How to Live Forever by Colin Thompson Read Free Book Online

the light on. With the darkness gone, so was the temptation. He picked up his father’s photo and, closing his eyes, slipped it into the book, forcing it between the pages without opening the covers. One by one he wrapped the ribbons back round the book, then went into the kitchen to get some string to tie it up even more tightly in a sea of knots.
    There was a figure hunched over the table in the darkness. Peter’s heart jumped.
    His father? Was he in the museum all the time, hiding from them for reasons Peter couldn’t imagine?
    No, it was his grandfather. The old man was sitting very still and didn’t hear Peter come up behind him. The boy stood watching him, hardly daring to breathe in case his grandfather heard him. It was obvious to Peter that this was a time when his grandfather wanted to be alone.
    â€˜Will this ever end?’ the old man whispered and let out a huge sigh.
    As his grandfather muttered softly to himself, Peter tiptoed out of the room before the urge to go and throw his arms around the old man could overtake him.
    He didn’t go back to his bed. The book temporarily forgotten, he went down into the deserted museum. A great sadness came over him. Like all children, Peter had grown up thinking those he loved would be there forever, but now he realised they wouldn’t be. His grandfather was going to die and, eventually, so was his mother.
    Maybe we could all read the book , he thought.
    But Bathline’s words came back to him: ‘You must not read the book, no matter who asks you to. You must promise me that you will never ever open its covers again.’ And if that wasn’t enough, there was the image of her child lying in the straw.
    There must be exceptions , Peter thought.
    What if someone was ill, like his grandfather? Surely they could read the book? But Peter knew that even if the old man did read it and then lived forever, he would be like Bathline’s son and still be ill and in pain. It would just go on and on and on and that would be worse.
    No, Peter had to find the Ancient Child. Bathline had said he would fix everything.
    That night the silence in the galleries seemed heavier than ever. There was no sign of Archimedes anywhere and even the fine dust that usually danced in the moonlight as Peter walked by lay still on the glass cases.
    Come here.
    It was the voice that had tried to get him to read the book. It was not really there like someone was speaking, but was inside Peter’s head, and not nearby but far away in a distant corridor, calling him to come closer.
    Peter felt himself walking along a path that he was not choosing. At each corner, he turned without thought, until he came to a place he hadn’t visited for years. It was a side room off the main Egyptian gallery, a strange little room empty but for a chair and one glass case containing a mummified cat wrapped in faded bandages.
    Sit down , said the voice. Relax.
    Peter sat. He was very tired. He closed his eyes and felt himself falling asleep.
    Do not sleep.
    From behind him, through the wall itself, he felt large invisible arms wrap themselves around him. They seemed gentle at first but the grip tightened until Peter found it hard to breathe. He began to panic, but there was no way he could free himself. He opened his mouth to call out but whoever was holding him put a hand over his face before he could utter a sound.
    Do not fight me , said the voice. You merely waste your strength.
    The chair tipped back and paused, perfectly balanced on two legs.
    I will see you later , said the voice, very distant now.
    The chair tipped further backwards beyond the point of balance. The arms that had held him so tightly disappeared and the chair crashed to the ground, leaving Peter flat on his back and alone in a dark place.
    He stood up, suddenly wide awake, and realised he was no longer in the side room. The wall curved and it was full of books. He turned round and opened his eyes.
    He was in