Ghost Squad

by Claribel A. Ortega

  “Do you think it has something to do with the full moon being on Halloween this year?” Lucely wondered. “Also, how do you propose we even go about catching ghosts in the first place? You’re not about to whip out a working-model proton pack are you?”

  “I’m glad you asked.” Syd got up and ran into the house. A few moments later, she returned with her backpack. “I made these last night with instructions from the Phantom Hunters: Amateur Ghost Hunters Manual.” Syd pulled out a mason jar much like the ones in Lucely’s willow tree, except this one was tinted a bright green. The lid was painted black and had a few words written on top in white ink. A string connected the latch to the enclosure so that you could close the jar by pulling the latch. The inside of the jar was lined with holographic paper, and a small pouch filled with what looked like oregano hung from a string glued to the inside of the lid. It looked like an art project gone wrong. And it smelled horrible.

  “You can’t be for real,” Lucely said. “You think we’re gonna legitimately catch ghosts using glass jars filled with some aluminum foil and Italian herbs? Are you sure you weren’t accidentally looking at some weird recipe instead?”

  “Phantom Hunters swears by them! I might’ve been a little hasty in the execution, but it’s the thought that counts.”

  Lucely raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure that’s for gift giving, not ghost catching.”

  “Hey! Who’s the expert here?”

  Lucely raised her hands in mock surrender.

  “So, how do my fireflies fit into all this?”

  “They can be, like, our signal or whatever. If they start feeling wonky, then we’ll know to be on the lookout for nearby ghosts.”

  “Hmm … that’s actually pretty brilliant,” Lucely said. “I’ll have to ask them though. I won’t take them against their will.”

  “Can’t argue with that. And since your dad is out doing boring dad stuff right now …” Syd smiled.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll talk to them right now.” Lucely sighed. “Um …” Lucely made a waving gesture at Syd so that she would give her some privacy. She felt weird talking to them around anyone but her dad.

  Lucely took a deep breath and looked at her firefly family. Her lips curled into a smile as she thought of Tía Milagros with her chancla in hand, Macarena with her hands on her hips, Mamá with her wrinkled hand on Lucely’s shoulder telling her she could do anything. She knew they would tell her to fight.

  Macarena appeared on a low bough of the willow, swinging her legs. “Can we bring Frankie? She hasn’t stopped talking about the storm or Mamá in weeks, and I think she wants to help.”

  Before Lucely could even say hello, Frankie flew out and shifted from firefly to person in a flurry of light and static. Frankie was a boxer before she passed, and she was really good. Undefeated, in fact. Which was something she loved to remind everyone of at every family gathering.

  “I’ve been waiting for you, prima. Let’s go!” Frankie bounced from one foot to the other, ready for a match.

  “I’m coming too.” Tía Milagros appeared, arms crossed and a scowl on her face. Before Lucely could protest, she held on to Macarena’s arm with a death grip. Her cousin cringed, and Lucely knew it was no use arguing. “I know the perfect place to start.”

  Soon after, they had reached their destination. “El Castillo de San Marcos.” Lucely waved her hand with a flourish at the stone fortress as if to announce their arrival.

  “How are we going to get in?” Syd asked. “They won’t let us through without an adult.”

  “When has that ever stopped us before?” Lucely smirked. “Follow me.”

  They rode around the perimeter until they found an unattended gate. Beyond it lay the fortress grounds.

  Lucely and Syd chained their bikes to the fence before setting off toward the fortress.

  “If anyone asks, pretend we got separated from our parents.” Syd winked.

  The cool breeze that greeted them as they entered one of the long, narrow passageways inside the fort was a welcome relief from the heat of the day. Lucely was so distracted by the flurry of tourists skittering about, some even whispering excitedly about hoping to see a “real, live ghost,” that she’d accidentally tuned out Syd entirely.

  “Helloooo … Earth to Lucely …” Syd waved her hands in the air to grab Lucely’s attention. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

  “Sorry …” Lucely looked apologetic before offering a smile.

  “As I was saying,” Syd continued, “the Phantom Hunters handbook lists the Castillo de San Marcos in its Top Ten Most Haunted Forts in the Southeastern United States—”

  “So, what you’re saying”—Lucely cut in—“is aside from that oddly specific category choice, this place is totally swarming with ghosts. It has to be. This place looks older than Babette.”

  Syd let out a laugh that echoed faintly around them. “If she heard you say that, you’d be a toad already.”

  As they made their way deeper into the belly of the fortress, the temperature continued to drop, and they suddenly found themselves all alone with nothing but the dark, stone tunnel ahead of them and the light of the fireflies at their sides.

  “It’s freezing down here.” Lucely rubbed her arms. “How much farther?”

  No sooner had the words left her lips than the tunnel ahead of them came to an abrupt halt.

  “Great,” Lucely said. “You’d think there would at least be some spirits hanging out at a dead end.”

  “Still needs some work, but better!” Syd said. “Something does feel a bit off down here though.”

  “Ohhh, are your witchy senses tingling?” Lucely asked, but she felt it too. “I’ll check with Macarena to see if she can sense anything.”

  The moment Lucely removed the lid of the jar, Macarena burst out with a force that knocked Lucely onto her backside.

  “Lucely, it’s not safe here. You have to go.” Macarena looked terrified.

  But before Lucely could respond, Syd shouted, “I found something! Come look!”

  As Lucely approached Syd, Macarena flew back into the jar, cowering.

  “See this stone here … and that one there?” Syd pointed to one on either wall directly across from each other. “They’re not as grimy as the rest. And, look …” She pushed on the one closest to her, and it sank about an inch into the wall.

  Lucely gasped. “Do you think it’s some sort of Indiana Jones–like mechanism or something?”

  “Let’s hope it’s not a real booby trap. I wouldn’t stand a chance running away from a three-ton boulder.”

  “Syd, if there really is something here, don’t you think it’s a bit too easy?” Lucely asked.

  “Shhh, when the universe gives you a gift, you take it and run. Besides, you’re not giving me enough credit; maybe I’m just a genius. Now help me with this.”

  Lucely positioned herself across from Syd before placing her left hand on the frigid stone. She stretched out her right arm and took Syd’s hand in hers. “On the count of three?”

  “One … two …”

  They both took a deep breath—hoping it wasn’t their last—before pressing their full weight against the stones.

  Once the dust had cleared, Lucely and Syd could see that a narrow doorway now stood in front of them where before there had only been a solid wall. The room just ahead opened into what looked like an abandoned military barrack. There were clothes and other personal items strewn about, but otherwise it looked almost as if it were untouched since forever ago.

  Syd cleared her throat. “What did I say? I’m a genius.”

  Lucely rolled her eyes and sighed, her breath coming out in a puff of white. “Looks like somebody spoke too soon.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Macarena said pointedly.

  “We stick together.” Lucely held her catcher out and signaled for Syd to do the same, before taking a few tentative steps into the room. “There’s no telling what kind of ghosts could be hiding down h
ere.”

  “Well, well, well,” the shadows seemed to say in a voice like the barrage of cannon fire from all sides. “What are two pretty little f-f-finches like yourselves doing so f-f-far from your nest?”

  Out from the darkness stepped a surly man clothed in a centuries-old Spanish militia uniform. His sinister smile betrayed any good intentions, as did the sliver of something white held at his side. With little light to offer any further details, he could almost pass as being alive. That is, if it weren’t for the evidence of a bayonet wound blooming across his chest.

  “Oh, sorry, sir.” Syd’s voice shook. “Didn’t mean to bother you.”

  Lucely was quick to continue. “We seem to have gotten lost trying to find our parents.”

  “We’ll just be going back this way now if you don’t mind,” Syd chimed in.

  The soldier advanced a single pace, keeping his back to the shadows.

  “What was that I heard you birdies ch-ch-chirping on about ghosts?”

  Lucely turned around, and he was much closer to them now but still casually cleaning out his fingernails. She shifted on her feet, hands sweating, the mason jar vibrating at her waist. “Just that everyone says that this place is supposed to be super haunted, but I think it’s all just a hoax to get tourists to pay for admission. Haven’t seen a single ghost yet.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” The man was suddenly in front of them, readying to attack, a sharpened human bone in his hand. “Heya, ghosties, why don’t we sh-sh-show them just how much of a hoax we really are?” His mouth peeled back into a wicked smile.

  Up close, Lucely could smell the death and decay radiating off him.

  The girls screamed and tried to get away, but another spirit soldier now stood blocking their path—and the only way out—as more backup arrived.

  The ghosts were descending from all angles now, and Lucely and Syd’s hope of escaping dimmed. Lucely fought against the powerful force of the spirits holding her down, reaching for the clasp of the mason jar at her waist. Inside, Frankie charged at the glass, trying to break free to protect Lucely and Syd, but it only shuddered about as if it were sitting on top of a washing machine.

  Then the latch flew open, and Frankie shot out of the jar, dealing a powerful blow to the nearest soldier and knocking him back into the confused swarm of ghosts, who released their grip on Lucely and Syd.

  Lucely jumped to her feet and pointed her catcher at the grotesque-looking spirit that had rounded on them. He laughed in her face and slapped the jar out of Lucely’s hands like it was nothing. She watched it crash to the floor of the room and shatter into hundreds of pieces.

  “Run!” Frankie shouted in their direction. “We’ll cover you!”

  Lucely hadn’t noticed Macarena’s sudden reappearance in all the commotion. She stood back-to-back with Frankie—fists raised—looking fiercer than Lucely had ever seen her.

  With a crack of her neck, Macarena shifted into a glittering form of her human self. Light seemed to be emanating from every pore of her skin. She looked beautiful. For a moment, Lucely was transfixed, and so—it appeared—were the spirit soldiers.

  “Lucely, leave it to us.” Macarena met Lucely’s eyes, her lips unmoving. “Once you’re through the door, prop it open and wait for my signal to close it.”

  Hypnotized by her light, the soldiers seemed to forget about the girls and began to form a circle around Macarena and Frankie.

  Lucely and Syd slipped out of the room and into the passageway just beyond the door to wait for the signal. They watched through a crack in the door, and Lucely’s stomach twisted with worry.

  Together, Macarena and Frankie’s light grew more and more brilliant.

  A moment later, the barrack exploded with a blinding light, evaporating every spirit in the room.

  When the door sealed itself back into place, Lucely and Syd sank to the floor, out of breath.

  “I really hope that was the signal.” Syd leaned back against the wall.

  “They went full-on supernova in there.” Lucely shifted toward Syd’s voice, arms outstretched. “But we still lost—the ghost catchers didn’t work, we’re no closer to figuring out the spell, and it took all of Macarena and Frankie’s spirit energy just to save our pathetic butts.”

  Lucely fought back tears as she reached for the jar still attached to her belt—inside, the light of her fireflies blinked out.

  IT WAS OBVIOUS from their first disastrous attempt at ghost hunting that afternoon that they needed something with a much bigger punch to get rid of the evil spirits. Their homemade ghost catchers were not going to cut it. They needed magic.

  The smooth sound of a saxophone filled the air in the Faires’s house. A particularly loud note startled Syd, and she scowled. She got up and threw her bedroom door open dramatically.

  “Dad, we’re trying to study in here.”

  Her dad played a low, remorseful note by way of an apology, and Syd shook her head as she sat back down on her furry throw rug.

  Lucely was sprawled out on Syd’s bedroom floor playing with Syd’s dog, Francisco, as they took turns reading from the giant book Babette had given them, searching for anything even remotely helpful.

  While the book was filled with fascinating details about witches throughout history, they couldn’t find any information about the spell they’d read or any clues as to who “E. B.” was. There was nothing about hauntings and what to do about evil spirits, nor about where they might find the rest of the missing pages from the spell book.

  “Where’s the search-and-find function for physical books when you need it?” Lucely yawned and rolled over onto her back. Francisco copied her.

  Syd flipped back to the section they’d been reading in the library and read aloud from where they’d left off.

  “The Purple Coven was well-known and respected in St. Augustine and the surrounding townships, working as the village healers and doctors. However, as the hysteria of the witch trials overtook Salem, residents of St. Augustine began to look upon the coven with suspicion and fear.

  “Proctor Braggs—and his wife—accused one of the young witches, Pilar, of hexing their eldest son, Michael, who had asked for her hand in marriage. The Braggs family brought Pilar to public trial and—despite vehement protests from the betrothed—she was drowned in the San Sebastian River the very same day.”

  “Poor Pilar.” Lucely plopped sideways onto a giant pillow.

  “There’s a footnote here about the book of magic that I didn’t notice the other day,” Syd said. “Passed from one coven member to another, El Libro de Lobos was a written record of all the spells and knowledge Las Brujas Moradas possessed. Legend has it that after the events of Pilar’s death, the coven set about creating an evil curse that would resurrect an army of the dead and open a gateway to the underworld.”

  Syd stopped abruptly, eyes opened wide.

  Lucely sat up with a start and looked at Syd. “Do you think … the spell we used was actually a curse? This curse?”

  “I don’t know,” Syd said. “It’s possible?”

  Lucely fell back against the mountain of pillows on Syd’s floor. “How could the coven be so reckless?! What if the curse had fallen into the wrong hands—”

  “It already did, Luce … ours,” Syd said. “There’s more here though: The only way to stop the curse is with the counterspell from El Libro de Lobos.”

  Lucely sat up at this. “So, it’s not completely hopeless?”

  “I mean, technically, sure. But we just have to find a super secret coven’s super secret lair and then hope that the rest of the pages will be there, including the one with the counterspell we need. It’s impossible.” Syd sounded defeated.

  “Well, it’s better than not having a solution at all,” Lucely said.

  “So, what’s the plan, Sherlock?” Syd scratched the back of Francisco’s ear, and he kicked wildly in the air.

  “We search the rest of the cemeteries in town. At least now we know that the counterspel
l must be on one of the pages that were torn out of the book. And if we can’t find them, then we go to Babette.”

  Syd bit her lip. “She’s gonna kill me. ‘Granny Goes Postal,’ I can read the headlines now!”

  “Babette might just be our only hope …”

  Syd groaned. “Can we at least do one last mission on our own before we sentence ourselves? I want to cherish my final moments of life.”

  “God, you are so dramatic.” Lucely shook her head.

  “How are you gonna sneak out again with your dad watching your every move?”

  “He’s been pulling extra shifts for the ghost tour on weekends to try to bring in some extra money—it’s always busiest leading up to Halloween. Should be easy if we go Friday night,” Lucely said with more confidence than she felt. Guilt tugged at her chest, but she quickly brushed it aside. She had to do this, or things would only get much worse.

  “My parents are going away this weekend for a jazz concert, so I’ll be staying with Babette. You should ask your dad if you can sleep over! That way, once she’s asleep, we can just sneak out together. But if we get caught, I’m telling them you forced me against my will.”

  “Traitor!”

  “It’s every girl for herself in the ghost-pocalypse. Sorry, not sorry!”

  “Syd, if you squeal on me …” Lucely lunged forward and started tickling Syd. Francisco barked and rolled onto his back, wanting Lucely to give him belly rubs too.

  “Stop … I can’t … Luce!” Syd’s face was red, and tears streamed down her cheeks.

  A knock on the door interrupted what had devolved into a fit of shrieking and barking. Syd’s dad popped his head in, the saxophone still hanging around his neck. “Having fun, you two?”

  The girls looked at each other before breaking out into another fit of giggles.

  “It’s almost time for dinner, Syd. We’re having your favorites: fried plantains and steak.”

  Syd’s dad made some of the best fried plantains Lucely had ever tasted, but she would never let Simon know that. “You’re welcome to stay and eat too if you’d like, Lucely.”