Granny's head turned sharply. 'What do you mean?'
Oats took a step backwards.
'Ah, I know what he means,' said Nanny. 'It's all right, we're not daft, she won't open up until she knows it's us-'
'I meant, how does the door stop vampires?'
'Stop them? It's a door.'
'So... they can't turn themselves into some sort of mist, then?' said Oats, frying in the joint radiation of their stares. 'Only I thought that vampires could, you see. I thought everyone knew that who knows anything about vampires...'
Granny turned on Igor. 'D'you know anything about this?'
Igor's mouth opened and shut a few times.
'The old Count never did anything like that,' he said.
'Yes,' said Nanny, 'But he played fair.'
There was a rising howl from the depths of the castle, cut off suddenly.
'That was Thcrapth!' said Igor, breaking into a run.
'Thcraapthhh?' said Agnes, wrinkling her brow. Nanny grabbed her arm and dragged her after Igor.
Granny swayed a little. Her eyes had an unfocused look.
Oats glanced at her, made up his mind, staggered rather theatrically and sprawled in the dust.
Granny blinked, shook her head and glared down at him.
'Hah! All too much for you, eh?' she said hoarsely.
Trembling fingers reached down for Oats. He took them, taking care not to pull, and stood up.
'If you could just give me a hand,' he said, as her grateful weight hit his shoulder.
'Right,' said Granny. 'Now let's find the kitchens.'
'Huh? What do we want with the kitchens?'
'After a night like this we could all do with a cup of tea,' said Granny.
Magrat leaned against the door as a second thump rattled the bolts. Beside her, Scraps started to growl. Perhaps it was something to do with his extensive surgery, but Scraps growled in half a dozen different pitches all at once.
Then there was silence, which was even more terrifying than the thumping.
A faint noise made her look down. A green smoke was pouring through the keyhole.
It was thick, and had an oily quality...
She darted across the room and snatched up a jar that had contained lemons so sportingly provided by the mysterious old Count that Igor thought so highly of. She wrenched off the lid and held it under the keyhole. When the smoke had filled it up she dropped a few cloves
of garlic in and slammed the lid back on.
The jar rocked urgently on the floor.
Then Magrat glanced at the lid of the well. When she lifted it up she heard rushing water a long way below. Well, that was likely, wasn't it? There must be lots of underground rivers in the mountains.