Probably just an old-fashioned microscope, Tyler decided at last. Back in the past they probably thought that was the coolest invention ever. Man, they would have freaked out if they saw a GameBoss!
What was interesting, though, was the way that the man in the picture stared out so intently, not at the viewer, as Tyler had first thought, but at something beyond. Tyler turned, wondering if some other portrait might be staring back from that wall behind him, but instead he saw only a very simple dark door set in the wall between two sets of tall bookshelves.
As Tyler walked toward the door he felt a little tingle on his neck, as though old Octavio might be climbing down out of the frame behind him. He knew that was totally silly, but he looked anyway. The mustached scientist was still in his painting, staring out with solemn amusement.
An old brass key with a loop of yarn dangling from it was already in the keyhole, as though someone had unlocked the door only moments earlier. Tyler opened the door slowly, half expecting to find a dead body (or a half-dead murderous zombie or something else that would be in a scary movie). Instead he found himself in a fairly ordinary old bedroom-a retiring room off of the library-with a four-poster bed and a large washstand. He took a few steps inside and stopped. There was very little dust in here, and the air seemed different from in the library just a few feet away-close and tight in his throat.
The washstand had an old marble sink and a jug for water. Behind the basin, mahogany columns framed a huge mirror. Tyler moved to the front of the sink, drawn by something he could not at first put his finger on-then he saw it: the room reflected in the mirror was not exactly the same as the one he was standing in. Here, where Tyler stood, the light had disappeared from the window high on one wall, across from the bed. But in the mirror of the washstand the light of the reflected room was stronger, and he could see that the sky outside the window was still early-afternoon blue.
A chill went up and down his back, and his scalp tingled.
He moved closer to the mirror, but was distracted suddenly by something on the floor, peeking out from under neath the washstand. Tyler reached down and picked it up. It was a tattered old piece of paper, its edges shredded and stained. What remained was covered with somebody’s skinny, old-fashioned handwriting. It was too dark in the bedroom to read it. He clutched it tightly, then looked up again. The light in the mirror still seemed different. He reached out his hand to touch the mirror and his reflection reached out too.
The Tyler reflected in the mirror was wearing a watch-the diver’s watch his father had given him for his twelfth birthday, with all the dials and things he’d never figured out how to use.
But he had left the watch on the table in his room-there was nothing on his own wrist but freckles.
His blood roaring in his ears, Tyler lifted his other arm. The mirror Tyler did the same, perfectly synchronized. Tyler here and now held the scrap of paper in that hand; the hand of the reflection was empty.
He stared openmouthed at the mirror, and as he did so he saw something else. Someone in a dark, hooded cloak was standing in the reflected doorway behind him, watching him.
This time Tyler shouted aloud with surprise and terror, a ragged noise that echoed flatly in the small room. When he whirled around no one was there. He dashed out of the haunted room into the library aisle and stopped, listening for footsteps, listening for any evidence that whatever he had seen through that washstand mirror was, in fact, here with him now, pursuing him. Something with clawed fingers grabbed at the back of his neck.
When his shrieks finally died down and no werewolf or vampire had seized him, Tyler climbed back onto his feet-he had been lying on the floor with his hands over his head-and discovered a very frightened Zaza clinging to the nearest bookcase, staring at him with eyes so wide it seemed certain she’d never seen a boy having a total wuss-out fit before.
“So that was you, huh?” Tyler tried to laugh, for the monkey’s benefit if no one else’s. “Old Banana Breath. Should have known. Land on a guy’s neck… ”
But, of course, unless the winged monkey also had a hooded cloak she liked to wear, it still didn’t explain the person he’d seen in the reflection.
Tyler was shivering now. He’d had quite enough of the library. He turned off the lights as quickly as he could and hurried outside.
Zaza followed him, although none of her fluttering circles brought her too close, and she kept looking at him worriedly, as if he might start screaming and thrashing again at any moment.
The flying monkey left him outside the doorway leading to the kitchen. Tyler could hear people talking in the dining room, but he didn’t go in. He hurried through the kitchen, pocketing a few bits of fruit for the monkey in case she came back to his window again, then made his way upstairs. He found their hallway so quickly and easily this time he didn’t even realize he was there until he saw the familiar carpet. He left the fruit in his room and knocked on Lucinda’s door, but she didn’t answer. He certainly wasn’t going to wait. His sister was probably downstairs already and Tyler was getting hungrier by the second.
He almost ran directly into Colin Needle downstairs, who stepped without warning into the dining room doorway like he was trying to block Tyler’s entrance.
“What are you doing?” Tyler demanded. “I nearly knocked you over.”
“Oh, sorry.” Colin didn’t sound like he meant it. “I see you’re finding your way around.”
“Yeah,” said Tyler, trying to push past him, but Colin moved back into his path.
“By the way, I noticed that you were in the library.”
Suspicion made Tyler’s skin prickle. “How do you know that?”
“Because you turned on most of the lights, stupid. Even in daytime I could see that from my window. Nobody’s been in there for years so I knew it must be you. We’ve all seen how the famously daring Master Jenkins likes to go out and stick his nose into things.”
“Just get out of my way,” Tyler told him, pushing him, but Colin wasn’t ready to move yet.
“And I saw you making friends with the monkey,” the older boy observed. “How sweet.”
“What if I did? She’s not your monkey, is she?”
“Lord, no!” Colin sounded like a little old man instead of a teenager. “My mother hates that animal. I was just going to warn you not to bring it around her.” He gave Tyler an odd, sudden smirk-he looked like he had a secret he was itching to tell. “Well, toodle-oo!”
Tyler watched him go, nettled. That had been a deliberate attempt to get under his skin. But why? Why should Colin care what Tyler did?
As he pushed through into the dining room, he suddenly recalled something he’d forgotten in the last hour’s excitement and confusion. That weird trick mirror above the washstand had startled him so badly that he’d left behind the ancient piece of paper he’d found there-the one with the scratchy writing.
Well, it would just have to stay there, Tyler decided. He was hungry now-no, starving. And besides, he couldn’t see himself going back into the haunted library any time soon.
Chapter 11
T yler seemed very revved up, bouncing on the edge of the bed. “Lucinda, get up. We’re going into town!”
Lucinda’s head felt as heavy as a balloon full of wet sand. The morning sun was streaming through the window, and she could hear a jay squawking somewhere outside. She vaguely remembered finding the Grace Parlor, as she thought of it, then Mrs. Needle giving her a cup of tea, but not much else that had happened after that. She realized she must have slept all evening and all night.
“Luce, wake up now! We’re going into town.”
“Huh?” Her tongue felt like it was coated in peanut butter gone bad.
“Come on, you’ve been sleeping since yesterday afternoon. Hours and hours-you missed dinner. So, c’mon, Luce, get up!”