Phic Phight! This one is for MickieK14!
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Thanks to the Fenton Faded Folio Fixer, the waterlogged, ripped, and slightly singed journal of Jack's favorite and most notorious ancestor was now readable. Or, at least, carefully scanned photographs of the pages could be read. Jack could hardly wait to read it. He and Maddie had stayed up until the small hours of the morning inputting pages.
If only they were young again, able to pull all-nighters... Alas, it was not to be.
Still, he was very high energy when he got up that morning. As usual. He bounced down the stairs in front of his wife, letting his enthusiasm out.
"Hey, Mads, what kind of cool historical ghost fighting techniques do you think we'll find in ol' John Fenton-Nightingale's journal? My grandpa told me that he once fought a demon ghost with his bare hands, can you imagine?"
He heard a choking sound from the kitchen, and bounded in to find his son, Danny, choking on his cereal. He gave Danny a hearty slap on the back, and Danny started gasping for air.
"You okay there, Danny boy?"
"I'm, yeah, I'm fine. I just- Late for school! Gotta go!"
Danny rushed out the door without any further explanation. Jack scratched his head. "Huh. Isn't it still pretty early?"
"It's Saturday," said Maddie, concerned. "Should we go get him?"
"Nah, he'll figure it out soon enough!" said Jack. "It's good to see him so eager to go! Speaking of eager, let's go see how good ol' John ripped ghosts apart in the good old days!"
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"Blood blossoms are extinct, right?" Danny asked Sam, watching her water her plants in her greenhouse, hands on his knees. "I mean, definitely and absolutely?"
"As far as I could find out," said Sam. "I talked to all of my gardening contacts. Only one had ever even heard of them, and she was convinced it was just a weird rose. I mean, even from where I was tied, I could tell they weren't, so... What's this about, anyway? Did your parents find out about them?"
"No, but they're about to. They got the Nightingale journal legible."
"Dang. I thought you trashed it."
"I tried! I really tried! But then Dad got it in his head that ghosts were trying to destroy it because it held secret ghost fighting secrets-"
"I mean, true, but go on."
"-and they got really enthusiastic about it. They build a whole machine just to read it!"
Sam put down her watering can and patted Danny on the back. "Well, hopefully there isn't anything in there that's worse than blood blossoms."
Danny groaned. "Why would you say something like that?"
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"... and they're great on sandwiches!" exclaimed Jack.
"They certainly sound amazing," said Maddie as she typed on the lab computer. "They would be an amazing asset, but I can't find anything about them online, or even anything that looks like them. Show me the picture again? Maybe I can run it by some people."
"Sure thing, Mads!" Jack handed Maddie the relevant page. "Do you know a place called the Spine?"
"Not off the top of my head, why?"
"Because John says that's where he hid a bunch of seeds, just in case those dastardly ghosts tried to destroy them!"
"He hid them in the spine?" repeated Maddie, looking up from the computer. "Are you sure?"
"That's what he said!"
"Jack, what if he meant... the spine of the book?"
Both of them rushed across the lab to where the journal was stored in a ghost-proof box. Maddie picked up a pair of scissors.
"I'm really sorry if I'm wrong, Jack," she said.
"Don't be! It's what John would have wanted!"
She flipped up the lid and took out the wrecked book. "Maybe that's why the ghosts were so insistent on trying to destroy this, now. They knew about the seeds."
"I wouldn't put it past 'em!"
Maddie picked apart what was left of the binding, and, sure enough, a little cloth bag was nestled alongside the folded backs of the pages. Carefully, Jack picked it up and untied the top. He grinned widely and showed the shriveled red-brown fruits inside to Maddie.
"They're here, Maddie! Wait 'til I tell the kids! They'll be so excited! A little piece of family history, right here, in our hands."
"Wait, Jack," said Maddie, grabbing his arm. "I don't think we should tell them."
Jack's face fell. "Why not?"
"Well," said Maddie, frowning, "you know how they are about ghosts. I think we should keep these secret. So the ghosts don't find out, like they did with the journal."
"You don't think Jazz or Danny told the ghosts about the journal, do you?"
Maddie shook her head. "No, not necessarily. But they could have told their friends, and the ghosts could have overheard. This is just really important to our work and your family history, and I'd hate for it to be destroyed because of a mistake like that."
"Alright, we'll keep it secret, then. At least until they're ready to use! We can use the Fenton Stockades! The kids never go down there."
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"You haven't heard any more about the journal?" Danny asked Jazz a week later. He leaned nervously against her doorjamb. He'd been having flashback nightmares to the seventeenth century or whatever hell year John Fenton-Nightingale had been from.
"What journal?" asked Jazz. "I read several. Psychology Today?"
"What?" asked Danny wrinkling his nose. "Isn't that a magazine? No, Dad's ancestor's journal. The one he and Mom thought was full of old ghost fighting stuff."
"No," said Jazz. "Why? Is it full of old ghost fighting stuff?"
Danny shrugged. "I didn't look at it super closely before I tried to torch it, but, yeah."
"That was you? Why?" asked Jazz, looking up from her book and swinging her legs off her bed.
"Because the guy tried to kill Sam," said Danny, scowling.
"Th- Our ancestor, who lived in the sixteen hundreds tried to kill Sam?" asked Jazz. "Jeez, I don't hear about half the things you guys get up to, do I? Why would he try to kill Sam?"
"He thought she was a witch. Thought I was a demon, too."
"So the demon Dad was saying he wrestled..."
"Probably me, to be honest."
"Just so you know," said Jazz, "I am intensely disturbed."
"That's two of us. Just, keep your ears out for them talking about blood blossoms or anything like that, okay?"
"Sure thing, little bro. And blood blossoms are?"
"Incredibly painful to ghosts. Or to half-ghosts who happen to be in ghost form." Danny made a face, remembering. "I was in so much pain I couldn't even think about turning back."
"You want to talk about it?"
"No," said Danny. "Not really."
"Well, if you change your mind..."
"Thanks," said Danny.
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"Heh- achoo!"
"Sounds like you've got some allergies there, Danno!" said Jack. "I used to get them when I was your age, too!"
"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Danny. When his allergies had failed to show up the year after he became half-ghost, he had thought he had seen the last of them, but apparently they had just been lying in wait, because now they were worse than ever. He resisted the urge to rub his eyes.
If he ever found out what plant was doing this to him, he was going to destroy it with extreme prejudice.
"We'll pick up some allergy medication next time we're at the store. Which kind did you like, again? Allegra? Claratin?"
"I don't care," said Danny. "Whichever."
"Well," said Maddie, putting a pot on the table, "maybe this will help you clear up your sinuses, at least for a little bit. I put lots of spices in it." She ladled rosy pink soup into first Danny's then Jazz's bowls.
"It's an old family recipe!" said Jack, proudly.
Danny was immediately suspicious. Sure, he was probably just being paranoid, but he couldn't help but remember that John Fenton-Nightingale had eaten blood blossoms. Danny doubted consuming something like that would be good for him, no matter what form he was in.
He made a show of sneezing very hard and knocked his soup off the table.
"Aw, man," he said, staring at the mess.
"Don't worry, Danny-boy! You can have some of mine!"
"No, no," said Danny. "I'm actually not feeling all that hungry... I think I'll just go to bed." He fled the dining room without waiting for a response
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"Jack," said Maddie, "do you think Danny was acting strangely at dinner today?" She still wasn't used to how her voice echoed in the Fenton Stockades, even after all these years.
"Yeah. Man, he's got some brutal allergies, huh?"
Maddie pruned a branch off of one of the larger blood blossom bushes. "Did you see the way he was looking at the blood blossom soup?" she asked.
"Not really! I was too busy looking at mine, and, man, was it delicious or what?"
"Thanks, Jack," said Maddie, smiling briefly. Her thoughts turned back to Danny, and the smile fell. "The book said that the fruits were good against overshadowing, right?"
"Right-o, Mads!"
"How long until these start bearing, do you think?"
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The answer to the question was two weeks. For two weeks, Maddie lived not knowing whether or not her son was a ghost. For two weeks, Danny lived in a state of steadily increasing anxiety and paranoia.
He could feel Maddie watching him. He could feel her doubt. Literally. It made him sick. Or was that just the allergies? Either way it was brutal and Danny found himself taking every excuse he could to get out of the house. He rarely ate at home. He couldn't trust the food.
Jazz didn't think it was healthy. Neither did Danny, but it wasn't his fault.
"Do you have any proof?" asked Jazz, exasperated.
"Proof of what?"
"That Mom's acting weird, or that she's trying to poison you."
"No," admitted Danny. "But that doesn't mean she isn't."
"You've lost ten pounds, Danny, and you were already a stick. People will think you're anorexic." She paused. "You're not actually anorexic, are you?"
"No!" said Danny. "That's stupid. I'd eat if I could trust anything. Which I can't."
"Please, Danny. At least eat a cookie. I watched Mom make them. She didn't put in anything weird. Except for raisins, I guess."
Danny glanced down at the plate on the table, mouth watering. They smelled so good, and he was so hungry.
"Okay," he said, "but you have to watch in case I die or something."
Jazz rolled her eyes. "Fine," she said.
Danny picked up a cookie and bit into it. "Are you sure these are raisins?" he asked, picking the bite back out of his mouth.
"They were in the raisin box," said Jazz.
"They taste kind of funny," said Danny. His pulse had picked up. Crud, was he having a panic attack? Over a cookie?
"I guess they were kind of old," admitted Jazz. She took a cookie herself. "They're not bad. Danny? Are you okay?"
Danny, leaning on the counter, shook his head. "Can't breathe," he wheezed.
"Oh my gosh, you're swelling up," said Jazz.
Danny's vision tunneled and went dark.
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"... anything new in his daily life? His diet?"
The voice was unfamiliar to Danny.
"We got some new plants last month... We've been trying them in cooking."
"In the cookies?"
"The fruits, yes, they're an heirloom variety."
"Could you bring some in? I'd like to run a few tests, but my initial diagnosis is that Danny has a severe allergy to something he ate."
There was an annoying beeping sound.
"Of course." Oh, that was his Mom. She sounded worried. "When do you think he'll wake up?"
"Any time now. But there are some other things I'd like to talk to you about that we found. Would you mind stepping out with me for a moment? Alright, so..."
"You can stop pretending to be asleep," said Jazz.
Danny groaned. "I told you so."
"You did," agreed Jazz.
"What have they noticed?" asked Danny, opening his eyes to see a hospital room.
"Not much, don't worry. I think they just want to ask about your portal scar."
"Mhm," said Danny, rubbing his chest. "So..."
"Severe allergic reaction. They hit you with an epi-pen."
"Cool. That worked?"
"Apparently."
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"Are you sure you got rid of all of it?" asked Danny, standing well clear of the front door.
"We're positive, honey," said Maddie.
"Yeah, Danno," said Jack. "We got it up with the Fenton Pollen-o-Matic! Just, let us make this up to you, okay, sport? We didn't mean for it to turn out like this."
"I know," said Danny. He squared his shoulders and walked inside.
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Danny sat on his bed, cross-legged. He had to check this now, rather than later, even if the thought of what was probably going to happen made him cringe.
No, he had to think positively. After all, what were the odds that the universe hated him that much?
Pretty high.
Okay. Positive thoughts not working. Time to bite the bullet.
He pulled on his core, summoning his transformation rings. They appeared, bright and white around his waist. They started to separate, and-
He was hit with a wall of blinding pain. His rings snapped back together.
Typical, really.
He reached for his phone and dialed a number.
"Hey, Tucker. How long did it take for those blood blossoms to go through your system?"