The Bagpiper’s Ghost by Jane Yolen Read Free Book Online

along, the horse and its burden seemed to glow. Jennifer put her hand up to the glow, but it had no warmth. And no cold, either. It was simply there.
    She wondered about that glow for a minute, especially when policemen in a police car waved at them but didn’t stop to offer any help.
    â€œDoes that glow make Peter and the horse invisible?” she asked as the horse turned onto the cobbled street leading to their house.
    â€œInvisible to everyone except those who have magic in the blood,” Gran said. “Good for ye, lass, for noticing at last.”
    â€œI noticed immediately, Gran. It just took me till here to figure out what it was. But you and me and the dog—why aren’t we invisible, too?”
    Gran sighed and held up the forefinger on her right hand. “Working an invisibility spell is tiring enough over two. Nae need to extend it where it’s not wanted. Why waste magic, lass? We must conserve what power we have to rescue yer brother. So, as far as the rest of the world sees, we’re but a wee lass and her gran oot walking the dog.”
    Tiring, indeed , Jennifer thought. Gran looks exhausted . There were deep circles under the old woman’s eyes and a sharp crease across her forehead, like a knife’s slash. Or like the shadow of a knife’s slash.
    Still she asked, “At four in the morning, Gran?”
    â€œAnd herself in her nightie,” the dog put in, but at a look from Gran, he shut up.
    â€œIt’s five o’clock noo,” Gran said.
    At that very moment, the nearby church bell began to toll five long, slow notes.
    They dragged Peter upstairs between them, which wasn’t easy. He hung like a deadweight. The dog made the going even harder because he kept tangling in their feet.
    Jennifer was so disgusted with the dog, she aimed a kick at his side, but he dodged it easily.
    â€œDidna I fetch the auld carlin fer ye?” he said, a whine in his voice.
    She ignored him after that, concentrating instead on getting Peter to his room and into bed.
    While Jennifer took off Peter’s shoes, Gran got a “clout”—as she called the washcloth—and a large bowl of warm water. Then she began washing Peter’s face.
    â€œWill that dispossess him?” Jennifer asked.
    â€œNae, lass, it’s just to clean him up. I dinna want yer mother seeing him this way. Too many questions mak fer too many answers, as my ain mother used to say.”
    â€œThen what’s to be done? About the possession, I mean,” Jennifer asked.
    â€œLikely he’ll wake up himsel again,” Gran said. Her voice sounded positive, but there was a strange darkness in her eyes. “Often these things are but a moment lang. Fer example, if a ghost in possession o’ a human body has nae mair to say, it’ll go back to its burial wi’oot needing a helpful push.” She wrung out the cloth and stood up. “Here, lass—dump this water into the sink and set the clout on the basin. I’m fer bed.”
    Jennifer did as Gran asked, then went back to Peter’s room. Lying still on the bed, he suddenly looked younger than she did. And unprotected.
    I will protect him , she thought fiercely, lying down at the foot of the bed.
    She meant to stay awake, like a medieval knight at a vigil, or a cop on a stakeout, but the long night had exhausted her, and she fell fast asleep, lying as if dead for seven hours.
    Waking at noon, Jennifer was surprised to find herself in her own bed. The clock seemed to shake its fingers at her, turning over one minute, then the next. She stretched lazily and tried to remember why she was so tired.
    All she could think of was the strange dream she’d had. About a Lady in White and Gran jumping a fence on horseback.
    â€œOh no!” She sat bolt upright in bed. It hadn’t been a dream.
    Leaping up, she ran into Peter’s room, and there was her mother sitting and reading a paperback novel by