Read Online Spirits of Ash and Foam by Greg Weisman - Free Book Online Page A

perceive ’Bastian in the space in front of her. He could imagine the same sad smile on the old man’s face. Rain’s smile—all sixteen varieties by Charlie’s count—had skipped Iris’ generation, but everyone who knew them agreed Rain had inherited hers from her grandfather. Try as he might, though, Charlie just couldn’t see the ghost, let alone read his expression. Giving up, he said, “He’s here, right?”
    â€œYep. Right in front of me.” Her eyes never left her Papa ’Bastian.
    â€œOkay, great,” Charlie said. “So now what?”
    That stumped all three of them. The ghost was in the house. Now what?
    Rain raised a questioning eyebrow at ’Bastian. Dead or alive, he was still the only adult in the room.
    He shook his head. “Don’t look at me. You’re the Searcher, kiddo.”
    Rain growled under her breath but ultimately nodded. She said, “Fine. Let’s review what we know. See if we can figure out how this works and what we should do next.”
    â€œSounds good,” Charlie said, simultaneously with ’Bastian’s “Makes sense.”
    â€œI never saw any ghosts during the day,” Rain continued. “You, your bomber crew—none of you ever showed up until after sundown or later, and you always disappeared at sunrise.”
    â€œThat’s right,”’Bastian said. “Honestly, I’m not even sure I exist during the day. I have no memory of anything in between sunrise and sunset.”
    â€œWhat’s he saying?” Charlie asked.
    Rain held him off with a slight wave while speaking to ’Bastian. “I thought you slept in the zemi during the day?”
    â€œIt’s more like I’m stored in there. It doesn’t feel like sleep. And if I’ve had any dreams, I sure don’t remember them.”
    â€œMaybe ghosts don’t dream.”
    â€œYou got me. There’s no owner’s manual for being dead. Although I’m not sure why I’m surprised. There’s no owner’s manual for being alive, either.”
    â€œRain,” Charlie grumbled. It had only been two days, and already he was way tired of constantly being left out of her spirit-talk.
    â€œSorry, sorry. He’s been saying he doesn’t have any memories of the daytime. Not even dreams. And he doesn’t know how being a ghost works.”
    â€œSo try some stuff,” Charlie suggested. “Can he walk through walls?”
    Rain looked at ’Bastian, who nodded. “Well, I did some of this yesterday, but I guess a little experimentation couldn’t hurt.”
    He crossed to her door and hesitated. “I feel a little silly.” Then, out of habit, he took a deep airless breath and stuck his head through the door.
    Rain narrated: “He just stuck his head through the door. Now he’s walking all the way through it. I can’t see him. Now he’s back.” She turned to ’Bastian. “How’d that feel? Does it hurt? Is it weird?”
    â€œDoesn’t hurt. It’s a little weird. It’s like … It’s like … humidity. You know when you walk outside on the stickiest day of the year…”
    â€œAnd you feel like you’re walking into a wall of yuck,” she said, nodding again.
    â€œSomething like that.”
    â€œOkay,” Charlie said, mostly to prove he was getting the gist of things. “So the wooden door feels like a wall of yuck. What does a wall feel like?”
    â€™Bastian shrugged and crossed to the outer wall of Rain’s room, beside the window looking out on Goodfellow Lane. Rain watched him, and Charlie used the movement of her head to follow the action.
    â€™Bastian felt a little like a trained seal, doing tricks on command. On the other hand, I probably should learn my limits . He stuck his head and upper body through the wall. Hanging out over the second story, he felt a