by J. A. White
“Whee!” Agnes said. “I’ve always wanted to do this! Haven’t you always wanted to do this?”
“I hate you,” Cordelia said.
It was freakishly warm for May, and her T-shirt was already matted to her back. The space was tight with Agnes there, and no matter how much Cordelia twisted and turned, she couldn’t find a comfortable spot.
The car rolled to a stop.
“I swear, you’re seventy percent legs,” Cordelia said. “It’s unnatural.”
“Quiet, short stuff. Mr. Shadow’s talking to the guard.”
They heard muffled voices. Mr. Shadow sounded like his usual cheery self. The guard’s voice was flat and bored. That was good. A bored guard was far more likely to wave the car through without a second thought.
Just as Cordelia was beginning to wonder if something was wrong, she heard the beeeep of the boom gate rising. It sounded as lovely as a church bell. Mr. Shadow bade the guard a good day and drove into the village.
“See?” Agnes said. “I knew it would work.”
“That was the easy part.”
The car squeaked to a halt, and Mr. Shadow opened the trunk. Cordelia leaped out and took a deep breath of open air. They were behind the main office in a little lot where the employees parked. There was a back door and three windows. Benji had lowered all the blinds, but Cordelia thought they should hurry, just in case.
While Mr. Shadow helped Agnes out, warning her not to hit her head on the trunk, Cordelia unloaded the bags from the back seat. There were four of them. The first three were bookbags packed to the brim with empty boo-tubes. They were heavier than they looked, but not nearly as heavy as the duffel bag lying across the floor of the back seat. Cordelia was careful not to hit it against the door as she pulled it out of the car. If the thing inside broke, their entire plan fell apart.
The back door to the main office swung open.
Cordelia instinctively started to hide and then sighed with relief as Benji stepped through the door. He had arrived at Shady Rest before them for his regularly scheduled workday.
“Did Laurel fall for it?” Cordelia asked, keeping her voice to a whisper. One of the windows above them was open a crack, and she didn’t know how far their voices would carry.
“They left first thing this morning,” Benji said. “It’s a four-hour drive, even if they don’t hit any traffic—which they hopefully will. They should be gone for the entire day.”
Dr. Roqueni had called Shady Rest the day before, claiming that she owned a mansion on the coast of Maine that had “gotten itself haunted.” She’d requested that Laurel come and investigate at once, and promised a hefty fee for simply showing up the next day. Since Laurel wanted to stretch this out into multiple paid visits, she had no need of Benji this time. She would just show up, tell the woman what she wanted to hear, and collect her fee.
“Laurel is going to be furious when she finds out it was a trick,” Cordelia said.
“I’m really broken up about that,” Benji said. He tossed Cordelia the ring of keys they normally used when doing ghost checks around the village. “I unlocked all the doors last weekend so we could get in and out faster, but just in case I missed one.”
“Good idea,” Cordelia said.
Benji looked over the bookbags. “Which one has the fakes for the freezer? I want to make sure we don’t take it by accident.”
“That one.”
Benji tossed it over his shoulder and grabbed a second bookbag as well. “Come on, Ag. You’re all set up. I just couldn’t find the gloves.”
“I’m sure they’re around.”
Benji closed the door behind him. As Cordelia threw the final bookbag over her shoulder, she heard an approaching car.
“Hide,” Mr. Shadow whispered.
Cordelia grabbed the duffel bag and ran around the side of the house. A moment later, a red sports car blasting dance music swerved into a parking spot. Carl exited. Cordelia hadn’t seen him since overhearing his conversation with Laurel about the Landmark Inn. His cheesy goatee had been replaced with an even cheesier mustache.
He regarded Mr. Shadow with suspicion.
“What are you doing back here?”
Mr. Shadow slipped into the persona of a doddering old man. “I have an appointment,” he said, talking slower than usual and walking with a slight hunch in his back. “Name’s Floyd Barrows. My dear old Gladys passed last summer, and she’s chosen to stick around a little longer than I’m comfortable with. I’ve heard you can help with that sort of thing.”
Carl’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“How exactly did you hear of us?”
“I was on a golf retreat at a place called the Landmark Inn. Trying to get over my heartbreak with a little tee time, you know. The manager there slipped me your number. He said you did good work for them.”
Mr. Shadow sold the story well, and Carl seemed to buy it. He might place a call to the Landmark later as confirmation, and that was just fine. Dr. Roqueni had already explained the entire story to Derek. After finding out how badly Laurel had taken advantage of him—and endangered his guests—he was eager to help.
“Just move your car to the front,” Carl said, already walking away. It was clear he thought every minute spent talking to this old man was a minute wasted. “This lot is for employees only. Trish will help you at the front desk.”
“Sure thing,” Mr. Shadow said, getting back into his car. He gave Cordelia a wink and drove out of the parking lot.
Benji returned shortly afterward. They made sure the coast was clear, then ran across the street to the brown ranch. The door was unlocked, as Benji had promised. Cordelia put the duffel bag down the moment they entered the house. The weight of it was already beginning to make her shoulder burn.
“Agnes is safe back there, right?” Cordelia asked, raising her voice to be heard over the sound of the life windows.
“Totally,” Benji said. “The only people who ever go into the freezer room are Laurel and Kyle, and they should be in a different state by now. Once Agnes grabs the regular boo-tubes, she’ll head over to the second freezer and get the phantoms.”
“It’s a good plan,” Cordelia said.
“Thanks. Let’s get started.”
Benji searched for the ghost while Cordelia put on her spectercles and waited for her eyes to adjust. It was the first time she had worn them since their ill-timed glitch with Dr. Gill, and she hoped they would last the entire day without a similar episode. After that, she suspected she might be done with them. Unless she could see the ghosts with her own eyes, she didn’t want to see them at all.
“Up here!” Benji called.
The ghost was in her usual spot, watching a video of a chubby toddler trying to pin a Christmas bow on a cat. Cordelia had always thought the video was cute. Now that she knew its true purpose, however, even the boy’s innocent giggles seemed menacing.
Benji and Cordelia stared down at the duffel bag.
“You ready to give this thing a whirl?” he asked.
They had known from the start that they wouldn’t be able to use Laurel’s ghost-catching equipment, which she always kept in a special safe, so Benji had stolen the dusty prototype in the storage shed. The hope was Agnes could fix it. It hadn’t been easy. After a week of failed attempts, she had finally come up with the idea of combining the faulty machine with one of Elijah’s architectural models. The result, which Cordelia now pulled out of the duffel bag, was a strange hybrid: a cute yellow cottage attached to a black box with several switches and a nozzle on one end.
“Agnes is sure we don’t need a ghost tent with this one?” Benji asked.
“That’s what she said.”
“Did she ever get a chance to test it?” Benji asked.
“No time. She just finished it last night.”
“Ugh.”
“She said it will probably work, but there’s also a ‘slight possibility’ it will explode. I think she was joking.”
Benji had f
ound entire boxes of boo-tubes collecting dust in the storage shed, so they had more than enough. He took a tube out of the bookbag now, fitted it onto the nozzle, and flicked a switch. The machine made an unhealthy clanking noise, like nails in a blender.
The kids shared an uneasy look.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Cordelia said.
Benji pushed the doorbell.
The clanking returned, even louder than before, then settled into a rhythmic whir. Slowly but surely, the ghost turned into mist, swirled down the chimney of the yellow cottage, and finished up in the boo-tube.
“I never doubted Agnes for a second,” Benji said.
“Me either.”
Benji had hidden two bikes behind the house. Balancing the ghost catcher on the handlebars was a little tricky, but it was still easier than carrying it from house to house. This was a marathon, not a race, and they needed to conserve their energy. Besides, using bikes minimized the amount of time they’d be spending out in the open. It would be fine if someone saw Benji, but Cordelia no longer worked there. She had to stay out of sight.
“How long do you think it’ll be before Laurel realizes the ghosts are gone?” Cordelia asked.
“It depends on how fast she replaces me after I quit. Laurel will never be able to tell on her own, since she can’t see them. But once she finds someone with the Sight, our scam is up.”
“At least it’ll buy us some time to figure out a permanent solution.”
Forty minutes later, Agnes caught up to them on a bike of her own. Her timing was perfect. They had accumulated five ghosts by that time, and though each boo-tube had been ensconced in its own protective sleeve, their collective heat could be felt through the lining of the bookbag.
“How did the ghost catcher work?” Agnes asked.
“Perfectly,” Cordelia said, handing Agnes the bookbag. “Here’s what we’ve nabbed so far.”
“Yikes,” Agnes said, feeling the heat. “I better get these to the freezer.”
They couldn’t leave the boo-tubes out in the open, or they would eventually melt and allow the ghosts to escape. That was Agnes’s primary responsibility today. Every forty minutes, she would shuttle the captured ghosts back to the freezer, where their boo-tubes could cool down in preparation for the trip back to Shadow School.
“For round two,” Agnes said, handing Benji a bookbag filled with empty boo-tubes.
Benji and Cordelia continued their rounds. There was one terrifying moment when Cordelia dropped the ghost catcher and the entire staircase of the cottage fell off, but it didn’t seem to affect its performance.
When Agnes returned, they had seven boo-tubes for her.
“Did Mr. Shadow leave?” Benji asked.
“A while ago,” Agnes said. “He has the first batch of ghosts you gave me and the boo-tubes I took from both freezers. I’m sure he’s back at Shadow School by now.”
Cordelia breathed a sigh of relief. Dr. Roqueni would place the boo-tubes in the mirror gallery, and when their inhabitants burned free, the dehaunter would send them into their Brights. Cordelia wished she could see it.
“How do the fakes look?” Benji asked.
“Perfect,” said Agnes. “No one will ever know they’ve been switched.”
Laurel might not be able to see the ghosts, but she could certainly see the boo-tubes; they couldn’t simply take them without her noticing. Fortunately, you needed the Sight to see the spectral mist that swirled behind each window, so as long as they replaced each boo-tube with an identical match, she would never know the difference. Using photos Benji took while “working,” they had duplicated each label exactly, and Mr. Shadow had even used his carpenter tools to replicate every ding and scratch.
The boo-tubes that now sat in the freezers were empty imposters.
Agnes checked her phone. “Mr. Derleth is probably here by now. What’s his cover story again?”
“Poltergeist,” Cordelia said. “Nice and simple. He doesn’t lie as well as the Shadows.”
“Halfway there,” Benji said. “We can do this.”
“See you in forty,” Agnes said, biking away. “And you’re right, Benji. I really think this is going to work!”
Cordelia felt the same way, but she wished Agnes hadn’t said it out loud. Things were going so well, and she didn’t want to jinx them.
Mr. Derleth came and left with two bookbags full of ghosts. Dr. Roqueni, who would be bringing Cordelia and Agnes to Shadow School along with the final boo-tubes, arrived at two on the dot. They were all starting to get tired—especially poor Agnes, who had probably biked ten miles by now—but the end was on the horizon.
There were only six ghosts left.
They entered the last of the white ranches. In the kitchen, a teenage girl in a lacrosse uniform was watching one of her old high school games. A forest-green nimbus surrounded her.
“You’re lucky,” Benji told the ghost while they set up the machine. “A few weeks ago and you would have ended up in a phantom cell. Not fun. But instead you get to go to your Bright! What do you think, Cord? Lacrosse field?”
“We can do better than that. The most amazing lacrosse stadium that ever existed. With tons of people cheering for her in the stands.”
“Where are we headed after this?” Benji asked.
“Back toward the main office, I think. You finish up. I’ll figure out our next stop.”
The light wasn’t great inside the house, so Cordelia stepped outside to peruse the hand-drawn map they had made of Shady Rest. All the houses had been checked off except for a few nearby and one way up in the northeast corner of the village. Once they hit all those, they’d be done.
Not true, Cordelia thought. What about the—
She heard a voice in the distance and saw Trish cross the street at the end of the block. Cordelia froze in place. The receptionist was talking to someone on speakerphone and not looking in her direction. Any sudden movement might attract her attention.
“. . . so yeah, Krista’s going to be there, which isn’t exactly ideal, but we can always leave early if . . .”
While switching the phone from one hand to the other, Trish spotted her. Cordelia’s heart jumped in her chest. Do I run? Do I try to talk my way out of this? She waited for Trish to ask what she was doing there, or maybe sprint straight to the main office and make a full report, but instead the receptionist offered her a dismissive wave and kept walking. Cordelia couldn’t believe her good fortune. Surely Laurel had informed her staff that Cordelia shouldn’t be allowed in the village? Then again, maybe Trish had missed the email, or forgotten, or just didn’t care. She seemed far more concerned with her phone conversation right now.
It’ll be okay. It’ll still be okay.
As Trish was about to disappear from view, however, she slowed down and took one final look in Cordelia’s direction. It was hard to read her facial expression from this distance. Maybe it was just a casual glance. Or maybe Trish had finally remembered that Cordelia wasn’t supposed to be there after all.
“Benji,” Cordelia called through the open door. “I think we better hurry.”
Benji and Cordelia were just about to enter a modern-looking house with cedar siding when Agnes came zipping down the street, pedaling like mad. She screeched to a halt in front of them. Sweat ran freely down her face, plastering her hair to her forehead. A fresh scratch ran down her arm.
“What happened?” Cordelia asked.
It took Agnes a few moments to catch her breath. “I had to take . . . evasive maneuvers. People . . . are looking for us.”
Cordelia felt her stomach drop and immediately checked the street in both directions. It was all clear. For now.
“Guess Trish told everyone she saw you,” Benji said. “That means Laurel probably knows by now too.”
Agnes took the bookbag from Cordelia, wincing at the heat. Avoiding their pursuers had made her a few minutes late, and the boo-tubes were dangerously close to their breaking point. “I have to get these to t
he freezer, pronto. How many ghosts do you have left?”
“Two,” Benji said. At the same time, Cordelia said, “Three.”
“Which is it?” Agnes asked.
“Two,” said Benji, imploring Cordelia not to make an issue of it.
“Maybe we should just let these last ones go,” Agnes said. “Dr. Roqueni is in Carl’s office right now, spinning a yarn about the ghost of her ex-husband. But her car is unlocked. We can hide in there until she’s done.”
“All we need is another ten minutes,” Cordelia said.
“We’re so close,” Benji added. “We can’t just abandon them.”
Agnes gave them a teasing smile. “You two are adorable. We’re getting ice cream after this, right?”
“You better believe it,” Cordelia said.
Agnes rode off while Cordelia and Benji entered the next house. They captured the ghost in record time and were about to move on when they heard the rumble of a car engine. Peeking through the window, they saw a pickup truck pass at a turtle’s crawl. There were two people kneeling on either side of the bed, scanning the street carefully: a lanky man Cordelia recognized as one of the grounds crew, and Mehar, the woman in charge of creating videos for the life windows.
“Agnes was right,” Cordelia said. “They’re on high alert.”
“What do we do?” Benji asked.
“I can text Dr. Roqueni. Maybe she can swing by and pick us up. It might be hard to make it back to the main office right now without someone seeing us.”
“And leave the last ghost behind? No way.”
Despite her rising fear, Cordelia couldn’t help but smile.
“I agree. I meant Dr. Roqueni could pick us up after we get the last ghost, not before. Let’s tell her to meet us there.”
Before Cordelia could text the principal, however, they heard approaching voices. As quietly as they could, Benji and Cordelia slipped out the back door of the house just as the front one opened. They crossed to the next street and saw two cars parked at the curb—the pickup truck they had seen earlier and a blue car with a cracked headlight. The kids watched long enough to observe that several different groups were doing a house-by-house search, then timed a sprint into the narrow wooded area that ran through the center of the village.