Read Online Lockwood & Co: The Screaming Staircase by Jonathan Stroud - Free Book Online

rusted with the years, and the door was stiff and warped. We pushed it open and shone our torches across a large and desolate foyer. It had a low ceiling and plenty of debris on the cracked linoleum tiles. There were desks and easy chairs, old notices on the walls, a smell of rotting furniture. You could hear the sound of the stream running somewhere below the floor.
    We went into the foyer, taking with us a drift of cigarette smoke. Agent Jacobs did not come with us. He stayed outside on his stump, staring at his knees.
    Keeping close together, we used our Talents once more. I got the sobbing noise again, louder this time. We turned off our torches and hunted about; and it wasn’t long before we saw a little glowing shape, crouching far off at the end of a passage that led deeper into the mill. When we switched the torches back on, the passageway seemed clear.
    I went back out to report our findings. ‘Paul and Julie sayit looks like a little kid. I can’t make out the details. It’s very faint. And it’s not moving.’
    Agent Jacobs tapped ash into the grass. ‘It hasn’t responded to you in any way? Not tried to approach you?’
    ‘No, sir. The others think it’s a weak Type One, perhaps the echo of some child who worked here long ago.’
    ‘All right, fine. Pin it back with iron. Then you can search the spot.’
    ‘Yes, sir. Only, sir . . .’
    ‘What is it, Lucy?’
    ‘There’s . . . something about this one. I don’t like it.’
    The end of the cigarette glowed red in the darkness as Agent Jacobs drew on it briefly. As always these days, his hand shook; his tone was irritable. ‘Don’t like it? It’s a child crying. Of course you don’t like it. Do you hear something else?’
    ‘No, sir.’
    ‘Another voice, maybe? From a second, stronger, Visitor?’
    ‘No . . .’ And it was true. I didn’t hear anything dangerous. Everything about the visitation was wispy and frail, suggestive of weakness. The sound, the shape . . . they were barely there at all. Just a typical faint Shade. We could snuff it in a trice. All the same, I distrusted it. I disliked the way it cowered so very tight and small.
    ‘What do the others say?’ Jacobs asked.
    ‘They think it’s easy enough, sir. They’re impatient to get on. But it just seems . . . wrong to me.’
    I could hear him shifting on the stump. Wind moved among the trees. ‘I can order them to pull back, Lucy. But vague feelings are no good. I need a solid reason.’
    ‘No, sir . . . I guess it’s OK . . .’ I sighed, hesitated. ‘Perhaps you could come in with me?’ I asked. ‘You could give me your opinion.’
    There was a heavy silence. ‘Just do your job,’ Agent Jacobs said.
    The others were impatient. When I caught sight of them, they were already advancing along the passage, rapiers up, salt bombs ready. Not far away, the glowing form sensed the approaching iron. It quailed and shrank, flickered in and out of vision like a badly tuned TV. It began to drift off towards a corner of the passage.
    ‘It’s on the move!’ someone said.
    ‘It’s fading!’
    ‘Keep it in sight! We don’t want to lose it!’
    If the apparition’s vanishing point was not observed, locating the Source would be that much more laborious. There was a general rush forward. I drew my sword, hastened to catch up with the others. The shade was so faint now it was almost gone. My apprehensions seemed suddenly absurd.
    Small as an infant, ever shrinking, the ghost limped forlornly round the corner, out of view. My fellow agents hurried after it; I speeded up too. Even so, I hadn’t actuallyreached the turn when the vicious flare of plasmic light ripped across the wall in front of me. There was a squeal of tortured iron and a solitary burst of magnesium fire. In the brief illumination from the flare I saw a monstrous shadow rising. The light went out.
    Then all the screams began.
    I twisted my head, looked back down the passage and across the foyer towards the open door.