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4: AN UNWELCOME COMPANION

In which Rupert goes downstairs.

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Rupert was worrying about stairs. These weren't something Rupert had ever worried about before, so the fact that he was having to worry about them now was, in itself, rather worrying. He stood at the top of the grand staircase and looked down uneasily. It was night in the Middling, and he'd waited until the other occupants of the castle had gone out to feed before slipping out of his room. But there was a problem. Even from his tower room, he'd heard Pim complaining about a toothache she'd developed. Eventually, Fang had allowed her to go back to her coffin, so she was now in the vaults reading silly gazettes like Blood Factor, with articles bearing such titles as Vampires = Seduction: Get the most out of your meal!

Thus Rupert's dilemma: Pim was in the castle, and he had to get downstairs. On the face of it, this might not appear to be much of a difficulty, but in fact there were a number of problems standing between Rupert and his goal. The first problem was that he couldn't fly. The second was that the hallways of the Morbid-Hilt castle were specially designed to amplify echoes. And the final problem was—blasted tradition!—that the stairs were carefully tuned once a month so that each one creaked at a different pitch, in order to give the most atmospheric accompaniment to a vampire's descent. Rupert wished he could meet the smart-toothed vampire who'd thought up this little home comfort so he could have the pleasure of staking them personally.

Tentatively, Rupert put out one foot and slowly, ever so slowly, started to put his weight onto the very edge of the first stair.

CREAAA—

Rupert snatched his foot away. Darn, darn, darn! Why did Fang have to insist on their stair-tuner being so thorough? Walking down the stairs was out of the question, that was certain.

Rupert stepped back and surveyed the stairway, trying to think logically. The only things he had to work with were a) the stairs themselves, b) the wall, and c) the banister...

Rupert groaned as realisation struck him. The banister. Of course. He couldn't quite believe he was about to do this. Whoever heard of a vampire sliding down a banister? But it was his only option.

He glanced around, then berated himself for being so paranoid. There's no one else here, he told himself. No one except Pim and she's down in the vaults. So just do it! Still, he grimaced with embarrassment as he took hold of the carved griffin's head at the top of the banister and swung a leg over. He sat facing backwards on the polished wood, clutching the griffin's head with both hands. Right. Here I goooooo...

Everything went swimmingly at first. Rupert slid down with a satisfying swooosh, trying to keep his weight low and centred. This worked well. That is, until he reached the first curve. Here his body tipped sideways and he scrabbled frantically at the banister. By some miracle he managed to keep his seat and continued on his way down. Another curve. Again gravity seemed not to be paying much attention, and Rupert was spared a fall. He kept his luck until the last grand sweep of the stairs as they turned into the entrance hall. This final, abrupt change in direction alerted gravity to Rupert's situation and, as if to make up for its previous negligence, it granted Rupert a most spectacular tumble. He was wrenched sideways with such force that there was no time for him to grab hold of the banister again. He sailed over the staircase and landed halfway down it.

SMACK!

CREAKKKK!

CREAAK!

CREEEAAAAAAAAK!