by J. A. White
Suddenly the idea that Elijah Shadow could imprison the dead through some kind of magical architecture didn’t seem so crazy at all.
A few minutes later she found another lever to pull. After a parting of cinder blocks similar to the one that had happened in the boiler room, Cordelia stepped into a supply closet. Dusty textbooks that hadn’t been read in years lined the shelves.
The wall closed up behind her.
“We’re back!” Cordelia exclaimed, smiling down at the boy. She opened her arms to give him a hug and quickly lowered them, realizing that she couldn’t. The boy’s smile faltered.
“I couldn’t have gotten out of there without you,” Cordelia said. “You’re my hero. No matter what.”
She exited the closet and found herself in the third-floor hallway. The lights were off. Night had fallen, and snow swirled against the windows. Cordelia headed for the stairs, thinking that she should check her locker first to see if her phone had simply fallen out of her bag. If it wasn’t there, she’d find a phone in the main office or one of the classrooms. And then, when she got home, she was going to have a long conversation with Benji and Agnes. There’s so much to tell them, she thought, floored by how much she had learned in the past few hours. Archimancy. The boy breaking ghost rules. Secret passageway. Pyramids.
Cordelia heard a rolling, rattling noise from around the bend, like an approaching cart. She started to call out for help, thinking it was one of the custodians working late, but the moment she opened her mouth, a terrible coldness numbed her fingers. Cordelia snapped her hand away and glared down at the boy, who had resorted to touching her in order to get her attention.
He held a single finger to his lips: Shhh.
“Who is that?” Cordelia whispered, turning off the flashlight. “Who’s coming?”
The boy took a step into the shadows and gestured for Cordelia to join him. The moment she did, a man crossed the intersection at the end of the hall. He was heavyset and wearing navy blue coveralls. Cordelia didn’t remember seeing him around Shadow School, but he certainly looked like he worked there; he was pushing a cart holding a black trash can and an assortment of cleaning supplies. For a moment, she was certain that the boy had been worried for no reason at all.
Then the custodian passed beneath a window and the moonlight shone through his transparent body.
He’s a ghost, she thought.
The spirit continued out of sight. A few moments later, the rattling sound of the cleaning cart came to a sudden halt.
“I need to see what he’s up to,” Cordelia told the boy, who frantically shook his head in response. “I’ll be fine. You stay here.”
She crept out of the shadows and poked her head around the corner. The ghost was about three classrooms away, getting something from his cart. His back was facing her. Cordelia used this opportunity to dash across the hall and duck into an alcove for a better vantage point. Though the hallway was dark, light shone through the open door of a nearby classroom, allowing her to see the ghost clearly. He was in his fifties, with thinning hair and a patch on his coveralls that said Lenny. As she watched, Lenny set up two A-frame signs about twenty feet from the left and right of the cart, moving with the bone-weary, slumped-shoulder gait of a working man at the end of a long shift. The signs were the same size and shape as the kind that read “Caution: Wet Floor,” except these were black with no words at all.
Cordelia caught a flash of movement and realized there was a second figure doing its best to melt into the shadows: the ghost of a young man with one of those hipster beards that made him look like a barista in a trendy café. She passed him every day on the way to science. He spent his days staring out the window, like many spirits, and making a spinning motion with his finger. They hadn’t figured out why yet.
The ghost wasn’t spinning his finger now, however. He looked terrified.
What’s going on here? Cordelia wondered.
Lenny rapped on the garbage can with his knuckles, producing a deafening noise like a metallic thunderclap. Cordelia clapped her hands to her ears and turned away. When she looked back, two new figures had appeared just beyond the fringe of light. Lenny nodded toward the hipster ghost doing its best to hide, and the first figure stepped out of the darkness. He was a young man with slicked-back hair wearing gray work clothes from an older generation, the pants sitting high on his waist, with a button-down shirt tucked in tight.
He began to whistle.
It was a lullaby, each note in impossible harmony with itself, as though there were a chorus of whistlers instead of just one. Cordelia felt her limbs grow sluggish and saw that the boy, who had at some point rejoined her, could barely stay awake. His eyes fluttered, and he tottered uneasily from side to side before falling through the wall. The hipster ghost had also fallen asleep, collapsing to the hallway floor.
The whistling ghost passed a hallway mirror and pulled a comb out of his back pocket. He ran it through his hair while admiring his reflection.
The second figure stepped out of the darkness.
It was the same man Cordelia had seen in the lunchroom. He wasn’t wearing his tinted goggles today. Cordelia wished he was. There was no emotion in his green eyes, no capacity for kindness. He marched forward with precise, measured strides and removed a clipboard from the side of the cart. She had no idea how long it had been since he was alive, but she suspected it was during a time where people rode horses to get where they needed to go.
I should have listened to the boy and gotten out of here while I could, she thought, pressing her back against the wall in order to remain completely out of sight. The first two ghosts were scary enough, but the ghost with the green eyes—the poltergeist, she reminded herself—was something different altogether. Cordelia didn’t want to think about what might happen if he found her spying on them.
Still, she had to know what the three of them were doing. And so, after gathering her courage, Cordelia peeked around the corner.
The green-eyed ghost reached into the cart and withdrew a long, wrought-iron tool that looked as though it had been forged by a blacksmith. It had a large pincer on one end, black and jagged like the claw of a prehistoric crustacean; in general, it reminded Cordelia of the grabber tools that custodians used to pick up trash. While the whistler continued his soporific tune, the green-eyed ghost dug the pincer into the back of the hipster and pressed a trigger at the opposite end. The edges of the pincer closed. The green-eyed ghost pulled backward, and the hipster seemed to leap out of himself, though the version gripped by the pincer quickly deflated and hung like a suit of clothes. Lenny opened the lid of the garbage can, and the green-eyed ghost dumped what he had stolen from the hipster.
Whistler stopped whistling. The hipster ghost sat up. He had been solid before, but now Cordelia could see right through him.
That’s why the ghosts fade away over time, she thought, pressing her back against the wall so she didn’t have to look anymore. These monsters come in the night and snatch a part of them! She heard the lid of the garbage can close and the cart begin to rumble away. Cordelia was about to risk a peek when the boy popped out of the wall, stretching his arms as though he had just woken from a nap. His sudden appearance was more than her frazzled nerves could take, and a tiny shriek escaped her lips.
The cart stopped moving.
Cordelia looked down the hall and saw the green-eyed ghost heading in their direction. She held her breath and remained perfectly still, hoping the darkness would be deep enough to cloak her. Ghosts can’t see the living that well, she thought, her heart fluttering in her chest. Just don’t move. As far as she could tell, her plan was working. The ghost squinted in her general direction, but he couldn’t seem to pin down her location. Unfortunately, he had no problem seeing the boy. The green-eyed ghost seemed both angered and bewildered by his presence, as though aware that the boy belonged behind the bleachers and not in this part of the school.
“Get out of here,” Cordelia whispered. “Run!”
>
The boy was too overcome by fear to move, and there was no way for Cordelia to grab his hand and get him started. With no idea what else to do, she reared back and threw the flashlight as hard as she could. It passed through the ghost’s body, slid along the floor, and made a clanking noise against the cart.
The ghost snatcher swiveled his head in her direction. This time he saw her for sure.
Cordelia turned to run, but before she had gone four steps, the hallway lights came to life, and three living, breathing, beautiful adults were running toward her: Mr. Ward, his keys in his hand, Mr. Derleth, and her mother. The ghost snatchers and their cart were nowhere to be seen.
“Cordelia!” Mrs. Liu exclaimed.
Cordelia ran into her mother’s arms. She smelled of sandalwood soap and safety.
“I was so worried!” she exclaimed. “What happened?” Cordelia froze, unsure what to say, but luckily Mrs. Liu kept talking. “Wait. I have to call your dad and tell him everything is okay. He’s waiting at home in case you came back, worried sick. And then you need to tell us everything.”
By the time Mrs. Liu got off the phone, Cordelia had formulated her story.
“I was heading to the bus when I dropped my phone,” Cordelia said. “Some eighth grader in a hurry accidentally kicked it down the stairs of the boiler room. When I went to get it, the door shut behind me and I got locked in.”
It was a pretty lame story, but Cordelia knew she couldn’t tell the truth. If her parents knew how dangerous Shadow School really was, they would never let her stay. And who will keep the boy safe then? she thought, giving the ghost a secretive wave. He waved in return and vanished through the wall.
“Well, I’m just glad you’re okay, sweetie,” Mrs. Liu said. “That’s all that—”
“How’d you get out?” Mr. Derleth asked.
“Hmm?” said Cordelia.
“You said the door locked behind you. So how’d you get out?”
Mr. Derleth met her eyes. He knows I’m lying, Cordelia thought. Is that because he’s the one who locked me in the boiler room to begin with?
“It turned out the door was just stuck, not locked,” Cordelia said. “All I needed to do was shove it hard enough.”
“Ahh,” said Mr. Derleth. “How fortunate.”
“Well, thank you for helping me look, Mr. Derleth,” Mrs. Liu said, shaking his hand. “It’s lucky you were still in the building.” She turned to Mr. Ward. “And thank you so much as well. I’m sorry if I ruined your night.”
“You can show yourselves out,” Mr. Ward said. “I’m going to stick behind and lock up.” He gave Mr. Derleth a suspicious look. “And if you don’t mind, I think it’s time for you to head out as well. Dr. Roqueni expects students and teachers out of here by nightfall.”
“Why is that again?” Mr. Derleth asked.
“Because that’s when I turn off the heat and electricity,” Mr. Ward said, taking a threatening step in Mr. Derleth’s direction. “It’s . . . what do you call it? A green initiative. Reducing our carbon footprint. Dr. Roqueni is all about helping the environment.”
“Inspiring,” Mr. Derleth said. “Well, I was just about to leave anyway. Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Liu. Good night, Cordelia. I’m glad to see you safe and sound.”
Mrs. Liu placed a protective arm around Cordelia’s shoulders and guided her away. Just before they turned the corner, Cordelia glanced back at Mr. Ward. He was staring down at the broken flashlight on the floor, as though wondering how it had gotten there.
15
An Unexpected Trip
It was Christmas morning. While her parents drank coffee on the sofa, Cordelia opened her presents. The last one was a long, thin box with an elaborate bow. Inside, nestled between several layers of red tissue paper, was a plane ticket to California.
Cordelia looked up at her parents, stunned.
“Is this real?” she asked.
“Be pretty mean if it wasn’t,” Mrs. Liu said, taking her husband’s hand. “We’re spending the rest of December there! Your friends can’t wait to see you!”
Cordelia squealed and hugged them.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is the best present ever!”
And so, two days later, Cordelia found herself sitting on the beach with her old friends, staring out at the Pacific Ocean. They asked Cordelia what her school was like and whether her teachers were nice. Cordelia told them what answers she could. They laughed a lot and built a bad sand castle and swore that this was going to be the greatest school break of all time.
By the end of the first day, Cordelia was bored out of her mind.
Her friends hadn’t changed. Mabel was still sweet and bubbly. Ava was still a good listener. They had been nice girls when Cordelia lived here, and they were nice girls now.
The problem was her.
Things that used to seem important now felt like a total waste of time. Cordelia couldn’t feign interest in the cute boy that Ava liked or Mabel’s latest swim medal when the ghosts of Shadow School were in such terrible danger. Her mind kept wandering to the boy. She pictured him alone in that dark school, the ghost snatchers stalking him through the corridors. Cordelia was the only one who could help him, but she was trapped three thousand miles away, whiling away the hours watching bad movies or strolling through the mall.
She grew sullen and snappy. By the third day, Mabel and Ava said they had plans and couldn’t hang out. Cordelia didn’t blame them.
The Lius flew home a day earlier than planned.
On the night of New Year’s Eve, Benji and Agnes came to Cordelia’s house to watch the ball drop on TV. Cordelia made sure they had better snacks this time: pretzels, nachos, salsa, pepperoni and cheese, and three types of soda. Agnes even added some homemade peanut brittle. Cordelia had never seen Benji look so happy.
They settled into the couches and left the TV volume on low. The basement was colder than the rest of the house. Cordelia shared a blanket with Agnes.
“I have so many questions,” Agnes said after Mr. and Mrs. Liu had gone upstairs. “I don’t even know where to begin.” Cordelia had already texted them about her frightening experience with the ghost snatchers, but this was the first time they had talked about it in person.
“I’ll start,” Benji said. “Why are there pyramids behind the walls of our school?”
“And when do we get to see them?” Agnes added eagerly.
“I thought about the secret passageway a lot while I was in California,” Cordelia said. “And I think the whole weird setup has to do with the thing Mr. Derleth was talking about. Archimancy. The pyramids and wires must be necessary for the school to attract ghosts—and keep them trapped inside.”
“You really think that’s the reason the school is haunted?” Benji asked. “Because of the way it’s built?”
“It makes as much sense as anything else,” Cordelia said.
“The only way we’ll know for sure is if we investigate this passageway of yours,” Agnes said. “Take photos. Gather samples.”
“Soon. For now, I think we should concentrate on these guys.”
Cordelia handed them a sketch of the ghost snatchers. She had used graphite pencils to draw the bodies and a bright-green pastel to emphasize the otherworldly nature of the poltergeist’s eyes. It wasn’t her best work, but judging from the way the color drained from Benji’s face, it got the point across.
“I’ve never seen these ghosts before,” Benji said.
“I think they only come out at night after everyone else has left,” Cordelia said. “That’s when they do their job.”
“Ghosts have jobs?” Benji asked.
“Or something like it,” Cordelia said. “There’s even this clipboard with some kind of list, I guess, like they have a certain number of ghosts they have to . . .” She struggled to find the right word. “Collect? Except that’s not right, because they don’t take the whole ghost at once.”
“What about ‘peel’?” Agnes suggested. “It’s
kind of gross, but isn’t that what they’re doing? Peeling one layer after another until there’s no more ghost left.”
Cordelia shuddered. The word fit, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.
“I thought the ghosts just faded away because that’s what happened,” Benji said. “Like getting old for dead people. But it’s been these ghost snatchers the entire time.”
“Which is why the ghosts vanish in three stages instead of gradually,” Agnes said, thinking it through. “Three visits from the ghost snatchers. That’s all they get. I wonder, though. Do you think this is how it works with ghosts all over the world, or is this just a Shadow School thing?”
“Why does it matter?” Cordelia asked. “They’re evil, and we have to stop them.”
“It might not be that simple.”
“It really is,” Cordelia said.
Agnes looked like she wanted to say more, but she held her tongue for the time being.
“Guess we know why the leader caused all that trouble in the lunchroom,” Benji said. “He was warning us not to send any more ghosts to the Bright. Getting rid of them is his job. Could he have been the one who locked you in the boiler room?”
“No way,” Cordelia said. “Ghosts don’t leave notes and hide cell phones. That was a living, breathing person.”
Benji buried his face in his hands.
“As if having ghosts who hate us wasn’t enough,” he muttered.
“Could it be a student?” Agnes asked.
“I doubt it,” Cordelia said. “The boiler room doesn’t lock on its own. You need the key.”
“It’s hard to believe a teacher would lock you up like that,” Benji said.
Cordelia knew how he felt. The idea that a grown-up they knew and trusted meant them harm was almost as scary as the ghost snatchers.
“Would a teacher even have a key to the furnace room?” Agnes asked. “Maybe it was someone from the office. Or Mr. Ward. He has the keys to everything.”
Benji shook his head.
“I know Mr. Ward looks a little scary,” he said, “but he’s a good guy. Last year he saw how Mason and some of the other boys were getting on my case at recess, so he let me hide in the back of the school and play soccer. He even shares these Greek pastries that his wife makes sometimes. Does that sound like the kind of guy who would threaten an eleven-year-old girl?”