Her Long Hair ShiningWater ran down the walls, staining the stonework in triangles of green like a child's drawing of a Christmas tree. Smith had to step around pools of water on the floor. The place hadn't been used for years. Decades. Smashed windows let the wind and rain through. It was colder inside, somehow, than it was out on the streets. The air tasted damp.
It was, he thought, a lonely place for a ghost to live.
Three lines of stone pillars supported the roof of the old mill. He wove his way between them, listening, the tap of his footsteps echoing sharply back to him.
“Can you feel anything, Tom?” he asked. “Anything at all?”
Tom whirled through the air from wall to wall, like a bird desperate to escape, an indistinct blur. He was always excited when they searched for a new gh
