Free Ghostsitters by Angie Sage Page B

moonlight. It was wonderful—really spooky.
    â€œWharooooooooooo!”
    Wanda clutched my sleeve. “What was that ?” she whispered.
    â€œIt’s only Fang, silly,” I said, although I have to admit that Fang’s howl did make me go all goose-bumpy.
    â€œWharooooooooooo!” Fang howled again.
    â€œQuiet, Fang!” Sir Horace told him. Fang whined and pawed the ground, but he did as he was told.
    We set off through the ruins. Over by the old gatehouse we could see a big tent where the auction was going to be held. The lights in the tent shone yellow and cast long shadows of the people inside. I could tell which one was Old Morris—a tall, thin shadow with a scraggly ponytail. Nosy Nora was easy to spot too—a small, irritating shadow with two sticking-out pigtails. There were quite a few people in the tent, but I couldn’t recognize anyone else.
    Sir Horace’s castle was a mess. Old Morrishad not cleaned up at all and there were great chunks of old mushroom sheds with horrible pictures of fish on them scattered everywhere. But as we walked through the ruins I was surprised by the amount of castle that was still there. We saw archways, corridors, old fireplaces, and even some weird little steps going down into the ground, probably to some dark, deserted dungeon. I thought it was great—it looked just like the ghost maze game that Wanda had given me. And then, for a moment, I thought it looked even more like my ghost maze game, because I was sure I saw a ghost—a girl in a long dress and pointy hat, flitting between some nearby arches.
    I nudged Wanda. “Can you see that ghost?” I whispered.
    Wanda didn’t answer. She was looking behind her with big, scared googly eyes. She grabbed hold of my arm and whispered, “Araminta—can you see those ghosts?”
    Something about Wanda’s expression made me not want to look—but I did. And what I saw was really scary. A whole bunch of ghosts was pouring up from the little steps that went into the ground. Just one look told me that they were not nice ghosts—in fact they looked extremely nasty. They wore thick leather tunics with chain mail and they were armed to the teeth with swords, sticks, daggers, and all kinds of sharp, pointy things. Some of them had huge dogs on leashes, which were leaping and snarling and showing big yellow teeth.
    Fang growled a long, low growl and the fur went up on the back of his neck.
    â€œSir Horace,” I hissed. And then because Sir Horace is a bit deaf sometimes, I tapped on his suit of armor. “ Sir Horace . Look—behind you!”
    There was a grinding sound like a pepper mill as Sir Horace swiveled around. It is not often you hear a ghost gasp, because usually they are too busy making other people gasp, but Sir Horace did. “FitzMaurice!” he hissed. “ This time we will win.” He drew his sword, and to my surprise, Edmund drew his dagger. Wow. It was payback time.
    The ghosts looked just like I had imagined Jasper FitzMaurice’s band would look. They had gathered at the top of the steps and were swishing their swords around and waving their pointy sticks in the air. And the funny thing was they weren’t making any noise. It reminded me of watching televisions in a shop window where you can see the pictures but not hear the sound—well, you can see the pictures until your grumpy aunt drags you away.
    But even though they made no noise, they looked very real. They glowed a bit like Edmund but they looked very solid, like real people with real swords. The bunch of horrible ghosts gathered at the top of the steps and stared at Sir Horace. Sir Horace stared back. I held my breath. Then the biggest, nastiest ghost, who was carrying a huge ax—and was, I figured, Jasper FitzMaurice himself—took a step forward. Then all the fierce ghosts took a step forward too. And then another, and another—walking toward us very