Ghost Club 3 Read online

  About the Book

  Edgar, Angeline and Dylan are off to the annual Ghost Club Convention – in Transylvania!

  During a visit to Dracula’s castle, they are disturbed by a near-miss accident. But the danger is forgotten when Angeline has the chance to meet her hero, the famous ghost-catcher Ripley Granger. Is Dylan the only one to notice that something is very wrong at the convention? Someone is hiding a terrible secret – and it might take the intervention of a determined ghost to make everyone see the truth.

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Got a Problem with Ghosts?

  Chapter One: A Particularly Pesky Ghost

  Chapter Two: A Dreamy Prospect

  Chapter Three: A Matter of Life or Death

  Chapter Four: A Most Perfect Beginning

  Chapter Five: Fortress of Fear

  Chapter Six: A Night of Ghosts, Zombies and Ghouls

  Chapter Seven: Two Rescues and One Gloomy Realisation

  Chapter Eight: New Inventions and a Pair of Watchful Eyes

  Chapter Nine: The Evil Eye

  Chapter Ten: Frauds, Hoaxes and a Worrying Observation

  Chapter Eleven: A Surprising Revelation

  Chapter Twelve: An Unexpected Guest

  Chapter Thirteen: A Spot of Ghost Investigation

  Chapter Fourteen: A Different Type of Catching

  Chapter Fifteen: A Dash Through the Woods

  Chapter Sixteen: The Sad Confession of Ripley Granger

  Chapter Seventeen: The Ghost of Rasnov Citadel

  Chapter Eighteen: The Return of an Old Friend

  Chapter Nineteen: One Last Goodbye

  Chapter Twenty: A Final Farewell

  Chapter Twenty-One: One Last Thing

  Have you read all of Deborah Abela’s books?

  Copyright Notice

  Loved the Book?

  Thank you to Josh Cabucos for his Ghost Gloves, Heather Tleige for her Ghost Reader and Lia Donaldson for her Aura Net – all wonderful ghostly inventions.

  ‘Of all ghosts, the ghosts of our old loves are the worst.’ Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes

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  ‘You’re not getting away that easily.’

  Angeline fixed her sights on the faint red glow of the ghost that had appeared on the screen of her Tracker. She and Edgar had been following this particular spectral pest for days, and once again it was almost in her grasp.

  She stepped carefully and quickly over the damp forest floor, which was twisted with roots and choked with the musty decay of leaves. Swirls of mist caught in her torchlight, creeping from between the trees and circling her ankles like snakes.

  She knew she shouldn’t be here on her own. When she first spied the ghost, she should have hurried to Edgar’s room and told him what she’d seen. He would have grabbed his Ghost Coat and satchel, like she had, and raced from the stone fortress to attempt the catching together. Only the most experienced Ghost Club members were allowed to go out on a catch alone – and even then they often went with a partner. It was safer that way. You could never tell just how much trouble your ghost was going to cause, and two pairs of eyes were always better when ghosts were at their most pesky.

  But tonight she’d had little time to act, so act she did.

  Angeline held her Tracker before her. The deep red glow of a ghost was still on her screen, hidden in the thick fog, just out of sight. She hurried on, treading as delicately as her boots would allow.

  She briefly glanced up when the toe of her boot caught under a knotted root, and she stumbled forward. Flinging her hands out to break her fall, her torch and Tracker flew from her grip. Angeline fell hard, looking up just in time to see her torch land in the mud and her Tracker strike against a boulder with a sickening crack.

  She scrambled forward, whispering, ‘No. Please not now.’

  The display panel was shattered. The red glow was gone. She really shouldn’t have gone on a catch without a partner.

  She knelt on the ground, mud splattering her face and soaking into her jeans.

  The forest was now thick with fog. Without her Tracker she had no chance of knowing where she was going, and even less of finding her way back. She had two options: give up and again let this ghost get away, or keep going and complete another catch that would continue to mark her as one of the best ghost-catchers in the business.

  She sighed and knew the sensible thing to do.

  But she also knew that this ghost was getting to be a real pain, and it was time someone did something about it.

  She grabbed her muddy torch, got to her feet and took her Ghost Goggles from her satchel. She slipped them on and searched the long shadows and narrow corridors between the trees, hoping they would reveal a ghostly red glow.

  Nothing.

  ‘Where are you?’ she wondered aloud.

  Now that she had stopped, the forest seemed alive with sounds: creaking branches, scuttlings through the undergrowth and sniffing behind the trees. She even thought she heard the soft wheezing of someone behind her. She spun round, her torch blazing. No one was there . . .

  By now the forest had lost the last touches of moonlight and was plunged into a thick, syrupy darkness. She searched for the way back, but each gap between the trees looked the same. The leaves swayed above her and a creeping cold ate into her bones.

  Which is when she saw the flashing light, like a signal beckoning her forward. She inched slowly closer. The light continued to flash, only now it was faster, more insistent. Her goggles detected no supernatural activity, so she had to be careful. Ghosts she could deal with. Humans and animals were another issue altogether.

  The crack of a branch was all she heard before her body was slammed to the ground. Her breath was snatched from her chest, and she struggled to get it back beneath the suffocating fur pressed against her face. She tried to force her attacker off her, pushed with all her strength, but it was too heavy, too determined that she had taken her last breaths.

  ‘Angeline!’

  It was Edgar. He’d come for her.

  ‘Where are you?’

  Here! She tried to cry but her voice was muffled, caught beneath the fur. I’m over here.

  ‘Angeline!’

  It was no use. She wasn’t strong enough. She’d never be able to . . .

  ‘Angeline!’

  Angeline’s eyes shot open and she was pulled from her nightmare by the searching wet nose and slobbering tongue of their terrier, Harry Houdini.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  Angeline sat up and wiped her face on her sleeve. ‘No offence, but I will be when I get this dog off me.’

  Houdini whined.

  ‘She doesn’t mean it.’ Edgar took the dog in his arms and sat on a chair beside his sister’s bed.

  ‘Actually, I do.’

  ‘Houdini was worried – we both were. We heard you calling out and came to investigate.’ Edgar frowned. ‘You don’t often have nightmares.’

  ‘No.’ Angeline looked at the tangle of blankets and crumpled pillows around her. ‘I dreamt I was in a forest on a catch when I was ambushed by a savage beast –’ she tousled Houdini’s fur ‘– which I now realise was you. I’ve been in plenty of catches before, but in this one I was really scared.’

  Edgar frowned. ‘Dreams can be subconscious manifestations of our real-life fears.’


  ‘My real-life fear is being attacked by a small white terrier?’

  Houdini whined again.

  Edgar patted him. ‘That would be highly unlikely, but it is possible that the cause of the nightmare was some other deep-seated fear. Has anything been bothering your subconscious lately?’

  Angeline shrugged. ‘As far as I know it’s perfectly fine.’

  ‘It would be wise to keep an eye on it.’

  A gust of wind blustered into the room, billowing the curtains into the air. It flipped open the cover of a book on the bedside table and fanned through the pages. The gust stopped as suddenly as it began. The curtain settled and the pages came to rest.

  The book was called Fascinating Figures from History, and Edgar noticed it had opened on a very particular page. ‘Karl Friedrich Hieronymus Freiherr von Münchausen, otherwise known as the Baron of Lies.’

  ‘That’s not very flattering,’ Angeline said.

  ‘He was a German officer born in 1720, who fought in two wars, travelled through Russia and retired as a country gentleman. He was most famous for his extraordinary tales where he claimed he’d escaped being savaged by a mad dog, fought off multiple bear attacks and only just avoided being scalped and burnt at the stake.’

  ‘Really?’ Angeline raised a skeptical eyebrow. ‘He’s quite some guy.’

  ‘He also claimed to have been swallowed by a large fish while swimming in the Mediterranean, and when the fish was harpooned by sailors from a passing ship, they cut it open and the baron emerged, naked and unharmed.’

  ‘And people believed him while most others have trouble believing in ghosts?’

  ‘He was said to be very convincing, and the prospect of fame can make people behave in very peculiar ways – in this case, telling outrageous lies.’

  Edgar got to his feet. ‘But for now, we have a meeting to attend. Are you packed?’

  ‘Are you kidding? I’ve been packed for a week.’

  ‘So you’re ready to go?’

  Angeline’s hair stuck out at odd angles and her pyjamas were twisted around her body. ‘Yeah, I thought I’d go with the casual look. What do you think?’

  Edgar smiled. ‘I think you have mastered it superbly.’

  Houdini barked in agreement.

  ‘See you soon for what promises to be the most exciting Ghost Club event of the year.’

  The Usher family stood with their suitcases beside them, admiring the vaulting heights and shambling beauty of the Ghost Club mansion. The stairs that went nowhere, the crooked tower that looked as if it might tumble over at any moment, and the churning waters of the piranha-filled moat.

  ‘So very beautiful,’ Arthur Usher said. ‘It is a proud task we have been given in keeping the world safe from paranormal mishaps, and a very rare person who can boast about dedicating their life to the safety of humankind everywhere.’

  Lily Usher placed her hand on her husband’s arm. ‘You are a very good man, Arthur Usher.’

  ‘And even luckier to have you and this family.’

  ‘Nothing’s more important than family,’ said an older, grey-haired man who shimmered into view beside Grandma Rose. ‘Isn’t that right, my precious flower?’ He puckered his lips for a kiss.

  ‘Very true indeed, Huffman.’ Grandma Rose ignored her ghostly husband’s pursed lips. ‘But there’s no time for love now – I have some very important scientific work to attend to.’

  ‘Can we help?’ Angeline put on her most charming smile.

  ‘Nice try, but you know the new inventions for the convention are highly guarded secrets until the grand unveiling ceremony.’ She grinned cheekily. ‘But when you see what I have, I think you’re going to be very impressed with your dear old grandmother.’

  ‘We’re always impressed with –’ Grandpa Huffman began, but Grandma Rose was already crossing the moat to the entrance of the mansion ‘– everything about you.’ His face fell into a gloomy frown.

  ‘Don’t worry, Grandpa,’ Angeline said. ‘You know how fussed she gets when she’s preparing a new invention.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ he said, more to convince himself. ‘There’s no point in me hanging around getting in the way. I’ll see you at the convention.’

  And with that the older man gave them a small wave and faded from view.

  The hum of a car engine sounded behind them. They turned to see a long, black hearse slowly making its way down the drive before entering the courtyard. It turned in front of the creeper-filled building with its dead, weed-choked garden, before coming to rest beside them. Two people emerged from either side of the car. One was tall with a flowing cape, which he flicked over his shoulder; the other was smaller and a little shaky on his feet.

  ‘Dylan!’ Angeline raced over to the smaller figure and threw her arms around him in a chest-squeezing hug. ‘Isn’t this the most exciting day of your life so far?’

  Dylan, as well as struggling to catch his breath from the hug, was not nearly as excited about this day as Angeline was. In fact, he had spent most of the previous night and the entire car trip to the Ghost Club mansion caught in visions and nightmares of being torn apart limb from limb by ravaging wolves, or being set upon by sharp-toothed vampires hellbent on biting his neck and draining every last ounce of his blood.

  ‘It . . . sure is.’ His attempt at appearing enthusiastic came out more as a pitiful whine. Everything about the next few days filled him with terror. The one small factor that brought him a slight hint of happiness was that Angeline would be there too.

  ‘Your very first Annual Ghost Club Convention,’ she beamed. ‘And in Transylvania! Home to so many stories and legends of paranormal activity, mythical beasts and, of course, Count Dracula. How lucky are we?’

  Dylan could only stare at Angeline’s bright eyes and wish he could feel even one ounce of what she felt.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Gloom,’ Lily sang. ‘How fine it is to see you, as always.’

  ‘And how my soul fills with the serenity of a graveyard to see the Usher family.’

  ‘Ah, Gloom, always the poet,’ Arthur admired.

  ‘What can I say?’ The tall man shrugged. ‘It is a blessing.’

  Dylan let out a strangled squeak.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Edgar noticed Dylan’s face had turned a pale shade of old sock.

  ‘Do you feel unwell, dear boy?’ Gloom gripped his good leg and walked with a slight limp towards him. ‘You were all right in the car when I was reciting my poetry to you.’

  ‘Gloom read you some poetry?’ Edgar said. ‘What luck!’

  Ever since Dylan had met the Usher family, he felt they never quite shared the same definition of the word ‘luck’. In the car, Gloom had recited a poem about a young boy pursued by a giant tarantula, which eventually caught him and ate him alive. He’d seen documentaries about tarantulas and how they speared their prey with long fangs, paralysing them with a poison that turned their insides into a pulpy mess that the spider slurped up like a milkshake.

  He shook his head, trying to remove the image from his mind. ‘I’m fine, thank you.’

  ‘I thought you’d be coming with your mum and grandpa,’ Angeline said.

  ‘Grandfather had to leave yesterday to help with final preparations, and Mum doesn’t like airports, not since we said goodbye to Dad before he –’

  Dylan stopped. He’d last seen his dad just before he flew to the Amazon in search of a rare butterfly – and he hadn’t been seen or heard from since.

  Angeline put her hand on Dylan’s arm.

  There was a strained moment when no one knew what to say until Gloom swept an arm around the young boy’s shoulders. ‘Which means we had the delightful pleasure of each other’s company. Wouldn’t you say?’

  Dylan wondered if the entire trip was going to be spent with people asking him questions he found difficult to answer. ‘I . . . I . . .’

  A wild thrashing erupted from the moat. ‘Looks like Daisy and Herman are hungry.’ Gloom reached i
nto his pocket and pulled out a bag of fat, slithering worms. He picked one out and held it up to Dylan. ‘If you were a piranha, you’d have gobbled this bloodworm up by now.’

  Almost at the exact time as Gloom said ‘bloodworm’, most of Dylan’s blood had drained from his face and he felt as if the ground beneath him was about to swallow him whole.

  ‘I . . . I . . .’ he stammered.

  A small beeping sound came from Angeline’s pocket. She pulled out her Tracker and touched her thumb against the screen. After her fingerprint was verified, Endora’s smiley face appeared before her. ‘Ah, your grandma told me you were here. You haven’t forgotten your promise to come up and say goodbye, have you?’

  ‘Of course not. We’ll be right up.’

  ‘Don’t be long,’ Arthur instructed. ‘We need to leave for the airport as soon as Grandma Rose has gathered her inventions.’

  Dylan somehow managed to move his feet and follow Angeline and Edgar as they raced into the mansion foyer. They flashed their Ghost Club badges at the desk clerk and ran up the grand staircase to the second floor. They flew down the Hall of Dedication, lined with portraits of the club’s most elite catchers, before stopping at the door of the Depository, home of over 150 years of archival records and evidence of ghostly activity.

  Also home to its reclusive Head of Spectral Research, Endora Spright.

  Angeline knocked on the door.

  ‘Who is it?’ A wary voice asked from inside.

  ‘Angeline.’

  ‘Angeline Usher?’

  ‘Yes, the same Angeline you’ve been expecting.’

  The locks slid across on the other side of the door, which eventually opened to reveal Endora’s bright face, beehived red hair and outstretched gloved hands.

  ‘Sorry about that, I just wanted to be sure. Come in! Come in!’ They bundled inside as Endora locked the door behind them. ‘The big day has finally arrived! You must be so excited. I’d give you all a hug if you weren’t crawling with millions of different kinds of bacteria and germs.’ She stopped herself, her face frozen in a moment of fear. ‘Please don’t be offended. I don’t mean just you, of course – I mean all humans, and it is otherwise very delightful to see you.’