Mystery At Riddle Gully by Jen Banyard Page A

of her elbow caught the intruder smack in the face, sending him reeling. He circled twice in a whirl of dead leaves before thumping to a halt against the trunk of a tree.
    Will bent from the waist, his face scrunched, the fingertips of both hands pressed against the bridge of his nose.
    Inside Pollo, relief and anger jostled to be first in line. Anger won. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she hissed, tiptoeing across to him. ‘Couldn’t you just say “hello” like a normal person?’
    Between Will’s fingers, blood welled. It trickled down the backs of his hands. It began to drip from his wrist-bonesand splash onto the spiky leaves of the bush at his feet.
    â€˜Hello,’ croaked Will through his cupped hands. ‘I thought you’d be pleased to see me.’
    Pollo stood motionless, staring at the dark liquid brimming through Will’s fingers. With each drip, somewhere in her brain an alarm clanged more insistently.
    All at once, it came to her. Blood ... vampires ... Viktor von Albericht! She jigged from one foot to the other. ‘Will!’ she rasped. ‘You’ve got to stop bleeding! He’ll smell it!’
    â€˜Smell what?’ said Will.
    â€˜The blood, numbskull! Lie down or something. Make it stop!’
    Just then they heard the scraping of footsteps along the winding track to the clearing. Through the trees Pollo caught glimpses of a tall, black shape moving closer.
    â€˜It’s him! He’s coming!’ She fumbled the cloves of garlic from her pocket, scrunched off their papery skins and began rubbing them all over her face and arms.
    â€˜What are you doing?’ said Will, screwing up his face and trying to duck as Pollo rubbed them over him too.
    â€˜It should slow him up. Quick! Hide in there!’ she said, shoving Will down into the spiky bushes at the foot of the tree. She snatched the silver crucifix from beneath her T-shirt so that it hung in plain sight. She thrust her hands in her pockets and drew out the mirror. She patted her hip pocket and felt the bump of the pen-knife.
    Yanking the bottle of holy water off its shoulder strap,she tossed it to Will. ‘My life could be in your hands!’ she whispered. ‘If he comes at me, throw this on him. You’ll only get one chance—so don’t miss!’
    â€˜Err ... good ... right ... got it.’ Will rolled the hard plastic bottle in his blood-sticky hands, frowning.
    Pollo edged back to the clump of boulders. She backed up against them, half-closing her eyes to focus better through the dim light. In one hand she held the mirror and in the other the sharp-pointed wooden stake. Was this how Diamond Jack had felt? She hoped she had better luck than him.
    They waited, barely breathing, listening to the footsteps drawing closer along the path.
    â€˜Hey, Will!’ Pollo whispered.
    â€˜What?’ came a voice from the bushes.
    â€˜I didn’t mean what I said at the rubbish tip. I’m sorry. Thanks for coming.’
    â€˜No worries!’ In his patch of prickles, Will smiled. Maybe he’d done something useful at last.
    His smile didn’t hang around long. At that moment, the tall outline of von Albericht loomed among the dark trees. It hovered at the edge of the clearing.
    Pressed against the boulders, Pollo waved the mirror towards the man. A wild succession of reflections—sky, rocks, her runners, treetops, Will—leapt before her eyes. Not one contained the image of von Albericht. She threw the mirror aside and with a white-knuckled hand raised the wooden stake.
    Von Albericht stalked into the centre of the clearing, his eyes on the move, searching. They fell on Pollo, flattened against the boulder, her stake at the ready.
    He took a step towards her.
    Pollo grabbed her silver crucifix and brandished it towards him.
    Von Albericht’s eyes flickered. He smiled slowly and took another step.
    Pollo couldn’t wait any longer!