Spirits from Beyond Read online

  “I like the sound of that,” said Happy. “Keep talking . . .”

  “If we stay in the dark long enough, we’ll freeze,” said Melody.

  “Or maybe even . . . fade away,” said Kim. “I think the dark is erosive to our minds and our souls. No living thing can hope to survive for long in conditions like these.” She paused, as a thought struck her. “JC, the dark followed me back here. Followed me inside the inn. Maybe, if I was to leave the inn again, the dark would follow me out. I could lead it away; and you’d all be safe in the light again.”

  “We are not giving anyone up,” JC said firmly. “And especially not after I got you back.”

  “But I’m already dead!” said Kim.

  “No!” said JC. “We don’t give up anyone on the team to the forces of evil! Not ever! Especially when I’ve suddenly had this really excellent idea. The dark is stronger than any one of us. But all of us together? Do you remember, Happy, when you joined our minds and souls together to make contact with the ghost of the old god Lud, in the dark of London Undertowen? We all glowed so very brightly, pushing back the dark. We all glowed golden, like my eyes.”

  “Yes!” said Kim. “I remember! We shone like the sun . . .”

  “I can’t see your eyes glowing now, JC,” said Happy doubtfully.

  “But that’s only me,” said JC. “If you can bind us all together again . . .”

  “Happy?” said Melody, when he didn’t immediately reply. “Can you do that?”

  “I don’t see why not,” said Happy; and they could hear his smile even if they couldn’t see it.

  Happy reached out with his mind, forcing it through the resisting dark, jumping from one mind to another, linking them in one formidable thought. He even pulled in Brook’s mind, much to the barman’s surprise. And then Happy led them all in one great shout of defiance against the dark. They blazed with a great golden light, as though some inner fire had ignited their souls. They burned so brightly in the dark, visible to each other at last, despite all the dark could do to stop them. Like living candles, made of light.

  The darkness fell back, unable to face this new light.

  It retreated back over the counter, and back across the room; and more and more of the main bar returned, visible again. The dark swept back, in full retreat now, unable to face or block the power of this new, overwhelming light. Until, finally, the dark hit the outer wall, and the windows, and disappeared back through them. And was gone. The main bar was back, looking exactly as it had, every detail sharp and clear in the steady electric light. Happy let out a great sigh, and collapsed, utterly exhausted. His esper link disappeared in a moment, and everybody was alone in their own head again. The golden glow snapped off. Melody was there to catch Happy in her arms as he fell and hold him. JC vaulted over the top of the bar-counter and ran across the room to peer out the window.

  He grinned back at the others.

  “I can see the moon! And the stars! Everything’s back . . . and listen! You can hear the storm again! Everything’s back to normal!”

  “Well,” said Brook, uncertainly, “I don’t know about that. As near to normal as it ever gets around here, perhaps.” He shook his head, frowning. “Funny; it feels like I’ve forgotten something, but I can’t remember what. A dream of . . . glowing, like a star. But it’s already fading.”

  “Best way,” said JC, striding back to the counter. “Let it go.”

  Kim burst through the bar to meet him, and did her happy dance in the middle of the room, circling JC and stamping her feet and waving her arms. JC even accompanied her for a few steps.

  “Since we are now in a winning mood,” he announced loudly, “I say we go upstairs and sort out all the bad rooms. Do something positive about the ghost girl Lydia, and the Timeslips, and find out what’s in the room that eats people and kick its nasty arse. Because that’s what we’re here for.”

  “Cocky,” Happy said to Melody, as he got his strength back and his feet under him again. “Definitely cocky. I swear, if I could reduce him to pill form, all my troubles would be over.”

  EIGHT

  CHANGING ROOMS

  JC and Brook led the way up the backstairs to the upper floor. JC took the steps two at a time, grinning broadly. Brook stomped along behind him, more or less resignedly. It was hard to say no to JC when he had the bit between his teeth, ready to dash headlong into action and to hell with the consequences. JC glanced back at Brook and flashed him his best encouraging smile. Brook looked stonily back at him. JC shrugged and pressed on. He swaggered out onto the landing and waited for the others to catch up. He could hear Happy and Melody and Kim talking quietly together, further down the stairs.

  “It does seem to me,” said Happy, “that we are doing this whole joining together thing a little more often than I am comfortable with. Partly because I am, after all, a very private person . . .”

  “With so many things it’s best to be private about,” murmured Melody.

  “And also because this whole shining with a very bright light thing strikes me as not always being a good thing,” said Happy, doggedly.

  “It feels easier every time we do it,” said Kim. “As though we’re learning some useful, and perhaps necessary, skill.”

  Happy sniffed loudly. “Is there something you’re not telling us, Kim?”

  “More than you can possibly imagine,” said Kim, smiling brightly.

  “We do blaze very brightly when we join together,” said Melody. “And everyone knows . . . the candle that burns twice as bright lasts half as long. It worries me, as to exactly what it is we’re burning. Our life-force? Our souls?”

  Happy sniggered. “Did you just say . . .”

  “No I didn’t, and you know it,” Melody said sternly. “Try and keep up with the adults in this conversation, Happy.”

  “I have considered the problem,” said Happy. “Nothing like being permanently paranoid to give you a healthy interest in all the things that can kill you . . . When we blaze so very brightly, you have to wonder whose attention we might be attracting. Nothing like an unexpected light in the dark to catch Something’s eye. All sorts of Somethings . . .”

  “Well, we know that the inn, or perhaps more properly the local power source, has been blazing brightly enough to pull in all kinds of Really Bad Things,” said Melody. “Like moths to a flame . . .”

  “Perhaps we’re drawing the attention of whatever it was that first reached down from Outside and put its mark on JC, in the London Underground,” said Happy. “After all, the light we project when we’re joined does seem very like the light that glows from his eyes . . . Anything you’d like to add, Kim?”

  “I’m not disagreeing,” Kim said carefully.

  “But you’re not answering the question,” said Happy.

  “Some questions have no straightforward answers,” said Kim.

  “I am changing the subject,” announced Melody. “On the grounds that you are making my head ache even more than usual. Hey, JC! Question. Why are we still messing about with the problems of this haunted inn when we know the real trouble comes from the storm raging outside?”

  “Because we can do something about haunted inns,” said JC, not looking back. “Haunted inns are in the job description. We know what to do. We don’t know enough about the storm or the power behind it. Not yet. Happy, talk to me!”

  “Any particular subject?” said Happy.

  “You said earlier . . . that what was going on here had attracted forces from Beyond, luring them into our reality. So if we can shut down what’s happening in the rooms on this floor, then maybe we can break, or at the very least weaken, the link between the inn and the Powers infesting it.”

  “Good idea,” said Happy. “Worth a try. I suppose.”

  “If only things were that simple,” sighed Kim.

  * * *

  They all gathered together at the top of the stairs, looking up and down the long corridor as it stretched away to either side. The landing was prese
nting its best Perfectly Normal, Nothing To See Here, Move Along face; but none of them were buying it. They could all feel a cold, spiky tension on the still air, a feeling of forces lying in wait, of things waiting to happen. Bad things. The light was steady, and the shadows lay still, and all the doors were safely, sensibly shut.

  But the landing still felt like one big trap, waiting to be sprung.

  “All right,” said Happy. “Where do we start? I’m spoilt for choice, for things to flinch away from.”

  JC ignored him, giving all his attention to Brook. “Which of these rooms contain Timeslips?”

  “You have to be careful,” said Brook, looking about him uneasily. “You can’t be sure of anything, here. The rooms move around, behind closed doors. Any door you choose might open onto a different Time period.”

  “And yet you let us stay in rooms up here, without warning us!” said Melody, angrily.

  “I said I’m sorry!” said Brook.

  “And that’s supposed to be enough?” said Melody. “Where’s my gun . . .”

  “Leave the man alone, Mel,” JC said firmly. “He is our native guide in treacherous territory. We need him.”

  “Yeah,” growled Happy. “We can always use someone to throw into a dangerous situation, just to see what happens.”

  “Don’t listen to the nasty telepath, Adrian,” said JC. “We would never do that to you. Unless it was necessary. Or funny. Now, tell me how to find a room with a Timeslip. There must be a way . . .”

  The barman nodded slowly, reluctantly. “You do develop a . . . feel for them after a while. That’s why I thought you’d be safe in the rooms I chose for you. Be fair; whatever you experienced in those rooms, it wasn’t anything to do with Timeslips, was it?”

  “Still looking for my gun . . .” said Melody.

  “There’s a door down here,” Brook said quickly. “It’s got the right kind of feel to it.”

  He headed quickly off down the right-hand corridor, looking closely at each door he passed but not stopping until he was half-way down the landing. JC led the others after him, all of them keeping a careful eye out for anything unnatural, or even out of the ordinary. The doors they passed stayed firmly shut, apparently perfectly normal. Brook stood uneasily before his chosen door. It didn’t look any different from any of the others. He took out his keys, fumbled through them to find one particular key, then stopped. He looked miserably at JC, who nodded firmly back. Brook unlocked the door, turned the door-handle very carefully, then pushed the door open an inch. He stepped back from the door, retreating quickly until his back slammed up against the wall on the far side of the landing. JC gestured for the others to stay put and moved forward to stand beside Brook.

  “What’s in this room, Adrian? What lies behind that door? Which particular part of Time Past does it hold?”

  “I don’t know,” said Brook, all his attention focused on the slightly open door. “I never know. The only way to find out is to look inside. But be careful; what’s there has a way of sucking you in . . .”

  “We ain’t frightened of no room,” said JC. “Only . . . reasonably cautious.”

  He moved forward and pushed the door all the way open with one hard shove. Everyone tensed, trying to be ready for anything; but nothing emerged from the room. JC moved cautiously forward, one step at a time, until he was standing right before the open doorway. As close as he could get without actually entering the room itself. He planted both feet firmly on the threshold and placed both hands against either side of the door-frame, before looking inside the room. The room looked placidly back at him. It seemed like a perfectly ordinary, everyday room. All the usual furnishings. No-one there. JC leaned forward, studying every detail.

  “Don’t go in!” Brook said loudly from the far side of the corridor. “Crossing the threshold takes you out of this Time and into the Past. And once that door slams shut, you’re lost in the Past. Like all my missing guests.”

  “Are you sure this is a Timeslip?” said JC. “I can’t see anything obviously old-fashioned.”

  “Well, there are two clues,” said Brook. “First, none of my rooms have furnishings like that. I had the whole place redecorated when I took over. And second, that’s bright sunlight falling through the room’s window.”

  “Ah. Yes,” said JC. “Look at that daylight when it’s night here. Bit of a giveaway, that. Well spotted, Adrian! So the room appearing so normal was part of the trap, to lure me in. Interesting . . .”

  He leaned into the room, took hold of the door’s handle, and pulled the door closed again. He stood and looked at his hand for a long moment, half-expecting it to look or feel different from having entered the Past. And then he turned back to Happy and Melody and Kim, all of whom were watching him carefully from a respectable distance.

  “Why have Timeslips at all?” said JC. “I mean, ghosts and monsters I can understand, but . . . traps to drag people back in Time? What purpose does that serve?”

  “I think it all comes down to the local power source and the unnatural force contained in the storm,” said Melody. “With such sheer power involved, it’s putting an unbearable strain on local reality. Like Happy said, the rage driving the storm is the rage of the sacrificed victim. I hate to theorise without proper equipment around to back me up, but . . . I think the storm’s been building for centuries, becoming so powerful in its own right that it’s . . . broken Time. Or at least, local Time. You might say, Time is out of joint, in this vicinity.”

  “Time . . .” Happy said thoughtfully. “Always tricky . . . I’ve never felt the same about Time since the Travelling Doctor explained it to me. Anyway, if the storm currently raging round this inn really was born in the days of the Druids, then what we have here is the Past directly affecting the Present. Which is never good. If the storm is powering the Timeslips, that means there’s a direct connection between what’s inside the inn and what’s outside it. So whatever we can do to weaken, disrupt, or even destroy the Timeslips . . . should have a direct effect on the storm.”

  “I don’t know which particular pills you’re on right now,” said JC. “But I’d stick with them if I were you.”

  Melody shot JC a hard look but said nothing.

  JC looked at Brook. “Have you ever noticed any pattern to the Timeslips? Do they appear in any order? Does any one room seem to prefer a particular Time or period?”

  “No,” said Brook. “None of this has ever made any sense to me. It’s always seemed . . . entirely random. And there’s never any warning! The bad doors come and go; and so do the poor people who get trapped inside them.”

  JC turned to Melody. “Come on, you’re the girl science geek expert on this team! Think of something we can try as an experiment. Something to give us more information to work with. And don’t tell me all the things you could do if only you had your proper equipment! I need something we can do right now. So think! Improvise!”

  “Okay,” said Melody, frostily. “What if we sent someone into that room, on the end of a length of rope, tied around his waist? The rope would link him to the Present corridor even when he was in the room’s Past; so even if the door did try to close, we could always yank the volunteer back out again.”

  “She’s not looking at me, but she’s talking about me,” said Happy.

  “The rope could snap,” said JC. “Or be broken by the forces inside the room.”

  “And besides,” said Kim. “We haven’t got a rope.”

  “Imagine my relief,” said Happy.

  “All right, one of you think of something!” said Melody.

  “Keep the noise down, children,” said JC. “Daddy’s thinking . . .”

  “Oh, I feel so much safer,” said Happy.

  “The doors open onto Past Time,” JC said slowly. “People walk into the room, into the Past, the door shuts, and the visitor is trapped in that Past moment. But! If we could persuade the doors to open onto the exact Time and moment when the doors last closed, and the person was taken, t
hose people should still be there! Time wouldn’t have changed or moved on, for them! Which means, if we could persuade those doors to open . . . we could rescue all the lost people! Yes!”

  “Love the theory,” said Happy. “But how would we do that?”

  “Trust you to shoot down a perfectly good theory with a practical question,” said JC.

  “No! Wait!” Melody said excitedly. “How does each room choose a Time? Each room holds or perhaps generates a different moment of Past Time; so someone or something in the background must be making a decision as to which room holds which Time. And so far, the only thing we’ve encountered in this inn that even seems like a conscious entity, capable of making such decisions . . . is the blonde woman!”

  “I’m not going to like where this is going; am I?” said Happy.

  “The blonde woman does seem to like you,” said JC.

  “It’s not mutual!” said Happy.

  “She does seem . . . attracted to you, Happy,” said Melody.

  “I am not volunteering for anything,” Happy said firmly. “With or without a rope.”

  “You first encountered the woman in your room,” said JC. “I say we go back there and see if we can summon her. So we can talk to her.”

  “No!” said Happy. “This is a really bad idea! You don’t want to talk to her. You don’t know . . . You don’t know what she’s like, what she’s capable of . . .”

  “You won’t be alone, this time,” said Melody.

  “We’ll be right there with you,” said JC. “We won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”

  “What do you plan to do if she does turn up again?” said Happy.

  “Improvise!” said JC, grinning broadly. “Suddenly and violently and all over the place! You said it yourself, Happy; she’s not a ghost, or any kind of surviving personality. Just a mass of emotions that’s somehow hung on for centuries, manifesting as the storm outside, and a blonde woman. If we can’t see off a bundle of retained memories, we don’t deserve to call ourselves Ghost Finders. Come on, my children, we can do this! We summon her up, then either force or trick her into opening the doors into the Past. And then we rescue all the people trapped inside them!”