“I hate rain,” Happy said miserably. “It’s cold and wet and it sinks into your clothes and gives you chills. Hate it.”
“Weather forecasts,” Melody said bitterly. “A very basic contradiction in terms.”
“Let’s get inside,” JC said diplomatically. “I’m sure we’ll all feel a lot better when we’re all warm and cosy in the main bar.”
“I don’t like it here,” said Happy. “I can feel the pressure building. There’s a storm coming; and it’s going to be a monster. .”
They all looked across at the inn, on the far side of the crowded car park, and the inn looked back at them. The taxi-driver hauled their suitcases out of the trunk, muttering under his breath all the time. It sounded like he was making hard work of it, but none of them offered to help. The King’s Arms was a large, blocky building, with bright lights burning cheerfully in all the downstairs windows. Up above, everything was dark. The inn looked solid, well established, as though it had endured time and weather and other things, and was still here in spite of all of them. The sign swinging noisily above the main entrance looked surprisingly modern, a stylised crowned head. Happy regarded it suspiciously.
“So which King was the pub originally named after? George V, maybe? Though the building looks to be a lot older, maybe even sixteenth-century. .”
“Some people can’t help showing off their ignorance,” Melody said loudly to JC. “The King’s Arms is much older than that. This particular building goes back so many centuries, under so many names, that there’s no way of telling which monarch it was named after. I do wish at least one of you would read the briefing files. .”
“But then you wouldn’t have the fun of lecturing us,” said JC. “You’re annoyed because the truck bringing your main equipment is delayed by the weather.” He did his best to sound patient and understanding but couldn’t quite bring it off. It’s hard to feel civilised with rain trickling down the back of your neck. “I’m sure it’ll be here tomorrow, and you can shout at the drivers. Won’t that be nice?”
Melody sniffed loudly and moistly. “I swear they do this deliberately, just to mess with me. Good thing I packed some basic tech in my suitcase. Enough to make a start. .”
“Would that be the really heavy case that the driver is struggling with?” said JC innocently.
“Don’t you dare bash it about like that!” said Melody.
She went hurrying back to rescue her bag from the driver. JC and Happy exchanged an understanding glance. And then they both looked at the inn again.
“Are you picking up anything, Happy?”
“Yes. . It feels like we’re being watched.”
“From inside the pub?” said JC, frowning.
“No,” said Happy. “From all around. . Something knows we’re here. And it’s not pleased.”
“What kind of something?” said JC.
“Old,” said Happy. “Very old.”
Melody came back, dragging a large suitcase behind her on protesting casters. The taxi-driver followed after, bringing JC and Happy’s much smaller suitcases. He dumped them both at JC’s feet and glowered at him meaningfully. He didn’t actually stick out his hand for payment, but he was clearly thinking about it.
“What’s your hurry?” said JC. “You weren’t in any rush to get here.”
“I need to get back to town before the flood-waters cut off the only road,” said the driver.
Which was reasonable enough; but there was something in the man’s voice, and in his manner, which suggested there was a lot more to it than that. When JC didn’t respond immediately, the driver glanced about him in a jumpy sort of way. He was definitely scared of something. He wouldn’t even look at the inn itself. JC took pity on the man and gave him ten pounds. The driver stuffed the note in his pocket without even looking at it and hurried back to his taxi. He opened the door, then stopped and looked back, as though prodded by some last vestige of conscience.
“You’re not actually thinking of staying the night here, at the King’s Arms; are you?” he said roughly.
“Yes,” said JC. “Any reason why we shouldn’t?”
The taxi-driver shuddered briefly. “Then may God have mercy on your souls.”
He clambered quickly back behind the wheel, slammed the door shut, turned the taxi around, and set off down the waterlogged road, driving a lot faster than was safe. His lights soon disappeared into the dark green corridor and were gone. The three Ghost Finders looked at each other, then at the inn. Seen through the driving rain, the bright lights shining through the old-fashioned leaded windows seemed especially cheerful and inviting.
“Looks cosy enough to me,” JC said determinedly. “We can check out the pub’s history tonight, do whatever needs doing tomorrow, after Melody’s equipment has arrived, then maybe take a few days off, for a nice little holiday. I think we’ve earned one. Good food, good drink, good company, and all of it at the Institute’s expense. Doesn’t that sound splendid, my children?”
“Your optimism never ceases to amaze me,” said Happy. “You should know better than that by now. I told you; this is a bad place! I mean, look at it! That pub’s thirty feet away if it’s an inch, and already I’m getting bad vibes. Given the sheer age and accumulated history of that place, it’s probably crawling with ghosts and ghoulies and long-leggity beasties. And I hate long-legged things. Including supermodels. It’s not natural to be that bony.”
“We only deal in ghosts,” said JC. “For anything else, they can call RentaKill.”
“Can we please get in out of the rain?” Melody said forcefully. “Before we all drown?”
And she headed determinedly for the main entrance, hauling her large suitcase along behind her like a reluctant dog. Happy picked up his suitcase and went after her, splashing deliberately through every puddle along the way to demonstrate what a rotten day he was having. JC grabbed his case and started after them, then stopped and looked about him.
“Kim?” he said. “Is that you? Are you here with us?”
There was no reply. JC went after the others.
* * *
He had to turn this way and that, squeezing his way through the narrow gaps between the closely packed vehicles. Big and small, rich and poor-must be a hell of a turnout at the pub, thought JC. Maybe it’s quiz night. . And then he stopped, as he realised Happy and Melody had stopped, barely half-way through the car park. JC moved forward to stand beside Happy, who was clutching his lightweight suitcase to his chest.
“Tell me that case isn’t just full of pills,” said JC.
“It isn’t just full of pills,” said Happy, not even looking round. “Travel light, travel fast, that’s what I always say. Because you can’t make a hurried exit from a scene of imminent peril if you’re dragging heavy luggage along behind you. I know; I’ve tried. Amazing what you can bring yourself to abandon if Something is catching up with you. These days my suitcase contains a thermos full of hot chicken-and-sage soup, an assortment of useful items, and my pyjamas. I don’t normally bother with such things, but I always wear pyjamas when I’m away. In case there’s a fire. Or a burglar. Everyone knows burglars are frightened of pyjamas. Or is it a chair and a whip? I can never remember. .”
“You took something in the toilet on the last train, didn’t you?” said JC.
“Possibly,” said Happy. “Who can say? I might be naturally cheerful. It does happen. On occasion.”
“Junkie,” said Melody.
“Kill-joy,” said Happy.
“Children, children,” said JC. “Why have we stopped?”
“Because we’re not alone,” said Happy. “There’s someone else here, in the car park with us. Or, more likely, Something.”
JC looked carefully around him. Moonlight and light from the pub’s windows washed across the great hulking shapes that filled the car park. Everything seemed still and peaceful. And then something moved, between the parked cars, a dark, shadowy shape, moving quickly in and out of sight. JC pressed forward, threading his way through the parked vehicles to where he saw the shape; but when he got there, there was no-one. JC and Happy and Melody moved quickly back and forth between the cars, splashing through the puddles. Again and again, they all saw the dark shape, flitting soundlessly, disappearing in a moment, but they couldn’t even get close to it. In the end, JC got fed up with being led around by the nose and turned his back on the cars. He walked determinedly towards the pub, and the others went after him. And if they caught a swift movement out of the corner of their eye, they ignored it.