Midnight Reynolds and the Spectral Transformer

by Holt, Catherine;

  “Do you think I’m going to let you go in there alone?” Tabitha demanded as she knitted her eyebrows together in a manner that Midnight was starting to become familiar with.

  “Yes I do. Look, I got myself into this mess and—”

  “And no offense, but there’s no way you can get yourself out of it on your own,” Tabitha retorted bluntly before softening her features. “I know you’re only trying to be kind. But I want to help, and let’s face it, you could use it.”

  “I don’t understand why you’d want to.” Midnight wrinkled her nose. “We don’t know what Miss Appleby’s capable of.”

  “You’re right. But what I do know is that for the last three years of my life, not one person apart from my parents and Mrs. Crown has given me the time of day. You’re the first one who hasn’t thought I was a freak, Midnight,” Tabitha said in an abrupt voice before rubbing her eyes as if to get rid of some dirt.

  “That’s not entirely true. The cemetery thing’s definitely a bit freaky,” Midnight said gruffly to disguise how touched she was. She of all people knew how good it felt to find friends. She looked up and gave Tabitha a grateful smile. “But thank you. I appreciate your help.”

  “Well, you should, because I’m awesome.” Tabitha seemed to have recovered from whatever was in her eye. Midnight quickly followed. As they climbed the stairs to Miss Appleby’s porch, she put her glasses on. After yesterday, she didn’t want to take any chances.

  “Hello?” Midnight called out as she slotted the key in and pushed open the door. Sweat beaded on her forehead as they both stepped inside.

  “It looks so normal.” Tabitha seemed disappointed as she took in the modern, bright decor.

  “Unfortunately, it’s not.” Midnight closed the door and walked to the stairs. Their footsteps echoed as they reached the second-floor bedroom and Midnight was hit with an oppressive sensation. Even Tabitha lost some of her excitement as they stared up at the portrait of George, Elizabeth…and, undoubtedly, Miss Appleby.

  “It’s really her,” Tabitha said, her voice little above a whisper. “She’s been alive all this time.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “But how’s she doing it? What’s her secret?” Midnight looked at George Irongate, as if willing him to give them some answers. His painted eyes stared back at her, unblinking. Midnight shuddered and hurried over to the bed. There was no pink fog to guide her this time, but when she lowered herself to the floor, the hatbox was exactly where she’d left it. She carefully dragged it out and lifted the lid.

  Tabitha sucked in her breath as Midnight picked up the diary. It was dated 1894, the year before George and Elizabeth both died. The leather cover was dry and cracked with age, and when Midnight opened it, the pages creaked in protest, but she ignored it. She carefully turned the pages, using her finger to help read the faded, familiar writing.

  She stopped at an entry dated August 1894 when she saw the name. Natasha. “Listen to this.”

  Never did I think to find happiness again after my dear wife, Mary, died giving birth to our daughter. But three months ago, I met Natasha. She also has the sight and has suffered terribly trying to understand just what it was she was witnessing. After discovering that I’d been researching this phenomenon, she begged to help with my mission. To have someone who understands this terrible blight is so exhilarating. I have asked her to be my wife. We wed next week and I’m thrilled that she’ll be able to become the mother that my beloved daughter, Eliza, so desperately needs. I feel blessed.

  Midnight frowned and flicked further through the diary. She stopped when she reached December 1894.

  Natasha made an astonishing discovery when she accidentally spilled some of the spectral energy from the storage tank. It had a strange effect on her skin and made it appear like that of a much younger person. I believe that there’s something about the process of trapping it in the glass slides of the spectral transformer and then holding it in the tank that caused this strange event.

  “But I don’t understand.” Tabitha, who’d been intently listening, wrinkled her brow. “Everything you’ve told me about spectral energy made me think it was evil. George Irongate just said it himself, so how could it help her stay young?”

  “I don’t know.” Midnight gave a helpless shake of her head as she continued to scan the pages.

  January 1895: I’m concerned about Natasha. The results of the spectral energy do not last, and so she’s started to hunt it day and night to keep the tank filled and continue her experiments. She’ll not listen to my reservations about using such a dangerous substance. I took a photograph of her last week, and when I developed it, I noticed a dark aura, like nothing I’d ever seen before. I’m convinced that she needs to stop with her line of inquiry. For everyone’s sakes.

  “I guess we know how that one ends,” Tabitha said.

  “If only I’d known this right at the start.” The bile rose in Midnight’s throat. “Remember I told you about the locket I found at the dance? Well, the photograph in that was the same. It was surrounded in black.”

  “Suddenly I’m questioning my favorite color.” Tabitha sighed. “What else does it say?”

  “Nothing good. This is from March 1895.”

  I am a fool. A complete fool. The spectral energy that I’ve spent my life fighting is actually not the dangerous essence that I have always thought it to be. Rather, it is a thing of pure goodness.

  Midnight paused, exchanging confused glances with Tabitha.

  She continued reading:

  Every small wisp is a soul trying to move from one plane to the next. The Black Stream that exists around Berry marks it out as a doorway to the Afterglow. Which means that every particle of spectral energy I’ve hunted has been the essence of someone who once lived. My dear wife, Mary. My parents. Everyone.

  And there’s worse. I’ve discovered that the danger lies in keeping it trapped on this earthly plane rather than letting it pass through to the other side. The longer it’s trapped, the more dark energy builds up, and that’s been responsible for the horrific crimes that people have been committing. What on earth have I done? I’ve also noticed that the black aura that I saw in the last photograph has amplified and follows Natasha around like a hideous shadow. It’s because of the knitting. She’s started binding together strands of spectral energy, forcing them to release the life essence within. I believe that essence transfers directly into the closest human it can find. Her.

  “Hideous shadow?” Tabitha blinked. “Have you noticed it?”

  Midnight shook her head. “No, never. Though I’d have to be wearing my glasses and I only do that when there’s already spectral energy around,” she said before pausing, her throat tight. “The second time we went out, she was covered in spectral energy, but she told me it was because it had been building up for a long time.”

  “So, it could’ve been her hideous shadow?” Tabitha whispered.

  Midnight rubbed her brow as more pieces of the puzzle fell together. “Her ankle. The doctors thought that it would take another two months to heal, but it’s almost better.”

  “It all makes sense,” Tabitha said before catching Midnight’s horrified look. “I mean in a totally sick, twisted way. We need to look for what we can do to stop Miss Appleby. See if you can find anything else about this wooden box. Surely it’s here for a reason.”

  Midnight forced the nausea back and continued to turn the pages until she found an entry that included a detailed diagram of the strange box.

  May 1895: I’ve invented a way to reverse the damage I’ve caused. I believe that unlike the spectral transformer, which attracts the energy to the glass plate and traps it, this electro-pulse converter will do the opposite. It will send out an electrical charge to change the polarity of the trapped particles and let them cross to the Afterglow. With this, the dark energy that’s been building up should dissolve. I’ve already tested the weapon once on the storage tank, but unfortunately it didn’t work. However, I’m re
calibrating some of the settings and will test it again this week. But for now I must go, because all is not well. My beloved Eliza is sick and Natasha’s constantly arguing with me about the spectral energy. I will not let her succeed. I will right the terrible wrong that I have done.

  “I don’t understand. Did he finish making this thing work? If so, why didn’t it stop her?”

  “Because this was written two days before Elizabeth died and only five days before his own death.” Midnight’s voice trailed off and they sat in silence as the truth descended on them like a shroud.

  Whatever had happened to George and Elizabeth had stopped him from releasing the spectral energy. It also meant that Miss Appleby had been trapping it since their deaths, way back in 1895. And the only thing that might have stopped her was the injury she received four weeks ago. Until Midnight had come along and helped her.

  A lump formed in her throat, and it took all of her willpower not to burst into tears at what she had done. All of this for some stupid ski trip. What kind of person did that make her?

  “Okay, so there’s only one way to find out if this machine works. Let’s go downstairs and try it on the tank,” Tabitha said. “Then hopefully this thing will be over once and for all.”

  “First we have to figure out how to start it.” Midnight forced back her guilt as she picked up the electro-pulse converter and compared it to George’s detailed sketch. “The cameras were all mechanical, so they didn’t require a power source, but if this uses electricity, there must be a way to turn it—oh no.”

  “What does oh no mean?” Tabitha leaned forward, concern written across her face.

  “It means that there’s something missing. Look.” Midnight pointed to a sketch of a glass cylinder about the size of her fist. According to George Irongate’s notes, it was meant to fit along the side of the electro-pulse converter.

  “I was really hoping that you wouldn’t say that.” Tabitha picked up the hatbox and lifted away the delicate tissue paper, but apart from the overwhelming smell of camphor, it was empty. “Okay, we have to try not to panic.”

  “Try not to panic?” Midnight blinked. The blood pumped through her temples as the enormity of what it meant sank in. She knew what Miss Appleby was doing and she had no way to stop it. “How can I not panic? We’ve got a weapon with a missing part and no idea if it actually works. More to the point, we have no idea what to do if it doesn’t work. If ever there were a time to panic, now is that time. I’ve messed up so bad. It’s all my fault.”

  “That’s ridiculous. The only thing you did wrong was to believe Miss Appleby when she explained to you what all the weird stuff was that you kept seeing and feeling. All you were doing was looking for an explanation.”

  “And I found the wrong one.” Midnight’s voice cracked.

  “You’re welcome to send me an invitation to your pity party once this is all over, but right now we need to get to work. We need to find this glass thing, and the sooner we start looking, the better.”

  Midnight stayed silent, and she swallowed the tears that were threatening to overwhelm her. Tabitha was right. There would be time enough for that later on. She got to her feet and rolled up her sleeves.

  “You’re right. We still have about half an hour to search the house. But I think one of us should be the lookout. Because—”

  “Running into an evil one-hundred-and-fifty-year-old woman who likes to kill people isn’t a good idea?” Tabitha finished off, the color draining from her face. “I agree. Which means we need to be quick. This place gives me the creeps.”

  “That makes two of us.” Midnight picked up the converter, lowered it into the large backpack she always carried, and then put the diary on top of it. The sooner they found the missing part, the better. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Normally when Midnight wanted to solve a problem, she’d do so in a logical way: with bullet points and color-coded flow charts. Unfortunately, as she stared at the electro-pulse converter on Tuesday morning, she knew that it was going to take more than organization to fix it—like a miracle, or at least another chance to search Miss Appleby’s house, because they hadn’t found anything.

  Until the ghost app went off again, they wouldn’t be able to go back. And if Miss Appleby realized that they’d taken the diary and the converter, they’d be in all kinds of trouble. Midnight let out a frustrated sigh just as her mom poked her head around her bedroom door.

  “Just wanted to check that you’re okay. You’ve been quiet the last few days.”

  Midnight quickly threw a sweater over George Irongate’s invention. “I’m fine,” she assured her mom, avoiding eye contact. After she’d returned from Miss Appleby’s house, she’d spent the rest of the evening trying to figure out how the electro-pulse converter actually worked, but all she’d achieved was a headache. She got to her feet and went through the motion of stacking her books into her backpack.

  “Well, I just wanted to say how proud I am. You’ve worked hard to pay for your ski trip, and you’ve helped Miss Appleby at the same time. Oh, and you’ve started wearing your glasses more.”

  Midnight’s cheeks burned at the misguided compliment. If her mom knew the truth, she wouldn’t be quite so proud. As for wearing her glasses, that was only because she was terrified of what else she might miss without them.

  She dipped her head and fiddled with her pencil case, but before she could reply, her phone beeped. She quickly glanced at the screen, glad of an excuse to avoid her mom’s gaze. It was Tabitha saying that Mrs. Crown was already at the library and had allowed Tabitha down into the basement stacks.

  “I’d better go.”

  “Of course. But don’t forget to at least grab a waffle on your way out. You can’t save the world on an empty stomach.”

  Midnight’s embarrassment increased as she quickly made her way to school, the gray sky exactly matching her mood.

  The library doors were open, but Midnight didn’t want to risk annoying Mrs. Crown again so she decided to wait outside. She shoved a hand into her pocket to retrieve George Irongate’s diary when she heard a soft buzzing noise. She scanned the buildings around her. At first she couldn’t see anything and she was just about to return to the diary when she noticed a tiny flicker of spectral energy dancing through the sky. With its pale, delicate tendrils, it reminded her of a snowflake. Midnight gasped as she saw a second one. It quivered in the air before darting upward and reappearing only feet from where she was standing.

  Was it playing?

  She held her breath as a third tiny spark of energy danced into her vision. How had she ever thought that spectral energy could be evil? That it could hurt anyone? It was clear that the energy only emitted darkness and pain when it was trapped and wanted to be free. This was its natural state. Without thinking, Midnight extended her arm to see if the energy would touch her.

  “Midnight, there you are. We were starting to think you’d been abducted,” Sav’s voice rang out. She turned to where Lucy and Sav were standing, the delicate spectral energy forgotten. She’d sent them a few text messages yesterday, but there hadn’t been any reply, which meant she had no idea how angry they were with her.

  “I’m so sorry,” Midnight wailed as she tried to recall if she was wearing her good jeans. A quick glance down told her she had. That was one thing in her favor. “You have no idea how bad I feel about it.”

  “And so you should. You missed the most amazing day ever,” Lucy said, the angry lines around her mouth softening.

  “Really?” Midnight said, relieved that she seemed to be off the hook. “What happened?”

  “We met these two guys at the movies on Saturday and then we followed them to the park,” Lucy explained.

  Sav nodded before her eyes filled with annoyance. “But by the time we got there, they were just leaving and didn’t even notice us. So now we’ve got no way of figuring out who they are. You have no idea how frustrating it is.”

>   Midnight wanted to tell them that compared to what she was trying to solve, tracking down a pair of cute guys didn’t even seem like a blip on the radar. Instead, she bit her lip as Tabitha came running toward her. Her black hair billowed out behind her and numerous silver chains clattered around her neck. She was clutching a folder in her hand and was still panting as she came to a halt.

  “Sorry to interrupt. But I kind of need to speak to you,” Tabitha said, her blue eyes so wide that Midnight thought they might be in danger of popping.

  “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Lucy folded her arms and turned to Midnight. “Tell your friend that we’re having a private conversation.”

  “Like really need to speak to you,” Tabitha elaborated, wriggling her eyebrows in some kind of code. She protectively hugged the folder to her chest.

  “Actually,” Midnight said to Lucy. “I think it’s important.”

  “Important?” This time it was Sav who spoke, her lips curled in disgust. “You’re doing a freaking local history project together. You know, Midnight, I think it’s about time you sorted out your priorities. The thing that really gets me is Lucy wanted me to wash my hands of you after you betrayed me with Logan, but I didn’t. I supported you.”

  “I didn’t betray you with him,” Midnight reminded her, once again hit by the irony that she could be accused of flirting with Logan when, in reality, she couldn’t even string a sentence together in his presence. Then she remembered that she’d spoken to him twice since then, and while she still wasn’t sure how she felt, she did know it wasn’t indifference. She licked her lips. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

  “So not the point, Midnight.” Sav now had two small balls of color in her cheeks. “Lucy and I were the only ones who could see something special in you, who worked tirelessly to help you uncover your true potential, and all you’ve done is thrown it back in our faces. I’m just not convinced you want to be friends with us, let alone go skiing.”