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25.2: ATTENTION SPANS (part 2)

Bracken entered the village like a chaotic, wolf-filled whirlwind. Claws scrabbling on the cobbles, he launched himself through the streets. Peering over the edge of the windowledge, Rupert saw him as a flash of grey fur streaking past the inn. A gleeful howl set lights kindling in cottage windows, and shutters flew open as villagers hastened to see what the commotion was. Harriet strained forward, pressing her forehead against the window. Rupert turned to her and clapped his hands to show that all was going as planned.

They heard the door of the inn burst open below them. A babble of voices spilled out into the night.

"-that ruckus? Is it a fire?"

"-those in need of aid!"

"-all be quiet and we might find out."

Rupert tried to stay focussed on what was happening, but the sound of those last, cutting tones sent his mind roiling. Fang.

What was his uncle doing here? Rupert had been pondering this strange turn of events ever since he'd heard Fang's voice outside Henrick's tent, and especially since he'd witnessed the odd exchange between Fang and-what had he called him-Mr. Brightmann? And if Fang's presence hadn't surprised him enough, the entrance of his parents into the House of Horrers had literally bowled Rupert over (it had taken ages to pick the straw out of his stitches). It seemed that almost his entire family had come searching for him.

But if Rupert had been unwilling to let them in on his secret before, he was even more determined now. Never mind confessing to being a useless, desanguinised vampire; how could he reveal himself in his current, knitted state? His mother's heart would start, for sure. As for Fang... Well, Rupert didn't know what was going on with Fang at the moment. He couldn't fathom why his uncle was here in company with Winkton. Perhaps Harriet would be able to tell him, once they'd freed her. And Rupert needed to tell her what he'd heard Dolphus saying back in the tent. That rhyme about Day...

But first they had to get Harriet out of here.

An argument had broken out below.

"-think we should stay here until we're sure it's safe," Winkton was saying.

"But innocent people may be in danger!" Rupert recognised this voice as Mr. Brightmann's, though it sounded different now-less threatening. "And if it is the missing vampire, our mutual expertise will surely be of great assistance to the villagefolk."

"What does Lord Bloodless think?"

Fang's voice was reluctant, but firm. "I am with Mr. Brightmann on this. We should investigate. Perhaps we can lend our aid."

Lord Bloodless? If Rupert's eyebrows weren't stitched in place, they would have climbed up his forehead.

"For Day's sake, whatever you do, do it fast." This shrill interjection had to be the innkeep. "I'm not standing here with the door wide open any longer, especially not if there are vampires about."

Hah, thought Rupert. Never mind your doors. It's your windows you have to worry about.

Then came a mumbling and a shuffling, and Rupert caught Winkton saying "...suppose we could..." Next, three sets of footsteps ventured away down the street.

Rupert signalled to Juggalug, but the banshee was already poised by the trowel's handle. Inside, Harriet watched with hands clenched tight as Juggalug slammed his weight into the trowel. The window let out a sharp creak, and a small gap jerked open between the frames. Drawing back, Juggalug once again bashed against the handle. This time, there was a great bang as the window burst open. The trowel catapulted away, bouncing off the sill and clattering into the street below. Rupert felt like cheering, but since he had fluff instead of a voicebox he contented himself with capering over to Juggalug and giving the banshee a fervent hug. Juggalug's pricked his ears up with pride.

"Rupert! Juggalug!" Harriet leant out of the window, struggling to keep her delight under control. "You came to get me."

Of course we did, silly, Rupert motioned to her.

A smile crept onto her lips. "My knight and his noble steed. Who'd have thought?"

For once, this didn't even annoy Rupert, he was so pleased to see her. Let's get out of here, he gestured.

A deafening crash resonated through the night, followed by a chorus of screams.

Harriet jumped. "Rupert... What did you... do?"

Rupert shrugged. Then a howl split the night air. Bracken seemed to be having fun.

"The werewolf?" Rupert nodded. Harriet looked aghast for a moment, and then started to giggle. "That's brilliant," she beamed. "They'll all be far too busy to care about me." Leaning further out, she scanned the inn's wall below her, then took a deep breath. "Right. I can do this. Let me just get my bag..."

Rupert had seen Harriet climb once before-down the trellis of Winkton Manor-and he had been impressed then, but it was nothing to the display of agility he witnessed as she descended from the inn's window. As Rupert was borne to street level on Juggalug's back, Harriet clambered over the windowledge, satchel slung across her back. She hung from her fingers for a moment, wedging her toes into the cracks between bricks. Then she shimmied over to a drainpipe, slithered down it, and tiptoed along the top of a doorframe. From there she leapt lightly to the ground, landing in a crouch.

Rupert applauded. Harriet stood, brushing hair out of her face. "Thanks," she said, a little breathless.

A cacophony of shouts erupted from somewhere to their left, not too far away. A familiar voice rose briefly above the general panic. "-calm yourselves, good people! My colleague and I will-" Then it was interrupted by another outburst of screams.

Harriet gasped. "Where do we go?"

Rupert didn't hesitate. Giving Juggalug's shoulder a pat, he sent the banshee zipping off in the direction of the forest, Harriet running behind them. They saw only a scattering of folk as they raced through the village streets. As per Rupert's plan, the inhabitants had much more pressing matters to deal with than a runaway girl and her odd companions. Still, they were careful, skirting round the edges of buildings and swooping over windows (in Rupert and Juggalug's case) or ducking under them (in Harriet's). It wouldn't do to have gone to all this trouble only to have some troublesome villager tell Winkton where Harriet had run off to.

Harriet did not complain once as she sprinted after Juggalug, though when they rounded the final corner and the woodland came into sight, Rupert heard her falter. It was understandable: the forest marched right up to the edge of the village, and even its outskirts were dense with trees. Twisted branches caught the moonlight above, but beneath them was an expanse of pitch blackness, concealing Night-only-knew-what unsavoury creatures.

"Are... you... sure... about... this?" Harriet panted.

Rupert gave her an encouraging wave. Then he and Juggalug flitted onwards, melting into the darkness.

"I hope... you know... what... you're doing... Rupert," Harriet muttered. With that, she plunged after them, and the forest swallowed her.