That night after they’d watered the horses and stowed them away in their stalls, Pete and Weasel whispered back and forth in the darkness. They had to make some kind of plan. Bailey’s snores from the back room where he slept kept them awake anyway, and they were running out of time to do something to get them home.
By tomorrow they only had three days left before the next moon phase. Not much time really, since they still didn’t have a clue where to find Dr. Dread Wraith. Fanon was another matter. He couldn’t stay at the lake too long. If someone spotted him, who knew what would happen?
Pete rolled onto his side. “I keep thinking, what if we can’t find out where that doctor is?”
Weasel yawned. “I don’t know that I want to find somebody named Dread Wraith.”
“Only if you want out of here, Weaze.”
“If he’s not a ghost, okay. But my bet is he’s a ghost. Besides, with a first name like Dread, how much do you want to get cozy with him?”
“You’re creeping me out.”
“Good. A little fear is healthy. Now shut up. I need some sleep.”
Pete cushioned his head on his arms and stared into the rafters. With only the smallest flutter of wings, a dark shape swooped down, then veered sharply to disappear through the open eaves.
Bats, Pete thought. Nothing scary in them. Not with kidnappers and thieves every place— make that every time zone— I go. Now, a ghost? Where did Weasel come up with that idea?
“Weaze. You asleep?”
There was a rustle of straw, then Weasel said, “Not now.”
“Good. So how come you think Wraith’s a ghost?”
Just as Pete expected, Weasel sighed. He probably rolled his eyes, too.
“It might have to do with the fact that wraith is another word for ghost. Makes sense, right? Nobody sees him. He has an address that’s not where it should be. Even the witches in Stranglewood Wildes don’t know where he is. People like Willoughby Bean get twitchy when you say the name, and Greenly says stay away. Deduction: Dr. Dread Wraith’s a ghost.”
“Oh,” Pete said. “That does make sense.”
“Yes it does. Now can I go to sleep?”
Pete didn’t answer right away, then he said, “But Fanon said he’s a Cross-Temper something.”
“Cross-Temporal. Ghosts can do that. They can travel anywhere, any time.”
“So here’s a question,” Pete said. “If it’s important to the whole world we get hold of this guy and this guy’s a ghost, how come he doesn’t find us?”
“How do I know? I keep telling you I’m just a kid. I don’t have visions like Margaret. I don’t cast spells like you, which I have to say I’m thankful for. One bad spell caster on the loose is enough.”
“Ha. Ha. Not funny.”
“You’re right about that. But you’re asking the right questions. We just have to find out if we’re dealing with a ghost or not.”
Pete shivered. “I don’t like hearing his name anymore. It’s spooky.”
“I can’t wait to meet him,” Weasel said.
“So how are we going to do that?”
“Margaret’s our best bet. She sees stuff. She’s used to weird things happening. We know that from all she said about visions and us being from another time. She even gets over talking with alligators.” Weasel yawned again. “Margaret. Tomorrow. Ask. And now goodnight.”
Pete wished he could sleep like Weasel. He hated lying wide-eyed in the dark on scratchy straw with problems nagging at him. He hated thinking about what might be looming in his future, like, maybe having to deal with some ghostly dude. He laid his arm over his eyes and imagined being in his bed at Aunt Lizzie’s. She’d have fresh-smelling sheets for him, that’s for sure. His stomach would be full of pot roast, potatoes and her garden salad, too. He licked his lips.
“Margaret. Tomorrow. Ask,” he murmured.
The morning chores were never going to end. Exercise each horse. Water them. Fork hay in the bins. Curry them. Over and over until all the horses were done, then Pete and Weasel ate oatmeal that tasted like oatmeal and didn’t drip off the spoon like the stuff they’d had at Mrs. Whitlock’s place.
When they’d finished, they did what Margaret had told them to do if they needed her. They sat on a bench to the side of the stable, one that faced the main house.
In only a few minutes, she hurried across the lawn.
“Splendid. I saw you straight away.” She clapped her hands. “And I have so much news. First, a vision. Last night. It was so clear I thought I was really there. Odd though. It was about a strange vapor that swirled all around, back and forth as if it were searching. It gave me the chills I must say, especially when it took the shape of a large man with very dark eyes and peculiar clothes.”
Weasel swiveled to look at Pete. “My guess is Dr. Wraith’s looking for us.”
Pete shuddered. “So in your vision was this vapor guy…here?”
She shook her head and drew her forehead into a frown. “No. He was…” She hesitated before saying, “It was Piccadilly Circus. Number 20.”
“There’s no Number 20!” Pete said.
“Sorry, but that is what I saw. I cannot always control what comes to me, and I’ve never seen something false.”
“We’ve got to go back and look,” Pete said to Weasel. “No choice.”
Weasel held his head. “I’m not getting kidnapped again. Nope. Not.”
“We will take the Greenlys along with us for protection,” Margaret said. “But how to do that without Father questioning us?” She paced across the front of the stable, her head down. Half way back to where they stood, she looked up. “I have it. Tomorrow my father will be at his club, hosting our house guests and all kinds of relatives for the Coronation. I’ll see to it that you join us there, then we’ll search out this doctor.”
Pete jumped to his feet. “You’re going with us?”
Margaret nodded. “I know you must succeed in finding this person. In my vision, I couldn’t see if that happens, but I saw myself at the center of the quest. I will help.” She smiled.
Weasel pointed to himself. “Me, too? I mean I’ll be at the Coronation?”
“Indeed. We have so many cousins attending the celebration that two more will never be noticed. The new queen’s coronation is going to be so splendid, and it will offer sufficient distraction.” She put her hands on both hips. “Now let me have a good look at you.” Her finger pressed to her lips, she walked in a circle around the two boys. “You’re about a tall as my cousin William, so I will ask Mrs. Greenly to select some suitable clothing for you.” As she walked toward the big house, she smiled over her shoulder. “Tomorrow we are all going to see the new queen.”
“Tomorrow I’m going to see Queen Victoria’s coronation.” Weasel had his eyes wide open in a trance-like stare. His lips turned up in a smug grin. “Me!”
Pete poked him in the arm. “So, do I know how to make your life interesting, or what?”
With that dreamy look spread over his face, Weasel slow-walked back to the stable, sort of floating above the hard-packed ground.
“You could say thanks,” Pete called after him, but Weasel didn’t answer him.