Ghostfinders 03 -Ghost of a Dream

things that are none of my concern.”
    JC had already stopped listening, half-way through the old caretaker’s response. He was thinking. Why would Kim have brought him here, into a trap, to be attacked? This had to be deliberate. Wait until he was separated from Happy and Melody, then bring him to a room with no escape, where his death would be waiting.
    “Why would Kim bring me here?” he said, and only realised he’d said it aloud when Lissa snorted loudly.
    “What did she say to bring you here?”
    “She didn’t say anything,” said JC.
    “Then there’s your answer. How do you know it was really your Kim?” said Lissa. “We’ve all seen all kinds of illusions in the theatre, things and people that weren’t what they appeared to be.”
    “But like you said, this was different,” said JC. “This wasn’t just scary; someone meant for me to die here.”
    “Someone else is here in the theatre with us,” said Lissa. “Someone who isn’t supposed to be here.”
    JC nodded brusquely to Old Tom. “Thanks for your help. Have you seen anyone else? Anyone who isn’t authorised to be here?”
    “No, sir.”
    JC looked at him thoughtfully. “How did you know Lissa and I were in trouble?”
    “I didn’t, sir,” said Old Tom. “I was checking out the corridors, looking for you, to pass on a message. And then I heard you two crashing about in here, whereno-one had any business being, and I thought I’d better take a look.”
    “A message?” said Lissa. “Who from, exactly?”
    “From Mr. Happy, Mr. Benjamin, and Miss Elizabeth,” said the old caretaker, a bit importantly. “They want you, and Miss Melody, to rejoin them on the old stage, as soon as possible.”
    “Go back to the main stage?” said JC. “What on earth for?”
    Old Tom shrugged. “They didn’t say, sir, and it wasn’t my business to ask. Will there be anything else, sir? Then I’ll be off. Lots of work still to do.”
    He smiled about him vaguely and went back out into the corridor. Lissa looked at JC, who stayed where he was, frowning hard, thinking.
    “Something’s not quite right,” said JC.
    “Oh, I couldn’t agree more,” said Lissa. “That moustache really doesn’t suit him.”
    “Why didn’t Melody ring me if she knew I was needed?” said JC. He took out his phone and checked, but there were no missed calls.
    “Why didn’t Happy yell at you with his mind?” said Lissa.
    “Because I put a lot of time and effort into training him not to do that except for real life-endangering emergencies,” said JC. “Still…”
    “Oh, to hell with it,” said Lissa. “Let’s go see what they want. I’m sick to death of this room. Never wanted to come in here anyway.”
    JC nodded slowly and started to follow Lissa out ofthe room and into the corridor. At the last moment, he stopped in the doorway as a thought struck him. The costumes only attacked him. Not Lissa. Not even when she was tearing at them, to save him. Odd, that…
    He looked around the room. There were no clothes, no costumes. Even the clothing racks were gone. He saw only a bare and empty room, full of dust and shadows.

EIGHT

IN THE FLESH
    Still in the theatre lobby, and getting more than a little tired of it, Melody frowned over her scientific equipment like a mother with a sick child. She moved back and forth, doing her level best to coax and persuade the various instruments into telling her something she actually wanted to know. But, as far as all her screens, sensors, and scientific readings were concerned, everything in the lobby was wonderful. Nothing out of the ordinary was happening, and all was quiet on the supernatural front. Melody stood over her machines, scowling heavily and tugging at her lower lip as she gave the matter some thought and wondered whether she should get out the operating manual or a really big hammer. Because she knew for a fact that something was wrong with the lobby.
    And that was when all her readouts started going crazy, right in front of her eyes. The first to go was thetemperature gauge. The display started climbing, and wouldn’t stop. According to the figure before her, the temperature in the lobby was already at jungle heat and rising so fast it was heading for the stratosphere. If it really was as hot in the lobby as the gauge was making out, the machine would be melting, and Melody would be crisp and aromatic and ready to serve. And then the reading dropped, just as rapidly, and they kept on dropping.