Haunters (9780545502542) Read online

  For Penny and Tim

  THE

  DREAMWALKER’S

  CODE

  1. BE SEEN, BUT NOT NOTICED.

  2. TALK, BUT DON’T TELL.

  3. LEAVE NO STONE TURNED.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  The Dreamwalker’s Code

  Chapter 1: Unsleep

  Chapter 2: The Headaches Are the Worst Part

  Chapter 3: The Girl in the Alleyway

  Chapter 4: Just a Dream

  Chapter 5: A Practical Theory of Ghosts

  Chapter 6: The Map of Time and Place

  Chapter 7: London, December 17, 1940, 12:10 A.M.

  Chapter 8: The Museum of Things That Weren’t

  Chapter 9: London, December 17, 1940, 8:01 A.M.

  Chapter 10: The Map and Misty

  Chapter 11: London, December 17, 1940, 11:45 A.M.

  Chapter 12: Leave No Stone Turned

  Chapter 13: The Cane and the Spear

  Chapter 14: London, December 17, 1940, 4:57 P.M.

  Chapter 15: The Showing Glass

  Chapter 16: Eddie’s ghost

  Chapter 17: London, December 17, 1940, 6:45 P.M.

  Chapter 18: The Foreshadow

  Chapter 19: The Hole in Misty’s Memory

  Chapter 20: Be Seen, But Not Noticed

  Chapter 21: Uninvited Guests

  Chapter 22: The Paddington Ghost

  Chapter 23: Grounded

  Chapter 24: London, December 18, 1940, 4:15 P.M.

  Chapter 25: London, December 18, 1940, 11:52 P.M.

  Chapter 26: David Remembers

  Chapter 27: The Château

  Chapter 28: Secrets and Betrayal

  Chapter 29: Petra’s Farewell

  Chapter 30: London, December 19, 1940, 4:27 P.M.

  Chapter 31: The Freed Mind

  Chapter 32: Misty’s Moment

  Chapter 33: London, December 19, 1940, 5:53 P.M.

  Chapter 34: Grinn Gets It Done

  Chapter 35: Good-byes

  Chapter 36: Dreamwalker Number One

  Chapter 37: The Dream of Adam Lang

  Chapter 38: Philippa’s Gift

  Chapter 39: The King of the Haunting

  Epilogue: London, the Present Day

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  David crouched on the roof of his best friend’s house as the flames that consumed it leaped into the night sky. He couldn’t even remember how he’d got there, let alone work out why. But as another chunk of roof collapsed in an eruption of fire and sparks, there was really only one question worth asking: Was Eddie still inside?

  And unfortunately, there was only one way to find out.

  Scampering up to the chimney stack, David peered through the heat and smoke. The roof at the far side of the house was a great gaping hole with fire towering out of it. He’d never get in that way. So how? Think!

  Then, as he blinked in the glare, he realized he wasn’t alone. A slim figure was calmly watching him from the far edge of the roof, even as flames flickered around him.

  “Eddie?” David shouted. “Eddie, is that you?”

  A bank of smoke rolled past, obscuring his view. When it cleared, David could see that the figure was a boy of about his own age. But it wasn’t Eddie, it was …

  David stared in astonishment. He was looking at himself. Even the clothes were his own.

  He rubbed his eyes — this was no time to be seeing things. But then, as he looked again, the details began to change, melting away as more smoke drifted by, and the figure revealed itself to be a stranger after all: a tall, dark-haired boy in his late teens.

  “Who are you?” David yelled. “Where’s Eddie?”

  The boy laughed, throwing his head back.

  “You’re too late!” The boy’s voice was full of triumph. “If you’re here for Eddie, Davy boy, then you’re far too late.”

  “What do you mean?” David couldn’t be sure he’d heard right; the fire was creating a wind of its own that roared in his ears. “Who are you?”

  But the boy just laughed again. Then he turned and leaped straight off the roof.

  David skidded to the edge and looked over. The garden, four stories below, was outlined in firelight. There should have been a broken body down there now — no one could survive a fall like that — but there was nothing. He looked out into the night at the houses beyond the garden, but all he could see was the silhouette of a black cat running along the far roofline. That was when he noticed that Eddie’s place wasn’t the only one burning.

  Smudges of amber punctuated the horizon in every direction, picking out the dark shapes of chimney stacks and church towers right across the London roofscape. It looked as if the whole city was ablaze.

  And the noise was terrible. Beyond the roar immediately around him, there was a tangle of sirens and crashes, and even sounds that could have been the drone of planes and the stut-stut of anti-aircraft guns, if David hadn’t known better.

  A neighboring building suddenly collapsed, snapping him into action. Forget the sightseeing, forget the strange boy — he had to find Eddie. Impossible to get in through the roof, so … a window?

  As he slid his way toward the dormer window farthest from the fire, David had a brief, dizzying glimpse of the street far below and what might have been firemen. But he was moving fast now and couldn’t be sure. With a single fluid motion he found himself crouching in an attic bedroom. Only it wasn’t Eddie’s.

  “Eddie!” David shouted. “Eddie, where are you?”

  No reply, just the steady rumble of the fire. He had to go farther into the house. He ran out onto the landing and looked down.

  The stairs were burning. A large piece of plaster had fallen from the ceiling, covering the top flight. Everything above that was blazing, but, though it was hard to be sure through the glare, it looked as if the landing outside Eddie’s room was still intact. And Eddie’s door was closed. But what did that mean?

  Farther down, there was only a raging inferno. The whole house had to be just minutes away from collapse.

  “Eddie!”

  Still nothing.

  David hesitated then. He was taking an insane risk coming this far into the house. Surely Eddie must have escaped by now. And if he hadn’t, if the fire had already got him … No! The thought that Eddie might be dead made David sick inside. Somehow he just knew he was still alive, that in some strange way saving Eddie was precisely the reason he was here, no matter how weird that sounded. He looked down again and noticed that the chunk of plaster on the stairs was propped against the banister, leaving a protected space beneath it just big enough to crawl down.

  David swore. “You’re going to owe me for this big-time, Eddie,” he said, bracing himself.

  With a shout he ducked under the plaster and slid down to the next floor. It was hot there, hotter than anything he’d ever experienced. Without thinking, he burst free and ran for the door, his eyes firmly shut, desperately willing himself into the safety of Eddie’s room. So desperately, in fact, that he forgot the door was closed. How odd, then, that he should suddenly find himself staggering to a halt inside Eddie’s room anyway, the door still shut behind him.

  “Eddie!”

  “David?” croaked a voice from the darkness. “David, is that you?”

  David squinted. The details of Eddie’s room were hard to see, though light beyond the window picked out the brass of his old-fashioned bedstead. The room wasn’t on fire, but the heat was crushing and the smoky air so oppressive that David was amazed he could still breathe.

  There was a movement from the floor near the window. Dav
id saw his friend, slumped over, wearing a coat and clutching a satchel.

  “Eddie! Why are you still here? And who was that on the roof? No, tell me later — we’ve got to get out, and I mean now! The building’s about to come down.”

  In reply, Eddie lifted a battered notebook. Despite the gloom, David saw the words Can’t get out written large across the page, surrounded by a riot of scribbles and crossings-out. Then Eddie burst into a round of choking coughs.

  “I’ll break the window! You need air!” David said, but Eddie waved the notebook at him again in sudden alarm.

  Can’t break window — air feeds fire!

  “Eddie, this is no time for writing!” David shook his head in disbelief, even though he knew Eddie was right about the air. Eddie was always right about things like that. “Get up! There’s a safe way to the roof, but it won’t last.”

  “Yes, but David, you’re …”

  Eddie broke into another dry coughing fit as he struggled up. He seemed to be seriously ill. David couldn’t understand it — why was Eddie in such a bad way when he himself was more or less fine? For a moment he felt that there was something he should have noticed — a feeling he often had with Eddie — but it was gone before he could fix his mind on it. Besides, Eddie had been breathing in smoke for much longer than him. No wonder he could hardly talk. David ran to the door, and Eddie stumbled behind him.

  “David …” said Eddie, trying to point at something else he’d written, but David interrupted him.

  “Later. When we open this door the fire will come into the room, okay? Keep low and follow me, but be quick!”

  David grabbed the doorknob.

  It wouldn’t turn.

  His fingers slipped around it without any grip whatsoever. But hadn’t he just come through here? He let go and swore, but before he could try again, Eddie had reached out a weak hand and opened the door.

  “It’s because you aren’t —” Eddie began, but stopped as a wall of heat burst in, causing him to cry out in pain.

  “That way!” shouted David over the roar, and he pointed to the gap under the fallen plaster. “Go!”

  Eddie cried out again and jumped forward, scrabbling up the stairs in a desperate tangle of arms and legs. David was close behind.

  The house gave a sudden groan, and a large chunk of ceiling came crashing down into the stairwell behind them. Eddie dragged himself out onto the top landing, sobbing with pain. His hair and coat were smoldering, and his glasses were cracked and smudged with blood and soot. He still had his notebook rolled tightly in one hand.

  “In there!” said David, pointing to the attic bedroom.

  The house groaned again and shifted as the lower walls began to crumble. Inside the attic room, Eddie slumped to the floor once more. The window was firmly closed.

  “But I just came through here!” cried David. “How can it be closed?” He grabbed the latch, but as with the doorknob below, he just couldn’t turn it.

  “Stop pretending!” Eddie gave a desperate shout. “I know this is what you wanted. You’re playing with me … waiting to watch me die.”

  “What?”

  “I hate you!” cried Eddie. “You’ve killed me!”

  “But …” David was shouting himself now. “… I’m trying to save your life, you idiot! Both our lives.”

  “You knew this would happen … somehow. You got me back here to burn!” Eddie raised himself off the ground in fury and waved the crushed notebook in his fist. “I thought I could trust you. But Kat warned me — she knew. She said you’d want to make me like you in the end. Why didn’t I listen? You’re a … a monster …” But the coughing stopped him there.

  “Eddie, shut up! Look around you — the window … We’ve got to get out now!”

  But in reply Eddie snatched up a narrow beam of smoldering wood that had fallen from the ceiling.

  “Get away from me!”

  David’s mouth gaped in astonishment as Eddie swung this crude weapon around at him. He fell back, dizzy, and heard the window shatter.

  With a tremendous pulse of heat, the fire surged into the room.

  Eddie threw himself at the window. He grabbed the sill and dragged himself through it, ignoring the shards of glass. As David struggled to his feet, Eddie turned in the window and looked right into his eyes.

  “I hate you! I never want to see you again!”

  Then he was gone.

  David stood there in shock. What was Eddie talking about?

  There came a dreadful sound from the stairs behind him — the noise of tons of masonry on the move.

  David got to his feet, hardly noticing that the floorboards beneath him were shrinking fast. The fire in the room beneath licked up between them, turning the air to light. Time seemed to slow as the groaning of the walls increased.

  He had to get out. He tried to run, but his feet felt like lead.

  The house gave a shudder and then the floor gave way completely. David just had time to cry out as he was sucked down into the raging heart of the fire.

  David sat up with a cry and threw back the sweaty bedclothes. His heart was racing. That dream again. But — no, not exactly the same dream. A sudden spasm of pain through his temples made him cry out once more. He looked at his phone on the bedside shelf. It was 5:02 A.M.

  “Oh, great!” There was no way he’d get back to sleep now.

  David swung his feet onto the ground and massaged the sides of his head. He’d had a nightmare. He hadn’t had one of those for ages, not since … well, not for ages. But did it mean something that his Eddie dream had been involved? Nightmares happened if you ate too much cheese, didn’t they? David didn’t even like cheese.

  “Could’ve done without all that, Eddie.”

  David stood up and felt his head throb again. A nightmare and a headache too. What a way to start the day. It was cold in his room — the heating hadn’t switched on yet — so he grabbed a blanket, wrapped himself in it, and stepped out onto the dark landing. He stood, listening. Had he really cried out loud? Had anyone heard him?

  There was a click from the door across the landing. David saw the glitter from dozens of stickers catch the dim streetlight as his little sister’s door opened a crack.

  “Whatcha doin’?”

  “Nothing, Phil — taking a pee. Go back to sleep.”

  Philippa peeped around the door as if she was talking to a friend who might become an enemy at any moment. She guarded her room like a fortress.

  “She’ll know if you’ve been in the kitchen,” she said.

  “I’m not going to the kitchen. Go back to bed!”

  Philippa’s door closed.

  David waited for a moment and heard the faint rustle of his sister’s enormous duvet, then silence. There was no sign that his mum had heard anything, so he had that at least to be thankful for as he crept downstairs to the kitchen.

  The floor was icy cold. David poured out a glass of orange juice and sat on a high stool, lifting his bare feet into the blanket. One of his mother’s tattered old books was on the bar, but he pushed it aside without interest. He sat there for ages, trying not to look at the clock.

  David had been dreaming about Eddie for well over a year now, but nothing like this had ever happened. It was weird. No, what was really weird was having these bizarre dreams in the first place. David didn’t think dreams meant anything, but sometimes he couldn’t help wondering. Surely it wasn’t normal to meet a complete stranger in a dream and then go on meeting him almost every night, until it actually felt like he’d become a close friend. Okay, some kids had imaginary friends, but since he’d just turned fourteen surely he was far too old for all that.

  No, it was only a dream, and now it had turned into a nightmare. And who was that other boy, the one with the wicked laugh who had seemed to just vanish into nothing? The whole thing had been different this time. Perhaps that meant the dream was finished for good. David hoped so, until he realized that would mean never seeing Eddie again. Then he di
dn’t know what to think.

  “Stupid dream,” he muttered, sipping the chilled juice from his glass. His headache was still bad but seemed to be clearing. “Stupid Eddie.”

  “I thought so,” came a sudden, hissy voice from the kitchen door, and Philippa walked in. She was wearing her purple bathrobe and an irritatingly smug expression. “Give me some too.”

  “Some what?”

  “Cake.”

  “I’m not eating anything, Phil. I just can’t sleep, that’s all. Go back to bed.”

  “Because of Dad?” said Philippa. She hopped up onto the stool next to David and gave him a look. David found his sister’s looks difficult to return — she always seemed to know more about how he was feeling than she should.

  “No. It’s got nothing to do with Dad,” David said. “I had a bad dream, that’s all.”

  “Was it the dream?” said Philippa. “Why didn’t you say? That’s got everything to do with Dad. It started when he died.”

  David sighed. Why had he ever told Philippa about Eddie? She never forgot the slightest detail and was forever coming up with theories about him. She was the kind of person who believed that dreams were full of symbols and hidden meanings.

  “Was it different this time, then?” said Philippa as she jumped down to fetch the cake tin. David could tell there was no way she was going to bed now.

  “Look, Phizzy, just leave it. I don’t want to talk about it. Okay?”

  “He was my dad as well,” said Philippa, digging straight into the whole cake with a tablespoon. “If you’re getting something about him, I want to know it too.”