Dan and the Caverns of Bone by Thomas Taylor

on down here recently to pay much attention to us.
    Yet.
    Jojo’s ghost makes a triumphant loop around his sister and his spectral glow becomes golden. I recognise the signs.
    â€˜Luci, now it really is time to say goodbye to Jojo.’
    He’s all around her and I’m about to point this out, but I can see from her face that she knows he’s there. Maybe she can’t see dead people, but she’s not without something of that gift.
    She closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them again she is looking right at me.
    â€˜Thank you, Dan.
Merci!
Jojo is at peace now. I can feel it. And it’s all down to you.’
    I give my best shrug, one the Sunglasses Kid would be proud of.
    â€˜There’s just one little thing before he goes, though,’ I say. I hate this part, but I am in business, after all. ‘Sorry we didn’t get the chance to go over the small print before, but there is a tiny favour Jojo could do for me. Before he goes over to the Hereafter, that is. Let’s call it… my fee.’
    Luci looks confused. I give her my best lopsided grin and explain.
    She looks even more confused for a moment, but then she smiles – smiles brilliantly. And with the sun of that smile through the rain of her tears, her face is a rainbow of emotion. She steps over to me and nods, pushing a strand of loose hair from her face. I go a bit wobbly in the knee department,but manage to stay upright as her kiss lands on my lips.
    And it is the exact polar opposite of crapsticks.
    Is there a word for that? Not that I care. It’s my entire trip to Paris and everything that’s happened to me there, all rolled into one ear-tingling moment.
    Then I have an overwhelming sense of Jojo being there too, just for a second. I go cold as he passes through me. By the time I open my eyes, he has gone.
    Though not entirely.
    As Luci steps back and gives me a shy glance, I know that one small part of her brother will remain on earth a while yet. And I have the chance to test that part straight away.
    As the police pull their disgraced commander from his boat and slap the handcuffs on, he stops whimpering for a moment, turns his blind eyes up to his former colleagues and cries:
    â€˜
J’aurais pu réussir mon coup si ces gamins ne s’en étaient pas mélé!
’
    And I understand perfectly.

18

The Boy Who Cheated Death

    Well, we’re soon being towed out through the tunnel and away. The police don’t really know how to handle us so we just stay in our boat and try to look innocent. Not easy when one of us is wearing a death’s head coat and the other looks like she’s about to audition for a Goth-rock musical aboutteenage vampires. But I don’t care. Luci’s holding my hand, and I just sit there feeling fuzzy.
    There’s quite a reception at the end though. It’s clear the police have radioed through with the astonishing news about Lavache – there’s a whole crowd of uniforms waiting to clap him in irons. We’re not exactly treated warmly either, but hey, I’m used to that. There’s talk of having to make a statement and vague threats about trespass charges, but all that evaporates when we finally reach the surface and emerge into the daylight.
    It seems the whole of Paris is waiting for us.
    â€˜How did they hear about it?’ I wonder aloud, staring at the enormous crowd.
    â€˜Mayhap through the pocket speaking boxes the policemen are carrying,’ says Si, in his old-fashioned way.
    But however it happened, the press are waiting outside in a scrum of cameras and microphones. When Lavache is led out, still in his deathly robes, and with a young policeman following, carrying his scythe and skull mask, the world goes crazy with questions and flashbulbs.
    â€˜Blimey, Si, look,’ I say. ‘There’s Frenchy and the others. We must’ve been reported missingor something. Phelps won’t be too pleased about