by J. A. White
The boy was sitting on top of the cabinets, kicking his legs back and forth. He gave them a cheerful wave.
“We couldn’t have found this place without you,” Cordelia said.
“Seriously, kid,” Benji added. “You rule.”
The boy grinned but made a hurry-up motion with his hands.
“The boy thinks we should get a move on,” Benji told Agnes. “I happen to agree. I don’t like the vibe here.”
Cordelia knew what he meant. It was more than just the creepy appearance; the air itself felt heavy. She thought a vocabulary word that she had recently learned in Mrs. Aickman’s class described the aura of the room perfectly: oppressive.
Cordelia opened a cabinet drawer, releasing a musty smell that made her nose tingle. Inside was a stack of thin, oversized papers a little larger than poster boards. The one at the top was a carefully labeled floor plan for a two-story house. Most rooms hadn’t changed much since then—KITCHEN, BEDROOM, etc.—but there were also a few that Cordelia had never heard of, such as the ANTECHAMBER. The dimensions of each room were recorded in a precise, even hand.
“We were right,” Cordelia said. “This is where he kept his blueprints!”
“But how do we find the plans for the ghost box in all this?” Benji asked, looking in dismay at the large number of drawers. “This is going to take forever!”
“He must have organized these blueprints somehow,” Cordelia said. She pushed the drawer back into place and blew away a cloud of dust, revealing a card inside a brass label holder. It read: 1900–1902.
“It’s organized by year,” Agnes said. “That’s helpful.”
“If we can figure out when he made the plans for a ghost box,” Cordelia said.
“Did that illustration Mr. Derleth showed you have a date?”
“Shoot!” Cordelia pounded her head with her knuckles, trying to remember. “Um . . . 1911? 1912? Something like that. Which obviously means Elijah designed the ghost box before then.”
“But after his wife died,” Benji said. “He wasn’t much interested in ghosts before that. When was he born?”
“It was 1881,” said Cordelia. “That date I remember.”
“Do you know how old he was when he got married?” Benji asked.
“Not sure. But people got married crazy young back then—and Mr. Derleth mentioned that Elijah’s daughter was born around the turn of the century.”
“And she was still a baby when his wife died,” Benji said. “So that must have been . . .”
“Around 1900,” Agnes said. “At the earliest. After that, he started wandering around the country, investigating haunted houses. We don’t know how long it took him to figure out how to make a ghost box, but I imagine it wasn’t right away.” She closed her eyes in thought. “Why don’t we start with 1904 and see where that takes us?”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Cordelia said. It wasn’t, really; she hadn’t been able to keep up with their mental math. But she trusted Agnes.
“You guys get started,” Benji said. “I want to take a quick look around. These drawers might only be for house blueprints. Maybe Elijah jotted other plans in a journal or something instead.”
“Good idea,” Cordelia said. “Let’s work fast, though. I don’t like this place.”
She started with the drawer labeled 1904–1906, while Agnes began with 1907–1908. The blueprints were a mix of floor plans and exterior designs. The first few houses looked perfectly normal. As Cordelia got deeper into the pile, however, the blueprints grew stranger and more complex. Instead of just one floor plan for the entire house, she found a separate page for each individual room, filled with a complicated array of lines, circles, and measurements that made no sense to Cordelia at all.
This is when he started to play around with archimancy, she thought.
“Guys,” Benji said from the other side of the room. There was a slight tremor to his voice. “I think I’ve . . . um . . . found something.”
“The plans?” Cordelia asked.
“Just come here.”
“You go,” Agnes said, flipping through blueprints at a rapid pace. “I’ll keep looking.”
The office was a lot bigger than it looked in the photograph, and in order to reach Benji, Cordelia had to climb over a pile of rotting books. She fought back a scream as she saw a rat with a long tail scurry beneath them. Although she knew it was probably just her imagination, her entire body felt itchy, like bugs were crawling all over her.
As soon as I get home, I’m taking the longest shower of all time.
The feeble light from the chandelier barely touched this corner of the office, casting Benji as a dim shape in the shadows. He was standing next to a cot that Cordelia remembered seeing in the photograph.
On the cot was a skeleton.
The bones were surprisingly white, the flesh having been stripped clean long ago, perhaps by the ancestors of the rat currently making its home beneath the books. Tatters of clothes remained. Cordelia thought they might have been pajamas. It was hard to tell in the dark.
“I don’t think Elijah Shadow died in a fire,” Benji said. “I think he faked his own death so he could hide in this office. I found shelves and shelves of canned food in a big room back there, enough to last for years. Elijah lived here. I’m sure of it.” He pointed to the skeleton. “And then he died here.”
“Why?” Cordelia asked.
“You got me. But he definitely wanted everyone to think he was dead for some reason.”
Cordelia stared at the skeleton, not sure what she should be feeling. Sadness? Horror? Bewilderment? She tried to imagine what it would be like to live here all alone, knowing that the rest of the world was a short flight of stairs away. What about his daughter? He loved her! What would make Elijah just leave her behind like that?
“It doesn’t make any sense,” Cordelia said. “What was he trying to—”
“I’ve got it!” Agnes shouted in triumph.
They returned to the other side of the room. Agnes had spread a drawing across the drafting table. It looked like the plans for a large wardrobe, with a detailed list of materials and measurements. The words Spectral Container had been scrawled along the bottom of the page.
“That’s just a fancy way of saying ‘ghost box,’” Benji said. “You found it.” He gave Agnes a high five. “MVP. Right there.”
Agnes blushed so hard that Cordelia thought her face would explode.
Working from bottom to top, Cordelia carefully rolled the plan up; it was brittle, and she didn’t want it to tear. She wished they had a hair tie or scrunchie to keep it in place—her hair was too short, Agnes’s too messy—but she would just hold it tight for now. The important thing was getting out of the office as quickly as possible. The idea that they might be in some sort of danger was blaring like a fire alarm in her head. She turned toward the exit, anxious for lights and voices and safety.
Elijah Shadow blocked their path.
He looked older than he did in the photograph, with gaunt cheeks and white hair. His eyes, however, burned with the same fire. Cordelia felt a cold sheen of sweat break out all over her body. She had grown somewhat accustomed to ghosts over the past few months, but it was a far different experience when she recognized the man. Elijah Shadow wasn’t just a nameless spirit. She had seen proof that he once lived and breathed.
He shouldn’t be here, she thought. This is wrong.
“What is it?” Agnes asked, noting her friends’ horrified expressions.
“Elijah Shadow is standing at the foot of the stairs,” Benji whispered. “I don’t think he’s going to let us leave.”
“But he’s just a ghost, isn’t he?” Agnes asked. “He can’t actually do us any harm.”
Elijah raised his arm and pointed to their left, where the bronze compass that had been sitting on the table now hovered in the air, its rusty but still serviceable point extended in their direction. As Cordelia watched, the compass was joined by a utility knife and t
wo pairs of scissors, while a row of sharpened pencils took position to their right.
“He’s a poltergeist,” Benji said. “Terrific.”
Elijah pointed again. This time, it was at the plan in Cordelia’s hands. He shook his head slowly. Cordelia, wondering if she understood properly, placed the plan on the drafting table and held her hands in the air.
The compass and its army shifted back a few feet, though they remained hovering in the air. Elijah stepped to the side, clearing the pathway to the stairs.
“We can go,” Benji said. “But the plan needs to stay here.”
“No way,” Cordelia said. “We need it.”
“We need our lives more, Cord,” Benji said, glancing nervously from side to side. “We’ll figure out another way.”
She stepped forward.
“Hey, Mr. Shadow,” she said. “I think I know why you haunt this place. You’re guarding these plans, aren’t you? So they can’t be used by the wrong sort of people.”
He gave a barely perceptible nod.
“I understand,” Cordelia said. “Only—we’re not bad! We want to use your invention to keep the people at Shadow School safe—living and dead. You know about the ghost snatchers, right?”
Elijah’s face remained impassive, but she saw the slightest hint of distaste at the corner of his lips.
“We want to trap them, so they can’t hurt the ghosts anymore. When we’re done, we’ll bring your plans back. Promise.”
Cordelia retrieved the rolled-up sheet of paper. The moment she did, Elijah went back to blocking their path, and the sharp instruments returned to a more threatening position.
“I don’t think he’s listening,” Agnes said.
“Please,” Cordelia said, trying to ignore the scissors only a few inches from her left ear. “I know you were a good man. You didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
“Cordelia,” Benji said. “Put the plans back.”
“That means you must be a good ghost too,” Cordelia continued. “Let us help—”
The boy came out of nowhere, plowing shoulder-first into the back of Elijah’s legs and knocking him over. Cordelia heard a metallic plink as the compass and scissors dropped to the ground. Before Elijah could regain his concentration, she ran past him and pulled the lever. The floor started to open. It wasn’t fast, allowing Elijah enough time to get to his knees. The boy tried to knock him over again, but Elijah was ready this time and tossed him to the side. Benji and Agnes squeezed through the opening. Cordelia shared one last look with Elijah—his eyes burning with fury—then dashed up the stairs and into the hallway. The bronze compass flew through the opening and impaled itself in the ceiling, missing her by inches.
“Elijah Shadow isn’t very nice,” Agnes said.
Benji quickly pressed the missing petals on the wall. The floor slid back into place—but not before the boy popped his head out and stumbled to safety. They waited a moment to see if Elijah would follow him, but apparently the office was his ghost zone. He was trapped down there.
“Thank you,” Cordelia told the boy. “You were amazing!”
“Absolutely,” Agnes said to a point three feet left of the boy. “I mean, I have no idea what just happened. Or where you are. But I’m alive, so whatever you did was perfect.”
“We’re not only alive,” Cordelia said, raising the paper. “We have the plans!”
23
Plans
“I wish we could go to Dr. Roqueni now,” Cordelia said as they sprinted through the halls. “The quicker we get started on building these ghost boxes, the better. Every minute counts.”
“Later,” Benji said, running harder. “We’re epically late for math. We’ve already escaped death once today. Let’s not risk it again.”
They ran into the room. Mrs. Machen greeted them with apocalyptic fury.
“What is the meaning of this?” she asked. “You can’t just waltz into my class twenty-two minutes late! Have you forgotten how to tell time? Do I need to dig out some first-grade worksheets and give you a review? Actually, I rather like that idea. Tonight, for homework, you three—”
“It’s not that we lost track of time,” Agnes said in a perfectly sweet voice. “It’s just that your class is so boring it’s honestly painful to come here. That’s why it took so long. We had to force ourselves to make each and every step.”
A stunned silence rocked the class. Miranda’s mouth dropped open and her finger began to twitch, as though she couldn’t wait to start texting everyone she knew. Mason looked a little impressed.
When Mrs. Machen spoke, it wasn’t with the sound and fury that Cordelia expected.
“Report to the principal’s office,” she whispered. “Now.”
They did as they were told.
Dr. Roqueni’s office was elegant and spare, with a few Monet prints that Cordelia really liked and a Gauguin that she didn’t. A massive whiteboard stretched across one wall. It was covered with dates and schedules.
Dr. Roqueni stared at them from across her desk. She was wearing more makeup than usual as if she were trying to hide the dark circles under her eyes.
“Why are you tormenting Mrs. Machen?” she asked in an exasperated tone.
“We needed to see you,” Cordelia said. “Immediately. We’ve found something important that may help us stop the ghost snatchers.”
“That’s impossible,” Dr. Roqueni said, checking to make sure her door was firmly closed. “Finding something implies searching. And I specifically forbade you to do anything of the sort.”
“Well, we did it anyway,” Benji said. “Someone had to.”
Dr. Roqueni held Benji’s gaze for a moment, then looked away and cleared her throat.
“What did you find?” she asked.
They told her almost everything. The hidden office. Elijah Shadow’s remains—and his ghost. The drawers of blueprints. Dr. Roqueni didn’t say a word the entire time. By the time they finished, she wore the befuddled, groggy look of someone who has just woken up from major surgery.
“I need some tea,” she said.
Dr. Roqueni grabbed her mug and left the room. While they waited for her to return, Cordelia noticed a photo sitting on the desk: a group of people posing at a fancy event. They all wore tuxedos and gowns, including the children, and were so similar in appearance that Cordelia suspected they might be related. At the center of the photograph was a lanky black man with slicked-back hair and a gold earring dangling from one ear. He looked like the spitting image of Elijah Shadow, with all traces of kindness scrubbed away.
Uncle Darius, Cordelia thought.
Dr. Roqueni stood slightly apart from the rest of the group. She was about ten years younger and looked lovely and sad in equal measure.
Cordelia heard approaching footsteps and quickly fell back into her seat. Dr. Roqueni entered with a steaming mug of tea. Mr. Ward was right behind her, looking like a giant in the small office. He glanced at the kids without a smile and took his position in the corner of the room.
“The blueprint, please,” Dr. Roqueni said, holding out her hand. She seemed to have regained her lost composure. After a moment’s hesitation, Cordelia handed it over. Dr. Roqueni reverently spread the plans across her desk. “That’s Elijah’s signature in the corner,” she said with a shudder. “This is genuine.”
“Can you build it?” Benji asked Mr. Ward.
“I can build anything,” Mr. Ward said, looking down at the plans. “This will take some doing, though. I’ve never seen anything so intricate before.”
“We’ll need three of them,” Cordelia said. “Maybe more. Can’t expect them all to pile into one box.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” Dr. Roqueni said, retaking her seat. She rolled up the plans and handed them to Mr. Ward. “Do you three children have any idea what you’ve discovered? My family thought Elijah’s work had been destroyed forever. At last, we’ll be able to understand how archimancy truly works.” A flicker of doubt crosse
d Dr. Roqueni’s face, as though she wondered if unlocking the secrets of archimancy was truly such a good idea, but she swallowed the thought like a bitter fruit. “And if Elijah really faked his own death, like you claim,” Dr. Roqueni continued, “who knows what else he created while he was hiding down there? Think of all the secrets in that office, waiting to be discovered.” She smiled and met Cordelia’s eyes. “My family has fallen on some hard times the past few years, but this is going to save us. And it’s all thanks to you.”
Cordelia looked away. Despite everything that had happened, she still admired Dr. Roqueni, and the idea that she had impressed the principal filled her with pride. For this reason, Cordelia knew she would have to resist the temptation to give Dr. Roqueni what she wanted.
“That’s great news, Dr. Roqueni,” Cordelia said. “Especially for you. Your family will be so ecstatic, they might even let you stop being principal. You can finally have the life you always dreamed of—once you know where the office is.”
Dr. Roqueni’s smile faltered. “So where exactly is it?” she asked, steepling her fingers. “I can’t help but notice that you left that particular detail out of your story.”
“We can show you right—” Agnes started, but Cordelia placed a hand on her arm, stopping her.
“Here’s the thing,” Cordelia said. “I think you want to do the right thing and help us. But I’m not a hundred percent sure. You might be more interested in helping yourself. So we’re going to keep the location of Elijah’s office to ourselves for now.”
Dr. Roqueni bit her lower lip.
“You’ll tell me after Mr. Ward builds these ghost boxes?” she asked. “That about the size of it?”
“That’s right,” Cordelia said, acting tougher than she felt. “We don’t really have the time to argue about it.”