‘Evening, Toby. You’re late!’ Charlie said gruffly, barely hiding her smile.
‘Well, ouch . . . ! What’s that?’ shouted Toby. Something very hard and stony was sticking into his left butt-cheek. He shuffled over towards Charlie until he felt more comfortable.
Charlie laughed. ‘Lord Nelson’s big fat toe – you just sat on it. No wonder it was uncomfortable.’
‘Sorry, Charlie. I got here as quick as I could,’ said Toby by way of an excuse.
‘Sightseeing? Anybody would think you hadn’t seen it before.’
‘Nothing beats night flying over London,’ Toby said excitedly.
‘I wouldn’t know,’ she grumbled.
‘Maybe one day I’ll be strong enough to carry you?’ he offered, nudging Charlie softly with his elbow. Toby had always been able to touch and hold anything ghostly. Charlie loved it. She hadn’t been able to feel anything since she had returned after her death. It allowed her to feel a little human . . . just every now and then. It wasn’t why Toby and Charlie were friends, but it was a welcome bonus.
‘So, how is school?’ Charlie knew this was a sore subject for Toby.
‘I hate it. It’s boring. And the teachers don’t like me . . . and I don’t have any friends,’ he said, mumbling in embarrassment. ‘Why can’t I tell anyone about my flying? I bet they would think it was really cool.’
‘Because,’ she said, emphasising the point, ‘it is a very special gift, incredible even. You need to use it wisely, Toby. It would definitely draw the wrong kind of attention to you, that’s for sure. Do you remember our conversation?’
Toby mumbled an almost inaudible and very grumpy ‘Yes.’
‘Toby, people can do some extraordinary things, but not one human, or creature for that matter, can do anything like your flying. It’s like, well, can you imagine someone of your age being prime minister?’
‘Don’t be silly – kids have more sense,’ said Toby. He chuckled.
‘Well, okay, bad example. Could you imagine any of the other kids at your school talking to me without peeing their pants and screaming the most ear-splitting wail possible? They would probably make a banshee die in shame.’
‘I would like to see Nasty Nick do that.’
‘I could definitely arrange that for him. I could suddenly appear in the toilets . . . hmm, on second thoughts, anyway,’ she said, shaking her head vigorously as if to rid herself of an unpleasant image. ‘Do you understand the point I’m trying to make? You have a gift that could get you into more trouble than I think you realise – at least in this world.’ She paused, perhaps waiting for the point to sink in. As Toby’s expression changed to one of resignation Charlie continued. ‘Hold tight, Toby, things are about to change for the better . . . just for you.’
Toby perked up. ‘What do you mean? Is the professor planning something? Is this what you wanted to tell me?’
Charlie shook her head. ‘Maybe, but you’ll know soon enough,’ she said, grinning.
‘Oh, go on, tell me more,’ said Toby, bright eyed with excitement and hope.
‘No. I’m sorry. I’ve said too much as it is. Besides, I should be concentrating on the meeting,’ said Charlie. And with that she turned and faced a corner of Trafalgar Square.
Stretching over the entrance to the Mall was an old stone building: Admiralty Arch. The lights inside were burning bright as humans and ghosts milled around a large oak table.
2
The Invisible Ghost
So far Charlie had said very little, and to top it all she was working. A meeting, too – how boring!
Toby had expected to learn about a big secret, or at the very least indulge in a fun race across London. Charlie could move incredibly fast – so fast, in fact, she could jump long distances, which helped when they were racing across the rooftops.
‘Err, what meeting? I thought you and me were hanging out tonight. And you were telling me about the professor’s plans.’ He was pushing her for an explanation.
‘Nice try. I don’t mind telling you, Toby, I’m very worried at the moment. There is something weird happening and the Ghost Council are getting very jittery. They had a meeting last week and old grumpy Grenville chaired it. He was all doom and gloom . . . something or other about a shift of power.’
‘Is that such a problem? We get shifts of power in government all the time. Or at least that’s what the professor keeps telling me. “And it makes no bleedin’ difference to train fares at all”,’ he said, mocking the professor’s tone. ‘He always likes to whinge about train fares.’
‘This is different, Toby. I’ve never seen ghosts so worried.’ Charlie seemed to have lost her sense of humour.
‘But Charlie, you’re dead! What have you got to be worried about?’
‘Death provides no protection, Toby. It’s just part of the journey,’ said Charlie, without taking her eyes off Admiralty Arch. Toby was worried; Charlie turned away. But, because she was a ghost, Toby could see straight through her. She was crying.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ he asked, uncomfortably hoping Charlie would stop crying.
‘I hope so, Toby. Because it’s not just us it’ll affect. It will affect everybody. Not just us ghosts but you too, and anything and everything that lives. It’s deadly serious.’ Charlie wiped the silver tears from her grey cheeks. ‘Look, Toby, I’m going to tell you something that you must promise never ever repeat to anyone else alive. In fact, don’t tell anyone dead, either. You understand?’ Toby nodded in agreement. ‘You promise, Toby?’ she said sternly.
‘Yes,’ said Toby, eager to hear what she had to say.
‘Have you ever heard of the Merlin Prophecy?’
Toby stared at Charlie through a moment of tension. Then his shoulders suddenly relaxed. ‘That old wives’ tale.’
‘It’s not an old wives’ tale,’ barked Charlie. ‘Don’t tell me you find it hard to believe – the same boy who can turn into a bird and fly as if it’s normal.’
‘Well, if you put it like that, I suppose.’
‘Suppose nothing, Toby. There’s a meeting at this moment over there,’ she said, pointing at Admiralty Arch. ‘I don’t know all the details exactly but they’re all in there, your people and mine.’
‘What – ghosts and normal people?’
‘We’re normal too, thank you very much, just a different normal. Anyway, I’m on duty,’ she said, tapping the ghostly identity card on her chest. Toby read the card: ‘Special Grey Operative’.
‘You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?’ gasped Toby.
Charlie dipped her head in sorrow. ‘I wish it was a joke, Toby. I really do. But it is true. We’re having some difficulty in convincing them, though. After all, the last time we called one of these meetings was way back when this fella was around.’ Charlie cocked her thumb at Lord Nelson behind her. ‘No one in your government’s living memory has seen anything like it. It may take a while for it to sink in.’
Toby could see grey ghosts mingling on every rooftop, talking amongst themselves quietly. The government’s own security detail sat feet away, their eyes and binoculars rigidly trained on the meeting room. They probably didn’t even know the ghosts were there.
‘Your friends don’t seem to be that interested in what’s going on.’
‘We don’t need to rely on vision, Toby – ghosts feel changes. For instance, I feel anger and frustration in the meeting room, mostly from the Ghost Council, as it happens. As for the government representatives, well, disbelief really, which is kind of understandable. None of them knew ghosts existed before tonight. This is going to be a long—’
Charlie abruptly stopped mid-sentence and launched herself into the air. Half flying and half falling she hit the ground, and then ran at top speed towards the meeting room. Other ghosts did the same. The government people hadn’t moved. They carried on staring through their binoculars as if nothing was happening.
Charlie had just arrived at the meeting room when a blinding whi
te light lit up the sky. Suddenly everything went silent. Toby couldn’t see or hear anything around him. Too afraid to move, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Blinded and very scared, Toby clung on tightly to Nelson’s feet. The bright white light pulsed three or four times and then died like an oversized flashbulb from a camera. Spots dazzled his eyes. Toby shook his head and chanced a look. Everything was very fuzzy. He blinked a couple of times and to his great relief he started to see the outlines of buildings again. Then he heard a shriek as if someone was scratching their nails down a blackboard. His ears then popped loudly, followed by a noise so excruciating it was as if someone had just turned on the world’s loudest speakers. Whistles and sirens were blaring, and people were shouting and screaming at each other.
Toby watched as the government security team raced across rooftops and policemen below sprinted across the roads from all directions. The meeting room looked very odd from the outside. The windows were completely intact with no sign of torn curtains or smashed glass. If it hadn’t been for all the chaos Toby would have thought that everyone had turned off the lights and gone home. Toby’s thoughts were interrupted by a muffled sound from behind him. He turned around to find two grey legs desperately wriggling out of Lord Nelson’s stony stomach. Toby held on to the legs and yanked hard.
‘Charlie!’ exclaimed Toby.
‘Oh my,’ said Charlie, ‘oh dear. Something terrible has happened.’ Without any further comment she jumped off the ledge and raced towards the meeting room again. In an instant Toby changed into his falcon form and sprang off the ledge into a steep dive after her.
When Toby arrived, the meeting-room lights had been turned on. Charlie and the other Special Grey Operatives disappeared through the walls. Landing on the largest window ledge Toby stared through the big windows. Chaos reigned in the meeting room. Ghosts and humans alike shouted and pointed angrily at each other whilst pacing up and down. People were running in and out of the room as the government security men arrived, took orders, and left. Toby watched intently, trying to find Charlie. There she was, standing next to a very large and portly ghost with shiny ghostly medals hanging off its chest. Toby instinctively shivered, wrapping his wings closer around his body. Everyone continued to run around in circles shouting as they went . . . everyone except this one large, portly ghost. Amongst all the madness in the room it remained perfectly still. It was as if no one knew it even existed. Even the ghosts didn’t seem to notice it, least of all Charlie. Toby suddenly understood why he had shivered. The ghost was staring straight back at him, its cold, grey-blue eyes freezing Toby to the spot.
Charlie, who had been talking to another ghost, turned and walked straight through the portly ghost without noticing. Toby felt a sudden release from the ghost’s gaze as Charlie appeared through its chest. He flapped his wings, frantically shivering, and closed his eyes. When he opened them he looked for that same ghost. It was floating across the room, passing through humans and ghosts, each one shivering in turn. The ghost passed straight through the large window next to Toby as if it was air and made a grab for him. He squawked loudly, beating his wings and sharply jettisoning into the night air. He kept on flapping his wings hard, forcing himself higher and higher. Big Ben passed in a blur as he turned across the Thames and headed south towards Richmond and home. And he could not arrive soon enough.
3
The Arc Light
Toby had a very restless sleep. The portly ghost invaded his dreams and turned them into nightmares. It had chased him hither and thither, sometimes catching him and each time stealing another feather, until there were so few left Toby looked like a plucked chicken; he could not escape. The ghost stood over him as Toby cowered in the corner of a stone balcony. He was so frightened he had forgotten or simply couldn’t change back into his human form. The ghost had lifted one very large booted foot up over Toby’s falcon head . . . then darkness fell.
Toby woke up screaming. He was covered in sweat.
‘Argh!’ he cried out. His arm hurt, and the nightmare came flooding back. The images shot by in his mind lingering for a brief second – Lord Nelson, Charlie, the white light. All disappeared, but the ghost that no other ghost could see, the invisible ghost, stayed with him. It laughed whilst it held a fistful of feathers – Toby’s feathers. This time Toby was in his human form cowering in the corner. And it wasn’t the balcony but some dark and dirty room. There was someone else there too – a skinny looking man with tattoos that moved all over his body, sitting in a large wooden chair. Toby tried to rest his arm but it hurt even more. He cried out with pain. The ghost and the tattooed man disappeared, and Toby blinked the sweat out of his eyes. For a second he hoped that the nightmare had been just that. He had a strange feeling it wasn’t.
Why me? Charlie didn’t see him – no one could, except me. Why?
The same questions repeated through his head like an old record with the needle stuck in a groove. Toby cautiously made his way down the stairs, wincing with every movement, and knocked on the professor’s study door. He held his arm close to his body in an effort to ease the terrible pain. He knocked again with his good hand and continued knocking until it made his knuckles hurt. He had to speak to the professor urgently. Finally, the door swung open and Toby entered without another word.
‘Ah, Toby my lad. Cup of tea?’
Professor Laken, Toby’s uncle, stood at the door to the study. He was tall and gangly and much older than anyone could have possibly imagined. He wore a green velvet jacket and red moleskin trousers that were so faded they were more pink than red. He had huge bushy eyebrows that resembled a large butterfly stuck to his forehead. His long, roguish hair and musketeer-type beard and moustache were coloured purple. Toby had been told it was permanent from an experiment that had backfired – he had his doubts about this as he thought he saw a pot of hair colour in the bathroom once. Whenever the professor spoke his cheeks would wobble like freshly made jelly and his glinting yellow teeth would be revealed. He was the closest thing Toby had to a father. The professor looked at Toby, concern in his gentle, light green eyes.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
Toby told the professor about the balcony and the invisible ghost. By now the pain was so bad Toby could say only one word between breaths.
‘Robert!’ shouted the professor. ‘Get me some of that special lime green ointment, please.’ He twinkled at Toby. ‘It heals in a jiffy, stings a bit. Probably make your eyes water too, but very good for you.’
Robert glided back into the room in a typically stiff butler waltz, skilfully balancing a tray on his fingertips. He placed it on the table. Toby’s face froze in fear. In the middle of the tray was a very large syringe filled with lime green liquid. The needle alone looked bigger than a human arm. Toby gulped so hard his Adam’s apple jumped up and down in his throat like a yo-yo.
‘Now, now, Robert,’ said the professor in a slightly disapproving tone. ‘Robert’s small joke,’ he said to Toby. Robert’s expression remained neutral. The professor picked up the syringe and beckoned Toby to open his mouth. Toby did so very slowly and very gingerly. Four drops of lime green fluid squeezed out of the needle’s end and dripped onto Toby’s tongue. ‘That should do it,’ said the professor, apparently satisfied, ‘so long as you swallow, Toby. Breathing would be good, too,’ he continued with a reassuring smile.
Toby took in a deep breath. As soon as he had swallowed the liquid the pain began to ease, leaving behind a warm glow. He slowly stretched his arm out in front of him; the pain had gone. Toby grew a little more confident and moved it around more eagerly – it felt normal again.
‘Wow,’ he said, genuinely surprised. ‘It’s worked already.’
‘Just a little concoction of mine,’ said the professor. ‘And now to more pressing matters. This meeting you saw and the ghost with the medals . . .’
The professor asked many questions and Toby filled in the details as best he could. The professor seemed eager to hear every small detail, and his
expression grew more and more concerned. After an hour or more they stopped talking. Professor Laken had turned almost as grey as a ghost despite the fact he was very much alive. Toby felt exhausted.
‘It’s not good is it, Professor?’
The professor looked pensive. ‘I want to show you something. Come with me,’ he said without any further explanation.
The professor led Toby upstairs into a dark attic. Once inside, Toby heard a small, dense click. A sharp column of daylight shone down from the apex of the ceiling.
‘Have you ever seen one of these, Toby?’ asked the professor.
Toby was quite flummoxed as his eyes settled on a large concave mirror that faced directly upwards. It reflected the light from the ceiling and lit up their faces like ghostly apparitions. Toby shook his head.
‘Some call it the All Seeing Eye but in truth it is an Arc Light. Quite an extraordinary piece of elven technology! It’s like a telescope but instead of looking at the stars, which you can do by the way, you look at, well, everything.’ The professor looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘You know some of those modern computers where you can talk to people on the other side of the world?’ The professor didn’t wait for an answer. ‘This is kind of similar, but considerably more powerful. The modern computer is limited. For example, if you want to talk to someone yesterday, can you do that?’
Toby scratched his head. He really didn’t have a clue what the professor was on about.
‘Time, Toby!’ said the professor dramatically. Toby’s face was blanker than a white-washed wall. ‘The modern computer cannot go back or forward in time. Yes, you can watch a video from last year but . . . no?’ Toby was struggling to follow, and the professor must have been able to see that. ‘Okay, look, a single creature, whether alive or dead, leaves a trace in history . . . of their movements if you like, on the aether. You understand what aether is?’
Toby Fisher and the Arc Light Page 2
