‘It’s a ghost!’
‘A ghost is in the room!’
‘It’s coming to get us.’
‘Please, children!’ Principal Primm’s voice screeched. ‘There’s no need –’
‘I want to go home,’ the small voice was heard through the cries, setting off an avalanche of others.
‘I want to go home too!’
‘A soldier never abandons his post,’ Mr Marksman commanded and was puzzled why this did nothing to ease the panic.
Angeline and Edgar weren’t crying or screaming, but staring directly at the cause of all the fuss. While the others wept and hugged or ran from the room, the twins stepped calmly towards the far corner where a young girl was clutching her knees to her chest and weeping. She was pale, almost translucent, wearing an old-fashioned white nightdress buttoned up to her chin. No one else seemed to see her.
Edgar discreetly slipped his Tracker from his pocket and held it close to his body while he began recording.
Angeline made sure no one was looking before she took hers out and surveyed the rest of the room. ‘I can’t see Robert Thompson or any soldiers, but that little girl is definitely the real thing.’ She smiled. ‘Looks like Ravi’s right . . . we’ve got ourselves a ghost.’
The young ghost looked up and met Angeline’s eyes. There was a despair in her quivering body and tear-streaked face that made Angeline want to hug her, but within seconds the girl rose to her feet, turned and disappeared through the wall.
‘She’s gone,’ Angeline whispered to her brother. ‘Let’s see if we can find where.’
Edgar and Angeline skirted through the tangle of sobbing children and anxious teachers, and slipped away unnoticed.
Edgar held out his Tracker as they ran. On his screen was a red blur that quickly shot down the corridor and up a set of stairs – the same stairs barred by the ‘No Entry’ sign that Principal Primm warned them not to climb.
‘Sorry, Miss Primm,’ Angeline said, ‘but we’re going out of bounds.’
They climbed over the chain barrier and raced up the stairwell two steps at a time, avoiding a broken one in the centre, until they reached a small wooden door at the top. Angeline turned the handle and pushed but it wouldn’t budge. ‘It’s stuck.’
‘Let’s do it together.’ Edgar squeezed in beside her and began to count. ‘One, two, three.’
They jammed their shoulders against the door with all their force and it jolted open. They fell to the rough wooden floor, stirring up a whirlpool of dust that swallowed them whole.
They coughed into their sleeves. Edgar looked at his Tracker and held it out to Angeline with a smile. The ghost was still there.
Angeline got to her feet and reached into her pocket for her torch. ‘Looks like no one’s been up here for a very long time.’ The stream of light cut through a thick fug, and as the dust settled she saw they were in a triangular-shaped attic. Rough wooden beams sat at angles like a decrepit guard of honour, while others stood upright through the centre. Tattered veils of cobwebs dangled from the ceiling, wavering eerily to and fro.
‘What’s that?’ Angeline carefully stepped into the depths of the attic. Tucked into a corner was a neatly made camp bed with two cloth dolls arranged on top. Beside it, a pile of books, a wooden pencil box and a lamp were balanced on a low stool. A lamp which at that very second switched on.
The room sat beneath a drifting cloud of dust.
‘We don’t want to hurt you.’ Angeline searched the room, overwhelmed by a sudden, heavy sadness. She felt her eyes well up and her throat tighten. ‘We just want to know who you are.’
Edgar wiped his sleeve across his eyes. ‘Why do I feel so melancholy?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Angeline sniffed, ‘but I think I’m about to burst into tears.’
The screen on Edgar’s Tracker still showed the presence of a ghost. ‘She’s still here, if only we could get her to –’
‘Angeline! Edgar!’ Someone was calling from the corridor below. ‘Where are you?’
The lamp switched off.
Edgar watched as the screen on his Tracker faded to black. He held it up and scanned the room. ‘She’s gone.’
‘That’s bad timing.’ Angeline pouted. ‘I’m sure I could have talked her into fully revealing herself.’
‘I’ll check the 3-D map.’ Edgar searched for the address of the school and a satellite map of the grounds instantly appeared. He zeroed in on the boarding school building and pressed ‘3-D Convert’. The Tracker instantly created a map of the entire structure. Green lines made up the framework – walls, rooms and corridors – but each area was black.
‘No paranormal presence detected.’
‘At least I don’t feel like crying anymore,’ Angeline said. ‘Why would there be a bed in an attic? I know it’s old and decrepit now, but even in its day it wouldn’t have been a very nice place to live.’
‘She deliberately led us up those stairs,’ Edgar said. ‘I think she had something to show us.’
‘So who is she?’
‘I’m not sure, but the recording I have will hopefully go some way to discovering exactly that.’
‘Angeline!’ The voice was closer now.
‘We better go before they come up here.’ She coughed again. ‘And before I choke on all this dust.’
They snuck down the stairs and into the corridor. Mr Marksman was standing outside the dorm and looking very much like a security guard while kids hurried past, clutching their bags.
‘Sir?’
‘Ah, there you are, troops. Your parents have been called, so grab your kits and be downstairs ready to bug out.’
Angeline stared at Mr Marksman, not quite sure what he’d just said.
‘He means we’re leaving,’ Edgar translated.
When they reached the foyer the first of the parents had already arrived, which brought on a fresh bout of tears – from both parents and children. Adults dressed in pyjamas and dressing-gowns were steering their fraught children away, while others were sternly facing off with Principal Primm, waving fingers, pointing at their kids and repeating phrases like ‘duty of care’, ‘my precious angel’ and ‘psychologist’s bills’.
‘Poor Principal Primm.’ Edgar shook his head. ‘If only she could tell them there was a brief appearance by a small, harmless ghost who has now gone, maybe they wouldn’t be so hard on her.’
‘Or they’d have her locked away for a very long time.’
Two withered hands landed on the twins’ shoulders, accompanied by a hoarse whisper: ‘Looks like you get your wish to go home early, young lady.’
Grandma Rose kissed them both on the cheeks.
‘Yes, but just when things were becoming interesting.’
Principal Primm waved off another student and her peeved parents.When she saw Grandma Rose she steeled herself and came directly over. ‘I’m so terribly sorry about this, Mrs Usher. I know it’s the last thing your family needs, what with your recent loss, but it seems the children got themselves into a bit of a state by telling ghost stories – and now we have this.’
Principal Primm felt a shiver down her spine, partly because of the cold night air, a little because of so many disgruntled parents, but mostly because of so many free-flowing tears.
Grandma Rose placed a calming hand on her arm. ‘Children’s imaginations can get carried away sometimes.’
‘Yes, they can.’ Principal Primm had a faraway look on her face, as if she was contemplating a career change, perhaps as an astronaut or a dolphin trainer – something that didn’t involve so many unpredictable children.
A parent looked up from her inconsolable daughter. ‘I’d better go.’ And with that she walked away to muster up some more compassion.
Grandma Rose drew her grandchildren in for a
comforting hug. ‘There, there, my dear cherubs. I hope you weren’t too scared by those nasty ghost stories.’ She tried to conceal a smile as she lowered her voice. ‘But do we have a real one?’
Angeline nodded while still trying to look suitably upset. ‘We do. A young girl who appeared very briefly and left soon after all the fuss began.’
‘Did you manage to record her?’
Edgar’s sombre face did not reveal his excitement. ‘We did. I was able to record quite a good amount of footage with my Tracker.’
Grandma clapped her hands. ‘Ooooh, that’s lovely!’
A few parents nearby scowled at the gleeful outburst.
Grandma quickly changed her expression from smiling to soothing. ‘Just lovely that you are okay, my darlings,’ she said in a loud, dramatic voice. ‘Let’s get you home so we can tuck you into your warm, safe beds.’
She renewed her hugging and gently guided her grandchildren away.
Outside, with only the faint glow of the entrance lights to guide them through the dark, moonless night, Grandma Rose led the way to her car. Keeping her voice low to avoid being heard by the other families, she said, ‘And nobody saw you using your Tracker?’
‘I don’t think anyone could have noticed over the panic,’ Edgar said.
Grandma Rose tweaked Angeline’s nose. ‘So the night worked out better than you thought?’
‘The first part was excruciating, but the ghost was a welcome and unexpected highlight. Remind me to thank her when we see her again.’
‘What was she like?’
‘Small and pale – she was weeping.’
Grandma Rose unlocked the car and they climbed in. They buckled up as the last of the weary parents guided their frightened children to waiting cars and away from the terrors of the night.
‘As soon as we’re out of sight, Edgar, send that vision to Endora so she can start identifying who our little girl is and what’s making her so sad.’
‘Angeline!’
Angeline looked up to see Travis running to their car. ‘Oh no.’
He reached Grandma Rose’s window. ‘Hello, I’m Travis. I just wanted to make sure Angeline was okay.’
‘I’m her grandma, and I think she is – aren’t you, dear?’
‘Yes,’ Angeline answered warily.
Travis’s concerned look made her feel as comfortable as sitting by a fire in a straw house. ‘It’s just that when everyone started to get spooked in the dorm room, you two disappeared and were gone for a very long time. I was worried something might have happened.’
‘I’m fine, thank you. We both are.’
There was an awkward pause.
‘We have to go,’ Grandma Rose said. ‘I’m very keen to get home after all the drama.’
‘Bye then.’ Travis smiled. ‘I’m happy that you’re both so fine.’
Grandma started the engine and slowly drove away from the boarding school. ‘What was that about?’
‘He saw us leaving Gravesend Station after we cleaned out the vortex,’ Angeline sighed. ‘He suspects we’re part of the Ghost Club, and he’s the kind of person you don’t want knowing anything about you.’
‘You’d better be very discreet around that one then.’ Grandma raised an eyebrow. ‘People can get a little worked up if they find out what we do . . .’ Her face creased in an irritated scowl. ‘Even though we’re making the world safer for them.’
Angeline looked over her shoulder. Travis was staring directly at her – a stare that stayed with her like the creeping feeling of carsickness. She took a deep breath and tried to fight it as they drove through the laneway of weeping willows and into the darkened streets of Gravesend.
The next day, Angeline and Edgar stood in the courtyard in front of the Ghost Club mansion. The building reminded Angeline of a grand old lady who had dressed hurriedly in the dark; it had a charming elegance that was also a little messy and mismatched in parts. There were stairs that went nowhere, a crooked tower that looked as if it might tumble over and pointed gable windows that resembled misshapen and slightly squashed hats.
‘Toodle doo!’ Grandma Rose tooted her horn and skidded her red sports car into a wide circle before speeding down the gravel path towards the front gates.
Angeline sighed. ‘It always feels like coming home when I’m here. I can understand why Endora never leaves this place.’
‘Endora never leaves,’ Edgar reminded her, ‘because she has agoraphobia and a morbid fear of anything to do with the outside world, especially postmen or anyone else responsible for bringing her bad news.’
‘Yes, okay, there’s that.’ Angeline threw her arms out wide. ‘But who wouldn’t want to live here?’
Thorny creepers choked their way up crumbling lattice, dead bushes tangled the front garden, and from deep within the moat came a sudden and violent thrashing that quietened to a deathly silence.
‘I love this place,’ she said wistfully. ‘Race you inside!’
Angeline sprang up the stairs and over the bridge spanning the moat. As she reached the front desk, she slid across the polished stone floor and slid to a stop just before the desk of Myra Gray, Chief Investigation Organiser of the Ghost Club.
‘Good morning, Myra. It’s lovely to see you again.’
Myra was typing up scribbled notes from a book and didn’t look up. ‘Name?’
‘You know our names.’
‘Part of new security measures handed down,’ Myra’s black nail-polished finger pointed upwards, ‘from the top.’
‘You mean . . .?’
‘Yes.’ She looked up, eyes peeking over her glasses. ‘From the Transylvanian High Ministry itself,’ she whispered.
‘Why?’ Edgar asked.
Myra sat upright, her shoulders back and eyes refocused on her typing. ‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.’
Angeline leant her elbows on the desk. ‘Come on, Myra – it’s Angeline and Edgar. You can tell us.’
‘Angeline and Edgar who?’
Angeline sighed. ‘Usher. Is this really necessary? You’ve known us since we were five.’
‘I need to see your Ghost Club badges as proof of identity,’ Myra’s voice droned.
They took their badges from their pockets and held them out. Myra lifted her glasses and studied the names and ID numbers engraved on the bottom before checking them on her computer. ‘So you are.’
‘Now can you tell us what’s going on?’ Edgar asked.
‘I’m afraid I’m under strict instructions not to say.’ Her voice was laced with a grim seriousness.
Angeline pouted. ‘Oh, you’re no fun.’
Myra went back to her typing. ‘There goes my reputation as the life of the party. How very upsetting.’ She looked not the least bit upset. ‘Master Dylan has arrived, and Professor Spright is waiting for you in the Depository. I’ll let her know you’re on your way.’
Angeline and Edgar’s eager steps echoed off the wide marble staircase. They found Dylan at the top, sitting on a lounge.
‘Dylan!’ Angeline called. ‘Who would have thought we’d be called out so soon after atomising the vortex?’ She plonked down next to him. ‘How lucky are we?’
Dylan’s fingers were clenched in his lap. ‘Lucky doesn’t even come close to how I feel.’
‘I know.’ Angeline completely failed to notice Dylan’s sarcasm. ‘Sometimes I have to stop and remind myself that all this is real and we’re part of it.’ Her smile became even wider and, despite Dylan’s trepidation at another catching, it was a smile that managed to somehow wipe away the worst edges of his fear.
‘Come on.’ Angeline jumped up. ‘Ghost Club duty calls.’
They walked down the Hall of Dedication, perusing portraits of illustrious members from the past, including Grand
master Fleischmann, Dylan’s grandfather and the club’s most successful catcher.
‘Do you know much about this ghost?’ Dylan asked.
‘Not yet,’ Angeline answered. ‘She’s a young girl who appeared at our school sleepover. She was weeping at first, then she led us to a small camp bed in an attic. Endora has been working on it, so hopefully she’s found out more.’
‘Back again, my cherubs?’ A dark figure appeared from the shadows, a blowtorch gripped in his hand.
‘Gloom!’ Angeline and Edgar ran to give him a hug.
Dylan opted instead to stay where he was and be filled with a sense of impending dread, which often happened to him in Gloom’s company.
‘How very charming to see you again,’ Gloom said. ‘It always lifts my spirits when my eyes fall upon your angelic faces. Does that mean we have another haunting?’
‘We’re on our way to see Endora now,’ Angeline said.
‘Excellent!’ he exclaimed. ‘I was walking that way myself – how very fortunate.’
Dylan followed a few steps behind, before he caught his foot on the leg of a marble side table and stumbled.
Gloom’s hands were around Dylan’s arms in a shot. For an older man he had lightning-fast reflexes. ‘Careful there, Master Dylan.’ A smile inched up his face and tucked into his moustache. ‘We don’t want any mishaps like last time.’
Dylan let loose a strangled giggle. The ‘last time’ Gloom was referring to saw Dylan fall through a false door that opened onto a potentially fatal drop into the moat.[1]
‘Especially now that we have Daisy and Herman.’
‘Daisy and Herman?’ Angeline asked.
‘Our new pet piranhas.’ Gloom’s face was all delight.
‘Piranhas?’ Dylan asked. ‘As in the flesh-eating fish that can strip a cow to the bone in under a minute?’
‘That did happen,’ Edgar agreed, ‘even though the timing is disputed, and it’s not an entirely fair assessment of the typical behaviour of piranhas.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t want to be unfair to a killer fish,’ Dylan muttered.
‘Precisely.’ Gloom nodded his head.
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