Slate tried to convince himself this was nothing, but Mrs. Schemanski hadn’t left because of ‘nothing.’ “Let me get Dad and Morten and we can go check this out. Cain, you still want to come along?”
“Sure,” Cain said. “You expecting trouble?”
“I’m hoping for nothing,” Slate said. “But hope’s not a plan.”
“You’ve been hanging around me too long.” Dash gave him a crooked grin.
“I’ll come too,” Thomas said. “I’ve dealt with unpleasant spirits before. Maybe I can help.”
Slate really hoped Mrs. Schemanski had been wrong, because if not, they just lost their quiet Halloween.
Chapter Ten
The cold hit Slate before he saw the spirits.
It was sharper and deeper than the temperature in town.
“Well, that’s not normal.” Dash’s breath misted when he spoke.
Slate pulled his jacket tighter. It didn’t help. “At least we know we’re in the right place.”
They stood at the edge of the woods. The sounds of the festival—laughter, music, and children playing—drifted from the Commons. Oriskany Falls enjoyed its Halloween celebration, oblivious to what waited in the shadows ahead.
Thomas materialized on Slate’s left. For the past few weeks, he’d seemed lighter and happier. Didn’t take a PhD to know why. Standing beside Slate, however, the old, serious Thomas had returned. Not a good sign.
“They’re still here,” Thomas whispered, pointing toward the tree line. “They’re watching us.”
“I see them.” Dash pointed toward an ancient oak. “And they see us.”
Two figures stood on either side of the tree. The taller one wore a vest and high-collared shirt. Slate had gotten good atrecognizing when a ghost died by their clothes. This one was from the 1920s. His companion had on work clothes from the same era, rougher fabric, sleeves rolled to the elbows.
“Looks like they’re expecting us,” Dash muttered.
Before Slate could respond, the shorter spirit took a few steps forward. “Evening.” His voice carried easily across the distance.
He didn’t sound like the spirit that scared Mrs. Schemanski. He’d have written off her reaction, except Thomas and Cain were on alert. “Good evening to you, too,” Slate said. “What brings you to Oriskany Falls?”
“Interesting,” the taller one said. “Two ghosts and four mediums. Quite the welcome party, wouldn’t you say, Wilbur?”
There was an edge to the voice that turned what tried to sound pleasant into smarmy—“I want to punch you in the face,”—arrogance.
“I thought they said the place was friendly,” Wilbur answered in the same tone.
“Interesting,” Dash said, imitating the taller ghost. “You welcomed them to town, and they respond with fake manners and stupid comments.”
Dash’s snarky comeback wouldn’t win them friends. Judging by the expressions on the spirits’ faces, he wouldn’t be besties with these two. “Dash might have been a bit blunt, but the sentiment is accurate. We came to ask why you’re here.”
“We’re here for the party.” Wilbur’s smile didn’t match his tone. “The invitation said everyone was welcome to the biggest spectral Halloween party ever.”
“Then why are you hiding in the woods?” Clifford said. “The invited guests are preparing the ballroom for the party.”
“We’re a bit late,” the taller said. “We asked someone for directions, and she ran off without answering our question.”
These two had an answer for everything. Slate believed they’d come for the party, but he was certain they didn’t plan onattending the ball. “She mentioned you’d arrived but left out the part about asking for directions.”
“Funny,” Wilbur said. “It was the first thing Theodore asked after introducing himself.”
The pair took a step closer, and the chill in the air deepened. When his great-grandmother was upset, the temperature dropped, but this was different. Slate felt the change in his lungs—like the air lacked something essential.
