Falcon Quinn and the Crimson Vapor Read online

  “I say!” shouted the man with the pith helmet. “Here’s some game worth hunting!” He aimed his elephant gun at the slumbering crowd.

  “Colonel,” said Cygnus. “Please. We mustn’t be hasty.” The general searched the room until his eyes fell upon Falcon. “Ah, Prince Falcon,” he said. “There you are. Your mother sent us.”

  “What do you want?” said Falcon. “You aren’t allowed here!”

  “But Falcon, don’t you see?” said Cygnus. “We’ve come to rescue you!”

  “Rescue me?” said Falcon, astonished. “I don’t need rescuing!”

  Cygnus shook his head. “Oh please,” he said. “It’s not going to be like that, is it?”

  “What’s that?” said the colonel. “Says he doesn’t need rescuing? Curious! Highly irregular!”

  “A sleeping grenade,” said Count Manson in a voice of contempt. “I am disappointed in you, Cygnus. I should have expected you vould at least be villing to fight—one gentleman to another.”

  Cygnus gave a sneering laugh. “You’re no gentleman, Count,” he said.

  “Right,” said the colonel. He raised his elephant gun to his face, closed one eye, and pulled the trigger. There was a blast of white smoke and a loud explosion, and Count Manson was propelled across the room. The vampire smashed through a far wall.

  “I say,” said the colonel. “A direct hit! Bully!”

  “There will be no more violence,” said Cygnus. “If you’ll just come peacefully, Falcon!”

  From the hole in the wall came the sound of Count Manson groaning. “I vill get—rewenge!”

  “I say,” said the colonel. “That fellow’s not dead!”

  “He’s a vampire,” said a familiar voice. “You can’t kill him with bullets.”

  A girl about Falcon’s age stepped forward through the fog. She was carrying a large bullwhip. Falcon’s jaw dropped open as he looked at her.

  “Megan?” he said.

  Chapter 5

  The Rescue

  The girl glanced around the room uncertainly. “Whoa,” she said. “Monsters!”

  “Don’t worry,” said Cygnus. “The vampires are all asleep. As for the rest of them”—he cast a glance at Falcon—“I think they’re harmless.”

  “Megan,” said Falcon, moving toward her. “It’s me.”

  The girl pulled out the whip and cracked it in the air. “You stand back, you,” she said. “Don’t come near me!”

  “What have you done to her?” said Falcon to Cygnus. The girls’s hair was blond, not black, and her arms and shoulders were well muscled. These differences aside, Falcon could swear she was his friend from Cold River. “What have you done to Megan?”

  “Megan?” said Cygnus. “This is Gyra. One of our most prized cadets. And one of your subjects, Prince Falcon.”

  “No it’s not,” said Falcon. “That’s—”

  “All right, you,” said a stern voice. “Outta my club!” They turned to see Cuttles rushing toward the invaders, wiggling on her many tentacles. “This is a nice place! We don’t need no roughhousing here!”

  But the colonel aimed his elephant gun at Cuttles, and a moment later there was another blast and a puff of white smoke, and the waitress flew across the room and out the same hole that Count Manson had opened.

  “Another direct hit!” said the colonel. “Bully! I say, I can’t wait to describe this conquest in my memoirs!”

  “Falcon, please,” said Cygnus. “Is this really what you want? A slaughter?”

  “I say, I want that one for my trophy room!” said the colonel. “Awfully nice trophy, a giant squid. Last one I bagged I believe was back in eighty-six! No, eighty-seven. Same year I contracted malaria from one of the banshees of Tasmania!”

  “Colonel, please,” said Cygnus. “This is not the time for one of your stories.”

  “A rum go, malaria!” said the colonel. “Feared for my life! If it wasn’t for an elixir I procured from one of the natives, I’d have—”

  “Look out!” shouted a voice. “I’m stampedin’!”

  Snort thundered across the room, his horn lowered in order to skewer Cygnus. But Gyra cracked her whip on Snort’s backside, and the rhino, enraged, spun around to impale her. Gyra, however, took a step to one side, and Snort stampeded past her and straight into a wall, imbedding his horn firmly in the wood.

  “I got him,” said Gyra, surprised at herself. “Did you see? I got him!”

  “Bully for you,” said the colonel. “Still, I did suppose they’d have more fight in them than this, this lot. Rather disappointing, I should think. Not much sport in them at all!”

  Cygnus narrowed his eyes, peering through the mist that was still drifting through the Coffin Room. “Don’t underestimate them, Colonel,” he said. “They’re cunning!”

  The vampires did not seem cunning at this moment, though. One by one they were waking from their slumber, and then, in that same instant, transforming into bats. The air filled with fluttering, leathern wings, and the bats flew out the Bludd Club’s broken windows and into the night.

  Falcon felt his left eye burning with heat. An orange fireball shot out of his dark eye and hurtled toward the colonel. But the man just swung the butt of his rifle like a baseball bat, and he knocked the fireball across the room, where it exploded against the back of the bar, shattering bottles into thousands of tiny pieces and setting the splintered fragments of the bar aflame. The fire caught quickly and began to crackle up the wall.

  “Bully,” said the colonel happily. “Now we’ve got a conflagration!”

  “Megan,” said Falcon. “What did they do to you?”

  The girl looked at Cygnus, uncertain. “Why does he keep calling me that?” she said.

  “Come, Falcon,” said Cygnus. “Let us go.”

  “Go? Go where?” Falcon said.

  “Back to your own kind,” said Cygnus. The fire behind the bar was starting to spread now. “Back to your friends.”

  “He’s right, you know,” said Gyra. “You should come with us.”

  “Why would I go with you?” said Falcon.

  “For a better life?” said Gyra. She held out her hand.

  Falcon felt his hearts pulsing as he looked at the girl’s extended hand. He remembered standing with Megan in front of the clock face, up in the Tower of Souls, last spring. He remembered the way the wind had lifted her hair, how the ticking of the clockworks had pounded in his ears.

  At this moment, however, a sea sponge bounced off of Gyra’s face. Gyra and Falcon both looked at the wet, round sponge as it rolled around on the floor.

  “Who—,” said Cygnus angrily. “Who threw that?” Something swept through the air, circled him, and jabbed him with a sharp object. “Ow!”

  “It is I!” shouted a voice. “¡La Chupakabra! The famous goatsucker of Peru!” Pearl jabbed Cygnus with her stinger, then circled around Gyra and Falcon and the colonel. “And I have come to defend Falcon Quinn! To whom I have pledged my life!”

  “Dude,” said Max, roaring through the door. “We’re his friends!”

  “Max!” shouted Falcon. “Pearl!”

  Cygnus looked at Pearl with contempt. “You’re going to need poison more powerful than that,” he said, “if you’re going to battle me, Chupakabra.”

  “I have all the poisons that shall be required,” shouted Pearl, buzzing toward the guardian general once again. “I am ¡la Chupakabra! The famous goatsucker of P—”

  But Cygnus just swatted Pearl out of the air with the back of his hand.

  “Hey,” shouted Max. “YOU HURT MY FRIEND!” He ran toward Pearl, who lay on the floor, her wings buzzing softly.

  “General,” said Gyra, looking worried. “You said that Falcon would join us without a fight.”

  “I’m not going with you!” Falcon shouted.

  Gyra looked disappointed. Her lips parted.

  “I say, old chap,” said the colonel to Cygnus. “We seem to be losing our advantage!”

  Weems and
Destynee now ran into the Bludd Club. Weems opened his mouth and let forth a blasting sound known as the Crystal Scream, shattering all of the Bludd Club’s remaining windows. Behind them, Sparkbolt lurched forward, groaning angrily. The Frankenstein was followed by Mortia and Ankh-hoptet and Lincoln Pugh in his giant bear form. The light from the crackling, spreading fire reflected off the monsters’ faces.

  “General,” said Gyra, her voice rising in panic. “We’re surrounded!”

  But Cygnus did not seem concerned. “Let us withdraw, then,” he said. “Until next time, Falcon Quinn. You will see. They will turn on you. One by one.”

  “General,” said Gyra as the monsters bore down upon her. “Do something!”

  “Colonel, if you would, please,” said Cygnus.

  “Bully,” said the colonel, and turned and shot the wall behind them with his elephant gun. There was a deafening explosion and a flash of light, and then the air filled with drifting smoke and the smell of sulfur.

  “Guardians destroy!” shouted Sparkbolt.

  “After her,” said Falcon, “I mean—them.” Everyone ran outside, pursuing the invaders.

  “We must not let them escape!” said Pearl, now recovered from the blow Cygnus had struck. “We must pursue them to their death!”

  But the guardians had fled without a trace. “Dude,” said Max to Falcon, “are you okay?”

  “I’m all right,” said Falcon, coughing a little from the smoke.

  “We must seek the count,” said Ankh-hoptet. “And the serving squid!”

  “They had Megan,” said Falcon. “Did you see? They did something to her—erased her brain or something—made her into one of them.”

  “You are referring to whom?” said Pearl. “The girl with the whip of the bull?”

  “That wasn’t Megan, man,” said Max.

  “I tell you, it was her,” said Falcon. “I know it!” At this moment the roof of the Bludd Club exploded with fire.

  “Snort,” said Destynee.

  “I fear our friend Señor Snort may find himself hopelessly trapped,” said Pearl. “His horn, when last observed, was still imbedded in the wall of this tavern!”

  “The rhino,” said Ankh-hoptet. “By the tomb of Amen-toth!”

  “Dude—,” said Max. Falcon was looking into the distance, in the direction Gyra had fled.

  Then he sighed, and turned, and flew back into the burning building.

  “Falcon, wait,” shouted Destynee. “Be careful!” She turned to Weems. “Weems, stop him,” she said. “Oh, if anything happens to Falcon, I’ll just—”

  Weems sighed. “Always Falcon Quinn,” he said.

  The inside of the Bludd Club pulsed with flames. “Help,” said a voice, and Falcon turned to see Snort, struggling against the far wall. The flames were growing closer. “I’m burnin’ up here!”

  “Hang on,” said Falcon, moving quickly toward him.

  “Stay back, you!” said Snort.

  “Snort, it’s okay,” said Falcon.

  “I said get back! You’re the one who brought them here!”

  “Maybe they came here because of me,” said Falcon. “But I’m not with them. I’m with you. And I’m going to help you, Snort.”

  Falcon tried to get the rhino’s horn out the wall, but Snort was firmly stuck. He looked around the room for something he could use as a crowbar, but there was nothing at hand that would work. The flames were almost upon them now, and Falcon began to cough in the thick smoke.

  “If you’re gonna kill me, just do it and get it over with,” said Snort. “What do I care?”

  “I’m not trying to kill you,” said Falcon.

  “I don’t believe you!” shouted Snort.

  A rafter began to sag and creak above Snort’s head. Fingers of flame consumed it. The heat scorched Falcon’s face.

  “Snort,” shouted Falcon. “Close your eyes.”

  “What? Why should I?!”

  “Fine,” said Falcon, and then he concentrated on the wall just above Snort’s imbedded horn. He felt his black eye growing hotter and hotter, and he tried to focus on the exact spot he was aiming for. Then a fireball shot out of Falcon’s eye and burst through the wall, making a hole just big enough for Snort to free his horn.

  “What are you doing?” said Snort.

  “Let’s go!” shouted Falcon. “Come on.”

  But at this moment the burning rafter above their heads snapped in two, and Falcon and Snort were both knocked to the floor, pinned beneath the heavy beam.

  “Augh!” shouted Snort. “What a day I’m havin’!” He struggled against the rafter, but he was trapped again.

  Snort looked over at Falcon, who was pinned under the charred rafter next to him. His eyes were closed. “Hey, angel. You all right?”

  Falcon said nothing. His wings fluttered, then were still. “Seriously,” said Snort. “Angel. Say something. Falcon?”

  Max and his friends stood outside the burning building.

  “Where’s Falcon?” said Destynee, her voice rising in panic. “Where is he?”

  “Friend?” said Sparkbolt, looking at the Bludd Club sadly. “Smoke?”

  “It seems that our friend has been consumed,” said Weems with an unsettling grin. “His flesh burned all crispy.”

  “Shut up,” said Destynee. “Why do you have to talk that way? Why?”

  Weems looked crestfallen. “It is a way that I have.”

  “Well, I hate it! I hate it!”

  “My friends!” said Pearl. “We should not abandon hope for Falcon Quinn! Surely he shall yet emerge, triumphant!”

  But now another part of the roof fell in, and the flames roared toward the sky.

  “Dude,” said Max.

  “What is going on?” said a voice, and they turned to see Mr. Trunkanelli rushing toward them. “What is this?” At his side was his wife, Mrs. Trunkanelli, and their little elephant boy, Peanut.

  “The guardians attacked the Bludd Club,” said Mortia.

  “Guardians!” said Mr. Trunkanelli. “Here? Impossible! We have a treaty! This island is off-limits to them!”

  Peanut squeaked his tiny trunk. “I’m scared, Mommy!” he said. “I’m—” Then he looked confused. “What were we talking about?”

  “Guardians,” said Mrs. Trunkanelli. “On Monster Island!”

  “Pachysia,” said Mr. Trunkanelli to his wife. “Get Peanut back to the hotel. This is no place for an elephant boy.”

  “Why is everyone upset?” said Peanut.

  Count Manson drew near now, followed by Cuttles. The vampire’s clothes were smoking. “Because the enemy has attacked us,” he said angrily. “Because ve have been betrayed—by Falcon Qvinn!”

  “Hey, Falcon didn’t betray anybody!” said Max.

  “He brought them here!” shouted the count. “Told them how to attack us!”

  “My club,” said Cuttles sadly. “Ruined!”

  “I’m scared, Mommy!” said Peanut. “I’m—” He scratched the top of his head with his trunk. “Uh—were we just saying something?”

  Mrs. Trunkenelli shook her head and walked away with her child. Mr. Trunkanelli watched his wife and son as they made their way back to the Waldorf-Hysteria.

  “Is anyone hurt?” said Mr. Trunkanelli.

  “Hurt, yeah, somebody’s hurt!” said Max. “Falcon’s in there! With Snort!”

  “Falcon,” said Destynee. “Falcon!” Her voice broke, and a tear began to trickle down her cheek. As the salt tear met her slug skin, her face began to melt.

  Weems sighed. “Always Falcon Quinn.”

  “Wait,” said Pearl. “A figure emerges from the conflagration!” They watched as someone stepped out of the flames. It was a small, bent creature in gray rags. It was wearing a bag over its head.

  “So—lonely,” it said. “So terribly, terribly alone!”

  “Copperhead,” said Mr. Trunkanelli. “You’re alive.”

  Copperhead coughed. The snakes beneath her bag hissed. “If you can cal
l it that.”

  “Did you see anyone else in there?” said Destynee. “Were there any other survivors?”

  “I saw no one,” said Copperhead.

  They all fell silent. The flames from the Bludd Club rose into the sky. The count chuckled to himself, then turned to the others. He readjusted the flower in his lapel and cleared his throat. “Good evening,” he said, and then slowly walked away.

  “Friend?” said Sparkbolt. “Friend?”

  Pearl’s buzzing slowed down until she landed on Max’s shoulder and her wings fluttered to a halt. There was a long silence as the friends stood in a semicircle watching the Bludd Club burn.

  Suddenly there was a thundering smash, and Snort burst out of the burning building. Falcon was on his back.

  “Stand back!” shouted Snort. “Comin’ through!”

  “¡Señor!” shouted Pearl. “Have you survived once more and returned to us alive?”

  Falcon, his clothes smoking, looked at his friends and smiled wearily. “I’m all right,” he said.

  Snort galloped around the monsters triumphantly, steam puffing from his nostrils.

  “Dude!” said Max to Falcon. “You’re totally on top of a charging rhino!”

  Falcon raised his wings as his friends gathered around him in a circle and shouted happily. But even as he bathed in the glow of their affection, he found himself looking toward the Sea of Dragons.

  Why would I go with you? Falcon had asked the girl who looked so much like Megan.

  For a better life? she’d said.

  Part II

  SHADOW ISLAND

  Chapter 6

  The Librarian

  Four figures stood at the end of a long dock on Shadow Island, watching the Cutthroat enter the harbor bearing its monster passengers. The ship’s red mizzen sails and spinnakers rippled with wind. Mrs. Redflint, the dean of students at the Academy for Monsters, glanced at her watch.