Midnight Reynolds and the Agency of Spectral Protection

by Catherine Holt

  At the far end of the hallway, a narrow set of stairs led up to the attic. The door creaked as Midnight and Tabitha pushed it open. They were greeted by towers of boxes and trunks, all covered with white sheets.

  Heavy scents of lavender and mothballs filled the air. Midnight flicked on the light, and dust motes danced around them. Tabitha took a photograph of several footprints that were outlined on the floorboards.

  Midnight flipped the first sheet back. It was an old trunk filled with fabric and spools of thread. Midnight recalled that Elsie’s great-great-grandmother Cecelia had made all the quilts that were donated to the museum.

  “I guess it was too much to hope that we’d find something in the first place we looked,” Tabitha said, her eyes still bright with excitement. However, after thirty more minutes of fruitless searching, they hadn’t found anything more than thirty years old. Definitely not something that had once belonged to William Irongate.

  “What if it’s in one of the bedrooms?” Midnight mused.

  “But she said the person from the museum came up here. We need to keep looking,” Tabitha said, pointing to the chipped redbrick chimney. “Remember that story my dad told me about people hiding things around chimneys?”

  “It has to be worth a try,” Midnight said. When they’d been searching Miss Appleby’s house to find a missing part of a weapon, they’d tried it, only to be disappointed.

  “Exactly. And look, whoever was here also went over there.” Tabitha pointed to the footprints that were still visible on the dusty floor.

  The girls didn’t speak as they squeezed past the towering boxes. At the base, several bricks were loose. Tabitha squatted down and lifted them out, revealing a small hutch. Inside was a shabby leather box big enough to fit a weapon in.

  It was also very similar to the boxes that George Irongate had used to house the other weapons he’d invented.

  Tabitha carefully lifted the box out and opened the lid, but whatever had once been there was now gone.

  “Whoever came up here must’ve taken it. Except we still don’t know what they took.” Tabitha frowned, but Midnight was too busy staring at the tiny corner of paper that was poking out of the box’s velvet lining.

  She used her nail to push back the lining so that she could ease the paper out. Familiar handwriting stared back at her. Her eyes widened.

  “This was written by George Irongate.”

  “Are you sure?” Tabitha leaned over Midnight’s shoulder. One page was like a diary entry, and the others were full of detailed plans for how the weapon worked. “I can’t even read what it says. The writing’s so small.”

  “I’m positive.” Midnight scanned the page. Then she looked up at Tabitha and grinned. “And it looks like we were right. George is writing about his latest invention:

  I have been trying to find some good in the terror that is spectral energy, and I think I have managed it. It can be used as a power source. I’ve experimented with how to move objects in the same way telegraphs are sent. I have had limited success and am eager to continue my work with the particle realigner. Even more so now that I am soon to be married…

  “So he invented it when he still thought that spectral energy was evil, and just before he married Miss Appleby.” Tabitha’s mouth dropped open. “And then he had so much going on that he might’ve forgotten all about it. Which means he might not have even noticed if his brother took it.”

  “Problem is,” Midnight said, glancing back at the empty leather box, “we still don’t know who has it.”

  “Yes, but Elsie must!” Tabitha carefully put the box back where it had been. Midnight folded up the letter, and they made their way downstairs.

  “Girls, did you find anything belonging to this William Irongate?” the old woman asked.

  “We found a letter his brother wrote,” Midnight said truthfully. It was one thing to lie to hide the truth about spectral energy from the world, but she wouldn’t lie and take something from a person’s house. “Would you mind if we kept it?”

  “Please, be our guest,” Ruth said as she walked in with the tea tray. “I’m slowly trying to get the attic sorted out. That’s how we found Cecelia’s quilts in the first place. I was secretly hoping to find a pot of gold to restore this place. Still, even though they don’t have a high monetary value, the quilts are historically important. That’s why we donated them to the museum.”

  “It’s what Reggie would’ve wanted,” Elise chirped.

  Midnight’s mind raced. “Do you know who came from the museum to collect them?”

  “Or what they looked like?” Tabitha piped in.

  “I’m sorry. I was out shopping when they came, so Elsie was on her own. But the person I dealt with was Alan Staunton. He smiled a lot.”

  “The museum director.” Midnight nodded, recalling him from the other day. “So, it could’ve been him.”

  “One way to find out.” Tabitha searched through her cell phone, swiping at the screen until she held it to Elsie. It was a photograph of Alan standing next to the mining exhibition. “Is this the person who came to the house?”

  Elsie peered at it for several moments. “No. I’m sorry, but I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

  Midnight swallowed disappointment. So, it wasn’t Alan. Tabitha looked equally upset before she brought up another photograph. It was the blurred image from the mirror.

  “How about this one?” Tabitha asked, but the old lady shook her head.

  “Sorry, my dears. It’s too fuzzy to see much.”

  “That’s okay,” Midnight said. “Do you remember anything about what they looked like?”

  “Well, that’s easy. He had brown hair. Or was it blond? And his eyes were just like Reggie’s, though a different color. Actually, it might have been a woman,” Elsie said, and Ruth let out a soft sigh.

  “Sorry, girls,” she said in a soft voice. “But if you’d like to leave me your number, I’ll let you know if she remembers, or if I find anything else belonging to William Irongate.”

  “Thanks,” Tabitha said, and Midnight tried not to groan. It was like taking one step forward and two steps back. They now knew what they were looking for, but they still didn’t know who they were looking for.

  The particle realigner could’ve been taken by anyone.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “This is crazy. It will never work,” Midnight said as she stared at herself in the mirror on Saturday. A dull-yellow T-shirt and a pair of old jeans stared back at her. As for her hair? Don’t get me started, she thought. She took off her glasses so she could avoid looking at herself anymore. “I shouldn’t even be going on a date. I should cancel.”

  “No way.” Tabitha looked up from her spot on Midnight’s bed.

  “But we’ve still got so much to do,” Midnight said. Yesterday after they’d returned from Elsie’s house, she’d scanned the letter and sent it to Peter Gallagher. The ASP technicians were already trying to replicate George’s design, based on his drawings and descriptions, in hope of understanding the best way to stop it. Midnight and Tabitha had also left several messages for Alan Staunton. He might not be their suspect, but he could tell them who’d collected the quilts from Elsie Perkins’s house. He hadn’t returned their calls though.

  “Actually…” Tabitha coughed. “I’ve been thinking about that. What if we asked Logan to help us? I mean, the guy’s a super genius, and he lives and breathes Sherlock Holmes. Don’t forget he’s the one who accidentally helped us find Elsie by mentioning the Talbot Trust. Think how much easier it would be if we had someone who actually knew what they were doing.”

  “No way.” Midnight shook her head. She’d forgotten that she didn’t have her glasses on, and the world blurred in front of her. “That’s the worst idea ever. Not just because of my spreadsheet, but because of ASP rules. There’s a whole chapter on how any civilian needs to be fully vetted by the head office before spectral energy can be discussed with them. Not to mention all the forms that need to b
e filled out.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Tabitha said with a shudder.

  After Peter had approached them both about working for ASP, they’d each been given pages of paperwork to complete while the agency ran background checks on them. Not that there was much to check, since they were both only twelve years old.

  “But Logan wouldn’t mind some forms. So. What’s the real problem?”

  Midnight sighed. “I’m not sure I want Logan to know that I’m different.”

  “Has it ever occurred to you that the reason he likes you is because you are different?” Tabitha pointed out before holding up her hands in frustration. “And relax. It was just an idea.”

  A very bad idea.

  Midnight still didn’t feel comfortable with people knowing what she did. That she could see things others couldn’t. What if they weren’t as cool and understanding as Tabitha had been?

  “Does that mean I can cancel?” she asked in a hopeful voice, but Tabitha shook her head.

  “No way. Besides, have you considered that whoever stole the particle realigner might not use it again? Perhaps it was just a one-time thing. I mean, there haven’t been any more reports of disappearing artifacts. And while the rain hasn’t stopped completely, I think it’s lighter than it was.”

  Midnight crossed her fingers. “You really think that’s a possibility?”

  “Sure. And it also means you have no excuse about this date. Though, will you hate me if I tell you that your outfit looks like it’s gone three rounds with some spectral energy?”

  “That’s because it has. I’ve just realized all my clothes belong to Protector Midnight, and I forgot to get anything for Regular Midnight. Taylor and Malie were right.”

  “I highly doubt that.” Tabitha got to her feet. “Not that I know what you’re talking about.”

  “They’ve both commented on my clothing in the last week.” Midnight glanced at the time. Two hours and counting until she was meant to meet Logan. Tabitha didn’t answer. Instead, she walked to the closet and began to fumble through it before emerging with a large carrier bag, which she unceremoniously dumped onto the bed.

  A tangle of T-shirts and jackets and jeans spilled out like a color explosion.

  “What about this stuff?” Tabitha asked as she began to sort through it.

  “That’s everything I ever bought while I was hanging out with Sav and Lucy. It feels tainted, which is why I put it at the back of the closet. The clothes remind me of how many mistakes I made when I was trying to fit in.”

  “Look, I get it.” Tabitha held up a pair of apple-green jeans and a pale-pink sweater with a picture of a cat on it. “And I don’t want you to think that I’m in any way endorsing the color pink. But you have nice things here, so why not wear them and create better memories? Some Regular Midnight memories.”

  “You do realize you’re telling me to wear clothes that you personally hate,” Midnight said in surprise. But Tabitha shrugged.

  “My signature style is epically awesome, but I don’t expect you to dress the same way. Trust me, not everyone can rock double black! And speaking of which, how do I look for my cemetery tour?” Tabitha asked as she spun around. She had on black jeans with Doc Martens poking out below, and her black T-shirt was covered in Day of the Dead skulls. She’d even broken with tradition and was wearing a denim jacket over the top of it.

  She looked amazing. And one hundred percent Tabitha.

  “You look like Queen of the Underworld. In the best possible way,” Midnight said, and Tabitha grinned.

  “Excellent. Exactly the look I was going for.”

  “I still can’t believe you’re giving Tyson Carl a tour of the cemetery.”

  “In the rain.” Tabitha flashed a gleam of a smile. “And if I get the faintest hint that he’s there because of some kind of bet, I’ll take him to the Pettigrew mausoleum. It’s practically a mud field to get there.”

  “No way would he be doing it because of a bet.” Midnight shook her head. “For starters, Logan’s his best friend. Logan would never let him do something like that. I think Tyson likes you. Question is, do you like him?”

  “I’ll see how he handles himself,” Tabitha said, refusing to be drawn in. Instead, she studied Midnight’s face. “Now, go get changed, and then we can talk lip gloss.”

  “Who are you?” Midnight blinked, then grinned. “But thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Tabitha shrugged. “Besides, the sooner we’re both ready, the sooner we can get back to researching.

  * * *

  “That was amazing,” Logan said as the end credits ran and the lights in the theater flickered back on. Everyone else had started to leave the theater, but he and Midnight had stayed where they were, since the director always put an extra clip reel at the end.

  “It was,” Midnight agreed as she reluctantly stood up. And it wasn’t just the movie. She’d also managed to eat popcorn without spilling it all over herself, and she hadn’t come close to blurting out anything that she shouldn’t. Oh, and Logan looked supercute in a blue hoodie. “It sure beats going to the cemetery in the rain.”

  “Totally.” Logan gave a vigorous nod of his head as they both walked to the coffee shop where they’d arranged to meet his mom, who was coming in fifteen minutes. They found a table and sat down. “I was surprised when Tyson told me what they were doing.”

  “Why?” Midnight stiffened. “Are you saying that he only asked her for a joke?”

  “What?” Logan blinked. “No way would he do that. I just meant a cemetery’s a weird place to go. I’d much rather hang out in a dry movie theater.”

  “Even if you were looking for clues?” Midnight said and then regretted it, because the last time they’d talked about solving mysteries, she’d lied to him and pretended that she wasn’t interested. “Forget I said that.”

  “It’s cool. You’re right. I bet Sherlock Holmes wouldn’t be put off by a little bit of rain. Or tombstones,” he said before taking a deep breath. “And I wanted to apologize for the other day in the cafeteria. I don’t know why I assumed you and Tabitha were trying to figure out what had happened to Sweet Wednesday. I forget not everyone’s into the same geeky things I am.”

  “It’s not geeky,” Midnight said, trying to keep her voice even. Then she paused. Just because it was against the rules to talk about what she did with an unvetted civilian, that didn’t mean she couldn’t ask him how his own investigation was going. “So, have you found anything interesting in your research?”

  He licked his lips as if trying to decide if she was serious. “Depends on your version of ‘interesting.’ My parents think I’m crazy to try to figure it out if the police can’t.”

  “I don’t think it’s crazy,” Midnight said as she cautiously leaned forward. “So, what kind of things have you discovered?”

  “Okay, so you know a small section of security footage was erased from the museum?” he said, and when Midnight nodded in agreement, he continued. “Well, before it was destroyed there were big, black marks on it, making it impossible to see anyone. The guards thought it was glitch, until it was erased altogether.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Midnight croaked. For the black marks to show up on a photograph or image meant someone had been exposed to huge amounts of planodiume. It also meant there was a very dangerous person walking around Berry right now.

  “Yeah, not many people do. One of the cleaners told me.” Logan grinned before running a hand through his hair. “Not that I know what it means. But still, it feels like a clue.”

  “It sure does,” Midnight said, hating that she couldn’t tell him he was closer than he knew. “S-so, have you found out anything else?”

  “A few things. Do you want to see?” he said.

  “Um, sure.”

  “Cool. At first I was trying to keep track of everything by date, but then I realized that was crazy since I didn’t know the real timeline. So, now I’m using a mind map, where I put the main idea in the m
iddle and then have all the different clues and events set off around it. That way, I can visually see how they might fit in,” he explained as he carefully took a large piece of paper from his pocket and spread it out on the table.

  In the middle were the words Berry Museum with a big circle drawn around them, and radiating out like branches of a tree were numerous lines with different clues written at the end of them. The security footage was there, followed by another line listing the names of all the guards and everyone else who worked at the museum. Along with Alan were Malie’s mom, who worked in the gift store; Phil’s friend Jerry; and even the rude woman from the front desk.

  Other clues were shown there too. Elsie Perkins had her own little bubble, as did all the other people who’d made donations to the museum in the last three months. The mind map really was a work of art.

  Midnight had never met anyone else who even knew what a mind map was, let along used one. He’d added colors and lines, making it look like a road map. A really beautiful road map. How did she not know he liked organizing things?

  “Logan, this is amazing.”

  “You really think so?” His cheeks colored. “Because I know you love spreadsheets too. I figured you might think it wasn’t good enough.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Midnight continued to stare at the intricate lines spreading out across the page and then back at him. “I think it’s cool.”

  “Me too,” he admitted. “And it’s really been a game changer. That’s how I had the idea to talk to the Talbots about the donated Sweet Wednesday. Not that I ended up with any extra information. Next week I’m going to see Elsie Perkins because she also donated some quilts to the exhibition.”

  “Don’t bother—” Midnight caught herself. “Er, I mean, it sounds like it would be a hassle to go to see her. But I guess that’s what it’s all about.”