The Amelia Fang Series
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First published in Great Britain 2017
by Egmont UK Limited
The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN
Text and illustrations copyright © 2017 Laura Ellen Anderson
The moral rights of the author and illustrator have been asserted.
First e-book edition 2017
ISBN 978 1 4052 8672 5
Ebook ISBN 978 1 7803 1791 5
www.egmont.co.uk
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
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For Helen,
Thank you for believing in Amelia and supplying me with unicorn-shaped inspiration and surprise loose limbs! Your continued support, encouragement and enthusiasm won’t be forgotten.
And a special FANKS (as Florence would say) to all the FANG-GIRLS. You know who you are!
x Yeti Hugs x
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
MAP OF NOCTURNIA
MEET THE NOCTURNIANS
1. FLABBERGASTING FALAFELS
2. FLORENCE AND GRIMALDI
3. TANGINE
4. ANGEL-KITTENS OF TERROR
5. YOU AAAAARE DEAD, YOU ARE DEAD
6. THE TOILET ISN’T SHINY ENOUGH
7. DO SOMETHING, DADDY!
8. I WANT THAT ONE
9. THE GREEN DOOR WITH THE MOULDY HANDLE
10. STEALTHY FLORENCE
11. CREATURES OF THE LIGHT
12. RIGHT IN THE HAIR
13. INTESTINE!
14. KING VLADIMIR’S SECRET
15. FRIEND
16. THE BARBARIC BALL
17. SIGMUND
18. I AM NOT A BEAST!
19. DOOR CHASE
20. GLITTEROPOLIS
REPUGNANT RECIPES
It was a dark and gloomy Wednesday night in Nocturnia. Countess Frivoleeta Fang sipped at her Scream Tea and tapped the dining-room table with her long black fingernails as the clock struck 4 a.m.
‘Drake, my darkness, you do know it’s our annual Barbaric Ball in just three nights?’ cooed Countess Frivoleeta. ‘We still have invitations to send, catering to sort out and – oh, did you book the Howling Wolf Band?’
Count Drake’s eyes widened. ‘Erm . . . I’ll phone them tonight, dearest rat brains.’
‘And Drakey, you’ll need to wear your best suit for the ball. None of those Hawaiian graveyard shirts you like so much. We really must find a way to unstick all that goblin slime from last year’s ball too . . .’
(Goblins were notorious for leaving slime trails – stickier than the stickiest super glue, they were impossible to remove!)
‘Not another Barbaric Ball,’ moaned Amelia Fang, slumping back into her chair. ‘They’re always full of old monsters wearing too many frills and far too much Eau de Decay.’
Amelia had just turned ten and would much rather be hanging out with her best friends, Florence and Grimaldi.
‘Amelia Fang! I won’t have any of that bat-chat from you,’ said the countess sternly. ‘Firstly, Eau de Decay is the finest perfume in all of Nocturnia. It’s made from fermented bat spit with a hint of rotten banana, after all! And secondly, the Barbaric Ball is a family tradition. It’s our chance to show everyone how fang-tastic we are.’
Hosted by the Fang family for generations, the Barbaric Ball was THE annual event in Nocturnia. Only the most ghoulish and ghastly were invited, and the ball was Countess Frivoleeta’s pride and joy.
‘But I get so bored,’ Amelia grumbled. ‘It would be much better if someone my own age were there!’
‘You know the ball is only for grown-ups,’ said the countess.
‘Then surely I don’t have to go?’ said Amelia hopefully.
‘Of course you have to go. You must learn the ropes so that you can carry on the Barbaric Ball tradition!’ said her mother, with a gleeful grin.
‘But what if I don’t want to?’ mumbled Amelia. ‘I want to study Pumpkinology when I grow up, and help poorly pumpkins.’
Countess Frivoleeta burst out laughing. ‘Darkling! Don’t be silly. Oh, you’ll make my eye make-up run!’ She checked her face in the mirror behind her, then blew herself a kiss. (You may have heard that vampires don’t have reflections. That is pure glitter, and no one loved theirs more than Countess Frivoleeta.) ‘You’d ruin your delicate vampiress hands with all the digging. Now, sit up straight, ready for dinner,’ she continued. ‘Wooo!’
Amelia sighed as a ghost floated solemnly into the room, carrying a tray of something that looked like a pile of big bogies.
It was useless for Amelia to try to speak to her mother about what she wanted. Being a Fang meant countless vampiress etiquette lessons, cobwebbing practice and never-ending preparations for the Barbaric Ball. Sometimes Amelia wished she belonged to a different family.
‘Your Flabbergasting Falafels, Countess,’ said Wooo. He was the most respected ghost butler in all of Nocturnia.
(Contrary to popular belief, vampires don’t actually live on a diet of blood. It gives them very stinky breath!)
‘Thank you, Wooo. That will be all,’ said the countess.
Amelia flapped her wings grumpily and flicked a piece of falafel on to the floor. Her pet pumpkin, Squashy, gobbled it up then bounced on to Amelia’s lap.
‘Hey, Squashy!’ Amelia giggled. ‘Have some more falafel! I know it’s your favourite.’
Squashy waggled his stalk from side to side in agreement.
‘Maybe the king will come to the ball this year?’ said Amelia through a mouthful of sour spinach.
‘Not likely,’ said Countess Frivoleeta. ‘He hasn’t stepped outside the palace since the fairy incident.’ She looked at her husband. ‘Drakey, my awful little germinoid, you should really make more of an effort to see King Vladimir. You two used to be such good friends.’
Count Drake gave a long sigh. ‘Dearest belch-breath, it’s no use. He won’t see or speak to anyone any more.’
‘Such a shame,’ said Countess Frivoleeta. ‘Ever since he cancelled your weekly Eyebowls game, you’ve been completely obsessed with those silly word-crosses . . .’
‘Crosswords, dear,’ said Count Drake.
‘If the king DID accept our invitation to the ball, do you think he would bring his son?’ asked Amelia. Her eyes lit up for a moment. ‘Or is Prince Tangine not allowed to come either, because he’s not OLD?’
‘Prince Tangine is the future king, for serpent’s sake! He is ALWAYS invited,’ sang the countess.
‘But remember, Amelia,’ Count Drake remarked, ‘the prince’s mother DID get eaten by a fairy. I’d be surprised if the king ever lets him outside the palace walls.’
‘Grieving gobblepots, I’d go mad if I couldn’t go and see my friends,’ said Amelia.
‘Enough chitter-chatter. Now, Amelia, eat up before your falafels get cold, then off to bed,’ said Countess Frivoleeta, prodding at Amelia’s cheeks. ‘We must keep your skin looking pale and death-like!’
‘But Muuum, it’s the final of The Great Gothic Gravestone Carve Off tonight! Can’t I stay up for just a bit longer?’ said Amelia.
Suddenly a huge BOOOOOOOOOONG! echoed through the house.
‘Drake, my little sweat gland, are we expecting visitors?’ said Countess Frivoleeta. ‘Wooo!’ she called, without waiting for her husband’s reply. ‘Please answer that immediately.’
Moments later, Wooo appeared holding a gold envelope.
‘You have a letter, Countess. It appears to be from the king.’
FLORENCE AND GRIMALDI
‘THE KING’S COMING TO THE BALL?’ yelled Florence, Amelia’s best friend. This was normal speaking volume for Florence, who was six-feet tall, huge and hairy from head to toe. Everything about her was BIG. Even her voice was big. But so was her heart. Which was also very hairy.
Amelia, Squashy and Florence Spudwick were sitting under the Petrified-Tree-That-Looked-Like-a-Unicorn, where they met every night before school.
‘THAT’S WELL EXCITING!’ bellowed Florence, gobbling down a bowl of Unlucky Arms cereal.
‘And he’s bringing the prince!’ Amelia said excitedly. ‘I’ll finally have someone my OWN age to hang out with at the ball! Although I still wish you and Grimaldi could come.’
‘S’ALL RIGHT,’ said Florence, putting a hairy arm around Amelia’s shoulders. ‘I’D SHOW EVERYONE UP WIV MY STUNNING LOOKS!’ She grinned, revealing a mouthful of spiky teeth pointing in every direction.
The two friends burst out laughing.
Squashy bounced up and down, blowing raspberries with his tongue, before nuzzling into Amelia’s tummy for a belly rub.
‘Hi, guuuuys!’ came a high voice from across the graveyard. It was Grimaldi Reaperton, Amelia’s other best friend.
Grimaldi was small and cute, and Death was his middle name. No, really, it was. He dealt with the deaths of small creatures, like squished toads, but when he was older he would take over from his grimpapa and deal with bigger, messier beings.
‘Grimaldi!’ said Amelia excitedly. ‘I have BIG news!’
‘Is it about The Great Gothic Gravestone Carve Off?’ said Grimaldi. ‘Because I really thought that William W—’
‘Whoa, whoa, whoa! Don’t tell me. I haven’t seen the final episode yet . . .’ said Amelia, covering her ears.
‘So what’s the news?’ said Grimaldi.
‘THE KING’S COMING TO THE BALL . . .’ Florence blurted out.
‘Wow! Nobody’s seen him in years,’ said Grimaldi. ‘I was worried he’d died . . . Grimpapa keeps checking his diePhone in case he missed him. Happens sometimes.’
Suddenly, the Catacomb Academy welcome bones rattled, announcing the beginning of school.
‘But that’s not all,’ said Amelia quickly. ‘Prince Tangine is coming too!’
‘Maybe you’ll actually have FUN this year!’ Grimaldi smiled.
‘I hope so,’ said Amelia. ‘Do you think Prince Tangine likes playing Goblin Tag?’
‘Amelia!’ shouted the head teacher, Miss Inspine. ‘Florence, Grimaldi! Hurry up! You’re going to be late for Abominable Assembly!’
Amelia and her friends wound their way down to the Catacomb Academy crypt.
‘Whose lap do you want to sit on today, Squashy?’ Amelia asked.
Squashy immediately pa-doinged into Amelia’s arms and started licking her face.
‘I think that’s settled!’ she said, laughing.
In the crypt, the music teacher, Mr Blob, was playing the ‘Death March’ on the organ. Then he exploded, marking the beginning of assembly. An eyeball landed in the hood of Grimaldi’s cloak.
‘EVERY time!’ Grimaldi grimaced.
‘OK, class, take your plinths please,’ said Miss Inspine. ‘Firstly, I’d like to make a very special announcement. As you all know, the Barbaric Ball is taking place in a couple of nights. And I’m happy to announce that King Vladimir will be attending with his son, Prince Tangine, after all these years!’
The students muttered excitedly.
‘I have ALSO been informed that, as of tonight, Prince Tangine will be joining Catacomb Academy as part of his king training, to get to know the young creatures of Nocturnia!’
The whole crypt exploded in squeals and burps of delight.
‘Oh, wasn’t it just AWFUL that his mother was EATEN by a fairy?’ cried Frankie, who had stitches over her face and bolts in her neck.
‘There will be NO mention of the fairy incident,’ hissed Miss Inspine. ‘The prince is probably anxious enough, leaving the palace for the first time in years.’
‘So brave!’ said Frankie, fanning herself with her detatched ear.
‘The king has requested,’ the head teacher continued, ‘that Amelia Fang show Prince Tangine around the school and look after him while he settles in.’
‘That’s only because he used to be best buddies with Amelia’s dad!’ Frankie spat.
Amelia muffled a groan. Frankie was the most annoying ghoul in the whole of Catacomb Academy.
‘Enough, Frankie!’ said Miss Inspine, losing patience. ‘The prince is due to arrive any minute, and I want you ALL to be on your BEST behaviour.’
‘Imagine.’ Grimaldi grinned. ‘The three of us hanging out with the future king! We’ll be the coolest kids in school.’
‘HEY,’ said Florence. ‘WE ALREADY ARE.’
I wonder what Tangine is like, thought Amelia, before a loud noise caught her attention.
‘You stupid bird! Why can’t you ever land properly?’ came a high-pitched voice.
‘Oh! Wait here, everyone . . .’ said Miss Inspine, scampering out of the crypt.
Seconds later she returned looking flustered.
‘Students! It gives me great pleasure to welcome our special new student to Catacomb Academy . . . Prince Tangine the First!’
TANGINE
A long shadow appeared, stretching across the length of the crypt. Amelia watched as the shadow became smaller, and smaller . . . And smaller . . .
Until Prince Tangine stepped into view.
‘’OW WEENY IS ’E?’ Florence whispered loudly.
Miss Inspine shot her a sharp look.
The prince was tiny. Titchy even. Which was very unusual for a vampire.
Frankie began applauding frantically. ‘Tangine rules! Tangine, you’re amazing!’ she yelled across the room.
‘JOSEPHINE!’ Tangine bellowed, clapping his tiny hands twice.
A grubby Mummy Maid ran in and crouched down at Tangine’s feet so he could use her as a platform.
‘Yes, it is I, your future king!’ said Prince Tangine, revealing his pearly white fangs. ‘I suppose I look forward to learning stuff at your inferior little school.’
Amelia was a bit surprised by Prince Tangine’s tone. He must be nervous, she thought.
‘Anyway,’ continued Tangine, yawning. ‘I’m bored. I demand brunch . . .’ He clapped his hands again and shouted, ‘FRESCO!’
Maybe the nerves make him hungry, thought Amelia.
Another Mummy Maid rushed into the crypt, holding a tray of Slug-ends.
‘Ooh, isn’t he delightful?’ oozed Frankie as the Mummy Maid crawled back out of the crypt, still carrying Tangine.
‘Well.’ Amelia looked at Florence and Grimaldi. ‘Tangine seems . . . nice?’
After Abominable Assembly, Amelia waited outside Miss Inspine’s room for Prince Tangine. He was already ten minutes late for class. Maybe he’s lost? she thought.
Squashy sniffed around inside Amelia’s backpack, looking for something to chew.
‘No, no, Squashy, that’s my homework!’ Amelia giggled. ‘I knew you’d get hungry, so I took some of Dad’s breakfast for you . . .’
Amelia pulled out a fistful of Honeyroasted Maggots, and Squashy gently nibbled them from her hand.
She was still feeding him and rubbing his pumpkin tummy when a voice echoed down the corridor.
‘Aren’t you going to show me to the classroom then?’
‘Oh!’ said Amelia, clambering to her feet. Tangine was standing proudly on a Mummy Maid at the end of the corridor. ‘Hello, Prince Tangine!’ She smiled.
‘INGRID. Crawl!’ the prince demanded.
‘It’s so good to properly meet you,’ said Amelia. ‘Our fathers used to play Eyebowls together every week, y’know. Maybe we could ask them to teach us?’
Tangine didn’t answer.
‘And it’s really cool that you’re coming to the Barbaric Ball!’ she went on. ‘I usually hate going on my own. My mum makes me dance with all the posh old toads!’
Silence.
‘At least I’ll have someone to hang out with this year . . .’
‘What’s that?’ Tangine said suddenly, pointing at Squashy.
‘Oh, this is Squashy, my pet pumpkin,’ said Amelia.
Squashy smiled and squeaked three times.
‘Pets are silly,’ said Tangine, rolling his eyes.
Amelia’s cheeks burned. ‘Um,’ she said uncomfortably. ‘Well, shall we go to class then?’
‘Don’t they teach you manners in this school?’ said Tangine. ‘I am royalty, you must open the door for me!’
Amelia felt herself blush again, but at that moment the door suddenly burst open.
‘Oh, thank the grave,’ breathed Miss Inspine. ‘I thought you’d lost the prince, Amelia. Chop chop, you’ve made him late for class!’
‘But, Miss, I—’ Amelia began.
‘Not now, Amelia,’ said the head teacher. ‘Hurry up. There’s a special seat for Tangine next to you.’
ANGEL-KITTENS OF TERROR
Amelia and Tangine took their seats while Squashy nestled under the desk.
‘Did everyone complete their Creature and Critter Studies homework?’ said Miss Inspine. ‘Your Full Moon test is coming up and this year’s subject is “Creatures of the Light”. Can anyone tell me what they’ve learnt so far?’
‘Oooh, me, me, me, pick me!’ Frankie shot her hand up in the air.
‘Very well.’ Miss Inspine sighed.
Frankie stood up and cleared her throat. ‘Well, we all know that the Creatures of the Light are terrifying, mean creatures who do awful things . . .’
‘This is a stupid subject,’ muttered Tangine.
‘I read a book called The Wrath of the Angel-Kitten,’ continued Frankie, ‘and they act all cute, nuzzle your neck and then . . . scratch your eyeballs out and eat them WHOLE!’
The class gasped. Tangine was looking down, twiddling his thumbs.
‘Thank you for that dramatic account, Frankie,’ said Miss Inspine with another deep sigh.
‘And we all know that fairies are capable of MUCH worse.’ Frankie glanced over at Tangine. ‘I’m soooo sorry about your mother—’
‘THAT is quite enough, Frankie!’ interrupted Miss Inspine. ‘I told you not to mention the fairy incident!’ she hissed.
‘Can’t we learn about something else?’ said Tangine sharply, straightening up in his chair.
It must be hard for him after what happened to his mother, thought Amelia.
Amelia and her friends loved reading stories about the Creatures of the Light: the gruesome glittery unicorns (Nocturnians were TERRIFIED of glitter), the evil sparkly fairies and the cute and fluffy angel-kittens of terror. It was the stuff of daymares. Everyone knew that while Nocturnians were sleeping and the sun was out, terrifying creatures from the nearby Kingdom of the Light lurked around the Petrified Forest. Nocturnians didn’t dare step outside again until nightfall, if they could help it.
‘Florence,’ trilled Miss Inspine, ‘did you do any research on the subject?’
‘MATTER OF FACT I DID . . .’ said Florence, standing up. ‘MY MUM READ ME A BOOK CALLED FEARFUL FACTS ABOUT FIENDISH FAIRIES. THEY USE THAT SPARKLY STUFF CALLED GLITTER AND SPRINKLE IT ALL OVER YOU, MAKING YOU FALL INTO A DEEP SLEEP. THEN . . .’ She paused. ‘WHILE YOU’RE SLEEPING SOUNDLY, THEY USE THEIR LITTLE WANDS TO . . .’ She leant forward, staring at Frankie intensely. ‘STEAL YOUR FANGS!’
Grimaldi yelped and pulled his hood over his face. Amelia put her hand over her mouth.
‘Oh, don’t be so over the top, Beast!’ said Tangine.