“Relax.” Tiff delved into her backpack again. “I brought a baloney sandwich.”
“This whole thing is baloney,” Spencer muttered. He jammed the last glow stick into the ground. “Can we get this over with? If we don’t get back to camp before the counselors notice we’re gone, ghosts are going to be the least of our worries.”
Tiff arranged the baloney sandwich in the middle of the circle. “Okay, that should do it. Now we need to hold hands.”
“Fine.” Heaving an even bigger sigh, Spencer dutifully clasped both her hands. “But don’t break my fingers when Estelle inevitably leaps out of the bushes with a sheet over her head.”
“Shush. You’re spoiling the vibes.” Tiff closed her eyes. Her voice dropped to a low, spooky monotone. “Hear these words, hear my cry, spirits from the other side?—”
“That’s from Charmed! You’re just quoting Charmed!”
Tiff cracked open an eye. “And how exactly do you know that, Mister I’m-so-rational-I-only-read-science-textbooks?”
Spencer’s cheeks flushed. “Uh… my mom watches stuff like that sometimes.”
“If you say so.” Tiff settled back into an attitude of intent spiritual communion. “See how we bring you this offering of finest?—”
“Processed lunch meat,” Spencer muttered.
“Will you stop interrupting?” Tiff snapped. “Who’s summoning a ghost here, me or you?”
“Neither.” Spencer pulled his hands out of hers, scowling. “This is pointless. You’re not going to summon anything with a sandwich and quotes from old TV shows.”
Tiff folded her arms. “All right then. If you’re such an expert,youdo the summoning spell.”
“Fine,” Spencer snapped. He raised his voice. “Hey! Is there anybody out there!”
Out there… there… there…
The sarcastic words bounced through the trees, echoing. A high, eerie screech came in answer. Both kids started, drawing together.
“I really wish you hadn’t done that,” Tiff whispered.
Spencer swallowed, but straightened. “Estelle! Beth! Stop messing around. I know it’s you.”
The screech came from a different direction this time. A shadowy shape swooped soundlessly out of the trees, landing on a nearby branch. It swiveled its head, then screeched again.
Spencer let out his breath, dropping his hand from his glasses. “It’s an owl. Just an owl.”
“Itlookslike an owl,” Tiff corrected, not letting go of his arm. “It could be a spirit from beyond the veil.”
“Tiff, it’s a perfectly normal owl. Pair of owls,” Spencer corrected himself, as a second bird joined the first. Another one fluttered out of the darkness, perching nearby. “That is, uh…”
“Spencer?” Tiff whispered, as yet more screeches echoed from the woods. “I don’t think owls usually travel in big flocks.”
Spencer swallowed. “They probably just want your sandwich.”
Two dozen round orange eyes stared down at them. The owls were silent now. Each one was perfectly still.
“Um,” Tiff said. She tugged at Spencer’s arm. “I think we should let them have it.”
“Here, take it!” Spencer kicked the sandwich, scattering slices of baloney. “Go on, shoo!”
None of the owls moved.
By unspoken agreement, both kids slowly stepped back. Never taking their eyes off the owls, they edged away.
And a dry, creaking voice whispered, right behind them: “Run.”
