Midnight was so busy debating how to start the conversation that it wasn’t until she reached the foot of Miss Appleby’s porch that she saw the flicker of jagged, white light flash out from the side gate. She automatically thrust her glasses on, and the flashes were replaced by a cloud of something dark and repellent. A putrid smell hit her nose.
Whatever this was, it made spectral energy seem like a rainbow. She muffled a scream as waves of pain slammed into her body. Her limbs stiffened as her brain fogged with confusion. From where she was standing, she could see that the sickly cloud was hovering over the large lead-lined tank in Miss Appleby’s backyard.
Was Miss Appleby inside her house? Or was she out in the backyard, already trying to deal with whatever this was? In the end, Midnight decided that the best thing to do was go straight through the yard.
She hurried to the side gate. To open it, she had to stand on her toes and reach over for the lock, and, as she did so, she caught sight of Miss Appleby. Relief filled her. Whatever it was, Miss Appleby was already fighting it.
Midnight watched her crouch down in front of the tank and pull something out from the small tap.
It was yarn.
Miss Appleby was pulling yarn out of the tank?
Midnight’s brow gathered. It didn’t make sense. The dark cloud above the tank contracted, like it was in pain, but Miss Appleby didn’t flinch. She just continued to wind the yarn into a large ball.
A thousand questions flooded Midnight’s mind, but before she could try and answer them, she realized something else. The yarn is the same pale pink color as the fog I have seen over the last few weeks.
There had to be an answer, some kind of logical explanation. If only she knew what it was. She strained her neck as Miss Appleby finished winding the yarn and reached for her ever-present knitting needles and cast on.
Miss Appleby suddenly looked up from her work and Midnight’s throat tightened. Gone was Miss Appleby’s warm smile and smooth skin, and in their place were layers of lines running up and down gaunt skin framed by soft white tufts of hair. It was like the life had been sucked out of her and it was all Midnight could do not to scream out loud.
What was happening?
How was it happening?
But the only answer she got was from the spectral energy as it howled in fury and the wind swirled everywhere. Still Miss Appleby ignored it, the needles creating a sinister beat as each stitch was cast.
Midnight’s feet were leaden. All she could do was watch as the lines on Miss Appleby’s face softened and faded with each dip of the needle. Eventually, the spectral energy around the tank disappeared completely. Her employer gave a contented sigh as she put her knitting needles into the bag and made her way back into the house, her face once again familiar.
Midnight dropped back down and tried to catch her breath.
“Okay, what just happened?” a voice said and Midnight spun to see Tabitha standing farther along the fence line, her blue eyes clouded and her face drained of color.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“W-what are you doing here?” Midnight’s voice wasn’t much louder than a squeak as she dragged Tabitha over to the far end of the fence, so they were hidden. Her heart was still hammering so loudly she almost thought it might explode from her chest.
“I forgot to give you this.” Tabitha mutely fumbled in her skirt pocket and held up a USB drive, her eyes clouded with confusion. “S-so I went back to your house and your mom said you came here. I figured I was only a few minutes behind you. Then I saw you standing by the fence, so I thought I’d see what you were looking at…” She trailed off, helplessly blinking.
“Right.” Midnight forced herself to take the USB as she licked her lips. “You know you could’ve just emailed me the files.”
“I’m starting to see the appeal of that,” Tabitha agreed, her whole body shaking. “What just happened there?”
Midnight was silent as she tried to weigh the situation.
Truthfully, she had no idea herself. But even if she did, did she want Tabitha Wilson to know about it? Two things helped make her decision—the stubborn set of Tabitha’s lips and the sudden noise from the back door, which made Midnight think that Miss Appleby might come back outside.
“Okay, but first we need to get out of here and we need to make sure that no one sees us.”
“If by no one you mean Miss Appleby and her photo-shopped face, then I have no problem with that.”
They ran back down the street, not stopping for breath until they reached the safety of Midnight’s room.
“Now.” Tabitha collapsed onto the floor, her black skirts fanning out around her, making her look like a dark angel. “Please tell me what just happened.”
Midnight was silent as she caught her breath.
If Tabitha decided to tell anyone else, then Midnight’s experiences at her old school in Texas would be like a walk in the park compared to what would be in store for her. Then she let out her breath. A promise was a promise. Plus, she knew Tabitha wouldn’t let it go until she had answers.
“Fine. But you have to swear not to tell anyone.”
“Do I look like a gossip?” Tabitha raised an eyebrow.
Midnight let out a sigh as she sat down on the floor and crossed her legs. “Okay, besides, I guess it’s only fair. After all, you were there at the beginning.”
“The beginning?” Tabitha blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“Outside the school dance. I was dressed as a mouse and you were dressed—well, actually, you were just dressed as yourself. Anyway, that’s when it all started…”
Half an hour later, Tabitha sighed. “So I was right. She is a witch.”
Midnight winced. For someone who prided herself on planning everything from her homework to how long it would take her to eat a packet of M&M’S, she was doing a woefully bad job of explaining what it was exactly that Miss Appleby did. In her defense, it wasn’t a conversation that she’d ever planned on having.
She also didn’t know whether to be pleased or a little freaked out at just how well Tabitha had accepted the whole situation—a lot better than Midnight had handled it.
“I’m not even sure what she is.” Midnight drew her knees up to her chin and let out a helpless sigh. She was numb from what she’d seen. “Which means I’m not sure what I am. What if everything she told me was a lie?”
“It can’t all be a lie.” Tabitha was examining the spectral transformer that Midnight had shown her. “You can definitely see this spectral energy stuff. And this camera is what helps you capture it? Which for the record is blowing my mind. I mean where are the stun guns and the ghost-busting backpacks?”
“Really? That’s your question?”
“Sorry. I’m focused again. But she also gave you all of George Irongate’s diaries to read, so she can’t have made it all up.” Tabitha continued to study the spectral transformer, her lips pushed together. Miss Appleby would freak if she knew that Midnight had shown it to anyone. Then again, it was Miss Appleby’s fault in the first place that Midnight was even having the conversation with Tabitha.
“Well, yeah. Unfortunately, those things are true.”
“Unfortunate? Are you kidding me?” Tabitha leaned forward. “I’m so jealous. It must feel so amazing to be able to see what no one else can.”
“I’m not sure that’s how I’d describe it. Most of the time I try not to think about it—or the fact that I’m different.”
“You should be proud,” Tabitha said with a flourish.
Midnight almost conjured up a smile as she tried to imagine how Tabitha would dress if she were the one who’d been born on Halloween. There would probably be a costume involved. However, the smile didn’t last for long, as the images of Miss Appleby once again forced their way into her mind.
“Truthfully, right now I just want to figure out what happened,” she said. “By the way, what exactly did you see when we were there?”
“Definitely no demon
ic black clouds or wind.” Tabitha let out a wistful sigh, obviously still annoyed at what she considered Midnight’s good fortune. “But I saw her. One minute her face was so old that it looked like she might crumble, and then the next minute, it wasn’t. If it’s not witchcraft, what is it?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Midnight said. She didn’t really know anything about spectral energy other than what Miss Appleby had told her. Instead, she’d been happy to trust her, take what she said at face value—all because she was so desperate to earn enough money to go skiing. “If only I’d done more research. Asked a few more questions.”
“You said that you read all of the diaries. Plus it wasn’t like you made up the spectral energy. From what you’ve told me, it was there, right in front of your eyes the whole time. You had questions and she gave you answers.”
“But what if they were the wrong answers?” Midnight shuddered. “I wish I knew what she was really doing.”
“What are your thoughts on going back there and asking for an explanation?” Tabitha asked, a hopeful gleam in her eyes, but Midnight shook her head. To see Miss Appleby calmly standing there as the spectral energy swirled and raged around her, and then for her face to transform like that…There was no way Midnight could confront her.
“I can’t. Even the idea of being near her is creeping me out.”
“So we need to do this the old fashioned way.” Tabitha didn’t seem too upset as she cracked her knuckles. “Do you still have the diaries?”
Midnight shook her head. “No, I returned them all, and there was no mention of anything like what we just saw.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to rely on the good old Internet to find out everything we can about Natasha Appleby, George Irongate, and spectral energy.”
“We?” Midnight folded her arms. It was one thing to tell Tabitha the truth, but it was another thing to drag her into whatever it was that was going on. “You really don’t need to help.”
“Don’t need to help?” Tabitha looked at Midnight like she was crazy. “Hello, have you met me? You’re combining research and spooky, strange behavior—my two favorite things. Besides, Mrs. Crown gave me the password to the school’s genealogy software, so I can access it from here.”
“The library has genealogy software?” Midnight raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, though she doesn’t tell many people. I think she has sharing issues.” Tabitha grinned as she got to her feet. “Now, come on.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Midnight gave her a grateful smile as they opened up her laptop, and just like with their project, they quickly found themselves settling into a research routine. But after an hour, they hadn’t found anything. Midnight was just about to suggest that they take a break when Tabitha frowned.
“Okay, this is weird. I’m looking at the Irongate family tree, but I can’t see how Natasha Appleby can be part of that family.”
“What do you mean?” Midnight leaned closer.
“George Irongate only had one brother, William, and according to this, he never married. Mary was an only child, and we know that Elizabeth died when she was twelve,” Tabitha said before she wrinkled her nose. “Okay, wait. I might have something. Though it’s weird.”
“Weird? How’s it weird?” Midnight said, trying to figure out what Tabitha’s threshold for weird was considering everything they’d just seen.
“I’ve found details of George’s second marriage.”
“He was married twice?” Midnight’s jaw dropped open. His diaries were written before his first marriage. Midnight hadn’t realized he’d remarried after Mary died.
“Natasha Wright, born 1863. Daughter of Patricia Wright (née Appleby) and Phillip Wright,” Tabitha read from the screen. “George died after just one year of marriage, and there were no children. But the really weird thing is that there’s no death certificate for Natasha Irongate.”
“Have you tried Natasha Appleby or Natasha Wright?”
“Yup, but still nothing. According to this, she’s still alive.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Midnight rubbed her forehead, willing the parts of the puzzle to fall into place. Then she froze. The painting in the upstairs bedroom. She’d assumed the woman with George and Elizabeth had been George’s sister.
Except he didn’t have a sister.
Yet the woman had an uncanny resemblance to Miss Appleby.
What if it wasn’t just a resemblance?
Her throat tightened as she remembered the photograph in the locket she’d found. It had looked so much like Miss Appleby.
The air crackled with tension as Tabitha seemed to understand Midnight’s conclusion. The pair of them were both silent, needing time to digest the possibility.
“But how can it be true?” Tabitha finally said, her voice a small croak. “I’m not a brainiac like Logan, but even I know that if your Miss Appleby is the same person, then it would make her over one hundred and fifty years old. But I’ve seen her at the cemetery and she doesn’t look a day over fifty.”
“Except today.” Midnight’s temples pounded as Miss Appleby’s sunken, skeletal face flashed into her mind—and how life had only returned to it once she started knitting.
“Except today,” Tabitha agreed, her whole body shaking. “Today she definitely looked that old. But there’s something else that I can’t quite put my finger on.”
“What? Like the fact that she forgot to mention she was over one hundred and fifty-something years old and that the man who she said was her great-great-great-grandfather was really her husband?” Midnight wrapped her arms around her chest and tried to push down the rising nausea. But it was difficult.
Because if Miss Appleby had lied about her age and her relationship to George Irongate, then what else had she lied about?
“No. Yes. Grrrr, I don’t know. There just seems to be a connection.” Tabitha scrunched her face as she punched a pink throw pillow in distaste before reluctantly putting it down. “Sorry, natural reaction to that color. It’s just so…pink! Of course, that’s it!”
“A pink throw pillow is the answer?”
“No, idiot. Not the throw pillow. The color. The pink fog.” Tabitha’s entire face was animated as she jumped to her feet and began to march around the room. “Think about it. You only saw that strange, misty fog twice—once at the mausoleum and the second time was—”
“In the upstairs room of her house.” Midnight widened her eyes as she realized what Tabitha was getting at. “You think the pink fog wanted me to look under the bed and find the diary and weird invention?”
“That’s exactly what I think. Which means we need to get them. Mrs. Crown always says that old letters and journals can give you the most valuable clues on where to look next. This is perfect.” Tabitha’s eyes lit up before she seemed to suddenly remember the situation. “Not that I’m condoning what we’ve just discovered of course.”
“Of course not.” Midnight momentarily smiled before shaking her head. “Unfortunately, we have no way of getting the diary, so it won’t be much help.”
“But what if it tells us something important?” Tabitha was now looking a bit like Taylor when she was trying to convince their mom to let her wear makeup. “And if you’re worried about seeing her again, don’t be. We could just wait until she goes out and then get it. After all, you still have a key, so it’s not like we’ll be breaking in. Well, not exactly.”
“But that’s the thing. She doesn’t ever go out except when the flying arm electroscope goes off.”
“That’s it!” Tabitha exclaimed as she toyed with the long chain around her neck. Then she grinned. “Okay, here’s the plan. You need to send Miss Appleby a text message to tell her you’re feeling sick and that if the ghost app goes off, you won’t be able to attend to it. Then, we go straight to her house, so we can see what’s in that diary. Unless you have a better idea.”
“How about inventing a time machine so we can go back and find the truth?”
�
��A better idea that’s actually feasible,” Tabitha amended, and Midnight shivered. Going anywhere near Miss Appleby’s house again was the last thing she wanted to do. By a long shot. But Tabitha was right—this was their best chance. She reluctantly reached for her phone and sent Miss Appleby a text explaining just why she wasn’t going to be available for the next couple of days. It took ten minutes for Miss Appleby to reply with an old-fashioned, well-punctuated message saying her ankle was much better and that she’d be able to cover any callouts before wishing Midnight a speedy recovery.
Midnight put down her phone and swallowed her nausea. Now they just had to wait.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“I still think that my time-machine plan could’ve worked,” Midnight said on Monday afternoon as she and Tabitha huddled behind a tree across the road from Miss Appleby’s house. The ghost app had gone off fifteen minutes ago, and even though they’d both seen the old lady being driven off in a taxi, Midnight’s stomach was churning. Perhaps she hadn’t been lying when she’d told Miss Appleby she was sick—it would explain her shallow breathing and the pounding sensation in her chest.
“Midnight, if you really want to back out, there’s still time,” Tabitha said, some of her earlier bravado gone as the reality appeared to be sinking in. “We could find another way.”
If only. Unfortunately, the pair of them had spent the rest of yesterday afternoon and most of the evening trying to figure out an alternative, and they’d come up blank. Midnight had even considered just pretending that none of it had ever happened. But after a sleepless night of tossing and turning with visions of Miss Appleby’s sunken face and soulless eyes, she knew that denial wasn’t an option.
“I’m sure,” she said with more confidence than she felt.
“Then let’s get going.” Tabitha stepped out from behind the tree and began to cross the road.
“Wait? What? Tabitha, you can’t come in.” Midnight gave a firm shake of her head, causing her straight, brown hair to fly out in all directions. It was one thing for Tabitha to help her with some research, but it was another thing entirely to drag her into Miss Appleby’s house and potential danger. Not to mention that Tabitha might not even be able to see what that danger was.
Midnight Reynolds and the Spectral Transformer Page 10
