Shiver of the Phantom

Tales of Scream Street: Shiver of the Phantom

CHAPTER ONE

THE SPELL

 

The zombies lurched forward as a group, their eyes vacant and skin blistered. Blood dripped down their faces from where they had already feasted, but they remained hungry. They had tasted human flesh, and they wanted more. One of the creatures shuffled ahead of the pack. “Brains!” it moaned through broken teeth and quivering, burst lips. “Brains!”

Resus Negative hefted his weapon – a sturdy cricket bat – and swung it round as hard as he could. There was a sickening CRACK as wood connected with bone and the zombie’s skull burst open, spraying green and grey gunk over its fellow undead. They didn’t appear to notice and continued their assault, arms outstretched as they trampled over their fallen comrade. “Brains! BRAINS!”

Resus hit the pause button, freezing the zombie horde in its tracks. “This is the best game ever!” he exclaimed, reaching for his glass of milk on the bedside table. “Why didn’t you tell me about this one before?”

Luke Watson was lying on his bed, flicking through an old computer games magazine. “I dunno.” He shrugged. “After I met Doug and the other zombies here in Scream Street, I didn’t think it was a good idea to play a game where you have to smash their cousins’ heads in.”

“Well, I think it’s brilliant,” said Resus, downing his milk and resuming the game. He switched weapons from the cricket bat to a sword, and sliced the next attacking zombie’s head clean off its shoulders.

“It’s disgusting, if you ask me,” muttered Cleo Farr. The mummy was hunched up in an old armchair in the corner of the room, scribbling into a notebook. “It’s not the zombies’ fault they’re hungry, is it? They didn’t ask to get a taste for human flesh.”

Resus exchanged a weary glance with Luke. “It’s just a game.” He sighed. “No one’s really getting hurt, Cleo. And since when did you care what happened to— Aargh!”

The vampire dropped the controller and leapt back as one of the zombies in the game suddenly reached through the screen with diseased fingers and tried to grab his throat.

“BRAINS!”

The undead arm – somehow extending out of the TV screen and into the room – was joined by another as the digital zombies shuffled closer to the screen.

“What’s going on?” cried Luke, grabbing the lamp from beside his bed and smashing it down as hard as he could onto the outstretched hands. He heard bones break as one of the zombies’ wrists snapped.

“This is insane!” yelled Resus, climbing up onto the bed – just as the head of a World War II US soldier stretched up from the pages of Luke’s magazine beside him.

With a crinkling sound, a rifle pushed its way out of the page beside the GI and turned to point straight at Resus.

“What did you just call me?” snarled the soldier.

Resus peered down the barrel of a very realistic sniper rifle as it protruded from the pages of Luke’s computer games magazine. “Identify yourself!” barked the paper soldier. “Name, rank and number!”

“This isn’t good,” Resus croaked.

Beside him, Luke continued beating at the zombies’ arms which reached out of his TV set, grasping for flesh. “Brains! BRAINS!”

“Cleo!” he yelled. “Get out of here while you still can!” What appeared to be a foot was beginning to stretch out of her notebook.

The mummy stood up and sighed. “You two are hopeless,” she said. Calmly putting her notebook and its emerging foot aside, she produced a magic wand from her bandages and waved it, muttering a spell under her breath. The yellow star at the end of the wand flashed. Instantly the US soldier and his rifle sank back into the glossy paper of the magazine, the zombies retreated into their game and the foot vanished.

The boys slumped onto the bed, struggling to catch their breath.

“That was you?” gasped Resus. “You made those things attack us?”

“I didn’t make them attack you,” said Cleo. “They were just doing what came naturally. If you weren’t both obsessed with violent games, you’d have been perfectly safe.”

“You can’t blame this on us!” snapped Luke. “What is that thing?” He reached for the magic wand.

Cleo quickly pushed the wand out of sight. “It’s … for my project.”

Luke shook his head and started to pick up the broken pieces of lamp. “I might have known.”

“Hang on,” said Resus. “What project?”

Cleo sat down in the armchair again and opened her notebook. “Nothing to do with you.”

“Oh, so now you’re keeping secrets as well as trying to kill us?”

“I didn’t try to kill you!” Cleo insisted.

“All right,” said Resus. “Maybe you didn’t, but you conjured up some monsters to do it for you!”

“They weren’t monsters,” said Cleo. “They were characters.” She picked up her pen and started to write again.

“Don’t ignore me!” cried Resus, snatching the notebook from the mummy’s hands.

Cleo jumped up and grabbed the notebook, pulling it towards her. “Give that back!”

“Guys, stop it,” said Luke.

Resus ignored him and continued to glare at Cleo. “Why should I give it back?” he growled, pulling the book back towards himself.

“Because it’s private!” snarled Cleo, pulling the notebook in her direction.

“Listen to me!” Luke said firmly.

Resus tugged at the book again. “So, you are keeping secrets from us.”

“No!” shouted Cleo. “It’s just got nothing to do with you.”

“What’s so special about it?” yelled Resus. “Is it details of your next plan to try and bump us both off?”

“Of course not!” hissed Cleo through gritted teeth. “Don’t be an idiot!”

“Stop it!” shouted Luke. “Cleo, just tell him what you’re doing.”

“All right,” said Cleo. “If it will stop him acting like a baby.” She fixed Resus with a furious stare. “I’m writing a novel.”

Resus blinked, unsure what to say for a second. “You’re writing a novel?”

Cleo nodded.

“Really?”

“Yes, I’m writing a novel,” said Cleo. “Can I have it back now, please?”

Resus released his grip on the notebook. “How long have you been writing a novel?”

Cleo shrugged. “A few weeks.”

Resus turned to Luke. “And you knew about it?”

“Yep,” said Luke. “Cleo wanted to speak to Samuel Skipstone and get some advice about writing, so she’s been coming here every day after school to chat with him.”

“So, what’s with the magic spell and those things attacking us?” Resus asked.

“Sorry about that,” Cleo mumbled. “Mr Skipstone said I had to find a way to bring my characters to life. I couldn’t find a way to do it by writing, so I bought a spell from Everwell’s. I didn’t realize it would work on all the characters in the room.”

Resus sat on Luke’s bed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were writing a book?” he asked.

Cleo blushed slightly beneath her bandages. “I wanted to,” she said. “I just thought you might laugh at me.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” said Resus. “I think it’s a great idea.”

“You mean it?”

“Of course,” said Resus. “I couldn’t do it, but you’re good at all that writing stuff at school.”

Cleo smiled as she smoothed out the pages of her notebook. “I am enjoying writing it,” she admitted.

“What’s it about?” Resus asked.

“Don’t look at me,” said Luke, sitting on the bed beside the vampire. “I get sent out of the room when she discusses it with Mr Skipstone.”

Cleo paused for a moment. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

Luke and Resus both nodded.

“OK,” said Cleo. She took a deep breath. “It’s about a girl called Balsa, who meets a boy at school. His name is Woodhead, and Balsa is convinced that there’s something unusual about him. His skin is really cold, he doesn’t have a pulse.

“So he’s a zombie, then?” said Resus.

Cleo nodded.  “And when he goes out in the sunshine, he jingles.”

“Jingles?”

“Like little bells.  I wanted to make him different from zombies in other stories.”

“Sounds like a weird kind of zombie to me.”

“He is a bit,” said Cleo, “but Balsa doesn’t know that he’s undead for certain at the start,” said Cleo. “It’s only when he sinks his teeth into her leg that she realizes the truth.”

“What’s the book called?” asked Luke.

Cleo opened her notebook to the first page to display the title. “Thigh Bite.”

Resus grinned and began to chuckle.

“You said you wouldn’t laugh at me.” Cleo scowled.

“I’m not laughing at you,” Resus insisted. “I’m laughing at the story. It’s really clever.”

“You mean it?” asked Cleo with a smile. “Thanks.”

Resus picked up the game controller and restarted his zombie attack. “It’s all right,” he said, eyes fixed on the advancing undead. “I always thought— Ow!”

The vampire cried out in pain as a model ship exploded against his head.

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWO

THE GHOST

 

“What did you do that for?” cried Resus, rubbing the back of his head.

Cleo looked up from her notebook. “Do what?”

“I didn’t laugh at your stupid story. There’s no need to throw stuff at me!”

“I didn’t throw anything at you,” Cleo retorted. “I haven’t moved from this chair.”

Luke jumped off the bed and began to collect up the bits of model ship. “My dad built that with me a couple of weeks before we moved.” He groaned. “Took us ages to get it right!” He ran his hand back and forth over the wooden floor. “Where’s the little plastic pilot gone?”

“Is this him?” asked Resus, pulling a tiny figure from his hair.

Luke threw Cleo an angry look. “His head’s snapped off!”

“Don’t blame me,” said Cleo. “I’ve told you, I didn’t throw it.”

“You didn’t need to,” said Resus. “One wave of your magic wand and you can get one of your characters to do it for you.”

“I haven’t touched my wand,” said the mummy. “I was just sitting—” She stopped as the game controller lifted out of Resus’s hands and rose into the air. It hovered there for a second, then shot across the room and bounced off Cleo’s shoulder.

“It could be a poltergeist attack,” suggested Resus. “Like the ones we used to have when you first moved here.”

“I don’t think so,” said Luke. “When those attacks started, everything flew round the room at once. This is happening one item at a time. If this is a poltergeist, it’s not a very good one.”

“But who’s ‘it’?” asked Cleo. “Who’s doing this?”

Luke shrugged. “Could it be a ghost?”

“We’d be able to see a ghost, wouldn’t we?” said Resus.

“It depends what type of ghost it is,” answered Cleo. “It could be a ghoul, a phantom or a spectre. Phantoms in particular find it difficult to appear solid…”

“But there must be a way to see them,” Luke pointed out. “Otherwise no one would know they exist.”

“There’s a spell that allows you to communicate with them,” said Cleo. “And sometimes you can see them at dawn or dusk, when the sky looks red. ‘Red sky at morn, a phantom will haunt. Red sky at night, you’re in for a fright.’”

Luke grabbed the computer games magazine from the bed and pulled a pair of cardboard glasses from the cover. “These are 3D glasses,” he said. “This issue had an article all about a new 3D console that was coming out. You could use the glasses to see what some of the games would look like.”

“We can already see in 3D,” said Resus. “And we still can’t see anyone here.”

“But Cleo said you can sometimes see phantoms in red light,” Luke reminded him.

He put the glasses on, closed the eye behind the blue lens and gasped.

Standing right in front of them was, indeed, a ghost.

#

Luke and Resus edged their way across Scream Street’s central square.

“Is he still with us?” asked Resus.

Luke looked through the 3D glasses at the seemingly empty space behind them.

The ghost was trudging along a few metres behind. He wore a long tailcoat and a battered top hat.

“He’s here,” said Luke. “But he doesn’t look very happy.”

Resus took the glasses and peered at the phantom. He was shivering and looked as though he might burst into tears at any moment. “Do you think ghosts can have nervous breakdowns?” Resus asked.

“I’ve no idea,” said Luke, taking the glasses back. “They don’t have any nerves to break down, do they?”

“Maybe not,” said Resus, “but this bloke looks about as happy as a banshee at a sponsored silence.”

The ghost’s bottom lip began to tremble.

“It might be an idea to keep quiet,” Luke suggested. “I think he can hear us.”

Resus turned to where he presumed the phantom was standing. “Don’t worry!” he said far too loudly. “Our friend Cleo has gone to Everwell’s Emporium – that’s a kind of shop – to get a spell that will let us talk to you.” The vampire noticed that Luke was grinning at him. “What’s the matter?”

“Well, for a start, he’s a ghost, he’s not deaf,” Luke said with a smile. “Plus, he’s standing over here with me. You’ve just been talking to a lamppost.”

The silver doors of Everwell’s Emporium burst open and Cleo appeared. Spotting her friends, she raced over to join them.

“Did you get it?” asked Luke.

Cleo produced a magic wand with a shimmering red star at the top. “Voilà!”

“And this one won’t cause anything nasty to jump out at us?”

Cleo shook her head. “I asked Eefa; this is exactly the right spell for communicating with phantoms.”

“Not a minute too soon,” said Resus. “I don’t fancy spending the rest of the day talking to inanimate objects.”

“Eefa said we have to stand together and cast the spell over ourselves,” Cleo explained.

“And then we’ll be able to see him without the glasses?” asked Luke.

Cleo nodded. “And talk to him.”

“Let’s do it,” said Resus.

The trio huddled together while Cleo held the wand over their heads and read the magical words printed along the handle. The red star on the end began to glow, and then there was a flash of bright, scarlet light.

“Well,” said Resus, “did it work?”

“Something’s happened,” said Luke. “I can see right through you!”

Resus looked down at his body. Luke was right – he was transparent and so were both of his friends. “You idiot, Cleo!” he snapped. “You didn’t get us a spell that would let us talk to ghosts – you’ve turned us into ghosts!”

“Ghosts?!”

Resus held a transparent hand up in front of his face. He could still make out the outline of his body, but he could see right through it, as though he was made of glass.

“You are banned from doing anything with magic wands from now on!” he shouted at Cleo.

“But that was definitely the right spell,” Cleo insisted. “I checked.”

“Well, obviously not closely enough,” said Resus. “Not only am I not a vampire, I’m not even alive any more!”

“We can’t be dead,” said Luke. “I doubt Everwell’s Emporium would sell spells that could kill you.”

“He’s right,” said Cleo. “This must just be the way it works.”

“It feels weird,” said Luke, peering through his legs. “Do you think we can walk through walls and things like that now?”

“Of course we can,” said Resus. “Cleo’s turned us into ghosts – we’ll be able to do everything ghosts can do.” To illustrate his point, he turned, strode towards the lamppost he’d recently been talking to – and crashed straight into it. “Ow!” he cried, rubbing his nose.

“The spell doesn’t really turn you into a phantom,” said a mournful voice. “It just lets you talk to us. Not that anyone ever wants to for very long.”

The trio turned. Now clearly visible, the phantom from Luke’s bedroom stood behind them. He also appeared as though he was made of glass. And he looked utterly miserable.

“You sound like you’ve done this before,” said Luke.

The phantom shook his head. “I’m not important enough to be allowed to use magic,” he said. “But I did see my boss speak to someone using the spell years ago. It didn’t go very well, but then I didn’t expect it to, really.”

“What’s your name?” asked Cleo.

The phantom looked surprised. “You want to know my name?” he asked. “No one ever wants to know my name.”

“Well, we do,” said Luke.

The phantom removed his top hat and bowed his already stooped body. “Henry Horatio Harper,” he said. “Although I don’t expect you to remember it. No one ever does.”

“We remember you throwing things at us in Luke’s bedroom,” said Resus.

“I’m sorry,” said Henry. “I was just practising.”

“Practising?” asked Luke. “What for?”

“My exam,” Henry replied. “I don’t often get the chance to practise in front of people. And even if I do, they don’t really notice me.”

“Well, we did,” said Resus, rubbing the bruise on the back of his head. “Although I can’t imagine what sort of exam would need you to chuck stuff at kids.”

Suddenly a deep bell boomed out across the square. The ground shook, and Luke, Resus and Cleo were forced to clamp their hands over their ears. “What is that?” cried Cleo.

Henry sighed. “That’s the end of my lunch hour.”

 

 

 

CHAPTER THREE

THE BOSS

Henry Horatio Harper turned and began to shuffle away across the central square. Luke, Resus and Cleo hurried after him.

“Lunchtime?” asked Cleo, catching up with the phantom. “You mean the bell rings like that at this time every day?”

Henry nodded, his top hat wobbling. “Not that you’d be able to hear it; it’s a phantom bell.”

“A phantom bell for phantom lunch hour?” said Luke. “Please don’t think I’m being rude, but lunch hour from what?”

The ghost continued his shuffling walk. “From haunting,” he said. “What else?”

Resus looked surprised. “You mean you’re doomed to haunt the houses of Scream Street?”

“Not doomed,” said Henry. “Although there are days when I feel like that.”

“So, how does it work?” asked Luke.

Henry sighed. “I work for a company called Haunting in Scream Street – or HISS for short. Haunting houses around here is my job.”

“And you get a lunch break from it?” asked Resus. “That’s ridiculous!”

Henry stopped and stared hard at Resus. “Have you been talking to my boss?”

“No,” said Resus. “Why?”

“He wants to do away with our lunch hour as well.” The phantom turned and continued walking. “And if I don’t get back to work soon, he won’t let me take my exam.”

“I still don’t understand,” said Cleo, catching up with the ghost again. “What exam?”

“All ghosts start out at the bottom,” Henry explained miserably. “It’s called spirit level one. Over the centuries you can take haunting exams to rise up to spirit level two and beyond.”

“What do the levels mean?” asked Luke.

“They determine what kind of haunting jobs we get to do,” replied Henry. “Level one ghosts can only make things go bump in the night, but when you go up to level two, you get to go ‘Whoooooo!’ between 1 a.m. and 2 a.m., throw one item a night and spook pets by blowing in their faces.”

“And level three?” asked Cleo.

“Light chain work and creepy footsteps.”

“I get it!” said Resus. “Going up a spirit level is like getting a promotion.”

“That’s it,” said Henry.

“And the longer you’ve been a ghost, the more you get promoted,” said Cleo.

“Exactly,” said Henry.

“How long have you been a ghost?” asked Luke.

“Just short of three hundred years.”

“And what spirit level are you at now?” asked Cleo.

Henry looked as though he might cry again. “Level one.”

“Ah,” said Resus.

The phantom sighed. “I’d love the chance to scare a cat, but they just ignore me – like everybody else. I’ll never get to go ‘Whoooooo!’”

“Of course you will,” said Cleo. “All you’ve got to do is pass your exam. It can’t be that hard…”

“Then why has he failed it over a thousand times?” roared a voice. Henry began to tremble as another figure shimmered into existence in front of the group. “And why is he late for his last chance to take it?”

The new ghost was large and imposing – and just as see-through as Henry. He wore a neatly pressed uniform and peaked cap, and carried a clipboard. “I don’t think you really want to pass this exam, Harper,” he snarled.

Henry’s transparent bottom lip began to quiver. “I do, Mr Aspin,” he pleaded, “I really do!”

The spectral boss examined the information on his clipboard. “Your work is poor,” he grunted. “Results are bad. How long did it take you to wake those skeletons with your mysterious bangs and bumps the other night?”

“It wasn’t my fault, Mr Aspin,” whined Henry. “They’re heavy sleepers!”

“No major scares credited to you in the last half century,” continued Aspin. “I don’t see why I should let you take your spirit level exam again at all.”

This time Henry really did begin to cry. Crystal tears ran down his shimmering cheeks. “Please let me take the test. I’ll try harder, I promise!”

Mr Aspin sneered. “And why should I believe a promise from a pathetic nobody like you?”

Luke stepped forward. “That’s not a very nice thing to say,” he pointed out. “I think you should apologize.”

Mr Aspin’s see-through face flushed purple. “Harper!” he roared. “Are you getting little children to fight your battles for you?”

Henry was positively shivering now. “No, no, Mr Aspin,” he sobbed. “They were just—”

“We are not fighting anyone’s battles,” Cleo interrupted. She stared up at the officious-looking phantom. “We just think you should be a little nicer to Henry, whoever you are…”

Henry looked as though he might faint.

“Whoever I am?” bellowed Mr Aspin. “I’m the president of HISS! The only spectre ever to reach spirit level one hundred and twenty! The only ghost in Scream Street qualified to appear at séances and possess the medium!” He leant in close to Cleo. “And I’m the man who has just decided that Henry Horatio Harper has failed his spirit level exam.”

Henry let out a squeak of terror. “Why?”

“For bringing three unauthorized spirits into Scream Street, of course!” thundered Aspin. “You know the rules – any fraternizing with ghosts who aren’t officially recognized by the president’s office means instant demotion. And since I can’t demote you lower than you already are, you are forbidden from taking the exam.”

“That’s not fair!” cried Cleo.

“I don’t care!” rumbled Mr Aspin.

“It’s also not true,” Resus pointed out.

“What?”

“We’re not real ghosts,” Resus continued. “We’re just under a spell that allows us to communicate with them. Look…” He turned to the nearest solid object – the wall of a house – and walked into it as hard as he could. “Ow!”

“And Henry told us that you once communicated with a solid person via this spell,” Cleo added. “So if he has to be punished for ‘fraternizing’ with temporary ghosts in this way, so do you!”

Aspin began to growl deep in his throat.

“Henry Horatio Harper is going take his spirit level exam,” Luke said firmly. “And we’re going to help him.”

Mr Aspin’s eyes were practically bulging out of his head. “How dare you presume to tell me what will and will not happen in my own organization?” he screeched.

“Because I think you’re a bully,” said Luke, unfazed by the ghostly president’s anger. “I used to have a teacher like you at my old school, and the only way to deal with people like that is to stand up to them.”

“A BULLY?” the ghost roared. “I’ll show you a bully!”

“Then Luke’s right,” said Cleo. “You are a bully. You’ve certainly been bullying poor Henry here. I’m sure he’s brilliant at haunting, but he’s just been put off his work by having to deal with someone like you every day.”

Henry ducked nervously behind Resus, although that didn’t achieve much as he could still clearly be seen through the vampire’s transparent body.

“I’ll haunt you every night for the rest of your lives for this!” Aspin roared.

“No, you won’t,” said Luke calmly. “From what I can tell, you’re a stickler for rules – and I’m willing to bet that there’s a rule against haunting the same family on a regular basis.”

Aspin ground his teeth together and tightened his grip on his clipboard – but he didn’t say anything.

“I thought so,” said Luke. “So, please don’t threaten us, or say anything to scare Henry. It isn’t a very kind thing to do. Now, what time does his exam begin?”

Aspin checked the time on his shimmering pocket watch. “Fifteen minutes ago!”

“Then we’d better get started, hadn’t we?” said Luke with a smile. “Now, what are we doing first?”

“Oh no,” sneered Aspin. “There’s no ‘we’ in this. You three can buzz off! You’ve already forced me into letting Harper take this exam. I’m not having you hovering around while it happens.”

“You can’t send us away,” said Cleo. “We’re Henry’s support team.”

“His what?”

“His support team,” the mummy repeated. “Luke’s his manager for all things creepy, I’m his confidence coach and Resus is his nutritionist.”

“He doesn’t need a nutritionist!” yelled Aspin. “He’s a phantom. He doesn’t eat!”

“Just because he doesn’t need a nutritionist doesn’t mean he can’t have one.” Resus grinned. “I don’t need fake fangs, but I’ve got them.”

“GET OUT OF HERE!”

“No, we won’t,” said Luke. “Show me where it says in the rules that a phantom can’t have a support team when taking the spirit level exam…”

Aspin flipped through the transparent pages of text on his clipboard. “There isn’t a rule that says that,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I thought not,” said Luke. He turned to Henry, still shivering in fear behind Resus. “You ready to go up to spirit level two then, champ?”

Henry glanced nervously from Luke to the furious Mr Aspin and back again. “I, er… I suppose so,” he squeaked.

Luke grinned. “Then let’s do it!”

 

 

 

CHAPTER FOUR

THE EXAM

“Very well,” said Mr Aspin, struggling to keep his temper under control. “Let’s get this over with, then Harper can go back to his pathetic level one career and I can get rid of you three annoying little brats.”

Cleo began to massage Henry’s shoulders. “Don’t listen to the nasty man,” she soothed. “He’s just trying to intimidate you. Now, say it with me: ‘I’m a big, scary phantom!’”

Henry didn’t look sure. “But I’m not,” he moaned.

“You are!” Cleo insisted. “You just don’t think you are. Say it. ‘I’m a big, scary phantom!’”

Henry cleared his throat. “I’m a big, scary phantom,” he whispered meekly.

“Louder,” Cleo said.

“I’m a big, scary phantom,” said Henry.

“All together,” cried Cleo, gesturing for Resus and Luke to join in.

“I’m a big, scary phantom!” they all shouted.

“I’m a big, scary phantom!” said Henry at the top of his voice. Luke couldn’t be sure, but it looked as though Henry might be starting to smile.

“I’M A BIG, SCARY PHANTOM!” bellowed Luke, Resus and Cleo together.

“I’M A BIG, SCARY PHANTOM!” Henry bawled.

“That’s the spirit,” said Cleo.

“My turn,” said Luke. “The thing that always used to worry me about ghosts – until I met some, of course – was that you couldn’t get away from them. If you’re being chased by a monster, you can lock yourself in a room – but that’s not a problem for a ghost. They can walk through walls.”

“Not all of them,” Resus pointed out. “My nose still hurts.”

“I’m sure Henry can do it, though,” Luke said with a smile.

“I don’t know…” murmured Henry.

“Well, how did you get into my room earlier?” Luke asked.

Henry shrugged. “I waited until one of you went downstairs to get a drink, then I slipped inside when the door was open.”

“OK,” said Luke, “but, from now on, you walk through solid obstacles.”

“If you say so…”

“I do say so.” Luke grinned. “Because…”

Henry frowned for a second, unsure what to say. Then he spotted Cleo mouthing something to him. “Oh… I’M A BIG, SCARY PHANTOM!”

“That’s right,” replied Luke. “Now, let’s give it a go.”

Henry looked worried. “What? Now?”

“Why not?” said Luke. “It’ll be good practice.”

“Try that fence over there,” suggested Resus, pointing to a nearby garden.

“If you insist,” said Henry, approaching the fence with trepidation. Taking a deep breath, he began to walk through it.

The result wasn’t exactly the smooth process Luke, Resus and Cleo were expecting. Henry passed through the fence like hot butter melting into toast. Blobs of him were left behind to run down the wooden slats like troll snot. His head and chest may have appeared inside the garden, but one of his legs and both of his hands remained, dripping, on the outside.

“He’s falling apart!” cried Cleo.

Henry reappeared through the fence piece by piece, looking like a child’s rubber toy that had been overstretched to the point of breaking.

“How was that?” he asked.

Luke, Resus and Cleo stared at the phantom in horror. His face sagged dramatically to one side, his stomach bulged over the waistband of his trousers and his arms were now so long that they dragged on the ground as he walked.

“Yikes!” exclaimed Resus as Henry did his best to reassemble himself. “It might be an idea to stick to open doors for the time being.”

A pale shadow fell over the group as they grabbed bits of Henry and tried to reshape him. “When you’ve all finished mucking around,” snarled Mr Aspin, “it’s time for Henry’s first test!”

“Yes, sir,” croaked Henry, finally looking more or less like himself again.

“Whatever you say, sir.”

The phantom president consulted his clipboard. “The first challenge is for Harper to Petrify a Pet…”

“Well, that shouldn’t be too hard,” said Cleo. “Cats and dogs have a sixth sense about ghosts. They frequently see things that people can’t.”

“The problem is,” said Luke, “that I haven’t seen Shan the witch’s cat around for ages, and the only dogs in Scream Street are Sir Otto’s hellhounds.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere near them.” Henry quivered. “They scare me!”

“Wait,” said Resus. “The rule is that Henry has to scare a pet, right?”

“That’s right,” said Aspin.

“Then it doesn’t have to be cat or a dog.” The vampire beamed. “Follow me…”

They found Fifi Crudley in her garden, playing with her pet mouse. The young bog monster was encouraging the mouse to run from left to right by offering it lumps of cheese.

“There you go,” said Resus.

“A mouse?” scoffed Aspin, flicking through his notes.

“It’s still a pet,” Resus pointed out. “And Henry shouldn’t have to blow too hard in order to give it a scare.”

Mr Aspin, unable to find anything in the rules that forbade a phantom from scaring a mouse, produced a pen and got ready to make notes. “Get on with it,” he growled.

“OK, Henry,” said Cleo. “This is it… Just do your best.”

The phantom nodded nervously and crouched down in front of the mouse. Fifi, unable to see him, continued to make the animal dash back and forth. Frowning in concentration, Henry blew gently.

The mouse stopped, mid-scamper, and turned to face Henry, whiskers twitching.

“It’s working!” hissed Resus. “Blow harder, Henry!”

Henry sucked in a deep lungful of air and blew as hard as he could. The mouse stared at him, blinking in the breeze, then was suddenly lifted off its feet. It flew straight at Fifi, sinking into her gooey stomach with a sickening schlop!

“Squeaker!” screamed Fifi, plunging a fist into the muddy folds of her belly and fishing around for her tiny friend.

The trio were dragging Henry towards the garden gate by the time she pulled the mouse free.

“That was a fail!” rumbled Mr Aspin as the group stopped to catch their breath outside the Crudley family’s garden. He clicked his pen and marked a cross next to the word ‘Pet’ on his clipboard. “And, now that the exam is over, we can finally—”

“How can it be a fail?” Cleo interrupted. “All Henry had to do was petrify a pet…”

“Yeah, and I reckon that mouse will need weeks of therapy to get over what it’s just been through,” added Resus.

“You can’t fail Henry for simply blowing too hard,” said Luke. “Show me where it says that in the rules.”

Aspin glared down at the children for a second, then snarled. He scribbled out the cross and placed a tick next to ‘Pet’. “He’s bound to fail on the next task, though,” he sneered. “In all the times Harper’s taken this exam, he’s never managed a Worrying Wail.”

“This time will be different,” insisted Cleo. “Won’t it, Henry?”

“Maybe,” said Henry weakly.

Ten minutes later, the group found themselves in a spacious, well-appointed kitchen. Twinkle the fairy entered from the garden, unaware that he had visitors, and dropped a pile of vegetables onto the table. Then he hefted a huge iron pot from a cupboard and set it down next to the vegetables with a clang!

“I’ve never been inside Twinkle’s house before,” said Cleo, as the fairy began to chop up a carrot. “It’s nice.”

“We’re not here to look at the décor,” Resus reminded her. “Henry’s got to wail.”

“He’ll do it,” said Luke, patting the trembling phantom on the back. “Won’t you?”

“Er…”

“Right,” said Aspin. “Off you go then, Harper. Let’s see you scare the fairy with a wail.”

Henry pursed his lips and began to make a soft “ooooh!” sound.

Twinkle dropped pieces of carrot into his cooking pot and selected another from the pile.

“Come on, Henry!” Cleo encouraged.

“Ssh!” hissed Aspin. “No coaching from the sidelines.”

This time, Henry’s wail was a little louder. “Whooooo!”

Still Twinkle didn’t react. He finished cutting carrots and placed a large potato on his chopping-board.

Mr Aspin grinned. “Last try, Harper…”

Henry gave it everything. “WHOOOOO!”

Everybody turned to Twinkle to watch his reaction…

Nothing. The fairy hadn’t heard a thing.

“No effect whatsoever!” announced Aspin happily. “It’s a fail!” He clicked his pen and lifted his arm to mark a cross on the clipboard – and knocked Twinkle’s cooking pot off the table with his elbow.

The iron pot landed square on Henry’s foot and he howled in pain.

“OOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!”

Twinkle squealed. “Who’s there?” he demanded. The fairy grabbed a parsnip and wielded it like a weapon. “Tell me who’s there!”

Luke took the clipboard and pen from the furious Aspin and placed a tick next to ‘Wail’. “Thanks for the help!” He grinned.

 

 

 

CHAPTER FIVE

THE RESULT

Luke’s parents sat together on the sofa; Mrs Watson was reading a book while her husband was building a model of an aircraft carrier, complete with fighter planes and helicopters.

Resus waved his hand in front of Luke’s dad’s face. “It’s just like Fifi and Twinkle,” he said. “They can’t see or hear us.”

“Not until this spell wears off and we become solid again,” said Luke.

“Guys!” hissed Cleo. “Can we chat after this is done?”

The boys looked up to find Mr Aspin glaring at them. “The final test,” he said through gritted teeth. “The Terrifying Toss!”

“Right,” said Luke, clapping his hands together, “let’s get started…”

Mr Aspin read from his notes. “Henry Horatio Harper, you have to choose one item in this room and toss it in a way that scares the occupants of said room.”

Henry gulped. “OK.” He turned to his new friends. “I’m not sure I can do this one,” he admitted.

“Nonsense,” said Cleo. “You threw things at us upstairs in Luke’s room earlier, remember?”

Henry nodded his translucent head. “But that was just for practice,” he whined.

“This is real. If I fail this test, I’ll be stuck at spirit level one for all eternity.”

“Then don’t fail,” said Resus with a smile.

“We’re right behind you,” Luke reassured him.

“Time to haunt, Harper,” said Aspin. “Pick something and toss it.”

Henry sighed. “OK,” he said, scanning the room. “I’ll toss … that trophy.”

Luke glanced at his dad’s golf trophy sitting proudly on a shelf behind the sofa.

“My dad won that for beating his co-workers in a charity match. He’s really proud of it. If you throw it, it might break.”

“Yeah,” said Resus. “Plus, if you pick something like a vase, it’ll shatter and really give Luke’s mum and dad a fright.”

“Too late!” said Aspin. “The choice has been made. Harper, toss when ready.”

Luke watched unhappily as Henry crossed the room and lifted the golf trophy off the shelf above his mum and dad’s heads. It was a silver cylinder with a tiny man preparing to swing a golf club on top. “Sorry!” the phantom mouthed as he tossed the award onto the sofa between Mr and Mrs Watson.

Everybody held their breath.

Mr Watson, busy glueing the rotor blades onto one of his aircraft carrier’s helicopters, picked up the trophy and glanced up at the shelf it usually sat on. “I must have left this too close to the edge when I dusted earlier,” he commented to his wife.  “Sorry.” Standing up, he replaced the trophy on the shelf.

“Ha-ha!” exclaimed Aspin, breaking into a little dance. “It didn’t scare them in the slightest!” He clicked his pen and hovered the nib over the space next to the word ‘Toss’. “It’s a fail!”

“Don’t be so quick to judge,” said Cleo, surreptitiously reaching into the bandages at her side and retrieving the yellow-tipped wand that she had used to bring her story characters to life. She gave it a wiggle and muttered a few words beneath her breath.

Everything happened at once – the figure on top of the golf trophy sprung into life and swung his club. The tiny metallic golf ball shot off the top of the trophy and cracked Mr Watson on the back of the head.

“What the—” he began.

Suddenly the helicopters and fighter jets launched themselves from the model aircraft carrier and began to circle the room, launching their plastic missiles at the two people on the settee.

Mrs Watson ducked behind her book with a scream, but that proved to be of no help, as a white rabbit leapt from the pages and started to race around the room, constantly checking the time on an oversized pocket watch. “I’m late!” it screeched, ears flapping and cotton-bud tail bobbing as it bounded up onto Luke’s mum’s lap. “I’m late!”

The toy aircraft took this giant bunny to be the enemy and began to bomb it, firing wave after wave of miniature explosives at the creature. In an effort to stop this onslaught, the rabbit stomped a giant white foot down on top of the model aircraft carrier, splitting it in two.

“That took my dad ages to build!” roared Luke.

As his mum and dad sought shelter behind the couch, Luke felt a wave of anger wash over him. The bones in his face snapped and quickly reformed, muscles wrapping around them as his head transformed into that of his werewolf.

Mr Aspin watched all of this in terror. Eyes wide, he flicked through the pages of rules on his clipboard. “Animation! Assault with a deadly model! Causing a transformation in another ghost!” He gasped. “This is incredible!”

Henry Horatio Harper stared at his fingers in astonishment. Had he really caused all of this?

Resus snatched the clipboard from Aspin’s grasp. “This is serious stuff,” he commented.

Cleo peered over the vampire’s shoulder as he flipped through the skills required for each of the different spirit levels. “This goes way beyond level two.” She smiled.

Luke’s ghostly werewolf dropped to its knees and collected up the smashed parts of his dad’s aircraft carrier. Broken helipads and snapped lifeboats clutched in its paws, the wolf raised its snout to the ceiling and howled.

HOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWLLLLLL!

“Can you hear a werewolf?” Mr Watson asked his wife.

“They can hear the howl as well,” Resus said to Mr Aspin with a grin. “This surely means Henry has surpassed himself…”

Cleo flipped through the pages of rules. “He has,” she said. “By my reckoning, he’s now achieved spirit level one hundred and sixty-one!”

“I have?” said Henry, appearing from his hiding-place behind the couch.

“One hundred and sixty-one?” demanded Aspin, grabbing the clipboard. “But that means…”

“I’m forty-one spirit levels above you!” cried Henry.

Mr Aspin paled, which was a challenge for a see-through spirit. “What?”

“He’s now your boss!” Resus beamed. “Say hello to the new president of HISS!”

“No! NO! It can’t be!”

“It is,” said Henry, appearing confident for the first time since Luke, Resus and Cleo had met him. “And your lunch break is OVER! So, I’d get back to haunting – or I’ll bust you back to spirit level one!”

Eyes flooded with tears, Mr Aspin floated through the nearest wall, just as Mr and Mrs Watson ran from the room, terrified. Cleo took the opportunity to wave her character wand again, returning everything to how it had been.

“Is it all over?” asked Luke, his head slowly coming back to normal as his werewolf transformation ended.

“It might be over for you,” said Henry with a smile, “but I’ve got plenty of work to do now. There’s a haunting timetable to write, scream scores to keep track of – and I’m thinking of doubling the length of the lunch hour!” He took the clipboard from Cleo.

“Thank you.”

Luke, Resus and Cleo watched as Henry floated through the nearest wall – in one piece this time – and disappeared.

Cleo produced the ghost communication wand and polished its red star on her bandages. “Ready to become solid again?” she asked. “I want to write this up as a story.

What do you reckon to the title Shiver of the Phantom?”

Resus plucked the wand from Cleo’s fingers. “Actually, Luke and I were thinking of staying invisible for a little while longer, weren’t we?”

Luke nodded. “Dr Skully’s reorganizing his basement today, and we thought we could help…”

Cleo scowled at her friends. “You’re going to move stuff around and spook him, aren’t you?”

“Of course not!” cried Resus, barely able to contain his grin. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

Cleo planted her translucent hands on her hips and beamed. “Because I can see right through the pair of you!”

 

THE END