Professor Gargoyle (10 page)

It was enough to rule out Glenn’s theory, Robert decided, and he nearly stopped reading. But then another paragraph near the bottom of the page caught his attention.

The name sounded familiar. Hadn’t his mother mentioned the Tillinghast Mansion just the other night? There was a pay phone near the entrance to the library. Robert swiped his student ID card and then dialed the number of the hospital where his mother worked. When she finally reached the phone, she sounded out of breath.

“Robert, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Where are you?”

“At school.”

“Why are you calling me?”

“I had a question.”

She took a deep breath. “My goodness, Robert, I thought you’d been kidnapped like those girls! Do you know how much you’ve scared me?”

“I’m fine, Mom. Everything’s fine. But do you
remember that story you told me the other night? About Crawford Tillinghast? Why did your friends think the house was haunted?”

There was a long pause. “I don’t understand. You’re calling me at work to ask about Crawford Tillinghast?”

“It’s for a school project,” Robert said.

“Can this wait until later?”

“It’s important. I just want to know why you thought the house was haunted.”

“Gosh, honey, I don’t remember all the details. He was some kind of physicist, I think. He had a laboratory in his basement. There was a whole team of scientists helping him. And if you believe the rumors, he was summoning evil spirits. Inviting these ancient demons and monsters into his home. A lot of hocus-pocus mumbo jumbo, you know what I mean?”

“You said something about a house fire. When did that happen?”

“Oh, a long time ago. I was in middle school myself. For thirty years after the fire, everyone in Dunwich claimed the house was haunted. I have friends
who swore they’d seen figures moving through the windows. Or heard strange chanting coming from inside. The cops used to drive out there every weekend to investigate something or other. I’m sure they were thrilled when the house was finally demolished.”

Yeah, Robert thought, except the house wasn’t
completely
demolished. Many of its raw materials were recycled into Lovecraft Middle School.

What if the evil forces were somehow recycled with them? Was that possible? What if all the hocus-pocus mumbo jumbo had carried over to the new building?

“Does that help with your project, Robert? Because we’re short-handed and I really need to get back to work.”

“Just one more question,” Robert said. “You said Tillinghast was summoning monsters into his home. Do you know what they looked like?”

He glanced up and saw Ms. Lavinia watching him from across the library. She was holding a phone to her ear, but she seemed to be listening to Robert’s conversation.

“Sweetie, let me be clear about something. Demons and monsters are not real. Crawford Tillinghast was a lunatic. And you’re a lunatic for bothering me at work with this stuff, do you understand?”

Robert was tempted to explain himself but didn’t
dare say anything with Ms. Lavinia nearby. He wondered if the librarian was friendly with Professor Goyle, if they ever chatted together in the faculty lounge.

He thanked his mother for her help and hung up.

When the lunch bell rang, Robert skipped the cafeteria and went to the school computer center to do more research. Naturally Lovecraft Middle School had a first-rate facility with dozens of brand-new computers, printers, scanners, and tablets. The teacher, Mr. Padapolous, asked Robert to sign in using a digital touch screen.

Robert chose a computer in a far corner of the room, where no one could see what he was doing, and searched the Web for information on Crawford Tillinghast. He found a lot of weird articles in scientific journals. They had titles like “Ecology of the
Hyphalosaurus Species” and “Meditation: A Pinhole in the Time-Space Continuum?” and they were impossible to understand.

But eventually he found an article in a 1983 issue of
The Dunwich Gazette
with the headline:

The article explained that the mansion had been built by Crawford Tillinghast’s grandfather in the early twentieth century. The house was enormous and featured fifteen bedrooms, ten bathrooms, three kitchens, a ballroom, a piano room, and an observatory. Tillinghast employed three scientists and they lived in the mansion along with their families; at the bottom of the page was a group photo of everyone who lived in the mansion.

It was Robert’s first look at Crawford Tillinghast. He was tall and thin and dressed in a white suit. Sitting in a large chair, surrounded by his employees and
their spouses and their children, he looked like the grandfather of a large, happy family.

The article didn’t describe the nature of their scientific experiments. It simply said that a machine in the basement laboratory had malfunctioned, causing a massive explosion that claimed the lives of all eighteen residents, including Tillinghast himself. Much of the building was spared, but the bodies of the employees were never recovered.

“There you are,” Glenn said, dropping into the chair beside Robert. “I thought we were meeting in the library.”

It was a funny thing: Just twenty-four hours ago, the sudden arrival of Glenn Torkells would have terrified Robert. Now, he was frustrated Glenn hadn’t come sooner.

“I didn’t like the way Ms. Lavinia was looking at me. I’m starting to wonder if she’s part of it.”

“Part of what?”

“All of it. Professor Goyle, the Price twins, Pip and Squeak. It’s all connected, Glenn. Something really big
is happening here.”

Robert shared his findings from earlier that morning. He explained his new theory—that the haunts from Tillinghast Mansion had somehow been recycled, along with the doors and bricks and floor tiles, into the new Lovecraft Middle School.

“That’s impossible,” Glenn said.

“All of this stuff is impossible,” Robert told him. “A tentacle pulling you inside a locker is impossible. But it happened, Glenn. We saw it.”

His voice had become louder without his realizing it. Mr. Padapolous got up from his desk and walked over to the boys. Glenn tilted the computer monitor so the teacher couldn’t see what they were doing.

Mr. Padapolous frowned. “These machines are for school use only,” he said. “If you want to play video games, you can come back at three o’clock for Computer Club.”

“We understand,” Robert said. “We’re just researching a little local history.”

The teacher shuffled back to his desk. Robert wondered if Mr. Padapolous was friendly with Professor Goyle, if Mr. Padapolous was friendly with Ms. Lavinia.

Maybe Mr. Padapolous was part of it, too.

Glenn tapped the computer screen. “So what did you learn about this guy Tillinghast?”

Robert studied the photograph, studied Tillinghast’s shock of white hair. “When I was spying on Goyle, he mentioned a Master. A person in charge of a plan. I’m starting to think Tillinghast is that Master. Somehow he survived and he’s controlling all these strange forces.”

Glenn studied the photograph, too. “The guy definitely
looks
like a grade-A weirdo. Though, in 1983, I guess a lot of people did. Who are all these other people?”

“Scientists. His employees. And their families. They all lived in the mansion together.”

Glenn pointed to a girl on the edge of the portrait. She had short, dark brown hair that fell past her
shoulders and a mouthful of metal braces. “This one’s cute,” he said. “The rest look like maniacs.”

Robert took a closer look and blinked.

Glenn was pointing to Karina Ortiz.

“What do you mean, that’s Karina?”

Robert didn’t know what he meant. But when he presented all the evidence to Glenn, it followed a certain pattern. Robert had never seen Karina in any classes. He had never seen her beyond the property of Lovecraft Middle School. And they had managed to squeeze into that tiny dark closet without bumping into each other.

Glenn was incredulous. “What are you saying? She’s some kind of ghost?”

Robert tapped the photo on the screen. “I’m saying I know this girl. I’ve talked to her. And this photo is
almost thirty years old. What other explanation is there?”

Glenn sat back in his chair. “This is just getting stranger and stranger. I’m starting to wish you’d just let those tentacles carry me away.”

“We need to find her,” Robert said. “We need to get back in that attic.”

“I thought you already tried,” Glenn said. “You told me you couldn’t find it.”

“That’s true,” Robert told him. “But I think I know someone who can.” He glanced at the clock. There were just fifteen minutes until lunch ended, and then there was a mandatory school assembly to discuss the disappearance of the Price twins. Apparently a police officer was coming to give a lecture on stranger danger. “We better go now if we’re going to make it.”