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.

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

CHAPTER 1
FLABBERGASTING FALAFELS

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.’

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!’