.

  “It’s nice to see you smiling,” said Flit, watching Vlad perform flips and twists. “But what if Drax comes to watch you practise your flying? I think you should put that away now.”

  Vlad came to a sudden stop and flicked up his board with his foot to catch hold of the end. “Do I have to?” he said, his face falling.

  “Come on, Vlad,” Flit pleaded. “Try a bit of flying. I don’t want to have to visit you in the Black Tower.”

  Vlad knew Flit was right. He dragged some blankets over to the wardrobe and piled them up so they were soft and squidgy. Then he pushed a chair against the side of the wardrobe. He climbed on to the chair and then, taking a deep breath, hoisted himself up on to the top of the wardrobe.

  Flit flew up and hovered next to Vlad. “I’ll be right here!” he squeaked. “Don’t worry.”

  Vlad nodded and tried to feel brave. He opened his velvet cape wide, like a pair of wings. He closed his eyes and thought hard about flying like a bat.

  “Ready…” said Flit.

  Vlad gulped.

  “Steady…” said Flit.

  Vlad shook his head. “No, I don’t think—”

  “GO!” cried Flit, giving Vlad a little push.

  “Sooooooo!” finished Vlad as he teetered on the edge of the wardrobe and plummeted to the floor, missing the pile of blankets completely.

  “Ouch!” he said, rubbing his knees.

  “You need to get more lift under your cape,” said Flit, swooping down beside him. “And you MUST concentrate on becoming a bat. You need to move, breathe and think like a bat if you want to become one.”

  “That’s just it,” said Vlad, exasperated. “I don’t think I do want to!”

  “Charming!” Flit squeaked.

  “Sorry, Flit,” said Vlad, softening. “It’s just that yesterday – when I was reading Jollywood Academy – I thought that being human seems a lot more fun. I hate being a vampire! I don’t like drinking blood and I don’t like sleeping in a coffin and I’m afraid of the dark and all these cobwebs make me feel ill and … I HATE h
aving no one to play with.”

  “Play?” said Flit, looking puzzled. “But you’re a vampire. You’re not supposed to play.”

  Vlad hobbled over to the window and saw a familiar figure tottering unsteadily between the tombstones. Vlad watched Grandpa Gory walk up and down the rows.

  “I wonder if Grandpa ever feels lonely,” Vlad said. “There are no vampires his age around here either.”

  “Exactly how old is he?” Flit asked.

  Vlad grabbed hold of the edge of his coffin as though it were Grandpa’s walking stick and bent over. Then he said, in his best impersonation of his grandfather’s voice, “Four hundred and two at the last count. Got a good couple of centuries left in me yet.”

  Flit squeaked with delight. “I love it when you do that! Do Mulch!”

  Vlad grinned, then he let his face fall into a gloomy expression and he said in a deep, sombre voice, “You called, Master?”

  They both collapsed into fits of giggles.

  “That’s better,” Flit said. He swooped and dived above Vlad’s head, turning somersaults and loop-the-loops.

  But Vlad wasn’t so easily distracted from his thoughts. I’m only nine, he thought. That’s a lot of years of being a vampire ahead of me. What if I never learn to do what vampires are meant to do?

  “Maybe if I had some vampire friends, I wouldn’t be so useless,” he said aloud.

  “What makes you think that?” Flit asked.

  “In Jollywood Academy the children have so much fun together. The school is near the sea,” he said, his eyes lighting up. “They go on ‘school trips’. They go swimming and have something called ‘forest school’ where they cook food on a fire. They eat yummy stuff called ‘sausages’ and ‘marshmallows’.” Vlad sighed and looked sad again. “Even if I had a vampire friend, I couldn’t do things like that.”

  “You have to forget about Jollywood Academy,” Flit said. “It’s making you sad.

  You’ll end up in the Black Tower if you don’t show your father you can fly.”

  “I know,” said Vlad. “Which is why I have to run away.”