#7 The Demon Babysitter by Annie Graves Page A

and she was smiling at me through pointed teeth.

    â€œWell, Becky. Misbehaving again, are we? This time I’m not going to tell your parents. I’ll deal with you myself.”
    She said these last words with a growl and made a jump at me.
    I threw a chair in front of the demon and ran out of the room.
    I heard an angry howl as she tripped over the chair.

    I ran up the stairs, two steps at a time, burst into my parents’ room, and crawled into my best hiding place.

    It was an air vent that I can fit in. I’ve hidden there before. I was sure I would be safe there.

    After a while, I heard these horrible footsteps.
    They were heavy, but they also made a clicking sound, as if claws were scratching the wooden floor.
    The door opened slowly.
    The creature began walking around the room, her claws clicking, her tail swishing back and forth.
    As Dervla walked past the air vent, the air was filled with a horrible stench.
    The smell of burning meat.
    I held my breath.
    Finally Dervla turned to leave.
    I was sure she hadn’t seen me.
    But just as she put her hand on the door handle, she began to sniff the air.

    Turning around, the demon looked right at the air vent.
    In three steps she ran across the room and ripped open the air vent with a snarl.
    She grabbed me by my hood and lifted me off the floor.

    I smashed one of my stink bombs onto the demon’s head.
    Dervla roared and coughed and spluttered.

    I hit her with a lamp. The demon went down. I had knocked her out.

    Then I got my dad’s bicycle lock and locked her in an old abandoned shed down by the river.
    I feed her every day.

    Nobody could work out what had happened to Dervla.
    At first all the kids on the road were delighted.
    They chanted, “The wicked witch is dead,” and they threw a doll that looked like Dervla in the river.
    But when Dervla didn’t turn up, everyone started to feel sorry for her.
    They started to look for her.
    They stuck up posters.

    People complained that I had been too mean to her.
    Everyone forgot how nasty she had always been to us.
    They said she was just trying to look out for us.

    I got sick and tired of everyone feeling sorry for her, so I told the other kids what really happened.
    Now I’m more popular than ever.

    Some kids even call me the demon hunter.
    The little kids follow me everywhere, begging me to tell them about the demon babysitter.
    So I do.
    (I mean, who doesn’t enjoy a little attention?)
    I explain the best way to spot a demon and what to feed them. (Charred spiders, in case you’re wondering.)

    They think I’m an expert on the subject.
    To be fair, I am a bit of an expert on the subject.
    Who else do you know who’s faced a demon and lived to tell the story?
    That’s what I thought.
    And it’s not just devils that I know about.
    I could tell you about witches and ogres and goblins and gremlins.
    If you keep your eyes and ears open, it’s amazing what you can spot.
    Or maybe I just have the knack for it.
    For instance, I’m pretty certain that my new babysitter’s a vampire.
    All the kids on the road like her.
    They say she’s much nicer than Dervla because she lets them stay up late and watch cartoons, but I saw through that straight away.
    I KNOW the signs.
    Doesn’t eat garlic.
    Pale skin.
    Pointy teeth.

    Sure, she goes out during the day, but everyone knows real vampires can go out any time they like. That’s what makes them so dangerous.
    So I guess Dervla will be getting some company soon.
    I mean, someone has to do something.
    And I’m more than happy to help.



Now, that is my kind of story ...
    You know that thing they say about pins dropping? How you can hear them? It was a bit like that when Becky stopped speaking.
    We all stared at her. She stared back, and then she said, “What?” and we all just went on listening for that pin.
    Oh, my!