نفس خون آشام فصل 25

Vampire Breath - Chapter 25

With an eager smile, the old vampire raised the bottle and reached to open it.

“Noooo!” I howled.

I leaped at him. Caught him by surprise.

I shoved my shoulder into his chest. He felt light and feathery, as if he had no bones at all.

He uttered a startled choking sound.

The bottle of Vampire Breath flew from his hand.

I reached out—and grabbed it in the air.

Holding it tightly in both hands, I backed toward the shelves.

Count Nightwing recovered quickly. He narrowed his eyes at me, and once again, I felt his strange power holding me, holding me in place.

“Freddy, you will hand the bottle to me now,” he ordered in a soft, calm voice.

I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

“Hand the bottle to me now,” the old vampire insisted, floating toward me, his bony hand outstretched. “You will hand it to me, Freddy.” I swallowed hard. I couldn’t give him the Vampire Breath. I knew that Cara and I were doomed if Count Nightwing opened it.

But I couldn’t move. He had frozen me there. I was helpless!

“Hand it to me,” he insisted. He reached for the bottle.

“Monkey in the Middle!” I heard Cara call.

She seemed far away. And at first, her words didn’t make any sense to me.

“Monkey in the Middle!” she called again.

This time, I understood.

I sucked in a deep breath. It took all my strength to move my arm.

Count Nightwing swiped at the bottle. His bony fingertips brushed against it.

But I tossed the bottle high over his shoulder.

Cara bobbled it, fumbled it into the air—and then grabbed it. “The catch of the day!” she cried.

With an angry groan, Count Nightwing spun around. “Give me that!” he rasped. He dove toward Cara.

She pulled her arm back and heaved the bottle to me. A low toss which zipped past the old vampire’s knees. I caught it at my shoelaces.

Count Nightwing whirled back to me. His strange eyes narrowed in fury. “I want that bottle!” he snarled.

I tossed it high, over his head. Cara caught it in one hand.

When we baby-sat for Tyler Brown, Cara and I played Monkey in the Middle all the time. That little shrimp could never take the ball away from us. We could keep him running back and forth for hours!

But I knew Count Nightwing would soon run out of patience. There was no way Cara and I could win this game.

But what else could we do?

The old vampire dove for Cara, his hands outstretched, his cape flying.

Cara tossed off-balance. I stretched for the bottle. But it sailed past my open hand.

And crashed into a shelf.

Bottles toppled and broke.

Count Nightwing flew to the shelf. He grabbed blindly at the bottles.

But I got there first. I picked up the bottle and tossed it to Cara.

“No—!” Count Nightwing rasped. “Enough!”

He hurtled toward Cara.

She tossed the bottle to me, a high throw over the old vampire’s head.

I raised my hands to catch it.

But to my surprise, Count Nightwing flew straight up—and caught the bottle in both hands.

As he sailed slowly back to the floor, a pleased smile spread over his face. “I win,” he said softly, his eyes flashing. “I win. It helps to be able to fly.” He raised the bottle in front of him.

“No—don’t!” I begged.

His smile grew even wider. He reached out—and pulled the top off the bottle.