Free A Gust of Ghosts by Suzanne Harper

would only see the back of his head, but if he sat on the couch—
    â€œYesss!” Will said as Mr. Farley chose the couch. He squirmed closer to the grate, pushing Franny out of the way.
    â€œStop it!” Franny hissed. “I can’t see!”
    â€œI’ll let you look in a minute,” said Will, putting one eye closer to the grate.
    She elbowed him in the ribs. “Move over!”
    Poppy glared at them. “Be quiet! I can’t hear what they’re saying.”
    Scowling at Will, Franny inched forward and tilted her head in order to see what was happening below.
    â€œâ€¦ and so, you see, I really had no choice,” Mr. Farley was saying. “My great-aunt is, I’m sorry to say, very fickle in these matters.”
    â€œBut the letter she sent when she gave us the grant was so lovely!” Mrs. Malone cried. “Warm, encouraging, full of interest and enthusiasm for the world of the paranormal—”
    â€œAs I said.” Mr. Farley sighed. “Fickle. One day she has a passion for UFOs or ghosts; the next day she can talk of nothing but antique harpsichords or ancient Peruvian poetry. You aren’t the first scholars I’ve had to give bad news. Why, I remember when I told Professor Rutland that his study of cave petroglyphs would no longer be funded. After twenty years of research, he felt that he was close to making a great discovery, but my great-aunt had met a young man who believed that there was a code hidden in an ancient Sanskrit manuscript that would reveal the day when the world would end. I have to admit, his theory sounded more interesting than anything Dr. Rutland had found looking at cave drawings, but still, it was a blow. Professor Rutland wept. A grown man, crying like a small child.” Mr. Farley shook his head. “And, of course, there were the wild accusations of lawsuits and other threats of a more personal nature. It took me almost half an hour to pry his hands off my throat.”
    â€œThat must have been terrible for you,” said Mrs. Malone. “He sounds rather unbalanced.”
    â€œUnfortunately, even the mildest researchers react badly when their money is taken away,” Mr. Farley said. “That’s why I carry a small can of pepper spray with me at all times. Of course, it’s always very upsetting to lose a grant. However, if one can’t show any results....”
    His voice trailed off.
    â€œBut this Professor Rutland had twenty years of funding with no results,” Mr. Malone said quickly. “We’ve barely had a chance to get started!”
    â€œAnd we came so close a few weeks ago,” Mrs. Malone added with rather desperate brightness.
    Will closed his eyes. “Please, please don’t mention the vampires,” he murmured.
    â€œYou see, we had heard on very good authority that there was a horde of vampires headed our way,” continued Mrs. Malone, rather breathlessly. “Our esteemed colleague Dr. Oliver Asquith had actually been attacked by one of them and had developed quite a bad limp as a result. He managed to kill a few of them, so of course the rest were bent on revenge. We had high hopes that they would track him to our door and that we would be able to interview them, perhaps take a few photos—”
    Will closed his eyes and let his head drop so that his forehead rested on the grate.
    â€œMaybe it will be all right,” Franny whispered, nudging him to move over so that she could get a better view into the living room. “Maybe Mr. Farley likes vampires. Some people do, you know.”
    â€œEven though Dr. Asquith had actually encountered the vampires, unfortunately, so many supernatural experiences simply cannot be replicated,” Mrs. Malone was saying earnestly. “As he explained to us later, the undead are quite sensitive to atmosphere. Apparently the vibrational frequency of our house simply did not appeal to them, and so they passed us