Ways to See a Ghost

centre?”
    “It’s at the top of that pole,” said Isis, “by the glass.”
    “Up there?” Gray pointed.
    “Don’t!” hissed Isis, slapping his arm down. “It might see you!”
    “Are you winding me up?” said Gray.
    “No! That thing is stalking Angel. Mandeville called it a Devourer. He said it eats ghosts or something.”
    Gray paused, then turned to look up at the escalators. “And is Angel still up there?” he asked.
    Isis nodded. The teenagers were bunched together at the entrance to the coffee shop, getting told off by a security guard. “Legitimate shoppers feel intimidated with you here…” he was saying loudly.
    “We’re legitimate shoppers,” said one of the boys, waving a drinks can. “I bought this.”
    Angel, the pale sprite, was still playing amongst them, unnoticed by everyone. Except for the blue-wash creature above, watching her with its many eyes, and gathering itself to strike.
    Isis stood still at the bottom of the escalators, hesitating.
    “Go on then,” said Gray.
    The ridged metal steps trundled up with a constant rumble. At the top of the escalators, the teenagers moved just enough to placate the security guard. Angel went with them, and the slime of blue slipped along the ceiling, keeping track.
    Isis turned to Gray.
    “I can’t get to her without them noticing,” she said.
    He shrugged. “So?”
    So they’d see her talking to the air. Then they’d see her arguing with the air, grabbing hold of it and dragging it away. Her stomach tightened at the thought. The insults and laughter, the sly punch to put her in her place. She faced it every day at school – she didn’t want to face it here as well.
    “They’ll think I’m a freak,” she said quietly, hating herself for being afraid.
    But the overhead blue was spreading now, getting deeper, as if the whole shopping mall were a submarine descending into water. What the teenagers might say didn’t matter, nothing mattered but Angel.
    Isis took a breath. “You stay here,” she said to Gray.
    “Why?” he said, his heavy eyebrows shadowing his eyes.And he stepped onto the escalator, rising smoothly away from her, his hand on the moving rail.
    Isis stared, then jumped on after.
    “They’ll think you’re a freak too,” she said.
    Gray shrugged. “I don’t care.”
    “What shall we do?”
    He shrugged again. “I don’t know. Something.”
    They were carried upwards, the air thickening and flickering into a blue only Isis could see. As if she were really, dizzily, diving down into the sea. The sky was obscured by the vast, spreading bulk of the creature. It filled the top of the mall, its multiple shifting eyes focused on Angel.
    If it took her away, like it took the ghost at the theatre…
    “We have to hurry!” cried Isis, one fear overcoming another. She pushed past Gray, running straight off the escalator towards the teenage gang. They were chatting together, drinking from their cans and eating crisps. All of them ignored Isis, except for one of the girls; arms crossed under her crop top, one hip pushed out. She glared at Isis from under scraped-back hair.
    “You want something?”
    Angel’s head poked out through the girl’s jeans, as if her legs weren’t there. Isis wanted to grab the little ghost, butshe couldn’t imagine what would happen if she stuck her hand between the girl’s legs.
    “Isis! I here!” Angel called, before vanishing again.
    The girl rubbed at her goosebumpy bare arms.
    “What’s wrong with this place?” she snapped. “Why can’t they sort the temperature out?” She glared at Isis again. “And what’s up with you? You got something wrong with your eyes, or is it your brain?”
    Isis realised she was squinting, trying to see through the gloopy depths created by the blue-wash creature. She shook her head, opening her eyes.
    “Nothing. I’m fine,” she managed.
    Gray caught up, and the girl flicked a scornful glance over him.
    “Hello,” he said, very loud and bright. “My name’s Gray. Who are you?”
    The others turned challenging stares on him. Four boys and three girls, spreading out into a loose semicircle around Gray and Isis.
    One lad was slim and good looking, holding himself like he owned the place. He pointed his can at Gray’s carrier bag.
    “You come up here to give me a present? What is it?”
    The others laughed.
    “It’s his shoes,” Isis said. “They wouldn’t fit you.”
    The air darkened a little more. The creature was wrapping