Ghostfinders 03 -Ghost of a Dream Read Online Free PDF Page B

darting from one monitor screen to another.
    “If you don’t know, say so,” said Happy.
    Melody stuck out her tongue at him. “The readings are clear. However, I don’t know enough about local conditions to make sense of them. Yet.”
    Laurie managed another of his small smiles, for JC. “Been together long, have they, those two?”
    “You can tell?” said JC.
    “Oh aye,” said Laurie. “I was married, once. But I got over it.” He looked about him. “Your machines are impressive, but you’ll do better with candles. The Trust laid a stock in—over there.”
    He nodded to a small cupboard, set to one side. JC moved across, opened it, and brought out a dozen large candles, each in its own separate holder. JC set them about the room at regular intervals, lighting them one at a time with his Zippo. He didn’t smoke any more, but he liked to have something in his life he could depend on. He came back to join the others, looked about him, and nodded, pleased at the gentle, golden warmth the candlelight added to the room. Soft as butter, golden as buttercups.
    “Keep an eye on the candles,” said Laurie. “They have a tendency to go out. When it’s most inconvenient.”
    And then he broke off and looked hard at JC. Around the edges of JC’s heavy, dark sunglasses, a bright light was shining, sharp and distinct.
    “Dear God, man,” said Laurie. “What happened to your eyes?”
    “Laser surgery,” said JC. “I’m suing. Don’t worry about it.”
    “JC,” said Happy. “Look at the main door.”
    They all looked. The door JC had so carefully wedged open was now closed. The wedge lay alone on the floor, some distance away. JC studied the situation for a moment, then strode across the room, yanked the door with one hand, and pushed it all the way open. He then retrieved the wedge and forced it back into place, using all his strength. He studied the wedge, breathing hard, and knelt to check that the wedge was as securely positioned as he thought it was, testing it with his bare hand. He nodded, satisfied that he’d have a job getting it out again without the assistance of a hammer and chisel. He stood up, brushed himself down a bit fussily, and smiled easily at the others as he came back to rejoin them.
    “Didn’t bang it in properly, the first time,” he said. “So, Mr. Laurie, doors that don’t like to stay open or closed, lights that don’t like to stay on. What else can we expect?”
    “It gets cold,” said Laurie. “Cold, for no reason. Cold as the grave.”
    “No central heating here?” said Happy.
    “Remember where you are, lad,” said Laurie. “Theydidn’t have such things, back in the day. Didn’t believe in them. My old dad always said central heating made you soft. And who’s to say he was wrong? There’s a decent-sized fire-place if you need one in the Waiting Room. And an authentic paraffin stove, in the Ticket Office. Not much fuel in it. So don’t waste it. Never know when you might need it.”
    “Hold everything.” Melody looked quickly from one set of readings to another. “Something here, or very near here, is interfering with my equipment. My short-range sensors keep locking onto something, then losing it for no good reason. There’s something here with us, JC. Can’t tell you what it is yet, but it’s weird and powerful and very slippery…”
    And then Happy cried out—a sudden, shocked sound. They all turned to look at him. He was pointing with a trembling hand at a small mirror hanging on the far wall. It was an ordinary, everyday mirror; in a straightforward ornamental frame. Afterwards, no-one could be sure exactly what they saw there, only that there was a face in the mirror, watching them. And it wasn’t the face of anyone in the room. The image disappeared the moment they all rushed forward to look at it, and by the time they all got there, the reflection showed only their own faces, looking back at them with wide eyes and shocked, startled expressions.