The Monsters of Morley Manor Read Free Page A

UPON YOU .
    â€œYeah, right,” I muttered. It looked like Old Man Morley was even kookier than everyone had thought.
    Grabbing the knobs, I pulled out the second lid. I gasped in delight.
    The box was divided into five compartments. And inside each compartment was a metal statue of a tiny monster. Three appeared to be male, two female. They were very detailed, beautifully made, and extremely weird.
    At the base of each compartment was an engraved nameplate. I had to rub them clean with a tissue before I could read them.
    I blinked. According to the nameplates, the monsters’ names were Gaspar, Albert, Ludmilla, Melisande, and Bob.
    â€œWeird names for a bunch of monsters,” I muttered as I picked up Gaspar. (At least, I assumed it was Gaspar. It was possible someone had played with the monsters and put them back in the wrong slots.)
    The little monster was about five inches tall. He had a head like a lizard’s, stuck on top of a muscular, manlike body. A spiny crest rose from the top of his head then disappeared under the neck of his lab coat. A long, powerful tail extended from the back of his ragged trousers. He looked (and felt) as if he were made of solid brass. I fooled around with him a little, making him bounce across my desk and growl and stuff. Then I stood him at the edge of the box, and took out the next figurine, which was Albert.
    Albert was about an inch shorter than Gaspar, and seemed to be a typical mad scientist’s assistant—a fierce-looking hunchback with shaggy hair and a squinty face. His hands stretched forward in a grabbing gesture, as if he had been frozen in midaction. Whoever had made him was really good. He even had a patch sewed into the back of his coarse tunic to make room for his hump. It was all done in brass, of course. But the effect was very realistic.
    Still holding Albert, I looked at the others. Ludmilla was sort of a vampire lady. She had a cape wrapped around her, big eyes, and a pair of fangs that poked down over her lower lip. Melisande had snakes for hair. Bob looked like your basic wolf-man—a human form with a snarling, wolflike face that was, oddly enough, kind of cute. He was in a slight crouch, as if ready to spring at something.
    The detail work on all five of the monsters was amazing; Melisande’s face, for example, had tiny, delicate scales, and she was wearing a slinky, skintight dress that seemed to have scales, also. I began to wonder if the figurines might be more valuable than I had expected.
    I was about to set Albert next to Gaspar so I could examine Ludmilla when Sarah shrieked, “Anthony!
Help!”
    Her voice was coming from the bathroom. Still holding Albert, I pushed away from my desk and raced down the hall.
    The bathroom door was half open. I could hear running water and angry chattering. I groaned. Sarah was trying to give Mr. Perkins a bath again!
    â€œYou get back in that tub!” she ordered the monkey as I came through the door.
    The floor was like a swamp. Sarah was half soaked herself, and her damp hair lay flat on her forehead. Mr. Perkins, soaking wet, clung to my sister’s neck, screeching and hissing.
    What really griped me was that he didn’t bite her, and probably wouldn’t, no matter how angry he got. Me he bites out of sheer cussedness. My pukey little sister could tie a knot in his tail and he still wouldn’t set tooth in her skin.
    â€œAnthony!” cried Sarah again.
“Help!”
    What did she expect me to do? If I got near the monkey he was sure to take a chunk out of me. I set Albert on the back of the toilet and made a couple of moves as if to help Sarah. But my heart wasn’t in it, especially when Mr. Perkins turned toward me and bared those nasty little fangs.
    I really don’t know what my mother was thinking when she bought him.
    As it turned out, Sarah didn’t really need my help. A minute later, she had Mr. Perkins off her neck and back in the bathtub.
    It