Midnight stared at the thick, red substance in the bottle. “Please tell me that’s not blood.”
“Of course it’s not blood. It’s chili sauce. Your mom posted the recipe on her blog and my mom tried it out. Unfortunately, something got lost in translation because it smells stronger than paint stripper.”
“Wow, okay.” Midnight’s eyes watered as the overwhelming smell of red chilies hit her nose. “That definitely doesn’t smell good.”
“Right?” Tabitha gave a vigorous nod before carefully studying Midnight’s face. “So I was hoping your mom could give my mom some tips before she poisons us. I love the cemetery, but I don’t want to be buried there quite yet.”
Midnight reluctantly took the vial. “I guess so.”
“Thanks,” Tabitha said, then pressed her lips together in a thoughtful expression. “By the way, are you okay?”
“You mean apart from agreeing to ask my mom to do a forensic examination on chili sauce?” Midnight double-checked. “Yes, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you look like you haven’t slept in a week. Plus, the way you were hugging your backpack when you were talking to Sav and Lucy was a dead giveaway.”
“So you were spying?” Midnight widened her eyes, but Tabitha just gave an unrepentant shrug.
“I got bored. Anyway, here’s a tip. If you don’t want to look like you’re hiding something, you need to lose the death grip.”
“W-who said I was trying to hide something?” Midnight said in alarm.
Once again, Tabitha just shrugged. “Hey. It doesn’t bother me either way. I’m just offering up some advice if you don’t want your friends to suspect something. Anyway, we’d better get going if we don’t want to be late for the talent show.”
“Right.” Midnight thrust the blood-like chili sauce into her locker next to the brass box containing enough spectral energy to contaminate an entire building. Then she followed Tabitha across to the school auditorium, so she could support Sav the way a good friend would. The last week had been crazy, but she was determined that from now on there would only be smooth sailing.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
On Saturday, Midnight got ready to go to the movies with Sav and Lucy. They were no longer angry with her. The fact that Sav had won first place in the talent show had probably helped. Still, all Midnight cared about was that things were back to normal.
She reached for her good jeans and tried to decide which sweater to wear. Lucy had liked them teamed up with the purple one, but Sav had preferred the oversized, white one with a cat face in the middle. Then she remembered that Lucy had eventually agreed that the white one was cute. Cat it was.
Just as it was time to leave, the familiar ghost icon appeared on her phone’s screen along with an address that was thirty minutes away. No. There was no way she’d be able to get there and back before the movie started. For the first time since she’d started her job, Midnight was seriously tempted to just ignore it. After all, it was just for one morning, and as soon as the movie was over, she’d be able to go to the address. But even as she thought it, she knew it wasn’t an option. All she had to do was remember the hideous black veil of energy that had attached itself to Miss Appleby at the tire factory.
She swallowed hard as she reluctantly brought up Sav’s number and made the call. There was no answer, and she was forced to leave a long, apologetic message. Then she grabbed her spectral transformer and her new black coat and headed downstairs.
The job was straightforward, but that was no consolation as Midnight climbed out of the taxi ninety minutes later and walked up to Miss Appleby’s front door. Her friends were no doubt having a great time at the movies, while she’d been trying to get spectral energy out of a mailbox.
Not exactly the kind of weekend fun she’d been planning.
She knocked on the door, but after several sharp raps, there was still no answer. As she produced the key she’d been given the week before, she tried not to feel jealous that even Miss Appleby was probably having more fun.
“Hello?” She pushed open the front door, but there was no reply.
It was strangely silent without Miss Appleby’s warm presence. Midnight made her way to the secret room, so she could separate the spectral energy from the glass plate.
Once it was finished, Midnight carried it outside. The dry grass crunched under her sneakers as she walked to the giant neutralizing tank. She didn’t understand exactly how it worked, especially since as far as she could figure, it was never emptied. Then again, it wasn’t like she understood how space travel worked either, so she pushed it from her mind.
She attached the glass bottle to the small tap at the bottom, so it could be sucked inside. Once the valve on the chamber closed, she removed the bottle and was just about to go home when the all-too-familiar sound of swarming bees rang out in her ear.
Midnight thrust her glasses over her nose in time to see a faint slither of pink fog dancing around one of the upstairs windows—the same fog that she’d seen at the cemetery. Her skin prickled as the fog drifted upward, like a feather. It disappeared through the window and materialized on the other side. Miss Appleby had assured her it was harmless, but as it continued to dance on the inside of the windowpane, Midnight wasn’t so sure.
Whatever it was, it hadn’t gone in there by accident.
She ran into the house, but it wasn’t until her foot was on the first stair that she remembered that the second floor was out of bounds. Indecision gnawed at her. Of course she wanted to respect Miss Appleby’s rules, but she couldn’t just ignore what she’d seen. Surely pink fog trumped some damaged floorboards.
She took a deep breath and climbed the stairs.
Unlike the modern furniture downstairs, the hallway was filled with heavy antiques that seemed to close in on her as she passed by. There was no sign of any repair work, and by the time she reached the end of the hallway, her pulse was racing.
The room was sparse, with only a narrow twin bed and a wooden dresser. On the wall was a large oil painting of three people. She recognized George Irongate immediately from his distinctive handlebar mustache and small wire glasses. Next to him was his daughter, Elizabeth, who she recognized from the portraits in the study. There was also another woman who looked like a younger version of Miss Appleby, with the same aquiline nose and warm smile. Midnight paused and studied it.
It definitely wasn’t his wife, Mary. However, judging by the resemblance to Miss Appleby, she could only guess that it was George’s sister. Had he even had a sister?
She held up her phone and took a picture of the painting. Just then, the pink fog reappeared. Her hand dropped back to her side and she waited for the sickening numbness to overtake her like it always did when she was near spectral energy. Instead, a sleepy kind of warmth filled her. The fog wrapped itself around the portrait, then snaked its way over to the bed and disappeared underneath it. She frowned. Did it want her to follow?
Everything Miss Appleby had told her and all the things that she’d read in the diaries screamed at her to run away, but somehow Midnight found herself lifting back the heavy comforter. There was no sign of the fog, but in its place was an old hatbox. The linen cover was faded and the latches rusted, and as she dragged it out, she was hit with a wave of dust.
Midnight sneezed as she pushed back the lid. Inside was a leather-bound diary similar to the ones in George’s study downstairs. Next to the diary was a wooden box. The honey-colored timber was dull with age, and the brass hinges were green and tarnished. Inside was a tangle of wires and buttons along with a long brass nozzle poking out one side like a fire hose. It had to be another one of George Irongate’s inventions.
She ran her finger along the smooth-grained wood and was just about to look through the diary when an engine rumbled to a halt outside the house, plunging her back into reality.
Midnight jumped back as guilt roiled inside her.
What was she doing, invading Miss Appleby’s personal space?
Her cheeks heated as she quickly put everything away and raced to the window. On the street below, she could see a taxi driver lifting shopping bags out of his trunk. Then he made his way around to the passenger side to help Miss Appleby.
Midnight raced downstairs and let herself into George Irongate’s study. She tidied up the chemicals she’d been using earlier, her temples pounding with shame. What would Miss Appleby have thought if she’d caught Midnight rummaging through something that didn’t belong to her?
What would her mom think? The idea caused her palms to prickle. She picked up a nearby spectral transformer and dismantled the flash, so she could clean it. The soothing action helped, and by the time Miss Appleby unlocked the front door, she was reasonably composed.
“Oh, dear. Please don’t tell me that the alarm went off when I was out shopping?” Miss Appleby said as she walked into the room, her large brown eyes—so similar to her distant relative in the painting upstairs—filled with concern. “I’m so sorry. I foolishly thought that it would be safe to go.”
“It’s fine.” Midnight went to escort the injured woman into the living room, but Miss Appleby shook her off with a small smile.
“No need. The doctor said the more I use it, the better it will be.”
“Really? I thought it was going to be another couple of months.”
“So did they, but I guess I’m just a fast healer.” Miss Appleby gave a dismissive shrug. “So, tell me what happened.”
“The spectral energy was in a mailbox on the other side of town.” Midnight dropped into the spare chair. “But don’t worry. It’s all safely in the tank. Unfortunately, the taxi fare was out of this world. I’m really sorry about that.”
“Please, child. You should know better than to apologize when you’re the one who’s doing me a favor,” Miss Appleby scolded. “Now, where did I put my knitting?”
“I think it’s still in the hallway.” Midnight jumped to her feet. The knitting bag was sitting on a long white side table, and as Midnight picked it up, some of the amber yarn brushed her skin. She winced in pain as a cold slither twisted up her arm. Her throat tightened as a sense of darkness ran through her. This is the second time it’s happened.
Then she saw that it had been sitting right next to one of the brass trinket boxes used to store the glass plates of spectral energy. She gave her arm a shake to try and get rid of the residual feeling and made a mental note to start wearing gloves in the future.
“Is everything okay?” Miss Appleby asked as Midnight walked back into the room.
“Fine.” Midnight passed the knitting bag over and gave her arm another rub. “I forgot to put away one of the brass boxes and it gave me a zap.”
“Oh.” Miss Appleby sighed as she extracted her needles. “Definitely one of the downsides to this business. Now, are you going to confess what happened?”
“Confess?” Midnight’s brow beaded with sweat. What if Miss Appleby had seen her in the window? “What do you mean?”
“I mean that you had plans to go see a movie with your friends, and I’m guessing that when the ghost app went off, you had to cancel. You can tell me that you’re disappointed. It’s only natural.”
“Oh, yes,” Midnight said, relieved. “The movies. It was bad timing, that’s for sure.”
“I hope they’ll forgive you.” Miss Appleby resumed her knitting. “Oh, and before I forget, I bought myself a cell phone. I decided it was time I joined the twenty-first century. The nice man set everything up for me except the ghost app. Would you mind showing me how it works?”
“Of course not,” Midnight said. She spent the next ten minutes showing Miss Appleby the ghost app. “There. That should do it. Oh, but if you get a survey for the app, then don’t reply to it or they’ll just keep sending them. So far I’ve had about fifteen of them.”
“Okay, I won’t answer any surveys. And thank you. I’m still amazed that something so simple will be able to give me so much more freedom,” said Miss Appleby.
Midnight was happy she could help Miss Appleby this much. She just hoped it didn’t ruin her own social life.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Midnight groaned as her alarm went off the following morning. She’d slept badly and her dreams had been peppered with numerous scenarios, all involving Sav and Lucy confronting her about missing the movie yesterday. Sometimes their only comments were about how her jacket didn’t match her sneakers. But in most of the versions, they’d refused to ever speak to her again.
Each time Midnight had woken up, she’d tried to convince herself that it wouldn’t be that bad, only to remember what had happened with the Logan saga. If she’d almost lost their friendship over that, then she hated to think what would happen because she stood them up. In the end, she’d gotten out of bed to start working on a preemptive strike.
As she stared at the flow chart in front of her, there was really only one conclusion, one common element which, if removed, would solve her problems and put an end to the nightmares.
She had to stop working for Miss Appleby.
What was the point of earning money to go on the ski trip of a lifetime if the people you wanted to go with thought you were a terrible friend?
Miss Appleby might be able to cope with not having any friends, but Midnight wasn’t sure she could. She’d had to deal with that in Texas, and now she never wanted to be friendless again. Besides, Miss Appleby’s ankle was almost healed, so it wasn’t like she’d be left in the lurch.
Midnight got to her feet and walked to the kitchen. As usual, it was a chaotic mess. The counters were covered in freshly cut flowers and vegetables from the garden, and there was a pot of something boiling on the stove. Her mom was over by the sink chopping up onions, and Tabitha sat on a wooden stool, regaling her with something that had happened during history class on Friday.
Wait. What?
Midnight rubbed her eyes. Normally she only needed her glasses to see things at a distance, but that couldn’t be right.
“Oh, hey, Midnight.” Tabitha looked up, her painted black lips almost smiling.
Okay, so it was definitely Tabitha.
“Um, hey,” Midnight said, resisting the urge to pinch herself. “Did I forget that we were meeting?”
“Relax. Your precious spreadsheet’s safe,” Tabitha assured her. “Your mom called about the chili sauce and said she had a few spare bottles. Apparently, the secret’s balsamic vinegar.”
“O-kay.” Midnight blinked as she noticed the three bottles of sauce that were sitting next to Tabitha’s backpack on the counter. It was turning into quite a surreal morning.
“It’s an easy mistake to make,” Midnight’s mom explained. “And actually, before you go, I’ll pick some lemons. My tree’s bursting and your mom mentioned that she liked my lemon meringue pie recipe.”
“Wow, she’s so nice,” Tabitha said as they both watched Midnight’s mom make her way toward the lemon tree in the corner of the backyard.
“I guess.” Midnight shrugged, used to the way her mom helped anyone who crossed her path. It was part of the reason why they’d never had any money until they’d inherited the house in Berry. It was also how she’d met Phil; they’d both stopped to help an elderly man who’d tripped at the grocery store.
“And sorry to turn up on your doorstep like this,” Tabitha said. “Trust me, I’d much rather still be asleep, but my mom was in the middle of a soufflé crisis and she gave me an ultimatum: collect the chili sauce or go for a tennis lesson.”
“Tough call.” Midnight’s lips twitched into a smile at Tabitha’s pained face.
“Right.” Tabitha gave a vigorous nod of her head just as Midnight’s mom walked back in with an old wicker basket full of lemons. And after several last-minute instructions for Tabitha to pass on to her mom, she finally left.
“You never told me how lovely Tabitha was,” Midnight’s mom said. “You should have her over more often.”
“Sure,” Midnight said, wondering
how Tabitha would cope with being called “lovely.” Then she glanced at her phone and realized the time. “I need to go out this morning.”
“Oh.” Her mom, who had just gone over to stir the contents of the pot, looked up with interest. “Are you seeing Sav and Lucy?”
“As if.” Taylor suddenly appeared in the doorway, her phone glued to her hand. Sometimes Midnight wondered if Taylor’s neck would become permanently fused at a twenty-degree angle.
Midnight stiffened. “Why would you say that?” Had her sister heard something from Lucy’s sister? Or, worse, had Midnight spoken out loud during her nightmares last night?
“Because I have eyes in my head.” Taylor gave her a quick up-and-down glance. “You’re wearing your oldest jeans and that black jacket looks like it belonged to someone in a vampire army—on the losing side. When you go out with your friends, you have a vanilla cookie look.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Midnight folded her arms, not sure whether to be relieved or offended.
“So you are going to meet Sav and Lucy?” Taylor raised an eyebrow.
Midnight gritted her teeth. “As it happens, I’m going to see Miss Appleby. Actually.” Midnight coughed and turned back to her mom. “I’ve decided not to keep working for her.”
“What?” Her mom stopped stirring the pot. Even Taylor looked up with interest. “I thought her ankle wasn’t going to be fully healed for another two months.”
“I know, but I’ve been finding it hard to manage everything, and her ankle’s much better now.”
Phil appeared at the back door, clutching at the wooden Viking shield he was making for her mom. Never had she been so happy to see him, and as her mom was busy exclaiming over the shield, Midnight took the opportunity to slip away.
The cool weather nipped at her skin, and Midnight thrust her hands deep in her pockets. As she walked, she tried to reassure herself that Miss Appleby would be okay with her decision. After all, she’d never once suggested that Midnight make it her life calling. Miss Appleby, out of everyone, would understand.
Midnight Reynolds and the Spectral Transformer Page 9
