The Amelia Fang Series

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.

ISBN 978 1 4052 8672 5 eISBN 978 1 7803 1841 7

www.egmont.co.uk

67177/1

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Group

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For Helen,

Thank you for believing in Amelia and supplying me with unicorn-shaped inspiration and surprise loose limbs!.

And a special FANKS (as Florence would say) to all the FANG-GIRLS. You know who you are!

x Yeti Hugs x

Your continued support, encouragement

and enthusiasm won’t be forgotten.

CONTENTS

MAP OF NOCTURNIA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . viii

MEET THE NOCTURNIANS . . . . . . . . . . . . x

1. FLABBERGASTING FALAFELS . . . . . . . . . . . . .1

2. FLORENCE AND GRIMALDI . . . . . . . . . . . . .11

3. TANGINE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21

4. ANGEL-KITTENS OF TERROR . . . . . . . . . 29

5. YOU AAAAARE DEAD, YOU ARE DEAD . 37

6. THE TOILET ISN’T SHINY ENOUGH . . . 45

7. DO SOMETHING, DADDY! . . . . . . . . . . . . 53

8. I WANT THAT ONE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65

9. THE GREEN DOOR WITH THE MOULDY HANDLE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .73

10. STEALTHY FLORENCE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81

11. CREATURES OF THE LIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . .91

12. RIGHT IN THE HAIR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .103

13. INTESTINE! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115

14. KING VLADIMIR’S SECRET . . . . . . . . . . . . . .121

15. FRIEND . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .137

16. THE BARBARIC BALL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149

17. SIGMUND . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .161

18. I AM NOT A BEAST! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171

19. DOOR CHASE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 179

20. GLITTEROPOLIS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 193

REPUGNANT RECIPES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 209

Ghoulish Greetings

from our favourite

Nocturnians . . .

LIKES:

Bouncing

Hugs

DISLIKES:

Being picked up by his stalk

Not being with Amelia

LIKES:

Pit-digging

Worms on toast

DISLIKES:

Being called a BEAST

(she is a RARE BREED

OF YETI)

LIKES:

Squashy (her loyal pet pumpkin)

Tongue Twister sandwiches

DISLIKES:

Spoilt sprouts

The annual Barbaric Ball

LIKES:

His scythe

His diePhone

DISLIKES:

Bossy squished toads

Unicorns

LIKES:

The annual Barbaric Ball

Eau de Decay perfume

DISLIKES:

Her husband’s Hawaiian

graveyard shirts

Goblin slime

LIKES:

Crosswords

His Hawaiian graveyard

shirts

DISLIKES:

Washing up

Listening

LIKES:

Cooking

Letter writing

DISLIKES:

Bad manners

Being walked through

CHAPTER 1

FLABBERGASTING

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.’

FALAFELS

‘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.’

CHAPTER 2

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!’

CHAPTER 3

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 Honey-roasted 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!’