Phantoms Page 2

  “Watch it!” Mason exclaimed, checking the bottle for damage. “This is a limited edition. It cost ninety dollars!”

  Benji scoffed. “Who pays ninety bucks for a water bottle?”

  “People who can,” Mason said with a superior little smile. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. By the way, I saw your sister the other day. First year at Shadow School, right? Cute kid.”

  Cordelia felt Benji’s body go rigid. “Watch it.”

  “Funny thing. I recognized the sweater she was wearing. My sister used to wear it all the time. We give all our old clothes to charity, so . . . I’m glad it’s being put to good use.”

  “My family doesn’t take charity,” Benji said.

  Mason’s gaze lingered over Benji’s ratty old hoodie. “Maybe you should start.”

  Perhaps things would have escalated—Benji had a temper, especially when his family was involved—but at that point an elderly woman walked to the front of the audience and cleared her throat. She was wearing a maroon jacket, a glittery butterfly pendant, and a button that said ARK ME A QUESTION!

  “Thank you so much for coming today,” the woman said. Her voice was clear and strong. “My name is Mrs. Russell, and you are in for a treat today—a real treat!”

  Mason took a long slug from his water bottle. Cordelia patted Benji’s arm. “He’s not worth it.”

  Benji gave the briefest of nods and slouched in his seat.

  “Gideon’s Ark is not only an architectural marvel,” Mrs. Russell continued. “It’s one of the largest natural history museums in the world. But I’m getting ahead of myself.” She took a step to the side, revealing a glass case exhibiting an antique toy ark. “Let’s start with a small boy growing up in the farmlands of Illinois. A small boy with a small ark . . . and big dreams.”

  Over the next hour, Mrs. Russell related the history of Seamus Gideon in painstaking detail. As a child, he had been obsessed with the biblical story of Noah and the flood, so when Seamus became rich enough, he decided to build an ark of his own. His initial plan had been to fill it with living animals and create the world’s first floating zoo, but when that proved impractical, Gideon decided to preserve animals that were already dead. Over the following two decades, he collected as many species as possible.

  As Mrs. Russell droned on and on, Cordelia’s attention began to wander. She twisted in her seat and saw two grown-ups standing behind the kids: a burly, bearded man who looked like he should be felling trees somewhere and a young woman with auburn hair. They made an odd pair. Cordelia assumed they were chaperones, though she didn’t remember seeing them earlier.

  “Mr. Gideon passed away one tragic morning in 1973,” Mrs. Russell said, holding a hand to her butterfly pendant. “But his legacy lives on! Within these walls you will find over two thousand species of animals, all perfectly preserved by the finest taxidermists in America, many by Mr. Gideon himself. But since the wonders of the natural world are hardly enough to hold the attention of today’s youth”—a pause here to deliver a withering glare at a student sneaking a peek at his phone—“we are also providing you with a scavenger hunt. There are twenty-six different species to find, from the silky anteater to the plains zebra. Good luck!”

  The students rose from their seats, eager to stretch their legs, while Mr. Derleth and the chaperones passed out lists.

  “I love scavenger hunts!” Agnes exclaimed. “My mom used to hide different fungus samples all over the house when I was little. I had to find them and identify them. Double the fun!”

  “We need to have a long talk about your childhood,” Cordelia said.

  “Anything beats sitting in class,” Benji said. “And the best part? No ghosts! This might be a school day, but it feels like a vacation to me.”

  Unlike Cordelia, Benji had always viewed his ability to see the ghosts as a burden, not a gift. It made her sad. She wished he loved the ghosts as much as she did. They had only been away from Shadow School for an hour, and Cordelia already missed them.

  What am I going to do when I graduate? she thought.

  They headed into the bowels of Gideon’s Ark.

  3

  Scavenger Hunt

  The walls of the third-floor landing were carved with relief sculptures of tropical birds. Dust motes danced in the sunlight that filtered in between the ceiling beams. Benji peered over the thick rope that protected visitors from a messy fall and whistled.

  “Long way down,” he said.

  “I’ll take your word for it,” Agnes replied, refusing to look. She had no problem allowing tarantulas to climb up her arm or dissecting a squid’s eye, but heights were a different story.

  They crossed the landing and entered a wide, creaky corridor. It was darker in this part of the ark. Hearing the wind swirl outside, Cordelia could easily imagine that they were riding the ocean waves instead of sitting on top of a mountain.

  Dozens of eyes watched them pass.

  If the birds had been dangling from fishing lines or behind the glass windows of museum-style dioramas, Cordelia might have felt more at ease. But Gideon had wanted his ark to feel as authentic as possible, so the dead birds had been secured in dome-shaped cages, as though there was a possibility they might come to life and try to escape. Concealed speakers played chirping noises, adding to the eerie atmosphere.

  “This guy clearly didn’t have enough stuffed animals as a kid,” Benji muttered.

  “They’re not stuffed,” Agnes said as she gleefully flitted from exhibit to exhibit. Each species was represented by two birds—a male and a female—which somehow made things even creepier. “A good taxidermist doesn’t need to open the body cavity at all. They just carefully remove and preserve the skin, then mount it onto an armature.”

  Benji stared at a white pelican, its long beak poised to snag a fish that would never come. “So, I’m not looking at a dead bird. I’m looking at a dead bird’s skin stretched over some kind of . . . mannequin?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You know that’s not any better, right? It might actually be worse.”

  Agnes crossed her arms. “Taxidermy is a highly respected art that’s been used to preserve animals for centuries.”

  “By serial killers?”

  “By scientists!”

  “And serial killers,” Benji said, “and probably the occasional serial killer who was also a scientist.”

  As Agnes did her best to stomp on Benji’s foot, Cordelia took a closer look at a pair of small birds with vibrant blue feathers. A placard below the cage read:

  SPLENDID FAIRYWREN, AUSTRALIA

  “Are those eyes real?” Cordelia asked.

  Agnes shook her head. “Probably just glass. Eyes are a pain to preserve, so taxidermists either make their own or order from one of the specialized companies online. Some of the eyes are truly beautiful—like works of art!”

  “Now I know what to get you for your birthday,” Cordelia said.

  Agnes was clearly pleased by the idea. “Just so you know, snowy owls have gorgeous eyes. They would look so cute on my desk!”

  “Serial killer,” Benji whispered.

  The kids spotted one of the birds they needed for the scavenger hunt (cedar waxwings, New Hampshire) and checked it off their list. With this minor achievement under their belt, they followed the main corridor into dark, mazelike passageways that seemed to stretch forever. Occasionally they passed a group of fellow students using their phones to light their path—or just using their phones, period. They found Vivi and a cute boy named Austin Ferris laughing in front of the slender-snouted crocodile, but if Benji was bothered by this, Cordelia didn’t notice.

  She had other things on her mind.

  Even though her initial plan with the spectercles had failed, she was keeping her eyes peeled for the ghost of Seamus Gideon. Elijah Shadow could see them, Cordelia thought, staring into the darkness and willing it to move. Why not me? The scavenger hunt allowed her to search for Seamus without being obvious about it, whic
h was good. She was too embarrassed to tell her friends what she was really doing. Benji and Agnes knew all about her numerous attempts to see ghosts outside of Shadow School, and they might find her refusal to accept what had already been proven, time and time again, a little sad.

  The morning dragged on. By the time they had reached the middle of their list (capybaras, South America), Cordelia was starting to give up and Benji was bored. Only Agnes retained her enthusiasm. Her ponytail bopped up and down as she zipped between exhibits, checking each placard for the next animal on their list. She grew tired of waiting for her sluggish friends and forged ahead without them.

  Cordelia’s stomach grumbled.

  “Hungry?” Benji asked.

  “You heard that?”

  “My tío heard that. Not the one you met. The one who lives in Peru.”

  Cordelia smacked him on the arm. “It’s not my fault. I’m starving.”

  “Me too. I won’t lie. Some of these animals are starting to look pretty tasty.”

  “Eww.”

  “Come on, slowpokes!” Agnes called back. “That tomato frog’s around here somewhere! I can feel it!”

  “Is a tomato frog even real?” Benji asked.

  “It’s on the list,” Cordelia said with a shrug. “Do you think it’s called a tomato frog because it eats tomatoes or because it looks like a tomato?”

  Benji laughed. “Beats me. But this place isn’t so bad. At least we get to hang out.”

  Their eyes met, and Cordelia was suddenly aware that she could no longer hear Agnes—or anyone else, for that matter.

  “So,” Benji said, scratching the back of his head, “there’s this new horror movie that just came out. It’s about”—he made air quotes—“‘ghosts.’ You want to check it out? I figured we’d get a kick out of all the things they get spectacularly wrong.”

  “Fun! Agnes will have a field day. I’ll bring my big pocketbook so we can sneak her brownies into the theater again.”

  “Actually,” Benji said, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. “I was thinking that Ag could sit this one out. Like, it could just be us. Is that okay?”

  He’s asking me out, Cordelia thought in astonishment. She didn’t know what to say. Images flashed through her head like a montage in a cheesy movie: sharing popcorn, inching closer together during the scary parts, holding hands in the hallway at school, the jealous whispers of the popular girls.

  The word yes hovered close to her lips.

  But was she ready to go on a first date? It was a watershed moment, the gate between before and after, a sign that high school was on the horizon and her years at Shadow School were drawing to a close.

  “I don’t think so,” Cordelia said. “I’m sorry.”

  She could tell she had hurt Benji’s feelings. “That’s cool,” he said, jamming his hands into his pockets. “It’s probably a stupid movie anyway. Besides, I shouldn’t be wasting money right now.”

  Cordelia grasped onto this potential segue, eager to change the subject. “Your dad have any luck finding a new job yet?”

  “He’s been interviewing left and right, but there’s not much out there. Everyone’s hurting. My mom’s hours just got cut at the restaurant, so now she’s freaking out more than ever. I’ve been bagging groceries and shoveling snow to try and help out, but that’s just—”

  Benji noticed something behind Cordelia and lowered his voice. “Let’s keep moving. I don’t need this guy hearing my life story.”

  They started to walk. Cordelia checked over her shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of their eavesdropper. All she saw was a pair of panthers whose green eyes seemed to glow in the dim light.

  “What guy?” she asked.

  “Behind us.”

  Cordelia looked again. Longer this time. “There’s no one there.”

  “How are you missing him? He’s right there!”

  There was no one behind them that Cordelia could see—which left only one possibility. “Does he have long white hair?” she asked. “And glasses that look too big for his face?”

  “That’s him!”

  “Oh no. Benji—you’re not going to like this.”

  “What?”

  “I saw an old photo of Seamus Gideon downstairs. It was taken just before he died.”

  “No.”

  “He had long white hair.”

  “No!”

  “And glasses too big for his face. It’s a ghost, Benji. I can’t see him. But you can.”

  “You’re wrong!” Benji exclaimed. The desperation in his voice nearly broke her heart. “It’s just a normal, living old man. I’ll prove it.”

  He turned around and waved to what appeared to be an empty corridor. “Excuse me, sir,” he said, craning his neck to look up at someone taller than himself. “Do you know the way back to the main floor?”

  Cordelia strained to see something. A blur. A wavering. Anything. But as far as she could tell, Benji was talking to the air. She felt an unwelcome pang of jealousy. It’s not fair. He doesn’t even like the ghosts.

  The smile faded from Benji’s lips.

  “No worries,” he said, backing away. “We’ll figure it out.”

  He rejoined Cordelia and gripped her arm. “Move,” he whispered, guiding her away at a pace just short of a run.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s a ghost. You were right about that. But different from the ones at school. I didn’t like the way he was looking at me. His eyes . . .”

  Benji clenched her arm tighter. His pace quickened.

  “What about his eyes?” Cordelia asked.

  “They’re made of glass.”

  They retraced their steps in the direction of the main hall. The dead man kept pace. Benji and Cordelia thought about running, then decided against it. Ghosts could float and vanish and pass through walls. If Seamus wanted to catch up to them, he would. No need to dare him to do it.

  When Cordelia was younger, she had been afraid of ghosts, just as she had been afraid of the monster that scratched at her closet door each night. Really, though, she was frightened of the same thing everyone fears: the unknown. Being able to see the ghosts had rendered that fear powerless. What you could see, you could know. What you could see, you could hide from.

  Her fear of ghosts had been rekindled.

  Cordelia asked, “Why is he following us?”

  “Because I can see him, I think,” Benji said, doing another check over his shoulder. “You know how some ghosts are funny about that.”

  “So stop looking!”

  “It’s a little late for that.”

  Cordelia’s phone dinged. It was a text from Agnes, who had gone downstairs to join the rest of the students for lunch. Everyone was wondering where they were. Texting as fast as she could, Cordelia tried to give a rundown of the situation: gideon ghost behind us, benji can see, i can’t. BENJI ASKED ME OUT!!! realize not important right now but still

  “We have to find the stairs,” Cordelia said. She thought the ghost might leave them alone once they joined a large group. In general, the dead shied away from crowds.

  Benji sighed with relief. “Actually, I think we’re okay. He stopped following us. He’s just, like, closing his eyes. And . . . um . . . raising his hands into the air.”

  “Maybe we should walk a little faster.”

  Something rattled to her left. Cordelia turned and saw two spider monkeys rocking their fake cage back and forth, trying to escape. She struggled to make sense of this new brand of weirdness. The spider monkeys were dead. Less than dead, really—just skin mounted over a frame.

  “You can see this, right?” Benji asked.

  “See—yes,” Cordelia said. “Believe? No.”

  The monkeys’ movements were jerky and stiff. They might have looked like full-fledged animals, but they lacked the complicated system of bones, muscles, and sinew needed to move smoothly; their bodies were meant for display, not life. One of them strained too hard to lift the cage and a glass eye poppe
d out and rolled across the floor. At the same time, Cordelia heard a BANGBANGBANG and spun around to find a pair of warthogs headbutting the wall of their wooden pen. The larger one butted too hard and its curved horn snapped off. The wound leaked clay and iron mesh.

  Cordelia and Benji ran toward the exit. Real-world sounds of escape—rattling, snapping, crashing—drowned out the jungle noises playing over the speaker. There was movement everywhere: a furry rodent skittering beneath their feet, chimpanzees swinging from the rafters, giraffes lurching their long necks over the walls of their pen. Cordelia stopped for a moment to catch her breath, and a leathery wing brushed her ear.

  A few minutes later, they reached the second-floor landing. Cordelia leaned over the railing and saw that things were far worse than she had imagined.

  4

  The Two Worlds

  The large hall beneath them was overrun with animals, as though there had been an escape at the world’s most horrifying zoo. Fortunately, the taxidermic creatures were too slow and awkward to be effective hunters. Most students were able to elude them and sprint to the exit, where Mr. Derleth waved them to safety.

  “Gideon’s right there,” Benji said, pointing to the center of the chaos. “How is he doing this?”

  “He’s not a normal ghost. He’s a phantom.”

  They had come across Gideon’s kind before. Ghosts who had stuck around for so long that their jealousy for the living had infected them with special powers, such as the ability to move objects with their mind or possess the living. Often they looked different as well, more like monsters than the humans they used to be.

  “We’ve never met a phantom that can bring dead animals back to life,” Benji said.

  “It’s a field trip,” Cordelia said. “We’re supposed to learn new things.” A pair of bushy-tailed squirrels darted down the railing of the ramp, teeth flashing; Cordelia swatted them over the side. “How do we stop him?”

  “We don’t,” Benji said. “We just leave. He can’t follow us. Once we get out of this ark, we’re home free.”