Amanda Lester and the Black Shadow Terror

by Paula Berinstein

  Nick took her by the hand and made for the most crowded part. It was so busy that they kept bashing into people, and Nick kept saying,” Pardon, pardon.” It was like being at a rock concert except that the music came from street organs rather than electric guitars. After a few minutes he led her away and onto a less crowded side street.

  “You didn’t,” she said as she caught her breath.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pile of cash. “I did.”

  “You’re terrible,” she said. smiling.

  “You love it. Now c’mon.”

  Watching out for cops, he took her to a tiny stone boarding house with a lot of frou frou architectural details back near Baker Street and they rented rooms for the night. Amanda had never felt so alive.

  They Look Alive and Well to Me

  When Simon saw Amanda and Nick disappear into thin air he thought there was something wrong with his glasses. Perhaps it was time for a new prescription. His already terrible vision had grown worse and worse in the last couple of years. Soon his lenses would be an inch thick.

  But when the rest of the room went dead silent and then exploded into screams and general hubbub, he knew it wasn’t his glasses. His two friends had indeed disappeared, and it looked like the monster that had leaped out from the history machine had got them.

  Yet the horrific thing that had just occurred hadn’t fully registered. Simon shook the machine, as if that would make Nick and Amanda fall out of it. When nothing happened he examined it closely, inspecting all the sides, seams, and openings, but they too disappointed him.

  Still unable to accept what he’d seen he thought maybe his friends had played a trick. Two theater people, why not an illusion? But now of all times, just after he’d sent them an emergency summons? That didn’t seem like them. Both had been around detectives and criminals long enough to know that you took every warning seriously. Besides, neither of them was a frivolous person. While they were a lot of fun when the situation called for it, they were too responsible to play around at a time like this.

  But when Ivy, who couldn’t see, asked what was happening it finally sunk in.

  “What’s going on?” she said. “Why is everyone screaming?”

  “Amanda and Nick just got attacked by a monster that flew out of Simon’s machine,” said Binnie. “They and it disappeared.”

  “It was awful,” said Owla, removing her glasses and polishing them with a corner of her blouse. “The thing ate them.”

  “It was a ghost,” said Ramon. “An angry one.” With that pale blonde hair down his back and the black overcoat he always wore he looked like an angry ghost himself.

  “It wasn’t a ghost,” said Scapulus. “It was Simon’s screen deforming like it did with Professor Redleaf’s computer.”

  “You mean your mum,” said Gordon Bramble. “She was your mum. You should say it.”

  “That isn’t the point,” said Scapulus. “The point is that it isn’t a ghost. It’s something to do with Hugh Moriarty, just like that screen thing was.”

  “Maybe it’s just a trick of the light,” said Dreidel. “Amanda, Nick, are you there?” Silence. “I thought maybe Hugh had developed a new trick.”

  “It is a ghost,” said Ramon. “I can feel its presence.”

  “It isn’t a ghost,” said Clive. “It was time travel.”

  Everyone stared at him.

  “Are you daft?” said David Wiffle.

  “Nope,” said Clive. “They’ve gone back in time. It’s the machine. All the changes Hugh’s made to our systems interacted with it and it’s gone mental.”

  Ramon laughed. “Now who’s crazy?”

  “No, hang on,” said Simon. “He’s got a point.”

  “He’s got a point but I don’t?” said Ramon. “Which is more likely: a phenomenon that’s been proven by rigorous testing and copious physical evidence, or some off the wall speculation that’s never been demonstrated? I thought detectives were supposed to think logically.”

  “I am,” said Clive firmly. “I just explained why.”

  “Are you telling me that Hugh Moriarty is more powerful than Madam Blavatsky?” said Ramon. “More than the entire spirit world?”

  “Yep,” said Clive. “Whoever Madam Blavatsky is.”

  “I thought you learned something from our Christopher Scribbish project,” said Ramon.

  “I did,” said Clive. “But it had nothing to do with Madam whatever her name is.”

  “Blavatsky,” said Ramon. “She was a noted spiritualist and the founder of theosophy.”

  “Can we please just focus?” said Simon, motioning toward his screen. “Amanda and Nick have traveled back to Victorian days, if they’re even still alive. We have to get them back.”

  “How do you know where they’ve gone?” said Amphora.

  “Because that was the time period I was looking at,” said Simon with exasperation.

  A hush fell over the room. Scapulus said, “It is logical. That must be what happened. But the good news is that they haven’t been attacked by a monster. That cloud thing was just Simon’s screen.”

  “It was a ghost and I can prove it,” said Ramon.

  “And how do you plan to do that?” said Scapulus.

  “I’ll pick up its vibrations,” said Ramon. “You’ll see.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” said Simon, fiddling with some knobs. “I’ll retune the machine to the proper time and we can see exactly what’s happened.”

  “My way is better,” said Ramon.

  “You’re free to pursue the ghost if you like,” said Simon, so deep in his machine that he didn’t look up. “No one is stopping you.”

  “Fine,” said Ramon. “You’ll be embarrassed.” He left the room with Amphora in tow.

  Suddenly Simon’s controls went haywire, screeching and turning themselves on and off. “Too much interference from Hugh’s handiwork,” he said. “How are the repairs going?”

  “Slow,” said Scapulus. “It’s all changing on the fly. We can’t keep up.”

  “Drat,” said Simon. “He’s interfering with my machine.”

  “Move it,” said Owla, who was an extremely logical person.

  “Good idea,” said Simon. “I’ll just—”

  “Wait a minute,” said Scapulus. “I’ll see if I can cut the static down. Try again.” He did something on his keyboard and looked up.

  Simon fiddled with the controls. This time they worked. Gradually an image came up on the screen. He strained his eyes to make it out.

  “Oh. My. God,” he said. “Scapulus, come over here.”

  Scapulus dumped his laptop and ran over to where Simon was sitting.

  “No!” he cried. “Diamond, have a look at this.”

  Diamond and everyone else came running. No one could believe their eyes. There on the screen were Nick and Amanda being menaced by the monster against a background of dark fog.

  “They’re alive!” said Diamond.

  “They were,” said Simon. “What you’re looking at happened more than a century ago.” He peered at the screen and thought he could make out a few tall, skinny buildings, but the fog was so heavy and the night so dark it was hard to tell.

  “You mean they’re dead?” said Binnie.

  “Technically speaking yes,” said Simon.

  “And how about un-technically?” said David.

  “They look alive and well to me,” said Simon as the monster struck out and knocked Amanda on her shoulder right under a gas lamp. “Hm, maybe not so well,” he said.

  “Get them back!” Binnie shrieked.

  “I don’t know how,” said Simon.

  “That thing is going to kill them,” she said.

  Simon shot her a sarcastic look. “Do you have any suggestions?”

  “Stop that! “Binnie yelled at the monster. She turned to Simon. “It’s hurting them!”

  “It can’t hear you,” said Simon. “We can see and hear them but they can’t see and hear us.
It’s one way.”

  “Hang on,” said Scapulus. “Nick can hear! Did you see how he responded to what Amanda said when he was looking away from her?”

  “By golly,” said Simon. “How’s that then?”

  “Something about the time travel,” said Ivy.

  “Gosh,” said Simon. He was mightily impressed. Whatever had happened to his friends had been way more powerful than mere time travel. “I wonder if time travel can give you superhuman strength too.”

  “I shouldn’t think so,” said Clive. “The hearing may be because Nick has traveled back before the point where he lost it.”

  “But he wasn’t even born then,” said David, scratching his head. He’d recently cut his hair down almost to the scalp and it was itching him. “How can you hear when you’re not born?”

  “He’s still his current self,” said Clive.

  “I don’t understand,” said David. “His current self can’t hear.”

  “Well then, maybe there is something about the process of time travel,” said Clive.

  “Which may mean other changes too,” said Simon. He was getting excited. “Why not superhuman strength?”

  “You’re a lunatic,” said Scapulus. “It’s not going to give you something you never had.”

  “We’re wasting time,” said Ivy. “Simon, what are you going to do?”

  “To be honest,” he said, “I hate to say it but our best bet is Hugh.”

  “Find Hugh and make him bring them back?” said Ivy.

  “Yes,” said Simon. “He has an inside track on the technology.”

  “He won’t do it,” said Ivy. “You know what he’s like.”

  “He will if we make him,” said Simon.

  “First of all,” said Ivy, “good luck with that. And second, even if we could find him, by the time we’ve persuaded him, or whatever you have in mind, it could be too late. That thing might kill them.”

  Suddenly Simon’s screen went black and the machine gave a great sigh.

  “No!” Simon yelled. He twiddled the knobs and pressed the keys, then hit the machine in frustration. “We lost them.”

  “Get them back!” Owla squealed.

  But the machine was broken again. Simon cradled his face in his hands, then got up and left the room. He’d tried everything he knew and had no idea what to do next.

  Kidnapped

  Ramon was more excited than he’d been in his whole life. That black shadow was the first ghost he’d actually seen, and he couldn’t wait to find out all about it. He grabbed Amphora by the hand and said, “We are going to be famous.” Then he dragged her to his room and made her help him carry every piece of his ghost hunting equipment into the common room.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” said Simon when he saw the pair arriving with all that stuff.

  “Setting up,” said Ramon, brushing a leaf off his shoulder. “Don’t call up the ghost again just yet. I’m not ready.”

  Simon shot him a look of disgust. “Get that thing out of here. It wasn’t a ghost and you’re in our way.”

  Ramon shook his head. “I forgive you, Binkle. You know not whereof you speak. You will thank me someday. Now move over. I’ll need to sit where you are.”

  Simon didn’t budge. “Go away, Splunk. This is serious.”

  “Oh, Simon, why do you always have to be so difficult?” said Amphora. “Can’t you be nice just this once?”

  “Can’t you be intelligent just this once?” Simon said acidly.

  “Hey, you can’t talk to her like that,” said Ramon.

  “Try to stop me,” said Simon.

  Ramon hauled back and punched Simon in the nose. Simon yelped and flailed about madly but didn’t come close to returning the blow. Binnie did, however. She got up and slapped Ramon’s face, whereupon Amphora grabbed one of her pigtails and pulled as hard as she could. That enraged Binnie so much that she pulled Amphora’s gold hoop earring completely out of her ear, causing the piercing to rip and drip blood all over her blouse.

  “You harpy!” Amphora screamed, clutching her ear.

  Seeing his girlfriend’s distress, Ramon picked her up and whisked her to Dr. Wing’s office, yelling, “This isn’t over, Binkle” behind him.

  All the way to the infirmary Ramon seethed. He’d really had it with these infidels. Despite the fact that he’d practically single-handedly saved them from Amboy Moriarty last summer, they still didn’t appreciate him. And the way they all treated Amphora—it was infuriating. She was the smartest, prettiest, most talented girl at Legatum. How dare they!

  Right now the smartest, prettiest, most talented girl at Legatum was shrieking and bleeding all over him. He picked up the pace, running as fast as he could with a hundred and twenty-pound girl in his arms. By the time they got to the infirmary they were both covered in blood and, seeing their condition Dr. Wing, the school’s short, curly-haired physician, descended on them like a dragon on treasure. She called for her nurse and in seconds they had the situation under control. But even though they kept reassuring Amphora that she was fine, the girl refused to calm down.

  “I’m going to bleed to death,” she kept wailing.

  For some reason, Ramon’s first thought when he heard that was to wonder what kind of ghost Amphora would make, but then he realized that she was genuinely afraid and it was his duty to comfort her.

  “I’ll get them,” he said, displaying all the sympathy he could muster.

  “I’m scared,” she moaned. “I don’t want to die.”

  “No one is dying,” said Dr. Wing. “You’re going to be fine, Miss Kapoor.”

  “You’re just lying to spare my feelings,” Amphora sniffled.

  “She isn’t,” said the nurse, Miss Monsoon, who looked as though her namesake had hit her. “You’re all right.” She handed Amphora a mirror. “Look.”

  Amphora accepted the mirror, gazed into it, and burst into tears again.

  “Look at me,” she wailed. “I’m a female Van Gogh.”

  The doctor gave Ramon a look that said “Do something.”

  “Honey,” he said. “It’s just stitches. Your ear is still there. I promise.”

  “Will you take a lie detector test?” said Amphora.

  “Yes, if it will make you feel better,” he said.

  He was used to her fussing and almost always indulged her. Anything to make her happy. Leaving her side for a moment he raced to one of the school’s many supply cabinets and brought back a lie detector. He hooked it up right there in the emergency room and Amphora gave Dr. Wing a set of questions, which she fobbed off on the nurse. Apparently her bedside manner did not extend to this kind of indulgence.

  The nurse gave Ramon a doubtful look and said, “Is your name Ramon Splunk?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Are you a student at the Legatum Continuatum Enduring School for Detectives?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you love Amphora Kapoor?” said Amphora.

  The nurse shot her a look.

  “What?” said Ramon.

  “Do you love me?” said Amphora.

  “I thought you wanted to know if your ear is still there,” he said.

  “I don’t care about that,” she said. “I want to know if you really love me.”

  Ramon looked like a deer in headlights. “I don’t understand.”

  “Do you love me?” she shrieked. “Yes or no?”

  “Of course I love you,” he said a bit too loudly. “What’s that got to do with your ear?”

  “You don’t love me,” she whined.

  Ramon grabbed the list of questions from the nurse and scribbled something.

  “Nurse Monsoon, would you please read that out loud,” he said.

  The nurse looked at the paper and pursed her lips together. She looked as if she’d just eaten a lemon.

  “Do you, Ramon Splunk, love and adore Amphora Kapoor with all your heart and cherish her like the precious treasure that she is?”

  “Y
es,” said Ramon, looking into Amphora’s deep brown eyes.

  “What do the results say?” said Amphora.

  “He’s telling the truth,” said the nurse, rolling her eyes. “Now both of you, get out of my infirmary.”

  Ramon helped Amphora off the bed and they left without a backward glance.

  Amphora was beaming. “You really love me.”

  “Of course I do,” said Ramon. “Why would you think otherwise?”

  “I was just checking,” she said. “After all, you’re the coolest boy in school. You could have any girl you wanted.”

  “I am,” he said. “But I don’t want any girl. I want you.”

  “Good,” she said.

  “Now listen,” he said changing the subject. “We have to make contact with that ghost.”

  “I can’t wait,” she cooed.

  “We’re going to have to get Binkle under control. I don’t understand why he always has to be so difficult.”

  “He was born that way,” she said.

  “We need him to bring that ghost up on his history machine again. There are a lot of measurements to be taken.”

  “Do you think he can?” she said.

  “It’s hard to say. He’s not as intelligent as he likes to pretend. But I could.”

  “Of course you could,” she said.

  “Which leads me to an idea,” he said.

  “Oh, goodie.” She clapped her hands together. “Tell me.”

  “We sneak into the common room during the night and summon up that ghost. Then we talk to it, record the encounter, and measure everything.”

  “I love it!” she said, and kissed him on the cheek.

  At 1:00 in the morning, Ramon and Amphora snuck into the common room and turned on Simon’s history machine, which inexplicably roared back to life.

  “Don’t touch the settings,” he told her. “We want to view exactly the time Simon’s been looking at.”

  Amphora took his hand and squeezed it. “I’ll be good.”

  “Okay, here we go,” he said, turning on his video recorder and all his ghost hunting instruments.