Dan and the Caverns of Bone Read Online Free Page B

of stairs with a horde of angry French Goths on your tail.
    â€˜What in Death’s name just happened, Si?’ I gasp. The teacup – amazingly still in my hand – israttling wildly in its saucer. ‘She couldn’t see him, could she? She couldn’t see
you
!’
    â€˜I fear we may have misunderstood the situation, Daniel.’
    â€˜Misunderstood? When someone says they can “see dead people”, that sounds pretty clear to me!’
    â€˜Ah, but only because you actually
can
.’ Si’s got his annoying I’ve-worked-it-all-out-now face on. ‘Consider it from Lucifane’s point of view. She was trying to tell you something, but never expected you to take what she said literally.’
    â€˜Okay, Einstein’s Grandad,’ I forget to whisper. ‘What
was
she trying to tell me, then?’
    Brian rolls over and stretches. I hold my breath and put the teacup down. I could do without him waking up and asking where I’ve been.
    â€˜Daniel,’ Si continues, ‘something terrible has happened next door, in the squit…’
    â€˜Squat, Si, it’s a
squat
! The last thing I need right now is a squit.’
    â€˜Very well, something terrible has happened in the
squat
. Somebody has recently died and his spirit is trapped, unable to pass on to the Hereafter. That someone – Jojo la Mouche – needs our help, and Lucifane clearly needs it too.’
    â€˜Now stop right there, Si. I’ve got enough on with babysitting Brian here. I don’t need another job.’
    But Si’s giving me that mega-arched-eyebrow look only someone in eighteenth-century makeup can pull off. He knows I’m burning to find out what’s going on next door, just as he is. But I’m not in the mood to give in to him right now. So when he opens his mouth again…
    â€˜Daniel?’
    â€¦I roll away into my blanket, fully clothed.
    â€˜Just buzz off, Si. Go and bother a badger. I need to think.’
    And I’ve got a lot to think about: the palatial squat with its cooler than ice-cream kids, the cellar door barricaded on the outside (what is
that
all about?), the candle skulls (again,
huh
?), the teenage ghost in the kitchen…
    Lucifane.
    Yeah, it’s a long time before I get to sleep.

    The next day, as we risk our teeth on the bullet-hard breakfast croissants served at the Hotel Cafards,Frenchy Phelps goes over the programme for the day. And if I’d thought I could somehow sneak back to the squat and make things right with Lucifane, then an extensive guided tour of something called ‘the catacombs’, followed by a written test (to make sure we were all paying attention), will put paid to that.
    In no time at all, we’re trooping onto the flea-bitten bus again.
    â€˜Si, what exactly are these catacombs?’ I manage to ask without attracting too much attention. Bri is so close that he can’t help but hear, and he looks at me with curiosity.
    â€˜A catacomb is an underground graveyard,’ says Si. ‘There are ossuaries and tunnels beneath Rome that are known as the catacombs, but if there is such a thing in Paris it must be from after my own time.’
    â€˜Si, “after your time” covers about two hundred and fifty years, so that’s not very helpful.’
    â€˜Then I can only suggest we wait and see.’ Si puffs a cloud of his more superior ectoplasm at me. ‘This will be an education for us both.’
    The bus gasps to a stop. Frenchy jumps to his feet and starts yelling at us to wait and settle down. He’swearing his black polo neck pullover again, but with a red waistcoat this time, and I swear, he’s started growing a little goatee in his eagerness to fit in.
    On the pavement, we gather before a windowless stone building with a pair of wide wooden doors. There are a few tourists milling about and blinking in the sun, and it’s then that I realise that we really