Free Horror Holiday by A. B. Saddlewick Page B

it off him and scanned through it
herself.
    Paprika sighed. “She said that if I don’t do well this year, she’ll take me out of Rotwood and send me to a boarding school in Transylvania.”
    “She wouldn’t!” said Maud.
    Mrs Von Bat swept past and seized Paprika by the arm.
    “Gotta go!” he said miserably.

    Mr Quasimodo shuffled over. “Names,” he grunted.
    “Mr and Mrs Maurice Montague,” said Maud’s dad, holding his hand out.
    Mr Quasimodo stared at Mr Montague’s hand and licked his lips. His stomach let out a loud rumble.
    Mr Montague pulled his hand sharply back.
    “Room 3B,” said Mr Quasimodo. “At top of staircase. Hurry.”
    “Thank you, my good man,” said Mr Montague.
    They all turned towards the spiral staircase, but before they could go, Mr Quasimodo plonked his fat green fingers on Milly’s shoulder.
    Milly shrieked and squirmed out of his grip.
    “My wife has set up crèche in dungeon,” he said. “You go there. Have fun.”
    “D-dungeon?” Milly stammered. “You can’t send me to the dungeon. I’ve done nothing wrong!”
    “Oh, it’s not a real dungeon!” said Maud. “Don’t be silly. That’s just a name we give our games room as a joke. You’ll love it!”
    “That does sound like a good idea,” said Mr Montague. “Why would you want to listen to Maud’s report anyway?”
    “So I can laugh at the bad bits,” said Milly. “Obviously.”
    Mr Quasimodo escorted Milly to the steps leading down to the dungeon. She turned back to look at them, her face turning as green as his.
She’ll be fine,
thought Maud.
There’s nothing dangerous down there. Well, there is, but hopefully it’ll be asleep.

    Maud led her parents up the staircase to her classroom. Flaming torches cast long shadows along the curved walls. They passed an arched window overlooking the playground, which
was a mess of crumbling headstones.
    “Is that a graveyard down there?” asked Mrs Montague.
    “Ha ha! Of course not,” said Maud, thinking fast. “That’s just … where they store the spare flagstones for the entrance hall.”
    As they made their way up, Quentin popped his head out of Maud’s blazer pocket and squeaked.
    “I know how you feel,” whispered Maud. “This could be awful.”
    They reached the top of the stairs, and Maud led her parents along the stone corridor. This place was murky enough in the daytime, but with just the inky evening light seeping in through the
windows, it was hard to see anything at all.
    “Are you sure this is the right way?” asked Mrs Montague. “Has there been a power cut or something?”
    “Mr Quasimodo believes in saving electricity,” said Maud. “For the sake of the planet.”
    “Oh,” said Mrs Montague. “That’s very green of him.”
    And that’s not all that’s green about him,
thought Maud. They reached the door to Class 3B, and Maud took a deep breath. All it would take was for Mr Von Bat to let the
truth slip, and her Rotwood days would be over. No more Fright lessons, no more Monsterball and no more hanging out with Wilf and Paprika.
    She lifted a hand and knocked on the door.
     

M aud was just reaching for the handle, when the door creaked open of its own accord.
    “Automatic door,” said Mr Montague. “Very snazzy. Probably works on floor sensors, doesn’t it?”
    “Something like that,” said Maud.
    Mr Von Bat was sitting behind his desk with his cape hanging neatly over the back of his chair. He smiled at them, exposing his fake fangs. He was actually just a normal human, but everyone in
Rotwood believed he was a vampire. Maud had hoped he was going to give the bloodsucker stuff a rest tonight, but obviously he hadn’t.
I’m doomed
, she thought.
    But instead of running away screaming, Mrs Montague ran forward to embrace Mr Von Bat, who blushed and stood up stiffly.
    “Norman?” she said. “I had no idea you taught Maud!”
    “I’m surprised she never mentioned it,” said Mr Von Bat. He quickly spat his