The cracked black leather of the bible felt rough and cold in his hands as he took it from his satchel and placed it on the stone floor in front of them.

He looked around at the three pale faces, the wide dark eyes staring blankly back at him. The silence lay heavy around them and he toyed with the idea of letting out a scream - at least one of them was to sure to faint in fright. But that would spoil his big scene, and he couldn't have that. He'd promised them a ghost and a ghost was what they were going to get.

He needed this to work. The three boys around him represented the figures of power in the school and, as a new boy, they knew that Jim would have to gain their approval if he was to fit in. Which was why they'd let him bring them here, to the ruins of Cameron Castle on a cold winter's day. One mistake now and he would be ostracized for months to come.

'Are you ready?' he whispered, and was dismayed to find that his voice trembled, a childish quaver which echoed around the confines of the cramped dank chamber.

'Yeah. Just get on with it. I'm freezing my butt off here.' Bob Kerr shuffled his bottom, trying to find a more comfortable spot. He was the one that would need most watching, being the oldest of the three and also the biggest. Jim had seen him in action against some of the smaller boys and had no desire to fall prey to the bullying and the kicking and gouging.

The other two would be easier. 'Camp followers,' his dad had told him when they discussed their plan, 'Cut them off from the leader and you'll be able to manipulate them.' Dad was big on manipulation and Jim didn't intend letting him down.

Bob Kerr took a single cigarette from his jacket pocket and made a big show of lighting it up. His eyes screwed up tight in pain as the smoke got to him but Jim managed to control the giggle which had grown in his throat - it wouldn't do to antagonise Bob. Not yet anyway.

'I've told you already what happens,' he said, and was pleased to notice that his voice had now steadied. 'I'll put a pencil on the bible and then you can ask your questions. The pencil will move left if the answer is no, right if the answer is yes. Do you understand?

He wasn't really sure that any of them knew their left from their right but they nodded anyway, seemingly afraid to speak, afraid to break the spell. The atmosphere was definitely building up and Jim smiled, but only inwardly. The plan was right on schedule.

He opened the Bible, laying it side on. As he did so he noticed that it had opened at the Book of Job. He smiled to himself, thinking of the plagues and pestilences he would like to visit on the three boys opposite. He took the pencil from the top pocket of his shirt and laid it cross-ways across the Bible pointing directly at Bob Kerr.

The air in the room seemed to have chilled and from the corner of his eye he could see the dancing shadows cavorting on the rough stone walls. He pushed them from his thoughts - Dad had told him that there would be no problems, no need to fear, and he always trusted Dad's judgement.

'I'll ask first,' he said. 'Just to show you how it works.' He didn't wait for a response. He held out his arms, palms down over the Bible, and he could feel the tingle, the power, as it built up and his breath condensed in the air.

'Is Edinburgh the capital of Scotland?

He heard gasps from across the chamber as the pencil rolled across the pages, coming to rest at the edge of the Bible.

Bob Kerr was unimpressed.

'Is that it? Not much of a question, was it?

Jim was unperturbed. This too was part of the plan. 'Give them enough rope and they will hang themselves.' Dad had said. He put his hands back to his side and stared across at Bob.

'Okay big shot, you do it,' he said, grinning widely. Bob looked at the other two, shrugged his shoulders and ground out the cigarette. That was when Jim knew that he had them - right where he wanted them. He waited for the boy to shuffle over towards the Bible then he held Bob's arms over the book and turned the palms down.

He spoke as he replaced the pencil at its starting point.

'You must concentrate,' he said, secretly delighted at the fear he could see twinkling in Bob Kerr's eyes. He sat back on his haunches. From now on he could leave them to it and the end would be just as Dad had foreseen.

'I feel like a right divvy,' Bob Kerr said and his two companions giggled until silenced by a quick angry glance. 'Okay,' he asked, 'what should I say?

'Anything you want,' Jim replied. 'Just remember to ask a question that can be answered with a yes or a no.

He could almost hear the cogs and wheels as he watched the boy try to come up with an idea. The other two boys were shuffling around noisily, already getting bored with the proceedings, but Jim didn't think they would be bored for very much longer.

'Is my name Robert Justin Kerr?' he finally asked.

The other two giggled again but soon stopped as the pencil rolled to the right.

'All right,' Bob whispered, 'now for the hard ones.

Jim noticed that all three boys were completely engrossed in the movement of the pencil - so much so that they had failed to notice the gathering of the shadows in the far corner of the room, the deeper blackness which was even now creeping slowly towards them.

Bob Kerr looked as if he was pondering one of life's big questions and Jim was not in the least surprised at his next question.

'Are you a ghost?' the boy asked.

The pencil didn't roll - it raised up an inch off the pages and floated in the air. The candle flickered wildly as a breeze wafted through the small room but the pencil didn't waver - not moving until Bob lowered one of his hands to place it back in the middle of the Bible.

All was now deathly quiet, the only noise the soft breathing from the four young bodies and, a noise which Jim could barely hear, a dry wheezing from the far corner, a corner which was now completely consumed in shadow.

The time was getting close and Jim tried to hide the smiles which were waiting to burst from his face. He tried to look serious as Bob brought the end nearer.

'Are you a man?

Jim didn't need to watch the pencil. He knew that Bob meant to go through the old twenty questions routine, trying to track down the identity of the ghost. He wouldn't get far enough, Jim knew that. He also knew that they wouldn't believe the answer if they ever found it. He wasn't really listening as Bob rattled through the rest of the questions.

'Did you live in this castle?

'Did you die violently?

'Were you an old man?

Jim smiled inwardly at that one. He could tell from Bob's tone that he was getting frustrated. It was only a matter of time now. The blackness was drawing closer and the cold was biting into the lower half of his body but none of them moved, intent on Bob, intent on the floating pencil.

'Were you married?

'Did you have black hair?

The questions were getting more inane and Jim's muscles tensed. It was very close now.

And then Bob did it. The frustration got too much for him and he asked the wrong question.

'Who are you?

And all hell broke loose.

The blackness surged forward - a wall of cold which froze all four into immobility as the pencil snapped in two pieces and the candle flickered twice before finally going out. Bob was the first to scream as something grabbed his hands, something cold and dead and ugly.

Jim pressed himself backwards against the wall and listened as the screaming got louder and Bob was lifted into the air. Within the blackness he could just see the eyes, the fiery red embers which grew brighter with each scream.

Bob was dropped to the floor where he cringed and wept like a baby as the blackness reached for the other two. It never got that far. As one the boys managed to push themselves upright and Jim could hear them, screaming still as they raced off down the hill. It was nearly time for the final act.

The blackness loomed over Bob as Jim moved towards it. 'Back!' he shouted. 'Go back to your own place.' The blackness seemed to shrink in on itself and the red embers dimmed. Jim bent down and helped Bob to his feet, noticing with a grimace that the boy had fouled his pants. He turned the boy round to face the blackness.

'Look at this thing.' he said to Bob. 'Look at it and remember that I am the one who can control it.' He held the boy's head steady, making sure that he was looking straight at the "ghost" before he continued.

'Remember. Anytime you feel like hurting me, anytime you feel like doing a little damage - just remember. Anything happens to me - this will be back.

As if on cue the blackness raised itself, filling the room as its eyes blazed like two golden suns and a cold wind ruffled the boys' hair.

Jim released the other boy. 'Go now.' he said and gave the boy a shove towards the entrance.

He listened until he was sure that Bob Kerr had gone before he moved forward to embrace his Dad, Dad who had died two years ago, Dad who still always looked after him.

The End

Willie Meikle is a Scottish writer, with five novels published in the States and three more coming in 2007/8, all in the independent fantasy and horror press. His short work has appeared in the UK, Ireland, USA, Canada, Greece, Saudi Arabia and India, most recently in the "Nova Scotia" and "Hardboiled Cthulhu" anthologies. He also has several supernatural scripts currently on film option, including four shorts, and a supernatural thriller feature.

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