by J. A. White
Cordelia nodded. “He showed me a drawing someone made—a guest at one of the shows. Each ghost was in a”—Cordelia gasped, beginning to see where Agnes was going with this—“in a kind of box.”
“A ghost box,” Agnes said, grinning. “Elijah must have used archimancy to build them. That’s why the ghosts couldn’t escape. And if it can hold a ghost . . .”
“It can hold the ghost snatchers,” Benji said. He burst into a gigantic smile. “You’re a genius!”
“It’s just a theory,” Agnes said, blushing. “And we still have to build them. Maybe it’s a lot harder than it seems. Maybe it requires material that we don’t have access to. I have no idea. But I’d love to at least give it a shot. All we need are the original blueprints, which I’m sure are somewhere in the school.”
Cordelia and Benji exchanged a look.
“What?” Agnes asked.
“Dr. Roqueni told us that all of Elijah Shadow’s work was destroyed in the attic fire,” Cordelia said. “There are no blueprints.”
Agnes’s face fell. “You never told me.”
“I’m sorry,” Cordelia said. “It never occurred to me that it might be so important.”
They sat in silence and watched their classmates play volleyball. Another dead end, Cordelia thought, trying to fight her disappointment. Below her, Mason lost his temper and spiked the ball with his fist. It smacked a smaller boy named Brian Haas in the face, knocking him to the floor. Mr. Bruce ran over to check on the injured student while Mason and his cronies tried to control their laughter.
“There must be a hundred rooms in Shadow School,” Agnes said, mostly to herself. “Who would put their office all the way in the attic?”
“Maybe he wanted to be left alone,” Benji suggested.
“Elijah and his daughter were the only ones living here,” Agnes said. “How much more privacy did he need? Besides, Elijah was an old man by this point. Why climb up and down those stairs if he didn’t have to? It would make a lot more sense if his office was on one of the lower floors.”
“Maybe he stored his work in the attic but had his office somewhere else,” Benji suggested.
They batted this idea around and came to the conclusion that the attic was the last place Elijah Shadow would store his blueprints. Attics were hot in the summer, cold in the winter, and home to mice all year round. That made them a perfectly adequate place to store Christmas decorations and old toys you didn’t play with anymore—not your life’s work.
“There’s a photo of his office on the first floor,” Cordelia said. “Let’s check it out and see if we’re missing something.”
The moment class ended, the trio dashed through the halls to the large black-and-white photograph of Elijah Shadow hanging on the wall. For the first time, Cordelia ignored the architect working at his drafting table and instead focused on the office around him. Towering bookcases packed with leather-bound volumes rose so high that a ladder would be required to reach the upper shelves. There was a simple cot in the corner and two wooden cabinets with wide, shallow drawers.
“There,” Cordelia said, pointing at the cabinets. “They had something like those at my library back in California. It was where they kept these cool old maps.”
“Those kinds of drawers would work for blueprints too,” Benji said. “That must be where he stored them.”
“But this doesn’t look anything like the attic,” Cordelia said, studying the photograph. “The ceiling is way too high—and not slanted. In fact, I don’t recognize this room at all.” She turned to the others. “Does it look familiar to you?”
Agnes and Benji shook their heads.
“There aren’t any windows,” Agnes observed.
“Huh,” Cordelia said, standing on her tiptoes as she took a closer look. “That’s really weird. An architect would be hunched over his table all day, trying to get each detail exactly right. Wouldn’t he want big windows, so he’d have a lot of natural light?”
“Unless it was more important to Elijah that his office remain hidden,” Benji suggested. “Since there’re no windows, the office might be behind a wall, where no one could ever find it. Remember what Dr. Roqueni said about people wanting to use archimancy for bad things? Elijah wouldn’t want his secrets to fall into the wrong hands.”
“But if that’s the case, it makes even more sense that he destroyed all the blueprints in a fire,” Agnes said with a defeated expression. “We’re back to the beginning.”
Cordelia stared at Elijah Shadow, trying to get a sense of the man across the ocean of years.
“Destroying the blueprints definitely makes the most logical sense,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean he did it. Look at his eyes. I don’t see logic there. I see obsession. He dedicated his life to creating archimancy. He wouldn’t destroy everything he did, no matter how dangerous it was. But maybe—he could have pretended to. Let’s say everyone thought his real office was in the attic, and it got destroyed in a fire—”
“They’d think the plans were destroyed as well,” Benji said. “So they wouldn’t go looking for them. It would have been just as good as destroying them for real!”
“But Elijah died,” Agnes said. “That couldn’t have been part of his plan.”
“Something must have gone wrong,” Cordelia said.
“I don’t know,” Agnes said, unconvinced. “We’re guessing at things that happened a long, long time ago. We won’t know anything until we see this office. And we have no idea where it could be.”
“True,” Cordelia said. “But I know someone who can find it for us.”
21
The Missing Petals
Cordelia needed to get to school early the next morning, so for the first time in weeks she asked her father for a ride. He eagerly agreed. On the way there, they stopped for donuts and hot chocolate at a local bakery. Cordelia was tempted to eat her breakfast while sitting in the passenger seat, but her dad was fastidious about his car, and she didn’t want to get crumbs everywhere.
“I’ve missed our morning drives,” Mr. Liu said.
“Me too,” Cordelia said. “And not just because of the baked goods.”
“Though they help.”
“Maybe,” Cordelia said. She saw that her father was wearing the tie she had gotten him for his birthday and smiled. “How do you like your new job?”
Mr. Liu chuckled.
“What?” Cordelia asked.
“I’ve been at my job for half a year now, Cordy. It’s not exactly new anymore.”
“Sorry,” Cordelia said, looking down at her lap. “Guess I should have asked before.”
“You’re asking now. That’s all that matters.” Mr. Liu stopped at a red light. “It’s not as exciting as what I did back in San Francisco. But the people are nice, and that counts for a lot. The company has this huge picnic in the summer for employees and their families.”
“Sounds like fun,” Cordelia said, and was surprised to find that she meant it.
A few minutes later, they made the turn onto the tree-lined road that led up to Shadow School. A thin layer of snow had fallen overnight, and freshly spread salt crunched beneath their tires.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Mr. Liu said. “Have you seen any more ghosts?”
Cordelia was so surprised by the question that she nearly spilled her hot chocolate.
“Ghosts? What do you mean?”
“I guess you forgot all about it. The first day of school you told us you saw a ghost in the gym. I was curious if you’d had any other spooky experiences since then. You haven’t mentioned anything, but maybe that’s because you’re afraid we wouldn’t believe you.”
He sounded genuinely interested—and a little guilty about doubting her in the first place. Nevertheless, Cordelia resisted the urge to tell him the truth. She didn’t want to risk her parents actually believing her this time and pulling her out of Shadow School.
“No more ghosts,” she said. “Guess it was just my imagination. Creepy old building, you k
now?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Nothing like your old school, right?” Mr. Liu sighed deeply. “I wish we could have stayed in California. It just wasn’t in the cards.”
“I know, Dad. It’s not your fault.”
They arrived at the school. Except for a few cars, the parking lot was completely empty. Mr. Liu pulled over to the curb.
“At least it all worked out for the best,” he said. “Your mom and I were worried at the beginning, but these last few months? We’re never seen you happier.”
Cordelia gave him an incredulous look.
“Are you serious?” she asked.
“Of course,” Mr. Liu said. “Back in California, you used to spend hours lounging around, looking bored. You complained all the time. Now you seem . . . driven. And it’s clear how much you adore your new friends. Your entire face lights up when you talk about them, especially—”
“Don’t,” Cordelia said, raising her hand. “Mom already gives me enough grief about him.”
“Even your grades are better. You’re finally taking school seriously.”
“Huh,” Cordelia said. Could he be right? Could I actually like it here? She stared out the passenger-side window at the wall surrounding the school. If she squinted, she could make out the words on the plaque: Elijah Z. Shadow Middle School. Grades 5–8. Knowledge. Character. Spirit. It was a dangerous place full of secrets and ghosts. And yet, for some unfathomable reason, she couldn’t wait to go inside.
How long have I felt this way?
Cordelia guessed a long time. She had been so determined to be miserable, however, that her happiness had become a secret she kept from herself—until her father placed it in her hand like a Brightkey.
“Thanks, Dad,” Cordelia said.
She gave him a kiss on the cheek and headed through the open gate. Moments after Mr. Liu pulled away, Cordelia realized that she had left her jacket in the car. She didn’t mind. The cold weather didn’t bother her anymore.
The boy wasn’t in his hiding spot, and a block of ice settled in Cordelia’s stomach. Calm down, she told herself. That doesn’t mean the snatchers got him. After a few steadying breaths, she forced herself to search the library and quickly found the boy in the fiction section, scanning the shelves like a patron searching for a particular title.
“You scared me,” she said.
The boy’s mood had slowly been improving over the past few weeks, and he lit up when he saw her. Cordelia smiled in return, but before speaking again checked the library to make sure she was alone. One day she had forgotten and ended up having an awkward conversation with the guidance counselor about how often she talked to herself and whether she thought someone else was really listening.
“It’s nice to see you out and about,” Cordelia said, bending down.
The boy raised his arms in a fake yawn: I was bored!
“Well, good news, then,” Cordelia said. “Because I have an exciting job for you. There’s a secret room somewhere in this school that has something we need. Trouble is, we don’t know where it is. Will you help us find it?”
The boy shook his head and took a few steps toward the safety of his hiding place.
“Please,” Cordelia said. “I know it’s scary. But I need you to be brave. If my friends and I find what we’re looking for, we might be able to stop the ghost snatchers forever. You wouldn’t have to be scared anymore.”
The boy raised his eyebrows: Really?
“Yes. But if you don’t help us, we won’t have any chance at all. You understand? We’re counting on you.”
The boy straightened his glasses and raised his head with newfound determination. He nodded.
“My hero,” Cordelia said. “Come with me. There’s a photograph I have to show you.”
The boy didn’t have any luck locating Elijah Shadow’s office that week. He must have kept searching over the weekend, however, because when Cordelia returned on Monday, he was waiting for her at the front entrance of the school with a huge grin on his face.
“You found it, didn’t you?” she asked.
He nodded, looking very impressed with himself. A few hours later, Cordelia, Benji, and Agnes snuck away during lunch and met the boy outside the library. Since Elijah had wanted his office to remain hidden, Cordelia had assumed the boy would lead them to some dark corner of the school. Instead, they went down to the basement and stopped in the middle of a perfectly ordinary hallway. Cordelia loved it down here. There were two different art rooms located directly across from each other, which meant the air always smelled of creation: clay and paint and freshly sharpened pencils.
Fortunately, the art rooms were empty now.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” Benji asked.
The boy gave him a dark look.
“Just asking,” Benji said. “Relax.”
Cordelia had noticed that the boy was often cross with Benji for no reason at all. He’s jealous, she thought. I’m his only friend in the world, and yet it’s Benji who gets to talk to me and see me outside of the school. It must seem so unfair.
“So where’s this office?” Benji asked.
The boy pointed down. Cordelia did the same thing. She had promised Agnes that she would mimic all the boy’s movements, like a translator. After everything that had happened, she never wanted Agnes to feel left out again.
“Underground?” Benji asked. Someone had been working on props for the spring play, and the hallway was lined with half-painted wooden trees and Styrofoam boulders. Benji moved one out of the way and checked the hardwood floor beneath it. “Should we be looking for a trapdoor?”
The boy shrugged. Then he started to jump up and down. He seemed intent on making each landing as heavy as possible, as though trying to flatten a box. The fact that he made no sound gave the entire spectacle an eerie, dreamlike quality.
“What’s he doing?” Agnes asked, following her friends’ eyes to the general location of the boy.
“He’s jumping,” Cordelia and Benji said in unison.
“Is that some kind of ghost thing?”
“Not usually,” replied Benji.
The boy held up a finger—Give me a second—then bent his knees and jumped as high as he could, throwing his arms into the air. Instead of landing on the floor, he passed right through it and vanished.
Cordelia told Agnes what had happened.
“That actually makes sense!” Agnes exclaimed. “From what you’ve told me, ghosts pass through walls like they’re not even there. But if that were true for floors, how would they get anywhere? They’d fall through with every step. So ghosts can pass through floors, but they really have to work at it.”
“Cool,” Benji said, searching the spot where the boy had disappeared. “But that doesn’t really help us. We can’t pass through floors no matter how high we jump.”
“That’s why the boy shrugged when you asked him if there was a trapdoor,” Cordelia said. “He has no idea. All he can do is show us where to go. It’s up to us to figure out how to get there.”
Cordelia got down on her knees and searched the spot where the boy had passed through the floor, but the only gaps she found were the ones between the hardwood planks. Meanwhile, Benji and Agnes ran their hands along the walls, hoping for some kind of secret lever like the one in the furnace room. The lunch period changed over to recess. Every so often a student would wander down the hall, and the three friends would stop what they were doing and pretend to be having a casual conversation. Cordelia didn’t think they were very convincing.
She was about to recommend they give up for now and come back later when Agnes let out a startled gasp.
“I found something!” she exclaimed. Cordelia and Benji joined her, and together they stared at the fabric wallpaper, an elaborate pattern of wildflowers over a black background. Agnes pointed to a light blue hibiscus lost among its more colorful peers.
“Look,” she said. “A petal’s missing on this flower. When you press that spot the wall feels
weird.”
Cordelia felt it for herself. The wall was softer in the place the petal should have been, with a slightly gummy feeling.
“Do you think there’s a button under there?” she asked.
“If so, it’s not doing anything,” Benji said, jabbing the spot with his index finger. “How long has it been since someone went down there? If there was a secret door, maybe it doesn’t work anymore.”
“Or maybe Elijah wanted to make sure no one set it off by accident,” Agnes said, “so he made two buttons that had to be pressed simultaneously.” She backed away, examining a wider section of the wall. “They would have to be close enough to each other that he could reach them both on his own.” She smiled and pointed at the wall. “There! That hibiscus is missing a petal too!”
Cordelia moved aside.
“You do the honors,” she said.
Agnes pressed on both hibiscuses at the same time. There was a soft grinding noise, and then a section of the floor rose on iron rods before splitting along the cracks between the planks, creating a passageway.
“We should hurry before someone comes along,” Cordelia said, ushering them forward. She peeked into the hole and saw five steps and a lever set into the wall. After that, all was darkness.
“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Benji asked.
There was no time to discuss it; they heard footsteps approaching in the distance. The three children scrambled down the steps. Agnes pulled the lever on their way down, and the floor slid back into place, cutting off all light from the world above them.
22
The Guardian
They stumbled around in darkness until Benji finally flicked a light switch. The ancient chandelier above them hissed to life. It glowed brightly for a moment, but then there was a series of loud popping noises as one bulb after another burned out from the unexpected rush of electricity. In the end, only a single bulb remained, spreading a dim, reddish glow throughout the room.
“We actually found it,” Benji said, chuckling.
It was definitely the office from the photograph, though it had seen better days. Green patches of mold covered the walls, and the stagnant air was rank with decay. The tall bookcases had splintered and collapsed, spilling their contents onto the floor. A thick layer of dust covered Elijah’s drafting table, but other than that it seemed remarkably undamaged. A few drawing tools lay on its surface, including a ruler and an antique bronze compass.