 The intrepid Agent Amelia is back in three more howlingly hilarious stories. Read a sneak preview of the first of these brand new stories, Hypno Hounds!, below.
During the summer, Mum rented a cottage in the countryside for a whole week. I was really looking forward to the calm and quiet, and saw it as a secret agent holiday. A break from saving the world.
Well, that was the plan…
As Mum drove along the winding country roads I noticed that we hadn’t seen another person for ages, and as we passed through the village it seemed deserted. I frowned over my sunglasses and decided the countryside was a bit too calm and quiet.
In the garden of Shell Cottage I put down my suitcase and looked up at the sign.
‘Why is it called Shell Cottage?’ I asked.
‘Probably because of the seaside,’ Mum suggested, and continued up the path.
‘Hmmm?’ I said, because I’d surveyed the maps in the car and knew the seaside was miles away. You have to do your research when you’re a secret agent – even when you’re on holiday.
I whipped out my magnifying glass and held it up to the sign to find the ‘S’ in ‘Shell’ was newly painted. All the other letters were faded and cracked, which meant the real name of the place we were staying was Hell Cottage!
When I caught up with Mum she was at the cottage door speaking to a woman who seemed very surprised to see us. She was wearing an apron, which made me think this was probably the housekeeper.
‘…and you didn’t get my letter?’ she said. ‘The one telling you not to come?’
Mum shook her head and I narrowed my eyes over my sunglasses.
‘Then I think you’d better come in,’ sighed the woman.
The housekeeper, Mrs Bloom, explained that people were fleeing the village out of sheer terror, and that she’d sent a letter last week urging us not to come for our own safety.
‘Why?’ Mum and I said together.
‘Because the HELL HOUNDS have returned!’ she gasped dramatically.
‘What’s a hell hound?’ I asked, as Mum’s teacup rattled nervously in her saucer.
‘Legend tells of giant beasts who once roamed this countryside,’ whispered Mrs Bloom. ‘They stood as tall as a man, with massive teeth and big yellow eyes the size of dinner plates!’
Mum’s eyes were pretty wide too as she lapped up the story, but I wasn’t convinced.
‘Have you actually seen one of these hell hounds?’ I asked casually.
‘Well, not exactly,’ said Mrs Bloom. ‘But I’ve heard them howling in the night, and found their paw prints in the morning. They were HUGE!’
‘Then why do you stay here?’ Mum asked, and seemed quite concerned.
‘Because I have nowhere else to go,’ sighed the woman.
‘We’ll stay with you,’ I said quickly, before Mum had a chance to bundle us back into the car. Mrs Bloom seemed nice and I wanted to get to the bottom of the hell hounds. ‘For the week anyway, eh, Mum?’
‘Um, yes, of course!’ Mum smiled nervously, reluctant to abandon the poor woman. Mrs Bloom was obviously relieved, and reassured us that it was perfectly safe during the day. She said the hell hounds only come out at midnight, but that the bolts on the doors were very strong.
That night I checked the bolts for myself and then set up a surveillance station at my bedroom window. I had binoculars, a flask of orange squash and a packet of biscuits – because night time surveillance can be hungry work.
As the clock struck midnight, I scanned the surrounding area with my binoculars. The full moon was bright and low and offered some light, but I cursed myself for not pleading harder for night-vision goggles last Christmas.
Then I heard a noise.
‘HOOOOOWL!’
The howl seemed quite far off, and was answered by many more.
‘HOOOOOWL!’ ‘HOOOOOWL!’ ‘HOOOOOWL!’
As each howl grew nearer I suddenly saw a pack of dark shapes charging across the neighbouring field. With the moon behind them it was impossible to see the creatures, but the shadows they cast were long and looked enormous!
When the shadows reached the bushes on the near side of the field there was a frenzied rustling mixed with ferocious growls and snarling. Then the moon disappeared behind the clouds and everything went black.
Uh Oh!
I couldn’t see anything through my non night-vision binoculars, and I was pretty scared when I heard the creatures prowling in the garden below. But a secret agent can’t let fear get the better of them, so I kept guard over the cottage until the beasts had gone.
In the morning I got up early, crept downstairs and searched the garden for clues. I found lots of trampled flowers and the same huge paw prints the housekeeper had mentioned, but there were no actual leads to go on.
Back indoors, Mrs Bloom was making breakfast, and as Mum was still in bed, I saw this as an opportunity for a bit of informal interrogation.
‘Why is this place called Hell Cottage?’ I asked casually.
‘How did you know that?’ gasped the housekeeper.
‘Oh, I just notice stuff,’ I replied.
‘Hell Cottage was the old name,’ said Mrs Bloom. ‘From the days of the legend. But it put people off staying here so I changed it to Shell. Although now the beasts have returned I should probably change it back…’ she chuckled nervously, and then burst into tears.
At this point I was certain that Mrs Bloom had nothing to do with the hell hounds. You get a nose for these things when you’re a secret agent. And the distressed housekeeper made me even more determined to solve the midnight mystery.
‘Morning!’ chirped Mum, skipping cheerily into the kitchen, which meant she’d obviously slept through the howling hell hounds. ‘Now, what would you like to do today?’
‘I’m afraid most of the local attractions have closed down,’ said Mrs Bloom, quickly gathering herself. ‘But there is a beautiful nature trail nearby. Just cut through the field, turn left at the dogs’ home, and then—’
‘Dogs’ home!’ I gasped, realising this was the lead I was looking for.
‘Yes, Polly’s Pooches!’ said Mrs Bloom. ‘Do you like doggies?’
‘Um, yeah!’ I said, and turned to Mum. ‘Can we go and see the dogs?’
‘Only if you promise not to beg for one like you did last time,’ Mum said firmly.
We’d visited a dogs’ home last year and I’d pestered Mum to adopt a retired police dog. I thought he’d come in handy as a tracker and sniffer on secret agent missions, but Mum was having none of it.
As we walked across the field I couldn’t help wondering why no one else had made the connection between the hell hounds and the dogs’ home, because it seemed pretty obvious to me. This particular mystery was solved the moment we arrived.
Polly’s Pooches were all teeny tiny ‘handbag’ dogs with ribbons in their hair!
Mum didn’t have to worry about me begging for a handbag dog. They were all really adorable, but I couldn’t keep one in my rucksack because it might chew my gadgets and wee on my disguises.
The dinky dogs were definitely not hell hounds, but there could still be bigger dogs tucked somewhere out of sight. So I gave Mum the slip while she was looking at a rosebush and began snooping around. Eventually, I came upon a large barn that looked like the perfect place to hide a pack of massive dogs!
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