The Most Frightening Story Ever Told (23 page)

Vito Capone and Billy Shivers advanced cautiously into the darkness of the cellar, which was hardly diminished by the flickering light from two small candles. And it was only too easy for one boy to mistake the enlarged and wavering candlelit shadow of the other for some kind of shapeless black cellar-dwelling monstrous creature.

“I wonder why we're afraid of the dark?” whispered Billy. In the cavernous cellar his whispered voice sounded distinctly ghost-like.

“Speak for yourself, wet fish,” said Vito.

“I guess the dark just makes everything seem scarier,” said Billy, answering his own question. “Even when it's not.”

“What does that mean?” demanded Vito.

“Only that just about anything in daylight will seem a lot less scary than it does at night.”

“Says you, hero,” said Vito. “How long do we have to stay down here, anyway?”

“Ten minutes,” said Billy.

Vito sat down on an empty wine crate and looked at the luminous dial of his expensive sports watch. Then he glanced around nervously.

“Mr. Rapscallion must have something hidden down here,” he said. “Someone dressed in a sheet, maybe. Or…I dunno. Any minute now I just know that someone or some
thing
is going to leap out and try to scare the heck out of me.” Vito made a fist and hit himself on the thigh. “But I won't be scared off, do you hear? Not by him. Not by you. I'm going to win. Just see if I don't.”

“I really don't mind if you do win,” said Billy.

“You don't?”

“I've learned that there are worse things in life than losing.”

But Vito wasn't having any of this. “Speak for yourself. My dad didn't raise me to be a loser.”

“Perhaps if we were to explore the cellar and find it before it found us,” suggested Billy.

“You mean go and look for it?” Vito sounded appalled at the very idea. “Whatever
it
might be?”

“That way we might scare it first,” said Billy. “Don't you see? We'd be taking away the element of surprise.”

Vito nodded. “Yes, I suppose that's possible,” he said reluctantly. “But you go first, okay?”

And so they began to edge their way around the pitch-black cellar, with just their candles to illuminate their search.

“You're a lot more courageous than you look, Billy,” said Vito grudgingly.

“Thanks,” said Billy. “I'm scared of a lot of things. But I'm not scared of the dark. I used to be. But not anymore.”

They were just about to conclude the search when, low down on the dampest, farthest wall, the two boys came upon what appeared to be the opening to a dark tunnel. A cool breeze emanated from the tunnel opening, although it wasn't quite enough to extinguish the candles.

Billy stepped into the tunnel and peered ahead. The tunnel was a black void but, oddly enough, it didn't make him feel afraid. Indeed, he thought that there was something reassuring and even pleasant about the tunnel. It seemed to beckon him on.

“You're not serious,” said Vito.

“Funnily enough, I am,” said Billy, going a bit farther into the tunnel.

“You're crazy,” said Vito. “It's like someone's tomb in here.” He put his hand on the wall and then pulled it quickly away. “Gives me the creeps.”

“I think that was the general idea, don't you? Only it's really not all that creepy in here. It's just like any other cellar: dark and cold and a bit damp.”

“What else do you want from a creepy place?”

“Wait a minute,” said Billy. “There's something there.”

Vito held his breath for a moment. “What is it?” he whispered.

“I think I might be able to see it if it wasn't for this candlelight. The flame moves around so that it's impossible to make out whatever it is. I'm going to blow mine out.”

“Are you mad? Then we'd only have the one candle.”

“We could always relight the other candle.”

“Not if that one blows out, we can't. Please, Billy, don't blow your candle out.”

But it was too late. Billy had already blown out his candle.

“Yes. There
is
something,” said Billy. “There appears to be a light at the far end of the tunnel. It's like the light from a brilliant gemstone. It's getting bigger, too. And yes. I think I can also see the silhouette of a figure coming toward us. Don't be scared, Vito. I think it's something quite benign.”

But Vito had heard more than enough. Leaving Billy in the darkness, he ran back up the stairs as quickly as he could without extinguishing his own candle, up through the trapdoor and into the upper cellar, where Mr. Rapscallion, Mercedes and Elizabeth were waiting for him and Billy to return.

Vito didn't say anything. He was too busy screaming. He went up the stairs, three at a time, and into the entrance hall. Then, still screaming with fright, Vito ran out of the Haunted House of Books and into the street, where he was pursued by his father and several more news reporters keen to buy his exclusive story. Because good news doesn't sell newspapers.

After several moments had passed, Mr. Rapscallion said, “I wonder what scared him so much?” Mr. Rapscallion sounded genuinely mystified. “It certainly wasn't the story. And I don't think it could have been the cellar. I mean, there's nothing down there except a few bottles of wine. Some of them are actually quite drinkable, too.”

Mercedes peered anxiously down through the trapdoor. “I can't see any sign of a light down there,” she said. “It's pitch-black. Do you suppose Billy's all right?”

“It's only a wine cellar,” said Mr. Rapscallion. “Not a wicked troll's dungeon.”

“Perhaps he's dropped his candle,” said Mercedes, “and can't find his way out in the dark.”

“I never thought of that,” said Mr. Rapscallion, and, leaning through the trapdoor, he switched on an electric light that lit up the Haunted Cellar like an airport terminal.

And, seeing the look of surprise on the faces of Mercedes and Elizabeth, he said, “Like I said, it's a wine cellar, not a dungeon.”

The moment the electric light went on, they heard a shout from deep inside the cellar and everyone smiled with relief.

“Billy,” said Elizabeth. “I expect he just realized that he's won.”

Mr. Rapscallion called out to him through the trapdoor of the cellar.

“You've won, Billy,” he said. “Vito's run away. So you can come up now.”

A few moments later, Billy's head and shoulders appeared through the trapdoor. He was smiling in a way none of his three friends had ever seen before. Like he had lost a cent and found a hundred dollars. Or maybe even a thousand.

“Jolly well done, Billy,” said Elizabeth, and kissed him on the cheek. “I'm so pleased for you.”

“Yeah,” said Mercedes. “You did all right, kid. Nothing scares you, that much is clear.”

“Congratulations, my boy,” said Mr. Rapscallion, shaking him by the hand.

“Thank you, sir,” Billy said. “Thank you all.”

“Who'd have guessed it?” said Mercedes. “Billy. The one kid who looked like he wouldn't say boo to a goose. The winner.” And, not to be outdone by Elizabeth, she kissed Billy on the other cheek.

“Where's Vito?”

“He took off,” said Mercedes. “Like a bat out of you know where.”

“Something spooked him,” said Mr. Rapscallion. “The same as the others. Any idea what it was?”

Billy shrugged. “A trick of the light, I think. I thought I saw a light and then a figure.” He smiled bravely. “But it was probably just my imagination. Anyway, I've come to the conclusion that there's nothing to fear except fear itself. For some reason that kept on running through my mind while I was down there. There's nothing to fear except fear itself.”

“That's all?” Mr. Rapscallion sounded disappointed. “A pity.”

“A pity?” Billy laughed. “What do you mean?”

“The way he ran out of the shop, I thought that Vito Capone might at least have seen the famous Haunted House of Books ghost,” said Mr. Rapscallion. “It would have been very good for business if I could have reported one sighting, anyway.”

“I really don't believe there
is
a ghost,” said Mercedes. “Not in this shop, anyway. Maybe not anywhere in the whole world. I'm seriously thinking of giving up the ghost-hunting business.”

“Oh, please don't say that,” said Mr. Rapscallion. “At least don't say it to all those newspapermen and television reporters. After all, who's going to buy books of ghost stories if you go around saying sensible things like that?”

“That reminds me,” said Mercedes. “There are hundreds of them out there. Reporters, that is. Simply hundreds. What's poor Billy going to do? They'll eat him and his father alive.”

Mr. Rapscallion shrugged. “Maybe Billy wants to sell his story to a newspaper. Why not? How I survived listening to the scariest story ever told. Something like that.”

Billy shook his head.

“I'm tired,” he admitted. “I think I've had enough excitement for one night. It is very late, after all. Besides, I don't think my dad would approve of us selling our story to a newspaper.”

“Your father is obviously a very sensible man, Billy,” said Mr. Rapscallion. “And a man of strong moral fiber. That much was very clear from our conversation. I admire a man of principle.” He nodded. “But Mercedes is right. It might be easier if you were to slip out of the back door. I'll speak to your father, Billy, and tell him where you are.”

“I expect he'll have disappeared off home by now,” said Billy. “I can't imagine he'll have stayed throughout all this fuss. He doesn't like crowds of people at all. He's really a very shy person. Shy and retiring, that's what he says.”

“Of course,” said Mr. Rapscallion. “But look here, it's late like you say, Billy. And you're just a kid. Maybe someone should go home with you.”

“It's okay,” said Billy. “The thunderstorm's over now. I'll find my own way back. I always do.”

“Very well,” said Mr. Rapscallion. “If you're sure. Meanwhile, I'd better go and face the world's press. I know I'm not going to get any sleep until I've told them something of what happened here tonight.” He smiled. “If only I understood a little more about that myself.”

“If you are going out there,” said Billy, “then perhaps you could tell Altaira to meet me around the corner.”

“I can't tell you how happy I am she's calling herself Altaira again instead of Redford,” said Mr. Rapscallion. “I owe that to you, of course.”

“Me?”

“You're the reason she's been coming back to the shop, Billy,” said Mr. Rapscallion.

“You think?”

“I know.”

Billy Shivers sneaked out of the shop into the alley and, to his surprise, he found Altaira already waiting there.

“I won,” he said modestly.

“I heard. Billy, I'm so glad.”

Billy shook his head. “Only I didn't really feel like speaking to all those newspapermen. So I slipped out the back way.”

“I thought you might.”

“I don't really like crowds of people,” he confessed.

“That's why I'm here,” she said. “Because I'm not crowds of people. Just a friend come to walk you home.”