Page 84 of Dead Serious Case 4 Professor Prometheus Plume

Setting down Mr Pennington, who seems to be blushing in mortification, he extends a hand to help the rest of us to our feet before glancing at the door.

“I’ll have to remember to oil that latch,” he mumbles to himself.

I shiver, probably because I’m coming down from the adrenalin rush, but the conservatory isn’t much warmer than the secret passageway had been.

“Are you alright, Ellis?” I ask gently, squeezing his arm.

He turns towards me, his face pale and his eyes filled with shock as he gives a slow blink. “Was that a-a ghost?”

I nod. “Um, yeah.” What else is there to say? “Are you okay?”

He breathes reverently. “That was… EPIC!”

“Okaaay, you’re clearly fine.” I pat him on the arm.

“Tris, come and see this,” Danny says and I walk over to him.

I gaze out of the window with a soft gasp and take a step closer to the glass of the Victorian-style conservatory. There are several old-fashioned lampposts lit around the perimeter of the house, throwing soft light onto the immediate surroundings, and big, soft, white flakes still flutter down and settle on thick snowdrifts.

I’ve never seen snow like this. We’re lucky if we get a couple of inches in London, but this? This looks like a Christmas card.

“Danny,” I whisper as I feel him step into my back and wrap his arms around me. “It’s beautiful.”

I look over my shoulder and lift my face to his as I smile. He dips his head and kisses me softly.

We hear twin sighs and as we glance to the right, it’s to see both Rosie and Ellis with their heads tilted identically to the left and gazing at us with soft expressions.

“So romantic,” Rosie breathes.

Suddenly, the silence is annihilated by loud screaming from the main part of the hotel—not just one scream, but a multitude of howls and wails.

I sigh. “One brief, perfect moment and then… that. This romantic weekend away is the gift that just keeps on giving.”

“Oh my god, Tris, you have to see this!” Dusty pops up beside me.

“Where have you been?” She’d disappeared from the tunnel after getting the door open for us, and I no longer even care who sees me talking to seemingly thin air. After this weekend, I never have to see these people again.

“Never mind that. The lunatics have taken over the asylum!” she declares and I’m not sure if she’s bewildered or amused. I think it’s a little of both.

“Oh god, what now!” I grab Danny’s hand and we lead the others out of the conservatory.

We jog through the corridors towards the lobby while the noise level and screaming gets louder and louder. It sounds like absolute mayhem.

Pushing through the doors, we come up short and Ellis and Rosie crash into the back of us as we stop so abruptly and our mouths drop open.

Mayhem was a gross understatement.

All the guests are in the lobby, and the ghosts are rioting around them. The chandelier is swinging wildly, and fountains of paperwork are erupting from the reception desk and arcing up into the air as well as spilling out of the office.

“It’s going to take ages to reorganise that,” Ellis mutters as Rosie clutches onto his arm, wide-eyed.

Vases fly through the air and portraits spin on the walls. The huge Christmas tree has levitated three feet off the floor while the suit of armour walks stiffly through the lobby, its helmet tucked under one arm.

“Bertie!” I shout when I see her and Roger laughing and clapping nearby. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Oh, it’s you.” Roger dances over to us with Bertie in tow. “Isn’t it fabulous!”

“What’s going on?”