The Curse of Dreadgrave Manor

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - THE COUNT'S REVENGE

"What's going on Lewis?" Max asked confused. Then without warning, the grim realisation dawned on him, and everything fell into place.

"Wait a minute..." His face paled. "How did you know about Becca? We never mentioned anything about her to you." Lewis let out a disembodied, malevolent laugh and threw his head back. His face began to twist unnaturally and change its shape. His limbs grew longer, and his bones and body snapped and contorted themselves at weird angles.

Max gasped. "It was you this whole time! You're... You're..." Lewis' transformation was complete, and Max found himself staring directly into the cold, undead eyes of Count Montgomery Dreadgrave himself.

"Surprised?" The Count cackled. "I'm simply amazed that it took you so long to figure this whole charade out, even with your precious, dead friend Oliver's help. He was the one who kept leaving those damned messages all over the house to try and warn you. Oh, and who could forget those pathetic little whispers you were having with him, as if you ever stood a chance!"

Max stood shocked.

How could I have been so blind to all of this?

"When we were talking in the bedroom earlier, he wasn't just warning me about you. He was warning me about Lewis! That's what he meant when he said that he was watching because you were, waiting at the door!"

Montgomery roared with mocking laughter. "Oh, you foolish mortal! Where was all this delightful wisdom earlier?"

"But that's not all. You trapped Kris in the fireplace when I left you both alone! That's why you were so eager to search downstairs when we split up. You knew where she was, and you wanted to stop me from finding her!"

"Simply put, Kris was far smarter than you. She had started to piece it all together earlier, when she noticed that Lewis' bleeding wound was in the exact same spot as where she had hit my zombified form with that damned journal earlier. When you left us alone, she started asking too many questions, and it soon became apparent that she simply had to go."

The Count strode purposely around the circle, his unwavering glare studying every part of his frightened adversary.

"That's why we never saw the Count while we were with you! He was already with us, disguised as Lewis!"

"Exactly." The Count leaned towards him, scornfully. " Oh, if only you had listened to that nagging instinct that I know gnawed away inside that little head of yours since the first day we met. When you first touched me and realised just how cold I was. Only the dead are ever that cold, you fool!"

"You're the fool!" Max shouted defiantly. "You can't defeat us! You've helped us draw the Circle of Preservation to protect us from you! After tonight, your deal is over, and you'll go back to being dead forever!"

Montgomery erupted into a series of insane cackles.

"Oh no, Max. I can assure you; it is you who is the fool. Yet again, that wretched ghost friend of yours tried to warn you that you were being led into a trap. How about you ask yourself this. Why do you think I was so eager to get this circle drawn?" Max felt uncertain and unnerved by the mounting confidence from the Count.

This makes no sense. I'm safe in here, aren't I?

"Be my guest, Max. Try and leave the circle." Montgomery grinned. "Perhaps I should suggest it in a way the members of the Dare-Doers Club understand. I dare you to try and leave the circle."

Max tentatively reached his arms out and instantly dropped to the floor in searing pain. It felt like his hands had been electrocuted.

An invisible force field was keeping him trapped.