Ema blinked, but the shadowy figure was still there when she reopened her eyes, and still staring straight at her. The girl--if it was a girl--appeared to be around her age, with dark auburn hair that cascaded down in long waves, and thin arms crossed over her chest. One ridiculous word pushed itself into Ema's mind. Ghost. It was, Ema knew, the most illogical explanation for what she was seeing, but she was too gripped by horror to grasp on to a better one. As the chimes rang on, Ema wondered if the figure would ever move, even though she herself had forgotten how to. Then the shadowy specter reached one arm slowly up to the rafter and performed a quick flip to land on the floor as the last chime heralded midnight. She drifted slowly toward the window, moonlight catching her features--flushed cheeks, twitching nose, and that unblinking stare. It was the rise and fall of the girl's shoulders, however, that tugged sharply on the reins of Ema's galloping heart. She was alive . Ema sucked in a breath of relief, but some lingering dust swirled up her nose. She sneezed. The girl shrieked. As Ema pressed the tip of her nose to stop another sneeze, the girl shook her head, snorted, then doubled over with laughter. And with that, the spell was broken. The buildings were close enough that Ema could hear the small wheeze between each fresh bout of laughter and see each wrinkle between the girl's eyebrows as she tried and failed, several times, to pull herself together. Ema felt her cheeks warm. "What's so funny?" "I thought you were--" The girl goose-honk laughed. "You thought I was what?" "I thought--" She blew out a breath, then another few, until finally she seemed able to breathe properly again. "Oh saints, I thought you were a ghost ." "Oh. I thought you were a ghost." "No." The girl shook her head and leaned out the window. "You're much more ghostly than me. Your hair is so pale. And your eyes are like smoke. I nearly wet myself when you appeared. Which would have had unfortunate consequences considering I was upside down." Ema noticed the girl's clothes, and embarrassment gave way to curiosity. Layers of tulle skirts, a black shirt with a ruffled collar that reached right up to her ears, a midnight-blue waistcoat, and silver ribbons woven through the length of her dark hair. She looked extraordinary. Ema became slowly aware that the girl was studying her just as carefully. "You snuck up on me," the girl said, her smile gone. Ema felt a familiar knot tighten in the pit of her stomach. "Sorry. I--" "No one has ever snuck up on me before." She grinned again. "That's astonishing." Still clutching her left hand to her chest, the girl climbed onto the windowsill, seemingly unconcerned about the long drop down. "I'm Silvie." Ema leaned carefully out of her own window, feeling her vision swirl as she noticed how far up they were. "I'm . . . I'm Ema Vasková." "Are you scared of heights, Ema Vasková?" "It would seem so. Aren't you?" "It would seem not." Silvie moved farther forward and cocked her head. "What are you doing up in a dark, dusty attic if you're not a ghost?" "I'm staying here. Why is your house all boarded up? And why were you upside down?" "It's not my house. I was--oh, I suppose there's no way of explaining myself without sounding ridiculous. I was hoping to befriend a colony of bats." Ema's eyebrows climbed up her forehead. "This seemed like the perfect place to find them," Silvie continued hastily. "I thought hanging upside down might make me more agreeable to them, but I've been waiting hours with no luck. Told you it was silly." "It's not silly." "Really?" The girl beamed. "It's almost entirely brilliant." "What do you mean almost ?" "Well, those rafters look like a bat-roosting paradise, and the upside-down bit . . . well, when dealing with any shy creatures, it's wise to try to camouflage with them. My siblings Krystof and Kateřina once covered themselves in dung and grass to get close to a herd of bison in the Carpathian Mountains. So, really, there's just one problem with your plan." Silvie leaned eagerly forward. "Which is?" "Bats hibernate in winter," Ema said, feeling an unfamiliar tingle of pride at the gleam of awe in the girl's eyes as she spoke. "They'll have moved underground or into a cave, and they're almost impossible to find at this time of year. I'm afraid you'll have to wait until spring." The girl's face fell. Ema's newfound confidence evaporated. "I can't wait that long," Silvie whispered. "Why not?" Silvie gently lifted her hair away from where her hand was still clutched against her chest. Her fingers uncurled, and a tiny, almost skeletal hand emerged. The squashed face of a bat appeared a moment later. "I found him last night, shivering in a puddle. I put him in my pocket to warm him up, but he doesn't seem to want to leave. I named him Béla. I was hoping I could find his family." Now it was Ema's turn to watch in awe as Silvie gently stroked the soft fur on the bat's head. "I imagine that pocket of yours is comfortingly dark for him, which is why he doesn't want to leave it. Perhaps you could find him a cool, dark place where he can sleep for the next few months. Somewhere hidden and safe, where no one can find him." Silvie's smile wavered, though only for a moment. "I know just the place." Ema squealed as Béla suddenly flapped one leathery wing at the night air. Silvie cooed to the bat until he stilled, then smiled up at Ema. "Scared of bats too?" "There isn't much I'm not scared of." Ema regretted the words as soon as they'd left her mouth. She waited for Silvie to roll her eyes or mock her. Instead, Ema was rewarded with another grin. "Well, it just so happens that I am an expert in conquering fear." Silvie beamed, twirling her feet in the air. "Perhaps it is destiny that we met." "There's no such thing as destiny." Silvie shrugged. "If you say so." Ema reached for her pocket watch. Twelve minutes had elapsed since midnight, and yet here she was in one piece. No catastrophe in sight, just a dazzling girl and a tiny bat. It made no sense. And yet, the relentless thrum of dread was . . . gone. Ema scrambled to change the subject. "Do your parents know you're here?" Silvie's grin vanished, and the night felt darker in its absence. She tucked Béla carefully into her breast pocket. "I should go." "No, wait!" Ema cried, horrified with herself for somehow ruining the moment. Despite her fear, she leaned farther out of the window. "I . . . oh saints, this is terrifyingly high." "And yet you're grinning." "Am I?" "Indeed." Ema pushed herself back again. There was another thrum coursing through her veins now, but as she lifted her hands to her cheeks, she realized Silvie was right about the grin. It left Ema so confused all she could do was stand there holding her cheeks, wondering what had come over her. "There's a very fine line between fear and excitement, Ema Vasková," Silvie said, her expression thoughtful. "I think perhaps you need some nudging over that line. Let's meet at this time again tomorrow, but not here." Ema dropped her hands from her cheeks and shook her head. "At midnight ?" "Adventures are best served with a drizzle of moonlight and a sprinkling of stars, Ema Vasková. Midnight is the perfect time for our fear-conquering quest to begin." "Are you sure we can't meet earlier? How about at midday?" "No." "But--" "Do you have trouble staying up that late?" "Actually, I can never sleep before midnight--" "Aha! See, destiny at play again." "No, it's called insomnia. Look, I'm sorry, but I can't meet you in the middle of the night." "Never believe you can't do something, Ema Vasková. Nothing is impossible, with a little imagination." Silvie leaned farther forward, then farther still, until Ema was certain that the girl would tumble off the windowsill, down onto the cobbles far below. She seemed not to notice the peril, however, and merely studied Ema intently. "I see I have my work cut out with you," she said finally. "But it just so happens I love an entirely impossible challenge. I'll send you an invitation with instructions on where to find me. It'll be splendiferous ." "But I haven't agreed--" "Lesson one, Ema Vasková," Silvie said, standing on the ledge, grinning like a cat. "Less worrying, more daring. I will see you tomorrow." With a rustle of skirts and a shimmer of silver and gold, Silvie somersaulted backward off the window ledge into the empty attic. As Ema watched Silvie merge into the abandoned house's deep shadows and disappear, her heart started hammering again, at Silvie's reckless daredevilry, at the absurdity of her proposition, and at the even more absurd bubble of excitement Ema felt at the thought of taking her up on that proposition. It was a cold gust of air that finally brought her back out of her thoughts. Shivering, she closed the window, kicked off her shoes, and clambered into bed--too cold and overwhelmed to change into her nightclothes. She pulled her blankets up to her chin and wriggled her feet beneath the large fur cushion, and her shivering soon stopped. But as she stared up at the unfamiliar shadows creeping across the unfamiliar ceiling, her mind continued to whir. Midnight had come and gone, and Ema was overcome by the profound sense that something had indeed changed considerably in her life. What she couldn't work out was what exactly that something was, and how exactly it would, inevitably, lead her to disaster. Was it the unbearably long stay with her bumbling uncle, who was so like her mother, and yet somehow so not like her? Was it the lingering legacy of her mysterious grandmother, and whatever had caused the rift that still haunted the family to this day? Or was it the girl with the star-speckled eyes, the mere thought of whom filled Ema with a confusing mix of worry and wonder? Excerpted from The Midnighters by Hana Tooke All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.