Alone in his office, in the Secure Wing for the Criminally Insane, Cornelius Gallows was challenging himself to a fifth game of Scrabble.
Oblivious to the din from the frightened inmates, who were running their tin bowls along the bars of their cells, trying in vain to get someone’s attention, he picked up the letter ‘X’ and turned it thoughtfully in his long, delicate fingers, pondering his next move. He had beaten himself in every game he had played that evening, in every game he had ever played. He always won in the end.
From somewhere in the wing he heard a door slam but ignored it. The life that went on outside his office didn’t interest him. The men in the cells were no more than fuel for his ghost-generating machine. He had no fear of them – they relied on him for food, heating, water – without him they would have none of it. He was the only one that mattered to the outside world. The Brave Dr Lankin.
Gallows afforded himself a thin-lipped laugh, which caught somewhere in his bony chest and rattled it.
The cells had fallen silent. Gallows wound his scarf closer round his neck. It was certainly chillier than normal, although cold lurked permanently in the stones of the prison. He glanced at the thermometer on the wall behind him: it was four degrees. Significantly colder than normal. Now it was three degrees, two … one. The mercury dropped further and the air around him began to freeze.
‘Who is there?’ he snapped, and his breath curled out in a fog.
In response the Scrabble board leapt off the desk, flipping the tiles upwards like tiny pancakes, where they hung in mid-air, floating before his eyes.
Gallows let one hairless brow arch slightly.
‘Impressive. Who sent you?’
Four of the letters dropped onto the board and began coalescing into words.
I DID.
Gallows’ deep-set eyes narrowed. ‘Clever boy. I presume I’m talking to Mr Grip.’
There was a pause, and then more letters rained down. They slid around the board until they spelled the word GRAINNE.
Gallows snatched tiles out of the air and placed them against the word to spell out:
GRAINNE IS DEAD.
The word DEAD was swiped instantly from the board. They hit the wall and dropped to the floor and in their place came the word HERE.
The vein in Gallows’ forehead began to visibly pulse. ‘Very well. I imagine you’ve gone to some lengths for an audience with me, your maker. What is it that you want?’
TROUBLE. The word appeared on the board and then dispersed and another was formed, BOY.
‘Trouble with a boy! Why don’t you just kill him?’
ALREADY DEAD
‘One of your victims?’
There was another pause and then a flurry of activity as letters swam together.
ONE OF YOURS
Gallows rolled his eyes. ‘You, the most vicious and feared serial killer Peligan City has ever known, afraid of a boy?
Mr Grip stayed silent for a moment while a feeling of menace spread through the room, making even Gallows give a small shudder.
STRONGER
‘How can the ghost of a boy possibly be stronger than that of a grown man?’
HE IS FREE
Gallows gave a theatrical sigh and and ran his hand lightly over his fine spray of hair.
‘So that’s what you want.’ There was a pause. ‘What possible benefit would that be to me?’
I WILL DESTROY HIM
Gallows considered the letter tiles irritably for a moment. ‘If I were to free you, how could I be sure you will come back?’
The letters were still, and then they moved.
PARTNERS
Gallows inadvertently let out a snort of disbelief, which caused the temperature to drop another two degrees; nevertheless nostalgia began to cloud his eyes. ‘I had a partner in crime once.’ And then they hardened again. ‘It didn’t end well for me. But then he never took me seriously, not until it was too late.’ Gallows rubbed his smooth chin thoughtfully. ‘Genius that I am, I don’t even know if I can free you.’
TRY
Gallows’ face turned very pale pink, and a blue vein twitched at his temple. ‘If you lose your binding, I’ll have no way to call you back. If you pass over, that’s it.’
The letters remained still but the crushing feeling of dread was making the air thick.Gallows’ breaths were becoming shallow and his narrow shoulders shook slightly.
‘Fine,’ he agreed begrudgingly. ‘But as soon as you’ve beaten the boy I want you back here.
‘I must admit that with your exceptional ghoulish powers it would be handy to have you as my new goon. And it’s true that of late Hench has let his fear get the better of him, plus he has no real sense of loyalty, whereas you … I made you who you are today. With my calculating genius and your bloodcurdling psychopathy we would make quite the pair.’ Gallows’ fingers fluttered excitedly, and then they were still. ‘But you must agree – you will be second in command. I am the boss. Swear it. Swear you won’t betray me.’
I SWEAR
‘Let me think a moment.’
As Gallows closed his eyes and turned his brilliant mind to calculating just how he could reverse his experimental procedure and sever the connection that Mr Grip had with the material world without destroying his ghost completely, it occurred to him that it wouldn’t matter too much if the operation did end badly for Mr Grip. After all, he could be so very disobedient. No, on reflection Gallows couldn’t lose. He made a mental note of the equation needed and then opened his eyes and with a lifeless smile he said, ‘Eureka.’