Trapped in Transylvania (3 page)

Nothing.

It was just the carriage door swinging on its hinges and the horses snorting noisily.

I looked at Frankie. “Okay, pal. Options?”

“I don't see any,” she said. “I mean, look around.”

I did. Dark night. Dark sky. Dark clouds. Dark woods. Not a Palmdale Middle School in sight.

“You've got a point,” I said.

We hopped in the carriage.

As soon as we did, the driver cracked his whip and the carriage jerked away, sending us crashing onto the seat next to a man dressed in a suit. He looked a little younger than my dad, had curly brown hair, and seemed more or less fairly normal.

On the seat across from us were two extremely old people who I think were women. Their faces were all pruney with wrinkles and they appeared to be wearing everything they owned.

“The layered look must be big here,” I whispered to Frankie. “Wherever
here
is.”

Between the two old ladies sat an even more ancient old guy with white hair and a long frizzy beard that spread halfway out to his shoulders.

All three old folks stared at us.

“Hey, people,” I said, trying to be upbeat. “I'm Devin. This is my friend Frankie. From Palmdale Middle?”

While the three old people just stared, the young man turned to us, inhaled a huge breath, and began to speak.

“My name is Jonathan Harker; I am a lawyer from London, England, and I'm traveling here in Europe on business. I am taking this coach into the mountains to meet with a nobleman who lives in a castle in Transylvania. He has just bought a large house in London and I'm bringing the ownership papers here for him to sign. Then I'm returning to London, where I am engaged to a wonderful woman named Mina. She will be my wife as soon as I return. I'm anxious to return because I've never been away from her or from England and this country seems quite strange to me. The people sitting across from us do not speak our language very well and are highly superstitious about something or other.”

I blinked. “Uh-huh …”

Frankie looked up from the big fat chubby book and grabbed my arm. “Dev! Everything he said is right here. In the book! It's like he just gave us a summary of what happened so far in the story! Is that cool or what?”

“Cool … and handy!” I said. “Hey, wait. Frankie, are you actually, you know … reading?”

She gasped quietly, her eyes going big. “I guess so.”

“Better you than me!” I said with a laugh. Then I turned back to Harker. “Thanks for all that useful info, sir. Including that bit about the setting. But why don't you keep going with the story so we can get back to school before period two ends and Mrs. Figglehopper gets all mad.”

His face made a confused look. “What story?”

“The one in this book,” I said, tapping Frankie's book. “We were supposed to be fixing the book, but then Frankie grabbed it, then I grabbed it, and then Frankie did this twisty thing with her fingers, then the zapper gates went all
kkkk!
and there was a crack in the wall and we went into it and then there's suddenly this road and the carriage with the door swinging open and we climbed in and here we are!”

“Wicked summary!” said Frankie, slapping me five.

“What … ish … book … called?” said one woman, eyeing the book as if it were something to be afraid of.

“
Dracula
, of course,” Frankie said, smiling. “It's—”

“Akkkk!” the old people shrieked. “Akkk! AKKKK!”

They pulled away as if we had just burped garlic or something. Then they pointed their bony fingers at us and muttered words over and over in a weird language.

“Is it something I said?” Frankie asked.

Jonathan Harker turned to us. “They are talking among themselves about the legends in these parts of Transylvania. Legends of evil spirits and creatures that prey on poor travelers. Why, the innkeeper at my last stop even put a holy medal around my neck, ‘to ward off the evil that lurks,' she said. But I am a lawyer. I come from London. It's 1897—nearly the twentieth century!—and I'm afraid legends seem rather silly to me. I don't believe a word of them.”

“Not legends!” said one of the old women. “It is all true! At midnight tonight, the evil things in the world will come out. The dark castle you are going to is the very center of evil! Count Dracula is evil!”

“Bad evil!” said the other woman. “
Very
bad evil!”

“Dracula isss a …
vampire
!” the old guy hissed.

Harker forced a laugh. “What! Dracula, a vampire?”

“That's somebody who drinks blood,” said Frankie. “Believe me, we did an awesome report on the guy.”

“But that's just silly!” Harker insisted. “Count Dracula is a very educated man. I am delivering legal documents to him. I have the documents right here.”

He tapped his travel bag.

“Except that I think the old folks are right,” Frankie said, flipping ahead in the book a few pages. “Dracula
is
a vampire. The book probably even says so. Let me see if I can find a place. Okay, here. It's actually written as if it's your diary. You're in your room at his castle and you're shaving and you cut yourself and … yeah! Listen to this! ‘When the Count saw my face, his eyes blazed with fury, and he suddenly made a grab at my throat—' Wait a second. The words are getting all blurry. I can't read it. Hey—”

Suddenly the carriage began shaking wildly from side to side. The air crackled with electricity. Frankie and I were thrown hard to the floor. Everyone started screaming. The horses reared and took off like rockets.

It felt like the whole scene was cracking open right in front of us. A jagged rip opened in the air above us and got wider and deeper. Soon it would be over us.

Frankie clutched my arm. “Help!” she cried.

“Double help!” I yelled.

But our cries were drowned by the horrible sound of the ripping air and the wild screams of the driver—

“We're going to crash!”

Chapter 6

I slammed the book shut.

Suddenly, everything was normal again. We were all back in our seats, riding along as if nothing happened.

Harker was still tapping his travel bag and saying, “… I have the documents right here.”

My eyes bugged out. So did Frankie's.

“Time out!” I cried. “Emergency huddle!”

Frankie and I huddled.

“Awesome instant replay!” she whispered.

“Holy crow!” I gasped. “You know what?”

“Our book report shouldn't have been so lame?”

“No,” I said. “Well, yeah. But no, what I mean is, I figured something out. Somehow that book of yours is
controlling
what happens! And the people around us—”

“You mean the characters?”

“Whoa! Yes! The characters! Good one. Anyway, they can't learn something before they're supposed to find out in the book. I think maybe we're not allowed to just jump ahead in the story.”

“No page jumping, huh?”

“No,” I said. “Something bad happens. You said the words get all blurry. And the next thing you know, the whole world starts to crack apart and get all brutal.”

Frankie made a face. “That was fairly ugly. So, it's like, if you flip ahead, it ruins the story or something. But are you saying that the only way out of this story is to read every word all the way to the end of the book?”

I nodded sadly. “I think so. Forgetting for a second that all of this is fairly impossible.”

“The most impossible thing ever!” she said. “So if we can't go home yet—which, by the way, is going to make us way late for lunch—I guess we'd better do some serious reading.”

“Which sounds so bad, I think you'd better start.”

“Thanks a lot,” Frankie snarled under her breath. “Something tells me this book isn't the biggest barrel of laughs in the world.”

“Then we'll just have to add our own laughs,” I said. “Otherwise it'll take forever and be fairly deadly.”

“Death is all around us!” the old man blurted out.

I glared at the guy. “Way to lighten the mood, dude.”

As we traveled steadily up into the mountains, Frankie opened the book. Right away her forehead wrinkled and she began moving her lips silently.

Soon snow began to fall. It whirled around us in thick swirls. The road ascended steeply into the mountains, but still the driver whipped his horses to go faster.

Then we heard strange howling coming from all around us. It sounded as if every animal in the neighborhood was wailing at the same time.

“What's that?” I asked. “The Twilight Bark?”

“Wolves!” the driver called down as if it was an everyday thing. “They are hungry for … people.”

Frankie turned to me, wrinkling her nose. “It's going to be a full-time job making it through this story.”

Suddenly Harker bounced up in his seat.

“I see it!” he said. “The castle!”

The coach slowed, then turned up a narrow curvy road. Soon we entered the walled courtyard of an enormous ancient castle.

“Dracula's lair of evil!” the driver yelled down.

“Everybody out who wants to visit vampires!” one of the old ladies said, giving Harker a queer look.

Then the old mustache guy stared at Frankie and me. “You two and your book, leave us now!”

“Have a happy,” I said as they kicked the carriage door open. “Not!”

The courtyard was gloomy and large and black. We stepped out onto rough black stones in front of a giant black door that was old and studded with huge black nails. Above it, tall black windows glared down at us like blind black eyes.

“Check it out, everything is black,” said Frankie.

“I'm with you,” I said. “Mr. Wexler probably has a word for the way they use colors in a book.”

Frankie nodded. “I bet the color thing is a clue. Like now. When everything is colored black, it probably means like nighttime and darkness and fear and scariness and terror and stuff.”

“That's pretty much how I feel right now,” I said.

Frankie grinned. “See, it works!”

Just then, the driver dumped Harker's luggage off the top of the carriage and drove away from the castle as if he were on fire.

“Well, he gets no tip,” said Frankie.

“Strange traveling companions, aren't they?” said Harker. “Still, I can't wait to meet this Dracula fellow!”

I gave him a look, but he just smiled and adjusted his curly hair and his tie and knocked politely on the big scary wooden door. “Oh, Count Dracula! Harker, here!”

Tap, tap, tap. No answer.

The snow was coming down pretty heavily now, so we all huddled close on the doorstep.

Harker whistled a bit, then tapped again. “Count?”

No answer still.

“Hey, castle!” Frankie yelled, pounding on the door. “Open up! Period two is gonna end soon!”

Finally, we heard steps approaching the door from the inside. Then there came the sound of rattling chains and thick burglar bolts being thrown aside. After that, a key turned in the lock with a loud scraping noise. Then another bolt was thrown aside.

“Open it, already!” I said. “We're freezing out here!”

Errrch!
The huge door cracked open.

But as cold as we were, it was nothing to the chill we felt when we saw who had opened the big wooden door.

Chapter 7

Standing in the doorway was a tall old man.

Right away, we knew it was him, the dude himself.

Count Dracula, King of the Vampires.

Also known as Mr. Fangy, Old Prongteeth, Dr. Puncture, Professor Neckman, and Old Man Thirsty.

He had sharp, pale features and eyes that glistened strangely in the snowy light.

His nose and chin were long and pointy. His hair was a weird combination of black and white and slicked back, but with three or four crooked parts in it.

He was dressed from head to foot in total black, including a long cape that billowed out behind him.

“He's way into the black thing,” Frankie whispered.

“Until something darker comes along,” I added.

“I am Count Dracula,” the man said, his voice all echoey and distant as if he was talking in a garbage can.

I wished he were in a garbage can.

“I was not expecting … three … of you,” Dracula said, glaring at Frankie and me. As we entered, we spotted for the first time that his eyes had a reddish glow to them. His lips were very red, too.

Frankie nudged me. “His lips match his eyes. Very stylish. Unless … oh, wait. Red eyes are not good.”

Also not good were the very sharp, very white teeth he showed as we stepped in.

“He must use a tooth whitener,” I whispered.

“And a sharpener,” Frankie added.

Dracula took us through the entrance area to a large room. The first thing we saw was a fireplace as big as a garage. A fire was crackling in it, but it gave out no heat.

The room was ice cold.

“This must be the living tomb,” said Frankie. “Sorry, I mean living room.”

It was decorated like a tomb, too. The wall hangings were all torn. There were massive cobwebs drooping down from the ceiling. And there were hundreds of dust bunnies collecting in all the corners.

Dracula bowed to Harker. “Please follow me.”

He grabbed an unlit torch from the wall, lit it in the fireplace, and went up a huge winding staircase. At the top, he hung a left into a long dusty passage. After that passage was another, then another, and another. After three sets of stairs and four dark and winding passages, Dracula finally threw open three heavy doors.

“In these rooms,” he said, “you—and your friends—will be comfortable.”

“Splendid!” said Harker, as if everything were all normal. “Wonderful house, by the way! The woman I'm engaged to, Mina, would love what you've done with it.”