Billy Bones: Beyond the Grave

Chapter 1

“Another nose picker!” she said in the same tone as before. “That’s—”

“Ten this week,” I said, finishing her sentence.

Those thin lips of her pursed together. “Cheeky little thing, aren’t ya?”

With her withered hand she pointed to a chute next to the window. Out popped a heavy book. Then she told me to go to a place called Barclay Mansion on Liberty Street as she motioned to an old, barely-working Exit sign. After that, she disappeared from sight.

I followed her directions and stepped outside.

The streets were filled with folks wandering about aimlessly, but some went about their business in a rather fast manner.

A strange fellow on the road, who looked a little flat and had tire marks on his face, yelled, “Welcome to Necropolis!”

I tried to ask him for directions, but he started moaning about the loss of his former life and then limped off into the streets.

I felt a little overwhelmed as I tried to cut through the crowds of people that walked or limped about. Some strolled around with parasols even though it wasn’t raining. It seemed to be the middle of the night.

I was careful to remain on the cobbled sidewalks as carriages skidded past me, crammed with people that looked like they’d come from the Accidental Dismemberment line. Occasionally, an old taxi would whiz by filled with fancily-dressed men and women.

A large number of dogs roamed the streets, sniffing pant legs or dresses. And for every dog, there were easily three cats.

It was at that moment that something strange occurred to me. I thought I’d had a dog once back in the Livingworld, and then one of the larger ones approached me. He took a sniff of my leg and wagged his tail. I wasn’t sure what to do about him. He was rusty brown, with a ridge running down his back. He was easily half my height.

Somehow, having him standing with me felt right. The only name that came to mind when I saw him was Goliath. I tried it out, just to see what he would do.

“Goliath,” I said. “Sit.”

The dog promptly sat and wagged his tail.

I reached to pet him. He was sopping wet. Then I remembered something else.

The dog from my former life had drowned. Maybe this was my dog, after all. He shook the water off, spraying me with a fine mist, but he remained wet.

At that point, I decided he was coming with me. I at least needed someone to talk to.

“Goliath,” I said. “I need to find Liberty Street. Do you know where that is?”

He didn’t bark or make any sound, but I could tell by the twinkle in his eyes, he knew. He started walking, so I followed.

It took a while to find the place. It was a wide old mansion with a black metal fence all around it. It didn’t look very inviting, but the dangling sign in front of it read: Barclay Mansion.

Goliath thumped my leg with his wagging tail.

I shrugged, and we strolled up to the front door where I lifted the gargoyle-shaped knocker. I let it drop.

It thundered as it struck the door.

Goliath and I waited.

And waited.

I reached to lift the knocker again, but the gargoyle came to sudden life and slapped my hand. “Enough already!” it said. “They heard you, be patient. Jeeves is slow. He’ll get here soon enough!”

I retracted my hand, and awkwardly put it in my pocket. I tried to act normal, but I couldn’t help but stare at the gargoyle.

Eventually, the door opened a crack, and I caught a glimpse of messy white hair and a large, bloodshot eyeball.

“Whatcha want?” asked a squeaky voice.

“I’m Billy,” I said. “I was told to come here.”

The door inched open a little further. The wild-haired man was dressed like a butler and had a large knife sticking out of his chest. The door caught on it. “Who sentcha?” he squeaked again.

“The woman behind the counter. She gave me this,” I said, and held up the book she had given me. I hadn’t paid attention to the title. It was called The Lexicon.

The man opened the door fully, and I stepped in. He eyed Goliath, but didn’t seem to mind that the dog was with me, or that he dripped water all over the marble floor.

“If you’re takin’ up residence here, you’ll need to know the rules,” the man said.

I nodded.

“First,” he said, and pointed to the knife in his chest, “if you’re a bleeder, watch the rugs. Gertrude won’t be pleased if you bleed on the rugs.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Second, no screamin’ or wailin’ in the middle of the day. We like our sleep here.” He waited on me to nod my head before continuing. “Third, don’t ask questions that are already answered in The Lexicon. The Newly Dead constantly ask the same questions. Read the book,” he said, pointing to what I still held in my hand. “And lastly, keep the drapes closed during the day. Daylight gives us all a blasted headache.” He examined me with his bloodshot eyeball, as if he thought I was going to be trouble. “Any questions?”

“What’s your name?” I asked. “And what do I do now?”

“Jeeves,” he said. “And since sunrise is coming, you’ll want to be goin’ to sleep. Tomorrow, you need to take your Dead Lessons.” He pointed toward a grand, curved staircase. “Take room number fifty-two. Henry the First finally had his number called — thank goodness! If I’d had another request for cooked eel, I’d be moppin’ up me own vomit. Gertrude should have cleaned the room by now.”

“Thank you,” I said. I then walked up the staircase which had paintings of some people all dying in rather ridiculous ways. Under the painting of a man appearing to be running from a bunch of mice was the name Prince Popiel.

The stairs curved toward a couple of long hallways, both with lamps along the walls and rugs that ran the length of the corridor. I couldn’t see the end in either direction. The corridor just kept on going, with doors and doors and doors. I wasn’t sure which way to go, but Goliath took the hallway to the right. I just followed until he stopped at the door that read fifty-two. The door opened by itself and I paused to peer in. It’s never good when a door opens on its own, but since I was already dead, I strode into the room with Goliath beside me. What could possibly happen to me when I was already dead?

It smelled a little fishy, but the room had a huge four-poster bed and matching wardrobe. Over the dresser hung a cracked mirror. Goliath jumped onto the end of the bed and settled down. I closed the door and climbed up beside him. Then I opened The Lexicon.

Within these pages lay the life and times of William Thaddeus Bones.

After that, it read: Congratulations! You’re dead!