Ghosthunters and the Gruesome Invincible Lightning Ghost
Page 6
“Hetty…” said Tom, as they lay wrapped up next to each other on the lounge chairs. “This was a close call, wasn’t it?”
“A very narrow escape indeed,” said Hetty Hyssop, and yawned. “You don’t mess around with GILIGs. As soon as we get home, I’m going to write to The Big Ghost Encyclopedia and pass on our information. It needs to be accessible to all ghosthunters as quickly as possible!”
Tom laughed. “True, but they aren’t all lucky enough to work with an ASG. How are they supposed to get hold of the slime and the saliva?”
“That, thankfully, is not my problem!” Hetty Hyssop sighed, shutting her eyes.
“Are there really four other types of ghost that are as terrible as the GILIG?” asked Tom.
“There certainly are,” answered Hetty drowsily. “I’d categorize two of them as being even more dangerous. But I sha’n't tell you about them now or you’ll be too frightened to sleep!”
“Really?” murmured Tom, pulling the covers right up to his nose. “Even more dangerous? Can’t imagine that!”
And then, suddenly, he fell asleep.
In Case of an Encounter
Avid readers, you now know in indisputable and occasionally crispy detail the dangers Tom withstood throughout his limb- and life-threatening ordeal with the GILIG of Ghosthunters and the Gruesome Invincible Lightning Ghost!. Ergo (and hence) surely you would never be so adventurous and unabashedly rash as to ever attempt to extinguish such a conflagrant phantom yourselves.
However…
In the extremely improbable case of an unexpected and unprovoked encounter with a GILIG — or with one of its lesser relatives, a Fire Ghost — or even with a seemingly harmless, run-of-the-mill, not-really-so-scary specter — the neophyte ghosthunter would be wise to take the follow counsel into consideration:
PRECAUTIONARY MEASURES
against Ghosts in General
The color red – as in socks, sweaters, curtains, sofas, and so on.
Raw eggs, for throwing.
Violet-scented perfume: Many species of ghost detest the smell. It makes their skin itch, and it has the added bonus of combating their natural and naturally foul ghost odor. For best results, spritz via an atomizer.
Mirrors: Hang them on your red-painted walls; wear pocket-sized varieties when in the field.
A spare pair of shoes: Depending on the variety of ghost, it will leave a trail that’s sticky, snowy, muddy, etc. If in the thrill of the chase your sneakers get glued in place, it helps to have a backup.
Graveyard dirt that’s been gathered at night (see Ghosthunters and the Incredibly Revolting Ghost! for specifics).
And no matter what, do not – do NOT – carry a flashlight on ghosthunting expeditions. The beam of a flashlight will drive a ghost into a violent rage.
IN CASE OF AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN FG (Fire Ghost)
Outfit yourself with aviator goggles and a firefighter’s helmet.
Construct a suit from aluminum foil and coat with a paste made of equal parts SPF 30 sunscreen and sugared olive oil: The inconvenient stickiness will be less bothersome if you sporadically pause to recall the oven-roasted alternative.
Line your shoes with squares of aluminum foil folded thirteen times over: Any less will result in… well, let us just say it’s no walk at the beach.
Wear a nose clip: Otherwise the sweet-and-sour stench of a Fire Ghost will cause the eyes to tear and subsequently the aviator goggles to fill with water (note: a small number of non-nose-clip-wearing ghosthunters also report the additional side effect of an inexplicable craving for Chinese takeout).
Pack a blow-dryer and a baking tray: The former can be used to blow an FG to a safe and manageable distance; the latter, due to its heat-resistant properties, is good for bonking ghosts on their red-hot heads.
Blast it with a baster-load of cake icing: A squirtful of sugar helps the Fire Ghost go down.
Soak it with a splash of champagne — preferably French, though domestic vintages and even common chardonnays will suffice in an emergency.
Pick up the dazed FG with oven mitts; even when doused, it will still be too hot to handle bare-handed.
Trap the wilted spirit in a thermos until ready to convert it back to human form (instructions follow).
And remember, do not — do NOT — attack an FG with liquid oxide of hydrogen (or, as it is more commonly known, water). Contrary to all that is logical, H2O actually makes Fire Ghosts grow.
TO DEGHOST AN FG TO ITS ORIGINAL
HUMAN FORM
Cover your work area with newspaper.
Wearing oven gloves, dip a clutch of cotton balls into a bowl of peppermint icing.
Beginning with the back of the head and daubing downward, coat the captured Fire Ghost with the peppermint icing. The layer need not cover every square inch of the FG, but it ought to be thick.
Let sit on the newspaper for up to five hours, or until the deghosting is complete.
IN CASE OF AN ENCOUNTER WITH A GILIG
(Gruesome Invincible Lightning Ghost)
Plug up all electrical sockets with cake icing: This will significantly hinder a GILIG’s ability both to eavesdrop and to emit toxic vapors and sparks.
Organize a safe room in a cellar: GILIGs are repelled by the cold, not to mention the potential proximity of champagne.
Fill all available buckets and bathtubs with ASG slime (note: to procure, it is first necessary to have an ASG on hand; contact Hyssop & Co. to inquire about our reasonable ASG rental rates).
Slather all surfaces with the ASG slime: Upon trodding in the goo, a GILIG will ideally convulse into its eponymous pirouette, drilling itself into oblivion. Either that or it will incinerate the slime on the spot, then be all the more inflamed by your amateur attempts to quench it.
When all else fails, hit it with spit: The only known substance with one hundred percent proven effectiveness in extinguishing GILIGs is not the slime but rather the saliva of an ASG (note: Hyssop & Co.’s two-for-one slime/saliva discount package is available year-round, though higher prices apply during peak hurricane season).
Indispensable Alphabetical
APPENDIX OF ASSORTED GHOSTS
ASG Averagely Spooky Ghost
BLAGDO BLAck Ghost DOgs
BOSG BOg and Swamp Ghost
CG Cellar Ghost
COHAG COmpletely HArmless Ghost
FG Fire Ghost
FOFIFO FOggy FIgure FOrmer
FOFUG FOggy FUg-Ghost
GG Graveyard Ghost
GHADAP GHost with A DArk Past
GIHUFO Ghost In HUman FOrm
GILIG Gruesome Invincible LIghtning Ghost
HIGA HIstorical Ghostly Apparition
IRG Incredibly Revolting Ghost
MUWAG MUddy WAters Ghost
NEPGA NEgative Projection of a Ghostly
Apparition
PAWOG PAle WObbly Ghost
STKNOG STinking KNOcking Ghost
TIBIG TIny BIting Ghost
TOHAG TOtally HArmless Ghost
TOMOB TOtally MOldy Baroness
WHIWHI WHIrlwind WHIrler
Miscellaneous Listing of
NECESSITOUS EQUIPMENT AND
NOTEWORTHY ORGANIZATIONS
CDEGH Clinic for the DE-spookification of GhostHunters
CECOCOG CEntral COmmission for COmbating Ghosts
COCOT COntact-COmpression Trap
FIGHD FIfth GhostHunting Diploma
GES Ghostly Energy Sensor
GHOSID GHOst-SImulation Disguise
LOAG List Of All Known Ghosts
NENEB NEgative-NEutralizer Belt
OFFCOCAG OFFice for COmbating CAstle Ghosts
RCFCAG Retention Center For Criminally Aggressive Ghosts
RICOG Research Institute for COmbating Ghosts
ROGA Register Office for Ghostly Apparitions
SGHD Second GhostHunting Diploma
THGHD THird GhostHunting Diploma
Preview
Who’s there?” wh
ispered a scared voice behind the big door.
“It’s Hyssop and Company,” answered Hetty Hyssop. “The ghosthunters.”
“Oh!” The door opened a crack, and a man and a woman peeped out anxiously.
“Mr. and Mrs. Worm?” asked Tom. “Hello, may we come in?”
“Helloooooooo!” breathed Hugo, giving them a friendly wave with his white fingers.
Bang! The door was slammed in their faces.
Hetty Hyssop sighed — and pulled the chain once more.
“That’s just my assistant, Hugo the ASG!” cried Hetty Hyssop. “There’s no need to worry; just open the door again.”
Animated whispering started up behind the door. Then it opened again.
“Come in,” whispered a small, fat woman. A red ribbon nestled in her gray hair.
“Yes, come in,” whispered the man. “You must excuse us, but your assistant — um — yes, well, he looks a bit strange.”
“He’s a ghost,” said Tom. “But a perfectly harmless one.”
“Hey, Iiiiiiiiii am not perfectly harmless,” breathed Hugo. “In fact Iiiiiiiiiii’d say Iiiiiiii’m…”
But he piped down when he saw Hetty Hyssop’s stern look.
It wasn’t much warmer inside the castle than outside. The high, gloomy entrance hall was lit only by a couple of candles flickering in iron holders attached to the soot-blackened walls.
“Oh, we are so glad you’ve come,” whispered Mrs. Worm, her voice trembling. “My saucepans all went flying through the air again today. Flying through the air, I tell you!” She gave a small sob and straightened her ribbon.
“Aha!” Hetty Hyssop nodded and looked around. “Well, I suggest we move as quickly as possible into a well-heated room — because very few ghosts like warmth — and there you can tell us exactly, and without any ghostly interruptions, what’s been going on.”
“Oh, then we’re probably best off in the old armory. My husband has set up a little workshop there,” whispered Mrs. Worm. “Come on.”
With short, rapid steps she hurried toward a huge stone staircase. Two suits of armor standing at the foot of it had no arms and one was missing a leg.
“As you can see, everything’s in a dreadful state,” said Mr. Worm. “Since we’ve been here, I’ve been busy with restoration. But I’ve barely finished something when whoosh! It flies through the air. Or the most disgusting spots of mud appear on it all of a sudden. It’s terrible.”
“Mud?” Tom cast a glance at the shimmering trail Hugo left on the stony floor. “You’re sure it’s not slime?”
“Slime?” Mrs. Worm shook her head. “Ooooh, no. It is mud. But as I said, quite disgusting as well.”
Tom exchanged an inquiring look with Hetty Hyssop.
“This way, please!” Mrs. Worm led them from the staircase into a corridor. Between the narrow windows, vast numbers of lances, spiked maces, swords, and other murderous tools hung from the walls.
“That’s the Baron’s famous weapon collection,” whispered Mrs. Worm. “Those lances have already flown past our ears several times. One even followed me into the kitchen! It really is a miracle that we’ve not been skewered yet.”
“Very interesting,” said Hetty Hyssop. “Oh, and by the way, you don’t need to whisper. Most ghosts can’t hear particularly well. They smell their victims, which is a highly reliable method, unfortunately enough.”
“Truuuuuuuuuuuue. And…” Hugo turned a bluish color. “Iiiiiiii can smell somethiiiiing now. Somethiiiiing old and spitefuuuuuull.”
Disconcerted, he wobbled a couple of feet backward.
Tom quickly rummaged in his backpack and pulled out a large spray bottle filled with salt water.
“Quick!” cried Hetty Hyssop. “Against the wall!”
Mr. Worm obeyed, but Mrs. Worm stood as if rooted to the spot, staring upward. High on the wall, a gigantic spear was moving against the iron hoops that held it to the wall. Its wooden handle thrashed to and fro like a wooden snake. Tom squirted a full load of salt water onto it, and the lance went as limp as a piece of rope, but then two maces freed themselves, flew through the air, and bored their way into the floor. Soon sabers, spears, and lances were all raining down — and, right in the middle of them, Mrs. Worm began to giggle.
It was quite a repellent giggle, hoarse and hollow.
And then Mrs. Worm’s head started to light up like a Halloween jack-o'-lantern. Her face became blurred, as if it were made of liquid. Her eyebrows thickened, green slime dripped from her hair, and her mouth twisted itself into a revolting smile.
“The Baroness!” cried Mr. Worm in horror. “The Totally Moldy Baroness!”
“A body-robber!” cried Hetty Hyssop. “Quick, Tom, bite your tongue! You too, Mr. Worm!”
“Thiiiiis iiiiis my castle!” hissed Mrs. Worm in the spookiest voice Tom had ever heard. “Go awaaaaay!”
“The salt water, Tom!” cried Hetty. “Squirt some on her feet!”
Tom held the spray bottle at arm’s length and squirted all the remaining salt water onto Mrs. Worm’s feet.
“Eeeeeurgh!” wailed the Totally Moldy Baroness. Mrs. Worm hopped up and down like crazy as a greenish gray muddy puddle grew all around her.
“Iiiii’ll beeee baaaack!” howled the vile voice. Mrs. Worm’s face turned blurry again, her head stopped glowing, her hair turned back to gray — and the ghost was gone.
“My darling!” Worried, Mr. Worm rushed over to his wife.
“She was — hic! — inside — hic! — me!” sobbed Mrs. Worm. “Oh, it was so — hic! — dreadful, absolutely dreadful.”
Her husband took her in his arms to comfort her.
“And now — hic! — I’ve — hic! — got hiccups as well!” cried Mrs. Worm in despair.
“Don’t worry!” said Hetty Hyssop. “It will pass after about twenty-four hours. That’s a typical consequence of a body-robber attack.”
“Twenty — hic! — four — hic! — hours!” cried Mrs. Worm, and was overcome by such a violent attack of hiccups that she couldn’t utter another sound.
“Hugo!” cried Tom. “Hugo, for goodness’ sake, where’ve you been?”
“Here!” Grinning, Hugo wobbled out of a suit of armor. “Hey, that was quiiiiite soooooomething, huh?
A real ghooooostly artist. Impresssssssive. Really impressssssive, don’t you agreeeeee?”
“Well, I think I can just about resist the attraction!” said Tom. “Can you still smell something?”
Hugo sniffed and shook his head. “Gone!” he said disconsolately. “Miiiiiles away!”
Hetty Hyssop nodded. “Yes, it’s still light, and most ghosts can’t manage much haunting when it’s light. Let’s make the most of it! I hope it’s not much farther to the armory.”
Mr. Worm shook his head.
“OK, then, let’s go.”
The Worms, their legs trembling, led the ghosthunters farther through the dark castle.
“My dear Tom,” whispered Hetty Hyssop as they followed the couple, “that’s one powerful opponent. Powerful and malicious. I fear we’ve got an uncomfortable night ahead of us. What do you think?”
Unfortunately, Tom could only agree.
About the Author
CORNELIA FUNKE is the author of the bestselling novels Dragon Rider, The Thief Lord, Inkheart, and Inkspell. She lives in Los Angeles, California
ALSO BY
CORNELIA FUNKE
DRAGON RIDER
THE THIEF LORD
INKHEART
INKSPELL
WHEN SANTA FELL TO EARTH
GHOSTHUNTERS
and the Incredibly Revolting Ghost!
Copyright
First published in Germany as Gespensterjäger im Feuerspuk by Loewe Verlag
Original text copyright © 1994 by Loewe Verlag
English translation by Helena Ragg-Kirkby Copyright © 2006 by Cornelia Funke
Cover art © 2006 by Guy Francis
Cover design by Elizabeth B. Parisi and Leyah J
ensen
Interior illustrations copyright © 2006 by Cornelia Funke
Published in the United Kingdom in 2007 by The Chicken House, 2 Palmer Street, Frome, Somerset BA11 1DS.
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First Scholastic paperback printing, October 2006
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eISBN: 978-0-545-40601-7