Free The Magnificent Lizzie Brown and the Devil's Hound by Vicki Lockwood

sound sinister, and her footsteps sounded like they belonged to someone else.
    Was Malachy right? Lizzie wondered as she walked. The dead couldn’t harm the living, could they? Of course they couldn’t. Besides, she didn’t believe in ghosts.
    But then she remembered: she’d talked with a dead man that very day. Becky’s father.
    Ghosts are real , Lizzie thought to herself. I have to believe in them now. Whether we can see them or not, we certainly won’t be alone in that cemetery. The spirits of the dead will be all around us.
    Lizzie thought about Becky’s father. He’d only been dead for two days, so he didn’t look bad. But what about the old ones? There were bodies in the ground that had been dead for years, long since decayed to rags and bones. Would their ghosts have skulls for faces and outstretched skeleton arms? Would they be invisible, or look like a shroud floating in the air?
    Crunch, crunch, crunch went their feet on the pathway. The walls of Kensal Green Cemetery were up ahead. A horrible feeling struck Lizzie. What if I see them?
    â€œYou’re quiet all of a sudden, Lizzie,” Malachy said.
    â€œI’m fine,” she said hastily. “Just thinking.”
    They reached the huge gates through which the funeral procession had passed. Beyond them, Lizzie could see winding paths and dark hedges with neat rows of graves laid out betweem them. A thick iron chain had been wound around the bars, and the padlock that fastened it looked as heavy as a ship’s anchor.
    â€œShould have expected that, really,” Malachy said. He tested the padlock, which was locked fast.
    Lizzie looked up at the spikes topping the gate. “I don’t fancy going over that. I’d be skewered. Should we turn back?”
    â€œGive up that easily?” Dru said. “Never! Allow me.” He sidled along to a section of wall. It was higher than the top of his head, but Lizzie knew Dru could climb it with ease. Sure enough, he took a few steps backward and then ran at it. A powerful leap, a scuff of boot on the stone, and next second his outstretched hands caught the top of the wall. He dangled for a moment, then pulled himself up using just the strength in his arms. A few swinging kicks brought his legs up, and then he was straddling the wall, smiling down at them.
    â€œGood view from up there?” Lizzie teased.
    â€œ Très belle! ” Dru replied cheerfully. “Malachy, pass me up your stick, s’il vous plaît . It’s a little lonely up on this wall all by myself. I think you should join me.”
    Lizzie let Malachy go first. By grabbing the outstretched stick, he was able to clamber his way up. His bad foot made the climb difficult, but Lizzie knew better than to offer him a hand. He never let it get in the way of doing what he wanted to do. An offer of help would have been insulting — and unnecessary.
    â€œUp you come, slowpoke,” Malachy called down.
    A few moments of scrambling later, the three of them were looking over the cemetery like owls brooding on a rafter. Lizzie thought of Nora and Erin, snug in their bunks by now, and wondered if they were lying awake worrying about her. If they could see what she was seeing, they wouldn’t sleep a wink, that was for sure.
    Stone monuments rose out of the earth — angels with blank eyes and sorrowful faces holding skulls in their hands; mournful shrouded figures looming over the graves; indistinct shapes casting deformed shadows in the moonlight. The headstones looked as white as exposed bones, and mist was creeping through the trees, veiling the ground in a gauzy shroud.
    It’s just like my vision , Lizzie thought with a shudder.
    â€œBrrr,” Malachy said. “Chilly out here, isn’t it?” He rubbed his arms, which were covered in goose bumps.
    â€œWe’d better get down there,” Lizzie said. “Everyone ready?”
    They hesitated for a moment.