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firmly, both frowning in concentration. My heart was in my mouth. How were they going to get out of this?
    They hit each other at the exact same moment, each unseating their rival and tumbling from the back of their beast.
    Cleo buried her face in my shoulder as the pair plummeted towards the ground … only to be caught, one in each hand, by Twinkle.
    “I didn’t hear the splat!” said Cleo, her face muffled by my jumper. “Where was the splat?”
    “There wasn’t a splat!” I cried, as Twinkle lowered Resus and Luke gently to the ground. “But I’m not sure which one of them won?”
    “As long as the griffins are sweating, we’re all winners,” said Luke, slipping his trainer back on as the graceful beasts came in to land. Twinkle produced a handkerchief from his pink bag and wiped it across the backs of his precious griffins until it was soaking wet.
    “Perfect!” said Resus, pulling a clear sandwich bag out from the depths of his incredible cloak and allowing Twinkle to drop the wet rag inside. “Now we just need a drop of sap from the cleaver tree and we’ll have all three ingredients.”
    Twinkle jumped at his words. “Cleaver tree?!” he demanded. “I wouldn’t go near one of them things! Its leaves are as sharp as scythes!”
    “We don’t have a choice,” said Luke. “Do you know if there are any around here?”
    “There’s only one,” said Twinkle. “And it grows in the garden of the old lady who lives at number 42 – the very last house in Scream Street.”
    “The one with the black walls that always has dark clouds hovering above it?” asked Cleo.
    “That’s the one,” said Twinkle.
    “What’s so special about it?” I asked, intrigued by Twinkle’s reaction. “Who lives there?”
    The fairy swallowed hard, as though he could barely get the words out. “Death’s own grandmother,” he said finally. “The Gran Reaper!”

Chapter Eight

    Lightning flashed and thunder rolled as we peered through the bars of the wrought-iron gate at the end of the path leading up to number 42. It made me shiver – especially as the weather in the rest of Scream Street was quite pleasant. The storm clouds only seemed to gather above this dark, forbidding house.
    “There’s the cleaver tree,” said Luke, looking from the only thing growing in the garden to a picture he had found in
Skipstone’s Tales of Scream Street
.
    “Yep,” said Resus, nervously. “There it is.” He held a penknife in his hand, but didn’t move.
    “Then, what are we waiting for?” I asked. “According to Mr Skipstone, we just have to go in there, cut the tree bark and collect a single drop of its sap.”
    “Yep,” said Resus again. “That’s what we’ve got to do.”
    Cleo sighed and snatched the penknife from the vampire. “Why am I always surrounded by wimps?” She pushed open the gate just as another clap of thunder sounded overhead.
    “We’ll wait here for you,” hissed Luke.
    “Yep,” said Resus a third time, his face paler than ever. “Here’s where we’ll be.”
    With a roll of her eyes, Cleo crept towards the tree while we watched the house. The windows were dark, and it looked like there was no one at home. At least, that’s what we hoped.
    As Cleo approached the tree, she raised the penknife, then slowly brought the blade down towards the bark…
    “Aaah!” The mummy gave a piercing scream as the razor-sharp leaves of the cleaver tree started to bend in towards her!
    “Get out of there!” Luke yelled. But Cleo couldn’t move; she was hemmed in on all sides.
    “I’m going in to help her,” I declared. Before Luke or Resus could protest, I closed my eyes and Walked out of my body. I’d only been here a few hours, but I already knew I’d do anything to help my new friends.
    “Be careful!” said Luke.
    “It’ll be fine,” I promised. “I’ll just distract the leaves the way I did with the zom-bees.”
    Cautiously, I entered the garden and made my way to the tree. My silver