The Most Frightening Story Ever Told by Philip Kerr Read Free Book Online

flashlight and pointed it my way and I turned to face the creature that was still sitting next to me and I heard myself…S-C-R-E-E-E-A-A-M-M!”
    Mr. Rapscallion let out a terrible, animal-like scream. And the surprise of this sudden and unexpected end to Mr. Rapscallion’s terrifying tale almost made Billy Shivers jump out of his skin. As it was, he jumped several feet out of the big wooden chair in front of the fire and landed on top of a tall pile of heavy leather books. At the very same instant he heard himself
S-C-R-E-E-A-M!
even more loudly than Mr. Rapscallion had done, although such a thing seemed hardly possible. And for several seconds afterward, the boy was the gibbering wreck Mr. Rapscallion had promised Billy he would become.
    Mr. Rapscallion laughed and laughed as, piecing together his shredded nerves, and now only muttering with fright instead of gibbering, Billy climbed down off the tall pile of books.
    “Well, that’s more like it,” observed Mr. Rapscallion. “That sounds a lot better than ‘yikes,’ let me tell you.”
    He started to laugh some more. It has been mentioned that Mr. Rapscallion’s laugh was no ordinary laugh, and it was clear to Billy that Mr. Rapscallion liked to laugh, and laugh a lot. As usual his laughter arrived like a clap of thunder and then kept on going long after most other people would have stopped. At this point it became something almost mechanical, like something battery-operated or one of the spring-loaded “surprises” that were in every room of the Haunted House of Books. And still the laughter persisted, like an echo.
    Panting loudly, Billy Shivers sat down heavily on the stone floor and, pressing his hand against his chest, started to laugh himself. First he laughed with relief that the thing holding Mr. Rapscallion’s hand was now gone from his vivid imagination; and then he laughed as he realized that he had been had.
    “That was fantastic,” said Billy, shaking his head. “Fantastic. I haven’t had a fright like that, well, since the car accident.”
    “Good for you, Billy,” said Mr. Rapscallion.
    “But look,” said Billy, “you still haven’t answered my question: How did you start the Haunted House of Books?”
    “That’s really very, very simple,” said Mr. Rapscallion. “And not much of a story at all. Not like the story you just heard, anyway. You see, when I was a boy, not much older than you, I loved
four
things. I loved doing magic tricks, I loved practical jokes, I loved old horror movies and I loved reading. And I couldn’t make up my mind which of these
four
things I loved more, and to which of those four activities I wanted to devote my life when I was a grown-up. So I decided to do them all, and to combine professional magic and practical jokes with my enjoyment of books and horror movies. Hence this shop.”
    Mr. Rapscallion sighed and, for a moment, he continued to look happy.
    “The definition of true happiness, Billy,” he said, “is making your living from your hobby. It’s getting paid for what you would do for nothing. Try to remember that.”

With Billy turning up at the Haunted House of Books every day, it wasn’t long before he started to recognize the regular customers. Some of these were friendlier than others. Some weren’t in the least bit friendly at all. But then, as Mr. Rapscallion had to remind Billy, it was a bookshop, and not a social club.
    There was Father Merrin, of course.
    And the lady with the black hair and the green leather coat who Billy now knew was called Miss Danvers. Weird.
    There was Dr. Saki. Quite friendly.
    There was Mr. Stoker. Friendly but a bit creepy.
    There was Mr. Quiller-Couch. Not friendly.
    There was Mr. Pu Sung Ling. Not friendly.
    There was Miss Maupassant. Not friendly. Weird, too.
    There was Mr. Montague James. Friendly. But weird.
    And there was Hugh Crane. Who was not at all friendly.
    Hugh Crane was a local lawyer and tycoon who wanted to buy the Haunted House of Books.