“We have dedicated ourselves to ridding this world of entities which would seek to do it harm.” Her expression and her voice both turned cold. “And for what purpose?” she asked. She cast her eyes across the audience, but no one volunteered an answer.
“Each year, we capture hundreds of them. Thousands. And each year thousands more creep out of the shadows like vermin, and the battle starts all over again. How many partners have we lost? Friends? Loved ones? And how many more must be lose before we start to take matters more seriously?”
“What do you mean?” asked an Oberon.
“I mean the end of our ongoing war,” Quinn announced. “And the birth of a brave new world! A world where we no longer have to sacrifice our lives and the lives of our children to help defend a world that doesn’t know or care about us. Behold!”
She raised her arms and a section of floor slid away in front of her. A rack of willow-bound gemstones rose up out of the ground, along with a desktop-computer-sized machine that managed to look both horribly cumbersome and perfectly sleek at the same time.
“I bet that’s it,” Denzel whispered. “That’s the Spectral Disruptor.”
A low-level muttering broke out on both sides of the room as the rack and the device came to a stop. Quinn rocked back on her heels, allowing the chatter to build.
Smithy leaned closer to Denzel. “I will say this for her, she’s an excellent public speaker,” he whispered. “Really confident.”
“Completely mental, though,” said Denzel.
“Oh yeah. Definitely,” Smithy agreed. “Mad as a box of frogs.”
“For generations we have strived. Endlessly. Thanklessly. Protecting the world from threats it wasn’t even aware existed,” Quinn boomed. “We have put away thousands, but how many other entities are out there? Millions? Billions? They are a disease. A cancer. And we have been nothing but a sticking plaster.”
“Amen, sister!” hollered Smithy. All eyes turned to him. He blushed. “Sorry. Carry on.” He glanced at Denzel. “Got caught up in it there. She’s really quite persuasive.”
“I know,” Denzel agreed. “After I came back she put me under some kind of hypnotism or…”
His eyes went to Knightley and Rasmus, then to the other Spectre Collectors standing on either side. How many of those were under Quinn’s thrall? Not all of them, or there would be no need for the speech, but some of them, probably.
“That changes today,” Quinn said. She plucked a gemstone from the rack and fed it into something that looked like a loading tube on the side of the machine. “Today, we send them all away. We pack every last spook, spectre and spirit off to where it belongs. The Spectral Realm!”
Another wave of murmuring rippled around the room. Quinn ran her fingertips over the machine’s surface. A series of runes glowed faintly across the metal and a high-pitched whine resonated around the room.
“Bet she says ‘behold’ again,” Smithy whispered.
“Behold!” Quinn cried.
“Told you.”
The surface of the machine began to crackle and spark. Quinn’s face was a mask of excited glee, her eyes almost bulging in anticipation of what was to come.
On both sides, the assembled Spectre Collectors shuffled backwards. Even Knightley and Rasmus looked uncertain as the device began to vibrate across the floor.
“Everybody stay where you are!” Quinn ordered. “You are witnessing the beginning of a brave new world!”
“The beginning of the end, more like,” Denzel whispered. He leaned closer to Smithy. “Can you free Samara and Boyle?”
“Definitely,” Smithy said. “Or probably.” He shrugged. “I can give it a go.”
“You can do it,” Denzel said. “I need to stop her loading any more gems into that machine.”
“How?”
“I’m going to think of a word,” said Denzel.
Smithy frowned. “What word?”
Denzel closed his eyes.
He thought of a word.
“Flereous,” he whispered.
There was a spark. A whoosh.
And a jet of flame erupted across the room.
Quinn waved a hand and the flames died away. Denzel hissed in pain as the ring on his finger turned icy cold, then shattered and fell off.
The director’s half-smile crept across her face again. “Almost impressive. But you missed me, Denzel,” she said.
Denzel shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”
Quinn frowned. “Sorry to break it to you, but clearly you did.”
“Nope. For me to have missed you, I’d have had to be aiming at you in the first place,” Denzel said. “But I wasn’t.”
Quinn continued to look confused for a moment, then one of her nostrils turned upwards. She sniffed.
“You probably recognise that smell,” Denzel said. “I bet you’re trying to remember what it is. I’ll tell you. It’s burning willow.”
Quinn’s head snapped to her left. The willow branches around each of the gems were blackened and charred. “No!” she yelped, making a grab for the closest gem just as the others began to tremble and shake.
With a furious roar, Quinn slammed the gem into the loading tube of her machine. The whine reached an earsplitting pitch, and the air around it seemed to bubble and bulge.
The assembled Spectre Collectors watched on in amazement as a thin line of purple light stretched upwards from the machine. The world itself seemed to part, just a fraction, as if a zip were being undone.
“Now, Smithy!” Denzel yelped, but Smithy was staring into the widening gap, transfixed by the swirling kaleidoscope of colours beyond.
“Is that… Is that the Spectral Realm?” he asked no one in particular. “It’s beautiful.”
“Smithy!” said Denzel. “Samara and Boyle. Quick!”
Smithy gave himself a shake and dropped to his knees. “Hi, I’m Smithy, we met before when you kidnapped me, remember?” he said, looking at Boyle in particular. “You were actually quite mean to me. But that’s in the past. Bygones. Oh, and guess what? I’m a ghost. Surprise!”
He pressed a hand on both their heads. There was a clink as their handcuffs and gags passed cleanly through their bodies and landed on the ground. “Cool, huh?” Smithy grinned.
Boyle and Samara jumped to their feet just as bolts of purple lightning spat from inside the Spectral Realm and licked across the ceiling. There was a commotion on either side of the room as the assembled Spectre Collectors all tried to put distance between themselves and the hole.
“I’m guessing it’s not supposed to be doing that,” Denzel said.
Samara shook her head. “It’s unstable. If we don’t shut it down, I think it’ll keep growing.”
“Knightley!” Boyle barked. “Give me a gun.”
Knightley looked at him in surprise, then back at the shuddering machine.
“Whatever she told you she was doing, whatever she said, it isn’t going to work, Knightley!” Boyle roared. “So give me a gun. Now!”
With a shaky nod, Knightley tossed one of her handguns to Boyle. He snatched it from the air and unleashed a volley of laser fire on Quinn’s device. The top of the machine exploded, sending plumes of red smoke into the air. There was an audible rrrrrip as the hole into the Spectral Realm grew wider.
Smithy sidled up to Boyle. “Hate to say it, but that just made it worse, if anything.”
“Uh, guys,” said Denzel, his voice shaking. Two clawed hands, each finger as long as a fully grown man, appeared through the gap. They pressed against the edges of the hole, slowly but surely forcing it wider. “What’s that?”
“Nothing good,” Samara gulped. She spun to face the hastily retreating Oberons. “Rasmus. Everyone. We need to close this up!”
Boyle turned to the other side of the room. “And we need to keep that thing back until they do. Move, move, move!”
For a moment, nobody moved. Then, a few of the Spectre Collectors on either side found their nerve and hurried towards th
e middle of the room. Others followed, and soon a large crowd was forming around the tear.
Denzel and Smithy found themselves nudged out of the way. Smithy was still mesmerised by the swirling colours inside the hole. He had a goofy grin plastered across his face most of the time, but right now it was the goofiest Denzel had ever seen it.
“The Spectral Realm,” Smithy whispered. “After all these years, I’ve actually found the Spectral Realm.”
“I should help them,” Denzel said. “I should do something.”
Smithy blinked. “What? What can you do?”
“The Spook Suit!” Denzel cried. “I can use that!”
He turned in the direction of the battle armour, then an enormous metal hand swatted him, sending him tumbling across the room.
Denzel smashed into the rack of gems, scattering them across the floor. He sank to the ground, groaning and clutching his ribs.
“Sorry, were you looking for this?”
There was a whirr and a clank as the Spook Suit closed in on him. Denzel looked to Samara and Boyle, but they were focused on stopping the giant … whatever-it-was escaping the Spectral Realm, and hadn’t even noticed his predicament.
“You ruined it,” hissed Quinn’s voice from inside the robot battle suit. “You ruined everything!”
“Me? What did I do?” Denzel yelped.
“You sabotaged my machine,” Quinn growled.
“No, I didn’t! I wouldn’t know where to start!” Denzel protested. He pointed over to the rip in reality. The clawed hands were still working to push it apart. “Shouldn’t you be stopping that thing?”
“Oh, what’s the point?” Quinn snapped. “It’s not like anyone will thank me for it. No one ever does. Let it come, I say. Let them all come. One way or another, this pointless, never-ending war ends today.”
Smithy stepped in front of the fallen Denzel and pointed up towards the Spook Suit’s glass head. “Hey, back off, lady. Leave my friend—”
An enormous foot slammed down on Smithy, squashing him. “Smithy!” Denzel cried.
“I’m OK. I’m fine, I’m fine,” came a muffled voice from below the foot. “Flatter than I’d like, but I’m OK.”
The Spook Suit raised a fist. “Let’s see if you’re as resilient as your friend is, Denzel,” Quinn spat. The fist arced down. Denzel threw up his arms in a desperate attempt to protect himself.
Beside him, something black and smoke-like billowed out from inside a gem.
The poltergeist wrapped around him just as the fist connected. The impact of the blow was powerful, yet surprisingly gentle at the same time, like being hit by a pillow travelling at a hundred and seventy miles per hour.
Quinn drew back the robotic fist and stared down at Denzel. Unable to see the poltergeist, she had no idea why he wasn’t now just a ketchup-like splodge on the floor.
“What…? How did you…?” she said.
The ’geist wrapped its tendrils around Denzel’s arms and legs, then hoisted him into a standing position. The other gems rattled and rolled across the floor. Denzel watched in amazement as wispy shapes snaked out of the stones. They circled around him, then seemed to fold themselves into the poltergeist until Denzel was completely surrounded by a suit of ghosts.
No, not a suit, he realised.
An armour.
“Room for a small one?” asked Smithy, rising up through the floor next to Denzel. His face was an enormous circle, his stamped-on head now only a few centimetres thick. He turned wispy at the edges, gave Denzel a wink, then merged with the ghost armour.
Denzel couldn’t see the smoky black of the poltergeist now. Instead, he was surrounded by something he couldn’t quite describe. It was as if a crystal had become a liquid and a gas at the same time, while somehow managing to stay completely solid. It glinted in the glow of the purple lightning and the flickering blasts of the Spectre Collectors’ magic and gunfire.
Denzel grinned. He flexed his muscles, and the ghosts flexed with him. He’d never felt anything like it. He felt powerful! Indestructible! Unstoppable!
A metal foot toe-punted him and he hurtled, screaming, across the room. He smashed against the heavy doors of the Advanced Weapons Vault, buckling them. “Ow,” he groaned, as he slid to the ground.
His legs moved on their own, flipping him back on to his feet like a kung fu master showing off at a party. He flew – not ran or jumped, but actually flew – towards the Spook Suit. He felt his arm draw back, saw the ghosts bunch into an enormous fist around his hand.
The sound of the uppercut echoed around the warehouse, loud enough to drown out everything else. The force of the punch lifted the Spook Suit off its feet. It landed heavily on several racks of shelving, crushing them beneath its immense weight.
Denzel giggled. He couldn’t help himself. “OK, so that was pretty cool!”
“You know what else is pretty cool?” said Smithy’s voice from somewhere inside the ghost armour. “My butt’s in your face.”
“Ew, Smithy!” Denzel spluttered.
“Just kidding,” said Smithy. “I don’t currently have a butt.”
Denzel breathed a sigh of relief.
“But if I did, it’d totally be in your face right now.”
The Spook Suit lay motionless on the floor. Denzel started to move closer, and the suit of ghosts followed. “Did we do it?” he asked. “Did we knock her out?”
“Down, maybe,” crackled Quinn’s voice from within the suit. Two of its four feet clamped around Denzel. The robotic head raised. “But not out.”
The legs snapped upwards, launching Denzel towards the ceiling. He flailed wildly as he hurtled through the air, then hit the roof with a thud. Before he could start to fall, Quinn was rocketing towards him in the suit, fist drawn back.
BOOM! A punch drove him through the ceiling and the floor of the corridor above. He turned to run, but a robotic hand clamped around his leg and tore him back down through the floor again.
Denzel and Smithy both let out a long, panicked howl as Quinn swung Denzel around, then hurled him back up towards the ceiling. He spun, flipping and twirling out of control, his arms flapping frantically like a bird.
“Ooh, this is so going to hurt,” he grimaced, but instead of smashing into the roof, he passed cleanly through it like a ghost.
The momentum of the throw carried him through several other rooms and corridors, before he emerged through the surface of the church car park and came to a stop several metres into the air.
Although Denzel had stopped, the world continued to spin unpleasantly. “Ugh. I think I’m going to throw up,” he groaned.
“Don’t you dare!” warned Smithy. “Seriously, I think I speak for all of us in here when I say we wouldn’t be happy.”
Before Denzel could reply, the ground began to shake. The church, already damaged from the earlier battle, folded like a house of cards as a monstrous metal shape erupted through the car park.
Quinn snarled up through the Spook Suit’s glass visor. “Face me, Denzel,” she said. “Face me and die!”
Smoke and fire belched out of the Spook Suit’s boots as it propelled itself into the sky. Denzel tried to run away, but this was made difficult by his being in mid-air. He jogged on the spot for a few awkward moments before the ghosts figured out what he was trying to do.
The world lurched and he shot off across the sky, leaving his stomach somewhere far behind.
“I’m flying!” he yelped, gazing down at the town spread out below him. He recognised a few landmarks as he hurtled above them. There was the shopping centre, the park, his school. Instinctively, he turned to look for his house, then he cried out in shock as a fist slammed into him from above, sending him spiralling towards the ground.
He hit the ground like a meteorite, smashing a spider’s web pattern into the surface of the road, and toppling a delivery van that stood idling nearby. All along the street, people began to scream and run for cover.
Denzel stood up, wincing with the pa
in it brought. He’d felt that one, even through the ghost-armour.
The ground beside him erupted in a rain of fire. He stumbled back, so dazzled by the glare of the blasts that he didn’t see the fist swinging towards him until it was too late.
With an ear-splitting smash, Denzel rocketed through the wall of a terraced house and came to rest in a small, cluttered sitting room. An old woman with thin grey hair and thick gold glasses peered at him over her knitting.
“Sorry,” Denzel mumbled, then his legs kicked and he launched himself back out on to the street.
WHAM! He drove both fists into the Spook Suit’s head. It staggered backwards, arms flailing as it fought to stay upright. Denzel drew back with another ghost-powered punch, but a robotic foot swung up and slammed into his chest before he could connect.
Quinn brought an arm up over the suit’s head and swatted Denzel back down on to the ground. The hand clamped down on top of him, pinning him to the road.
“Why are you doing this?” Denzel asked. “It doesn’t make sense!”
“You know what doesn’t make sense, Denzel?” Quinn spat. “Taking a four-year-old girl and hiding her away from the world! Shipping her from underground bunker to underground bunker while you train her for a war she never wanted any part of!”
“Wow, she’s got some serious issues,” Smithy whispered. “Oh, and P.S., I can see right up her nose from here.”
“I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve saved the world over the years, and for what? What was the point? Did anyone ever thank me? Did anyone even know what I’d done?” Quinn demanded. “Of course not, because it had to be kept a secret.”
The other robotic arm extended, gesturing to the crowd of onlookers cowering at the far end of the street. “Well, the secret’s finally out!”
The cannons on the Spook Suit’s shoulders swivelled down and took aim. “I just wanted a normal life, that’s all. But it looks like that’s not going to happen,” she said. She leaned down until her face behind the visor was the only thing Denzel could see. “So if I can’t have it, no one can.”
Too Ghoul For School Page 13
