The Wish List by Eoin Colfer Page A

not tried, she cannot fail. For the target to fail, her essence must turn red.”
    â€œHmm,” growled Belch, absently scratching behind his ear.
    â€œWhat you must do is foil their plans. Whatever McCall asks Finn to do, you must see to it that she fails.”
    Belch nodded. Made sense. In a Spockish sort of a way.
    â€œRight. Let’s check out the apartment then, see if we can’t throw a wrench in the works.”
    Elph frowned. “I am not equipped with hardware implements.”
    â€œNot a real wrench, cartoon-head! A pretend one—you know, like ‘strong as a horse,’ except you’re not really a horse.”
    The megabyte sprite bobbed along beside him. “Ah yes, Belch- san . I see. You speak metaphorically. A metaphors file was not included in my memory.
    The honored Myishi did not feel it relevant to our mission.”
    Belch snarled. “The honored Myishi can take his file and . . .”
    Before he could finish his highly graphic and uncomplimentary sentence, Belch’s brain spasmed with a jolt of fiery pain. Not an actual brain obviously—that was lying moldering in a cheap pine box. But spiritual pain is every bit as excruciating as the physical kind.
    After several moments Belch’s ears stopped ringing. Elph was regarding him coolly.
    â€œDisrespecting the Great One activates punitive feedback. It is not wise.”
    â€œWoof,” grunted Belch. “I mean, really.”
    â€œThere is no need to revert to English,” commented Elph. “I am fluent in fourteen canine dialects, including the limited vocabulary of the pit bull breed.”
    Belch grunted. “Let’s get on with this, then. The old man’s apartment is just around the corner.”
    â€œ Hai , Belch- san .”
    They proceeded through the courtyard. Belch upending trash cans, benches, and even small cars, generally overdoing the poltergeist thing. Elph hovered at his shoulder, shaking his flickering head, and looking very disapproving, for a hologram.

NORA HAD APPARENTLY DRUNK THE CAR, SO THEY HAD to make the trip to Dublin by train. Being a senior citizen, Lowrie only had a pass for the second class, and so had to hold conversations with an invisible spirit while everybody watched.
    â€œWhat’s this trip about, McCall?”
    Lowrie came back from whatever dream he was dreaming. “Hmm?”
    â€œKissy Sissy. The first thing on the Wish List. What does that mean.”
    The old man fired her a crabby glare. “What it says. There’s a woman called Sissy, I have to kiss her.”
    â€œYes. But why?”
    â€œNever mind why. You just do what you were sent to do.”
    Meg frowned, levitating six inches off the seat. “I’m trying to help, you know. A bit of manners wouldn’t kill you.
    â€œManners, is it?” snorted Lowrie. “What sort of manners would that be, now? The sort where you break into someone’s house and cripple them for life? Or the sort where you play a cruel and malicious trick on your stepfather?”
    Meg felt herself fuming at the mere reference to Franco. “Who told you about that?”
    â€œThe man himself.”
    â€œYou met Franco?”
    Lowrie shifted on his seat. “He came around to apologize after the . . . accident.”
    Meg could feel her molecules vibrating. Even in the afterlife, that man could drive her demented in one second flat.
    Lowrie drove the nail home. “The poor chap. And to think, I thought I was badly off.”
    Meg couldn’t believe her ears. “He had you feeling sorry for him?”
    â€œAfter what you did?”
    â€œHe deserved it!” hissed Meg. “He deserved it, and more!”
    â€œI dunno,” sniffed Lowrie, “if anyone deserves that. That was . . .”
    â€œJustice,” announced Meg. “It was justice. That creep sold my mam’s jewelry. Sold her charm bracelet that we used to add to every year. And he