Ghostworks Book 3

XOUM106_ghostworks_cover_3.jpg
XOUM106_ghostworks_cover_3.jpg

Ghostworks Book 3

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From the bestselling author of the ‘Mr Midnight’ and ‘Mr Mystery’ books, which have sold over 3 million copies around the world, comes a fantastically creepy and thoroughly absorbing new series. Each Ghostworks book contains two chilling tales which will entrance young readers.

Book 3 features:

Story 1: SAM AND THE SCOTTISH CANNIBALS

A boring school trip to Scotland turns deadly when Sam and her friends unleash a ghostly family of flesh-eating monsters!

Story 2: THEM!

Dylan hunts ghosts for fun, but he doesn’t bank on meeting Slime Man, the Soho Strangler or Fire Face!

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An excerpt from Ghostworks Book 3 by James Lee

I woke with a start. My bed was freezing. The room was in darkness. My fingers scrabbled for my watch. The dial glowed at me mockingly. Two o’clock in the morning!

Something had broken my sleep. But what?

Then I remembered. It had been a weird noise.

Now I heard it again.

A terrible wailing sound.

The sound of someone being murdered!

My eyes roved the darkness. Nothing moved. My nerves were jangling. I was a light sleeper at the best of times, but I’d had a long day in the tour bus, and I was sleeping in a strange bed, and for a moment I’d forgotten where I was. And then the noise made sense. I realized what it was.

Bagpipes!

Some IDIOT was playing bagpipes right outside my window.

Well, of course, I told myself — I was in Scotland after all. Everyone played bagpipes in Scotland!

You see, my name is Samantha Sparrow, but everyone calls me Sam. And I was on a school tour of the Scottish Highlands. We had driven up from the border with England, and we were in Ayrshire, on the west coast, onour way to Glasgow, and we’d stopped for the night at a quaint old hotel in a place called Ballantrae. Have you heard of it? Robert Louis Stevenson wrote a book about the place — The Master of Ballantrae — not that I’d read it. I mean, hey, I was a girl. I’d read his Treasure Island, but decided his stories were for boys not girls. Anne of Green Gables was more my kind of book. And ghost stories, of course. The bagpipes were deafening.

I was sharing a room with another girl in my class, Julie Ang, and I lifted my head to see whether she was awake too. No, she was sleeping the sleep of the dead. And she was snoring. She sounded worse than the bagpipes! I knew we had a long day ahead in the morning and I really needed my sleep. But those pipes were driving me crazy. So I slipped out of bed and tiptoed across tothe window. I figured I’d ask the piper to stop. But when I reached the window, pulled open the curtains, and peered out, the little stone courtyard was empty.

I could still hear the pipes, louder than ever, like a sad dirge, but where were they coming from? A full moon drifted overhead through gauze-like clouds. No one was in sight. Ballantrae was in darkness. This was crazy!

And then it happened.

A face filled the window. Staring at me from outside. And filthy fingers stroked the glass pane as though in search of the latch.

My scream sliced through the night.

It was the most demonic face I’d ever seen.

An old man’s haggard face —

Wrinkled beyond age —

Crusted with dirt —

His beard untrimmed —

His eyes blazing insanely —

His mouth hanging open, grinning at me like a monster, revealing sharp pointed teeth like the fangs of an animal.

I screamed again, my knees buckled, and I fainted.