Ghosts on Board by Fleur Hitchcock Page B

‘That’s Vile Lucy’s place, Ghost Lane. She’ll  … ’
    But Tilly’s already stomped off into the mist. She’s already invisible.

Chapter 13
    All the way along the path Victor skulks at the back, muttering. I can only assume that he’s trying to make the meteorite work and even though I’m fairly sure he can’t, I’m worried that because we’re on a haunted island, and because he’s really a ghost, something might have changed. He’s obviously interested in Jacob’s power. He hasn’t actually seen Eric’s or my powers, and I can’t help feeling that he wants Jacob for himself, that he’s only come along to keep Jacob within his grasp  … 
    That he might, at any minute, get rid of the rest of us.
    How did Grandma know that Victor was a ghost? It bothers me. Just like she said that thing about them being unpredictable. It’s all making me feel sick.
    I’m feeling, maybe, 3 per cent good about this. I know I’ve got Eric but he’s not really using his mind. It’s like having half an Eric – the legs, arms and hair half but not the brain half.
    At the front of the group Flora Rose squeals.
    â€˜What’s the matter?’ Eric asks her.
    â€˜It’s Vile Lucy. She’s prodding me with a bodkin. STOP IT!’ Flora Rose bellows. ‘Oh, can’t we go back now?’
    â€˜Who
is
Vile Lucy?’ asks Eric, but Flora Rose doesn’t answer and Tilly marches ahead so we all have to follow her into the grey fog.
    â€˜I don’t like this,’ says Eric beside me. ‘We shouldn’t be here.’
    â€˜Well, if you hadn’t been taken in by him in the first place we wouldn’t be,’ I say. ‘And now – we’ve got Tilly involved. She’s my sister – but if
you
want to go back  … ’
    Eric shakes his head. ‘I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to be here either, but I wouldn’t abandon anyone. That would be dreadful.’
    We press ahead, long flappy things brushing against our faces in the gloom, other things crunching under our feet and all the time the terrible moaning and groaning ringing around our heads. I’m trying to think warm, comforting thoughts – pies and cakes and sweets and crazy golf and smiling holidaymakers, but it’s really hard and the terrible moaning just makes it worse.
    â€˜What is that?’ says Jacob, pointing at a large, leafless tree. Its branches look more like fingers than wood. It’s sticking out of a grey porridgy swamp, but it appears to be flexing gently as if it was alive.
    â€˜Nice tree,’ says Tilly, her voice laden with sarcasm.
    â€˜Interesting,’ says Eric. ‘I’ve never seen a tree of the genus
Handus
looking so big and healthy.’
    The tree seems to move to face us. It might be a trick of the light, but there isn’t any light so I’m inclined to think it’s the tree itself. I lift my hand and form a ring between my finger and thumb, making an O around the tree itself. From this distance I could shrink it into something quite tiny and harmless.
    Click
, I say in my head.
    But nothing happens. I look down at my palm – no tiny
Handus
tree appears and the one in the porridge swamp looks just as big and just as scary as it did.
    â€˜It takes people,’ says Flora Rose, panting heavily in my ear. ‘And ghosts. Actually, it’s got Vile Lucy, right now.’ The tree squeezes its branches together and Flora Rose gasps. ‘That was nasty. Although, perhaps losing Lucy’s a good thing. Last year, it took Flat George. He wasn’t terribly bright but even so, it seemed a bit harsh. It’s a horrible place.’
    Jacob picks up a broken tree branch, leans forward over the swamp and offers it to the tree. The tree grabs it immediately, pulverising it and dropping it into the pit at its feet. ‘Woah!’