Dan and the Caverns of Bone Read Online Free Page A

‘So, we ’ave made it our refuge. A place for those who are different, who feel out of place. In English you have a word for what we ’ave turned this building into, a word we do not ’ave in French.’
    â€˜Squat?’ I suggest, hoping Si is taking notes.
    â€˜Yes, but…’ says Luci as she pours boiling waterinto two cups, filling the room with a spicy tang. She hands one to me. ‘The word I am thinking of is “home”.’
    Oh.
    I won’t lie – at that moment, with Luci beside me and the whole freaking awesomeness of the party upstairs, I actually wonder what would happen if I just stayed here and didn’t go back to the hotel at all. Or even London! After all, I practically
own
‘being different’ and ‘feeling out of place’.
    But I pull myself together as Si coughs politely behind me. Before anything else happens, I have to get something straight.
    â€˜I’ve never met anyone like you before,’ I say to Luci, but then, when that makes her start doing the eye thing again, I add quickly, ‘No, I mean, what you said earlier? About seeing dead people? Because, well… I’m the same. I see dead people too. Been doing it for years, got the doctor’s notes and everything.’ And then I jab my thumb at my spooky sidekick. ‘Luci, meet Simon.’
    Si steps clear into the candlelight then, and does his lowest and frilliest bow. The ectoplasm streaming from the hole in his head billows around, making him look like an eighteenth-centurypainting in a Baroque picture frame. It’s quite a show.
    â€˜
Enchanté, mademoiselle
,’ he croons.
    And that’s when I notice we aren’t alone in the kitchen.
    Someone is standing in the corner furthest from the candles, and I can tell immediately it’s one of them. A dead person, I mean – a ghost. And this one is so wet-looking that it doesn’t take a genius to work out how he died. The ectoplasm pours off him like the water he obviously drowned in. He’s a kid about Luci’s age, but his face is a blank of anguish and despair between straight curtains of sodden spectral hair.
    â€˜Is that one yours?’ I say to Lucifane, pointing at the teen spirit in the corner. Then I notice she still hasn’t responded to Si. In fact, she’s not looking at Si at all, just straight at me. And the look is getting darker by the second.
    â€˜Er…’ I say, pointing to the ghost in the corner again. ‘Um…?’
    â€˜Is it normal in England for new friends to laugh at each other?’ Luci says in a voice like ice, and I go ‘er’ and ‘um’ again, because frankly I don’t know what’s going on now. I look at Si for help,but he’s already swooped over to the other ghost. He’s back in a few seconds though, raising his arms helplessly.
    â€˜He is one of the newly dead, Daniel, and still in a state of shock. The only thing I could get out of him were the words “Jojo la Mouche”. Their name is often the only thing the dead can say in the days just after decease, but that would be a strange name indeed.’
    I look back at Lucifane, and now I see her eyes are glistening. There are actual tears there, and girls + tears = warning bells in my experience. I need to stop going ‘um’ and try to think of something more coherent to say. But all I can manage is…
    â€˜Luci, who is Jojo la Mouche?’
    The kitchen is filled with the sound of shattering china as Lucifane’s teacup hits the tiles. Then my ears almost explode as her scream erupts, and Luci – the panther all over again – jumps at me.
    Oh, crapsticks!
    I don’t hang around to feel those fingernails.

5

‘What Is It, That It Is?’

    When I climb back in through the hotel window, I’m breathing so heavily I’m lucky not to wake Brian. Well, so would you be too if you’d just run up four flights