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  “Stay away from him!” shouted Mr Watson, racing across the square to protect his son. Sir Otto gave a snort and knocked him aside with his hoof, cutting a deep gash into his cheek and sending him sprawling. Cleo dashed over to help him, tearing a strip of bandage from her side to press onto his face.

  The warthog raised itself to its full height and gave a deep, otherworldly laugh. “Is there no one in your family who can stand up to me?” it demanded.

  As if in answer, a third werewolf leapt over a nearby hedge and landed at the warthog’s feet. This one was barely a skeleton, wrapped in a sheet of shrivelled, leathery skin. Clumps of rotting fur clung to its frame and a diseased tongue hung limply between two rows of yellowing teeth.

  “Mr Skipstone!” cried Resus.

  “Of course!” roared the warthog. “It finally makes sense. You’re all related!”

  Samuel Skipstone advanced on the warthog, snarling. Sir Otto stood his ground, then he saw Mrs Watson’s wolf crawl out of the rubble of the emporium and join her ancestor. Lastly, Luke forced himself to stand, gritting his teeth against the pain, and limped towards the warthog.

  Sir Otto’s eyes flicked from one werewolf to the other as the three of them slunk towards him, snarling. The warthog opened its mouth and let out a terrifying roar, but it couldn’t disguise its fear. It began to back away, then it reached the kerb and tripped, crashing down onto its back.

  It twisted its head from side to side to keep the three werewolves in its sight, and one by one they lifted their snouts and howled.

  HOOOOOOOOWWWWWLLLLL!

  HOOOOOOOOWWWWWWLLLLLLL!

  MIIIIIIIAAAAAAWWWWWW!

  The three werewolves were now standing over Sir Otto’s warthog – it could feel their hot breath against its thick hide – and it began to transform back to human form. Its tusks pulled back into its mouth, the fur disappeared and it shrank back to Sir Otto’s usual rotund shape.

  “You see what they’re like,” the landlord yelled to Zeal Chillchase, his voice quivering. “They’re a dangerous family. They attacked me! You should send the whole lot of them to the Underlands.”

  Chillchase strode over and the wolves parted to allow him through. “From what I saw, they acted in self-defence,” he said.

  “That’s right!” shouted Resus. “He transformed first.”

  “I lost my temper, that’s all,” said Sir Otto, beginning to whine. “I’ve never transformed properly – I’ve managed to keep it under control ever since I was a child. It’s not my fault!”

  Chillchase grabbed the landlord’s arm and dragged him to his feet. “It was your fault, however, that you attacked a normal…”

  “What?”

  Zeal pointed to where Cleo was tending the cut on Luke’s dad’s cheek. Then he pulled his mirrored sunglasses from his pocket and slipped them back on. “Of course, you of all people should know the punishment for an unusual life-form who attacks a normal. It’s exactly what brought Luke’s family here, after all…”

  Sir Otto stared at the Tracker in terror. “No!” he begged. “No – please don’t!”

  Chillchase approached the nearest Mover and pressed his fingertips against his forehead. “Move Sir Otto to a new G.H.O.U.L. community so that he can live among his own kind and learn to control his transformations,” he instructed. Two more Movers gripped the landlord by the arms, dragging him towards the edge of the square.

  “NO!” screamed Sir Otto. “You can’t do this! I’m not a freak! I’m Sir Otto Sneer!”

  A thin, ginger-haired man pushed his way out of the crowd and dashed after the landlord as a Hex Hatch opened and the Movers began to pull him through. “Don’t forget me, Uncle Otto!” yelled Dixon, diving through after them. “I won’t let them move you by yourself. I’ll come and keep you company!”

  Sir Otto’s screams echoed around the square long after the Hex Hatch had closed, and he and his nephew were lost from sight.

  Slowly, Luke and his mum began to transform back to their human forms.

  “I can’t believe it!” beamed the mummy, racing over and taking Luke’s paw as it changed back into his own hand again. “Sneer’s gone!”

  Resus grinned. “Just like him to hog the limelight on the way out…”

  And one by one, the residents of Scream Street began to applaud.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Future

  It took almost two days for the fires around Scream Street to be put out and for the rebuilding work to begin. By the time the residents gathered in the square again, Movers were already erecting scaffolding around the damaged houses and had started to dig the foundations for what would become the new Everwell’s Emporium.

  This was the second time in the past few days that the residents had been summoned to the square, but this time the atmosphere was very different. Friends and neighbours chatted happily, eagerly awaiting the arrival of Zeal Chillchase, who was now officially confirmed as the new head of G.H.O.U.L.

  Luke, Resus and Cleo ambled through the crowd to where Eefa Everwell was watching the Movers work on her shop. “How’s it coming along?” asked Cleo.

  “Slowly,” replied Eefa, but she smiled. “I offered to speed things up with a little magic, but the Movers didn’t seem interested.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Twinkle, coming down to land beside the group. He winked at Eefa. “We’ll sneak back here wiv our wands after they’ve clocked off and give the work a bit of a boost!”

  “It can’t be too soon for me, fairy dude!” said Doug, limping over. “I got me a serious case of the munchies – and Turf here needs a new lower intestine.”

  “Turf!” cried Resus as the other two zombies came to join them. “Did you manage to find the rest of your brain?”

  “I’m afraid not,” said Berry. “But I think he’ll be OK without it.”

  “Surfer bogies!” bellowed Turf.

  “Luke Watson!” called a stern voice. The trio turned to see Dr Skully approaching, the other children scurrying after him with exercise books in their hands. His skeletal dog, Scapula, bounded along behind.

  “I’m a vampire,” announced Kian.

  “I appreciate that you three have been through something of a trial,” said the skeletal teacher, “and that Luke’s injured leg may excuse him from PE for a while. But I expect all of you back in class first thing on Monday morning!”

  “Yes, sir,” said Luke.

  “Splendid!” replied Dr Skully, leading the group to a spot at the front of the square. “Now, come along, children – I want you to take notes on whatever Mr Chillchase has to say and write a three-thousand-word essay on his major themes.”

  “Typical,” groaned Resus as soon as the teacher was out of earshot. “We save the street, and we still have to go to school.”

  “I should think so!” came a voice from Luke’s pocket. Luke pulled out the copy of Skipstone’s Tales of Scream Street and turned it over to reveal the author’s face protruding from the silver front cover. “A good, solid education is incredibly important,” continued the author.

  “And incredibly boring,” mumbled Resus.

  “How are you doing in there, Mr Skipstone?” asked Cleo.

  “Oh, I’m absolutely fine, young lady,” beamed Samuel Skipstone. “Much better than I was inside that body you built for me – not that I’m ungrateful, of course.”

  “Of course,” smiled Luke.

  “But that tiny portion of zombie brain was so constricting,” said the author. “Now that I’m back inside the pages of my research, I have room to think again.”

  As Skipstone finished speaking, a Hex Hatch appeared by the gates to the ruined Sneer Hall and Zeal Chillchase stepped through. Luke, Resus and Cleo hurried over to where the other residents were already gathered.

  Chillchase waited until everyone was silent before speaking. “A new era has begun at G.H.O.U.L.,” he announced. “A time for righting wrongs and correcting the mistakes of the past.”

  “I wish it was a time
for banning school,” grumbled Resus under his breath.

  “Ssh!” hissed Cleo, elbowing him in the side.

  “But that is for the future,” said Chillchase, “and I’m here to talk about today.” A murmur of anticipation spread through the crowd.

  “For generations, Scream Street has belonged to the Sneer family. However, as a result of recent events, the current owner has been removed from our midst.”

  “Where is Sneer now?” gurgled Mrs Crudley.

  “Sir Otto currently resides in a G.H.O.U.L. community in South America that consists mainly of canvas tents and a multitude of insects,” said Chillchase, resisting the urge to smile as the entire square erupted in applause.

  “This leaves G.H.O.U.L. in something of an unusual position,” he continued. “We must answer the question of Scream Street’s future. Like most of you here today, Sneer had to surrender ownership of his home when he was moved.”

  “So he’s lost Sneer Hall,” said Volt Aire. “What’s that got to do with the rest of us?”

  “Otto didn’t just own the mansion,” Zeal reminded the crowd. “The whole street belongs to him. And G.H.O.U.L. cannot look after a community without the permission of the landlord. So, ordinarily, Scream Street would pass into new hands…”

  A ripple of excitement ran through the crowd. Mr and Mrs Crudley clasped their gloopy hands together tightly. “Please let it be us! Please let it be us!”

  Doug took a swig from his bottle of saliva and beamed. “Dudes!” he proclaimed. “If I get Scream Street, the party’s at my place! ’Cos it’ll all be my place!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” barked Mrs Crudley. “Who’d trust you with an entire street? No, Scream Street should belong to someone intelligent and organized.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” said Dr Skully, puffing out his ribcage and crossing his bony fingers behind his back.

  Zeal Chillchase waited until the crowd became quiet once more. “There are, of course, several other members of the Sneer family – including his nephew, Dixon and sister, Queenie. However, neither of these individuals is judged to be a suitable replacement landlord.”

  “I should think not,” Resus whispered loudly. “One’s about as sharp as a sack of wet rats and the other’s a psycho!”

  Luke and Cleo stifled their giggles.

  “And so,” said Chillchase, “the difficult decision has been made to allow Sir Otto to return to Scream Street …” Zeal ignored the gasp from the crowd and continued “…after a year in the jungle learning how to control his transformations.”

  “Sneer’s coming back?” groaned Berry.

  “Yes, but we get twelve months without him,” Alston Negative pointed out. “A whole year to put things right before we see his ugly mug again.”

  “What happens in the meantime?” asked Eefa. “Who looks after Scream Street until then?”

  “We are in the process of interviewing caretaker landlords,” Zeal replied.

  “There’s no need,” cried Tibia Skully. “We have the perfect candidates right here – Luke, Resus and Cleo!”

  The trio jumped at the sound of their names. “What?” exclaimed Resus.

  “She can’t mean it,” hissed Cleo.

  “Tibia’s right,” said Twinkle. “Them three have done loads for Scream Street. They should be in charge.”

  “I AGREE!” screeched Favel’s banshee grandmother.

  “I think they do mean it,” Luke whispered in amazement.

  Zeal Chillchase paused for a moment and the crowd waited with bated breath for his decision. Finally, he pulled off his sunglasses and smiled. “If that’s what you want, then the temporary landlords of Scream Street will be Cleo Farr, Resus Negative and Luke Watson.”

  “Hooray for Luke, Resus and Cleo!” Kian piped up.

  The crowd laughed and erupted in cheers and applause.

  Resus turned, wide-eyed, to Luke and Cleo. “We own Scream Street for a year?”

  Before either of them could reply, the trio were dragged out to the front of the crowd. Zeal Chillchase produced three scrolls from the pocket of his coat and handed one to each of them. “Sign these, and you’re the temporary owners of Scream Street!”

  “Congratulations!” cried an excited voice. Luke pulled Skipstone’s Tales of Scream Street from his pocket to see the author beaming excitedly up at him. “I always knew you’d make this place great again!”

  Luke looked from smiling face to smiling face as the applause continued. He spotted his parents watching proudly and gave them a quick wave. Niles Farr was laughing and crying at the same time, tears of joy soaking into his bandages. Even Mr and Mrs Crudley appeared to be smiling.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Luke admitted.

  “Neither do I,” agreed Cleo. “Apart from thank you, of course!”

  Resus waved his scroll in the air. “Hey – does this mean I can ban school?” he asked.

  “No, young man, it does not,” replied Dr Skully. “And don’t expect any special treatment just because you temporarily own a third of the classroom!”

  Resus grinned. “Worth a try…”

  As the residents laughed, Scapula dashed past, a grey, slimy lump wedged between his bony jaws.

  “Hey,” said Cleo, “is that what I think it is?”

  “Yep,” laughed Luke. “Scapula’s found the rest of Turf’s brain!”

  “Come back here!” yelled Resus.

  And the three friends chased the skeletal dog across the square and down Scream Street…

  Then the ground in front of them began to split open. The cracks spread like a spiderweb, moving at lightning speed and growing wider by the second.

  Luke grabbed Resus and pulled him back before his foot slipped down one of the cracks. “What’s going on?” he asked in amazement.

  “Your guess is as good as mine!” replied Resus.

  “Whatever it is, I don’t like the look of it…” said Cleo.

  There was a sound like crashing thunder and one of the cracks opened wider than the others. A head appeared: a vast, swollen head with bulbous eyes, a nose the size of an armchair and a gaping, wet mouth.

  “Is that… Is that a giant?” exclaimed Cleo.

  “Whatever it is, it’s certainly been eating all its vegetables,” remarked Resus.

  Gargantuan fingers slammed down onto the ground as the giant began to climb out of the hole. “DESTROY!” it roared, shaking the whole of the street with its booming voice. “SMASH! DEMOLISH! OBLITERATE!”

  Resus pulled a cricket bat, a golf club and a flaming torch from his cape and handed them out to his friends.

  Luke gripped the handle of the bat tightly and cracked his neck from side to side. “Here we go again…”

  Other Scream Street titles

  1: Fang of the Vampire

  2: Blood of the Witch

  3: Heart of the Mummy

  4: Flesh of the Zombie

  5: Skull of the Skeleton

  6: Claw of the Werewolf

  7: Invasion of the Normals

  8: Attack of the Trolls

  9: Terror of the Nightwatchman

  10: Rampage of the Goblins

  11: Hunger of the Yeti

  12: Secret of the Changeling

  Tommy Donbavand was born and brought up in Liverpool and has worked at numerous jobs, including clown (called Wobblebottom!), actor, drama teacher, theatre director and pantomime producer.

  As a writer, Tommy has penned articles for magazines such as Junior Education and Creative Steps and written dozens of stage plays, including Hey Diddle Diddle and Humpty Dumpty and the Incredibly Daring Rescue of the Alien Princess in Deep Space. He then turned his hand to children’s books, and in addition to Scream Street he has written five adventures in the Too Ghoul for School series, several books of boredom-busting games and activities for children, and three short novels: Zombie!, Wolf and The Uniform, the last of which won the 2011 Hackney Short Novel Award.

  Tommy has loved writing the p
opular Scream Street series, the thirteenth and final instalment of which you now hold in your hands. He hopes that his next series will be as much fun to write – and to read! Watch this space…

  www.tommydonbavand.com

  www.screamstreet.co.uk

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.

  First published 2011 by Walker Books Ltd

  87 Vauxhall Walk, London SE11 5HJ

  Text © 2011 Tommy Donbavand

  Illustrations © 2011 Cartoon Saloon Ltd

  The right of Tommy Donbavand to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, taping and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data: a catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN 978-1-4063-3576-7

  www.walker.co.uk