The Candy Shop War
Page 31
“The Forty-niner is designed for tunneling,” Mrs. White went on. “Like the surgeon doll, he is stronger than he looks. Using him, you should have no trouble burrowing down to the burial vault and accessing the casket. You know what I mean by a burial vault?”
“Pigeon?” Nate asked.
“The container that encloses the coffin?” he ventured.
“In this instance made of stone,” Mrs. White approved.
“Let me guess,” Nate said. “You read a lot of books about undertaking.”
“I actually figured that one out through context,” Pigeon responded.
“You’ll have to pry up the sealed lid of the burial vault,” Mrs. White said. “The Forty-niner should be able to handle it.” She handed Nate a dose of Proxy Dust, then gave Trevor a clear plastic container holding several white candies. “These are Frost Bites. They’ll make your body radiate intense cold while you suck on them. Water will freeze in your presence, and you’ll be immune to the effects of heat and fire. Using two at a time will heighten the results, but I do not suggest trying more than that.”
“I’m not sure this is right, exhuming bodies,” Pigeon protested.
“One body,” Mrs. White corrected. “Don’t fret, Pigeon, I didn’t forget about you. I thought you should carry some of my Sweet Teeth.” She held up a baggie with six candy corns in it. “The Sweet Tooth is a specialty of mine, so much so that it shares its name with my store. You’ll feel tempted to chew them—don’t. Just let them dissolve, and use only one at a time. While a Sweet Tooth is in your mouth, others will find it difficult to disobey or disbelieve your suggestions. There is an art to it. You don’t want to push people too hard or contradict reality too blatantly, or the spell will collapse. You’ll find that a little subtlety goes a long way. Different people will exhibit different levels of resistance. The Sweet Tooth does not work as well on those who are aware it exists—for example, you would find it tricky to influence Nate or Summer or Trevor, now that they know what the candy can do.”
“How do we know you haven’t used a Sweet Tooth on us?” Pigeon asked.
Mrs. White smiled. “I suppose you don’t, although most of my candy works only when used by children, so I probably couldn’t use a Sweet Tooth even if I so desired. In addition, I assure you that I would not share magic candy with youngsters whom I had to coerce into accepting it. There are plenty who would help me voluntarily. Can I entrust these to you?”
“Sure, but—” Pigeon began.
“I realize some of you may be uncomfortable with this new task,” Mrs. White interrupted, handing Pigeon the bag of candy corns. “Keep in mind, you are a treasure-hunting club, and treasure hunters often have to raid burial grounds in search of clues and artifacts, from the pyramids, to sunken ships entombing drowned sailors, to various necropolises around the globe. In this instance, we have permission from the deceased, who is a relative of mine, so you need not fret about ethics.
“If any of you wish to back out, please take this opportunity to surrender your candy to those willing to undertake the adventure, keeping in mind that your refusal to cooperate will mark the end of our secret relationship. If none of you are willing to claim the next clue, please return all the candy and I’ll find others to assist me. Naturally, whatever our relationship, I’ll expect you to keep the secrets I have shared with you, not that many would give such preposterous notions much credence.”
“Will all your tasks involve stealing from museums or graveyards?” Nate asked.
“Not all of them,” Mrs. White assured him. “Although when it becomes necessary, you will find I am willing to bend the rules to accomplish my aims. Others are actively competing for the prize we are chasing. If you go by the museum, you will find that the memoirs of Hanaver Mills are now missing, along with his pocket watch.”
“Do you know who grabbed the book?” Trevor asked.
“No idea,” Mrs. White said. “Perhaps the same man who chased you the other night. At any rate, can I rely on your continued assistance? I have to get back.”
“I’ll do it,” Nate said.
“Me too,” Trevor said.
Summer and Pigeon nodded, but Pigeon looked reluctant.
“One more wrinkle that I wanted to withhold until you accepted the mission,” Mrs. White said. “Hanaver Mills is not buried under the headstone with his name on it. To throw off unworthy trespassers, he was interred under a tombstone inscribed ‘Margaret Spencer 1834–1893.’ You’ll find the monument not far from his own.”
“All this was in the note,” Pigeon said.
“Written by his own hand,” Mrs. White said. “Here is another Melting Pot Mixer for each of you. Be careful. Do your best to disguise the fact that you have disturbed the gravesite. Here are some extra Shock Bits as well for you to share. Sadly, I really am in a rush. Good luck Wednesday night. Please bring what you find to the shop on Thursday. I’ll be waiting with another reward.”
Chapter Eight
Unearthing Secrets
Afternoon sunlight filtered through the overlapping branches above the Nest as Summer, Nate, Trevor, and Pigeon sat on the ground facing each other. Between them, on a weathered remnant of cardboard, sat all the magic candy they had collected to date: the Moon Rocks, the Shock Bits, and three leftover pieces of trick candy, along with the new candy they had just received from Mrs. White.
Nearby stood the Forty-niner. After exiting the candy shop, the four friends had looped around back where Mrs. White had met them at an unmarked door. She had then entrusted them with the Forty-niner, bundled in a green bedsheet. The wooden figure was so heavy that Trevor and Nate had to share the load. The two of them had lugged the wooden miner directly to their hideout by the creek.
Beside the Forty-niner sat two boxes of white fudge Pigeon had purchased for his mother.
“Hear ye, hear ye,” Pigeon announced, “the governing council for the Blue Falcon Treasure-Hunting Society is now in session. Our president, Summer Atler, presiding.”
“I feel like such a nerd,” Nate muttered.
“I appreciate all of you gathering on such short notice for this important discussion,” Summer said, ignoring Nate’s grumbles. “Pigeon requested we convene immediately, and, given the importance of the topic at hand, I seconded the motion. Pigeon?”
“Thank you,” Pigeon said. “Guys, I’m worried that we’ve gotten in way over our heads. Candy that makes you float around is one thing. Candy that lets you create infernos and control people’s minds is another. Whoever Mrs. White is, she is very powerful, and I’m starting to really worry she might not be one of the good guys.”
“Pigeon?” Nate asked.
“The container that encloses the coffin?” he ventured.
“In this instance made of stone,” Mrs. White approved.
“Let me guess,” Nate said. “You read a lot of books about undertaking.”
“I actually figured that one out through context,” Pigeon responded.
“You’ll have to pry up the sealed lid of the burial vault,” Mrs. White said. “The Forty-niner should be able to handle it.” She handed Nate a dose of Proxy Dust, then gave Trevor a clear plastic container holding several white candies. “These are Frost Bites. They’ll make your body radiate intense cold while you suck on them. Water will freeze in your presence, and you’ll be immune to the effects of heat and fire. Using two at a time will heighten the results, but I do not suggest trying more than that.”
“I’m not sure this is right, exhuming bodies,” Pigeon protested.
“One body,” Mrs. White corrected. “Don’t fret, Pigeon, I didn’t forget about you. I thought you should carry some of my Sweet Teeth.” She held up a baggie with six candy corns in it. “The Sweet Tooth is a specialty of mine, so much so that it shares its name with my store. You’ll feel tempted to chew them—don’t. Just let them dissolve, and use only one at a time. While a Sweet Tooth is in your mouth, others will find it difficult to disobey or disbelieve your suggestions. There is an art to it. You don’t want to push people too hard or contradict reality too blatantly, or the spell will collapse. You’ll find that a little subtlety goes a long way. Different people will exhibit different levels of resistance. The Sweet Tooth does not work as well on those who are aware it exists—for example, you would find it tricky to influence Nate or Summer or Trevor, now that they know what the candy can do.”
“How do we know you haven’t used a Sweet Tooth on us?” Pigeon asked.
Mrs. White smiled. “I suppose you don’t, although most of my candy works only when used by children, so I probably couldn’t use a Sweet Tooth even if I so desired. In addition, I assure you that I would not share magic candy with youngsters whom I had to coerce into accepting it. There are plenty who would help me voluntarily. Can I entrust these to you?”
“Sure, but—” Pigeon began.
“I realize some of you may be uncomfortable with this new task,” Mrs. White interrupted, handing Pigeon the bag of candy corns. “Keep in mind, you are a treasure-hunting club, and treasure hunters often have to raid burial grounds in search of clues and artifacts, from the pyramids, to sunken ships entombing drowned sailors, to various necropolises around the globe. In this instance, we have permission from the deceased, who is a relative of mine, so you need not fret about ethics.
“If any of you wish to back out, please take this opportunity to surrender your candy to those willing to undertake the adventure, keeping in mind that your refusal to cooperate will mark the end of our secret relationship. If none of you are willing to claim the next clue, please return all the candy and I’ll find others to assist me. Naturally, whatever our relationship, I’ll expect you to keep the secrets I have shared with you, not that many would give such preposterous notions much credence.”
“Will all your tasks involve stealing from museums or graveyards?” Nate asked.
“Not all of them,” Mrs. White assured him. “Although when it becomes necessary, you will find I am willing to bend the rules to accomplish my aims. Others are actively competing for the prize we are chasing. If you go by the museum, you will find that the memoirs of Hanaver Mills are now missing, along with his pocket watch.”
“Do you know who grabbed the book?” Trevor asked.
“No idea,” Mrs. White said. “Perhaps the same man who chased you the other night. At any rate, can I rely on your continued assistance? I have to get back.”
“I’ll do it,” Nate said.
“Me too,” Trevor said.
Summer and Pigeon nodded, but Pigeon looked reluctant.
“One more wrinkle that I wanted to withhold until you accepted the mission,” Mrs. White said. “Hanaver Mills is not buried under the headstone with his name on it. To throw off unworthy trespassers, he was interred under a tombstone inscribed ‘Margaret Spencer 1834–1893.’ You’ll find the monument not far from his own.”
“All this was in the note,” Pigeon said.
“Written by his own hand,” Mrs. White said. “Here is another Melting Pot Mixer for each of you. Be careful. Do your best to disguise the fact that you have disturbed the gravesite. Here are some extra Shock Bits as well for you to share. Sadly, I really am in a rush. Good luck Wednesday night. Please bring what you find to the shop on Thursday. I’ll be waiting with another reward.”
Chapter Eight
Unearthing Secrets
Afternoon sunlight filtered through the overlapping branches above the Nest as Summer, Nate, Trevor, and Pigeon sat on the ground facing each other. Between them, on a weathered remnant of cardboard, sat all the magic candy they had collected to date: the Moon Rocks, the Shock Bits, and three leftover pieces of trick candy, along with the new candy they had just received from Mrs. White.
Nearby stood the Forty-niner. After exiting the candy shop, the four friends had looped around back where Mrs. White had met them at an unmarked door. She had then entrusted them with the Forty-niner, bundled in a green bedsheet. The wooden figure was so heavy that Trevor and Nate had to share the load. The two of them had lugged the wooden miner directly to their hideout by the creek.
Beside the Forty-niner sat two boxes of white fudge Pigeon had purchased for his mother.
“Hear ye, hear ye,” Pigeon announced, “the governing council for the Blue Falcon Treasure-Hunting Society is now in session. Our president, Summer Atler, presiding.”
“I feel like such a nerd,” Nate muttered.
“I appreciate all of you gathering on such short notice for this important discussion,” Summer said, ignoring Nate’s grumbles. “Pigeon requested we convene immediately, and, given the importance of the topic at hand, I seconded the motion. Pigeon?”
“Thank you,” Pigeon said. “Guys, I’m worried that we’ve gotten in way over our heads. Candy that makes you float around is one thing. Candy that lets you create infernos and control people’s minds is another. Whoever Mrs. White is, she is very powerful, and I’m starting to really worry she might not be one of the good guys.”
