Page 12 of Sparkle Witch
The chef’s eyebrows snapped together. ‘Meeting? Who with? I don’t see anyone…’ His voice trailed off as dawning realization lit his eyes. ‘No. Not the ghosts. Tell me you’re not meeting the ghosts here.’
I offered him a rueful smile but said nothing.
‘They make the milk go sour!’
They didn’t really but it was a superstition I’d invented for just this sort of eventuality. Of course, just because I’d made this particular superstition up didn’t mean that the rest of them weren’t true.
I raised my shoulders helplessly. ‘The end of the world is nigh. I have to meet the ghosts somewhere.’
‘Not here, you don’t.’
‘There’s nowhere else.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘What do you want to go away and take your spookies with you?’
My answer was prompt. ‘A bacon sandwich with the crusts cut off and lashings of brown sauce.’
He sighed and gritted his teeth, acknowledging he’d been outmanoeuvred. ‘Done.’
It really was that easy. Then a thought struck me. ‘But if you or anyone else spits in it, I will know. And I’ll be able to use the DNA to conjure up all sorts of nasty things that will—’
He interrupted me. ‘Nothing untoward will happen to your damn sandwich. Just take your ghosts and get out of here. I’ll have the sandwich brought to you.’
I leaned across and gave kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thanks! You’re the best. And the best bacon-sarnie maker this side of the Channel.’
He muttered under his breath and stalked away. There was just enough of a spring in his step for me to know that he was secretly overjoyed at the compliment.
I wasn’t perfect but I wasn’t wholly evil either.
***
I was in the small park in front of the cafeteria finishing off the last bite when Grenville appeared, flickering into existence right next to me. ‘Everyone’s here,’ he said. He stared at my empty plate for so long that I was certain he was starting to drool. The suggestion of a good bacon sandwich could do that to anyone, even a centuries-old ghost who’d probably never had one in real life.
He looked away and I licked the grease off my fingers. This was one of those occasions when it was wise not to remind Grenville that he was a mere ghost and could neither eat nor drink.
I thanked him and looked around. There were more ghosts here than I’d realised – and at least three unfamiliar faces. I coughed then stood up on a park bench so they could all see me.
‘The Hallowed Order of Magical Enlightenment requires your help,’ I intoned formally. ‘The Angel of the Order is missing. If we do not locate it soon, a terrible curse will be unleashed which will no doubt cause my death. If I’m dead, then so are you.’ I wrinkled my nose. That hadn’t come out quite as I’d intended. ‘I mean, you’re already dead now but you’ll be dead in the sense that you won’t be able to pass to the next plane. Not until some other poor sap who can talk to ghosts shows up. The only chance for all of us is to find the Angel – and find it soon.’ Realising that I was babbling, I did what I could to regain control of my mouth. I took a deep breath. ‘I command you all to go forth and seek out the Angel of the Order.’
For a long moment there was nothing but silence. Then, towards the back of the crowd of assembled ghosts, a tentative hand went up. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Yes?’ I asked benignly.
‘There are only twelve people in front of me in the queue. Can you just help me get rid of my curse now, so I can pass over before you die?’
‘Hey!’ roared another nearby ghost. ‘That’s not fair! My curse is held by the Littleby family. They work right here. I might be further down the queue than you but mine will be easier to remove.’ He snapped his head towards me. ‘Help me!’
Something or someone shoved him and he went flying. An old woman threw herself up into the air. ‘When I was alive, I worked in a soup kitchen! I rescued a small child from certain drowning! I had eight small children of my own! I deserve to be released first!’
‘If you were so good,’ yelled yet another ghost, ‘then why were you cursed to remain here in the first place?’
A cacophony of voices rose. ‘Release me!’
‘Help me first!’
‘I deserve this!’
I glanced at Grenville helplessly. This was the last thing I’d intended to happen. I had enough things to worry about; rioting ghosts were not going to help matters.
