Before the group moved to enter Yolanda’s house, Frankie held up a hand. “This is a big job, and it’s new to some of us.”

“Oh, right,” said Mac.

Frankie said, “Tell us about ghosts, Joey.”

Joey blinked. ‘New to some of us’ meant him—no wait, also Indira since she was the Spy and usually didn’t go into the field. Joey glanced over at Indira, who was almost hiding her fear, but was giving herself away by her frequent glances at the ghost-infested house. “Right. Ghosts. Okay,” he said, and cleared his throat. He knew this; he’d read about them dozens of times. “The ones here are semi-corporeal, which means that they can affect physical objects in small ways. It’s not like a poltergeist, which takes over a building, but separate entities. They’re attracted to large sources of magic, so since Yolanda does spells in her house, the ghosts are concentrating there.”

“We’ve got weapons that work against them,” filled in Mac, focusing on Indira. “You got yours?”

Joey hadn’t known that Indira carried a weapon, so he was startled when she nodded and held up her fists, bumping them against each other twice. Out of a pair of innocuous fingerless gloves sprang vicious neon green stilettos, one for each knuckle. Seeming to catch Joey’s astonished look, Indira said with a grin, “I’m basically Wolverine.” Frankie snorted.

“Okay, weapons check-in,” said Mac. “Joey, got your brush? Right. Indira, your gloves are magic-tipped, yeah?”

“Yup.”

“Checked your machete lately?” Mac asked Frankie. Frankie drew her machete from its sheath, and when a blue glow passed by the nearby window, the edge of the blade fluoresced, showing that it was also tipped in magic. “Alright. And Caden’s got his magic, you don’t need anything else, and I’ve got my ghostie arrow-tips.” Mac indicated the quiver of arrows at his hip, bow grasped in his other hand. “Boxes. Fill your pockets.”

As Joey and Caden followed instructions, Frankie snarked about Indira, “Kid Vicious here can’t fit a Box in her corset.”

“Pfft,” said Indira, and pulled at her black skirt, revealing that there were deep pockets in it. “I can fit like four Boxes in here. It pays to know how to sew.”

Once armed with their Boxes, Frankie, Indira, Caden, and Joey looked to Mac for the signal. Mac said, “Buddy system. Frankie and Indira go left, Caden and Joey go right, I’ll take the middle. And I go first,” he insisted.

“Who’s your buddy?” asked Joey.

Mac waved his bow with a broad smile. “Anyone needs help, the codeword is ‘help’.”

Caden remarked, “Easy to remember.”

“Form up,” said Mac, and approached the front stoop. Everyone fell in behind him. He counted down from three with his fingers, then opened the door, pulled out and nocked an arrow, and ran forward into the hall.

A ghost was immediately ahead of them, a white gaseous form with black eyes and a gaping mouth ringed with teeth. Mac wasted no time in loosing an arrow straight into the center mass of the ghost, which flew backwards with an echoing scream. The arrow pinned the ghost to the far wall. Mac yanked a Box from his pocket, flicked it open, and the ghost was gone, just like that. All business, Mac looked back at them over a shoulder and said, “You coming?”

Joey realized that they had all just been standing and watching Mac at work, and he fell in behind Frankie and Indira as they hurried forward into the house, Caden at his back. As Frankie and Indira took the first left through a cased opening into the living room (and Indira shrieked at whatever they found there), Joey flung open a door to the right. Beyond it was a bathroom, and two ghosts.

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Joey barely had time to react before the ghosts flew at him one after the other. There was a cold impact to his face and chest and he found himself flat on his back on the hardwood floor. He scrambled for his brush. Caden stepped over him, hands sketching a complex shape in the air. One of the ghosts, glowing blue with a misshapen head on a ragged body, seemed to stick in the air. It began struggling against Caden’s hold with an ugly groan before turning in midair. A transparent blue hand manifested from its side, oversized, and mashed itself into Caden’s face, bearing him to the ground.

Or rather, bearing him down onto Joey, since Caden had been standing over him. Joey managed to pull out his brush and now brushed it twice upwards against Caden’s hoodie where he was on top of Joey, sending a line of lightning lassoing around the blue ghost.

“Box, Box,” said Joey, breathless, and Caden dug in a pocket, brought a Box out, and flipped the switch. The ghost slurped into the Box, and Caden let his head fall back onto Joey’s torso with a relieved sigh. After a beat, he turned his head to look at an overwhelmed Joey.

“Hi,” said Caden, smiling his secret smile. Joey couldn’t help but smile back. Before Joey could respond, though, Caden was hauling himself to his feet and reached out a hand to help Joey up, too.

Through the cased opening into the living room Joey saw Indira flailing at a ghost with her spiked gloves, looking away from her target. Frankie was slicing at another ghost, a huge, pale one, with her machete, enormous sweeps of the blade. Seeing them watching, Frankie called over the moans and yowls of the spirits, “Go, we’re fine!”

After a quick glance at Caden to see if he was on the same page, Joey advanced down the hall to their next right, which turned out to be the kitchen. Four ghosts, one of which they’d already met in the hallway, were drifting in and out of the cabinets and knocking glasses and dinnerware off the counter, moaning and groaning all the while. The ghosts didn’t seem to notice their entry at first.

“Can you do anything to hold all of them at once?” Joey asked Caden, voice hushed.

Furrowing his brow in thought, Caden said after a few beats, “I think so. I know a shielding spell; I might be able to reverse it.”

“For all four of them,” Joey confirmed, and Caden nodded. “Okay—”

They’d waited too long: the ghosts had realized Joey and Caden were present, and came at them. Before they knew it, the pair of them were flat on the floor once more. Joey, who’d been thinking of himself as so brave lately, instinctively curled into a ball as freezing pressure bore down on him, pinning him to the kitchen tile. Next to him, Caden hissed a curse and flung up his hands. The ghosts went spiraling backwards into the kitchen and, seemingly forgetting about the intruders, went back to drifting about aimlessly. One of them knocked over a chair.

From his position on the floor, Joey heard the sound of muffled, Chicago-accented shouting from down the hall. Shoving himself to his feet Joey ran with thumping steps toward the sound, which was coming from behind a door at the end of the hall. “Mac!” he cried.

“Kid, that you?!” came the stifled yell from behind the door. “Damn ghost backed me into a closet! It’s got me pinned against the wall. Can you open the door?”

The cold doorknob rattled as Joey tried it, but neither pushing nor pulling budged the door. “It won’t open! We’ll get you out!”

“No, take care of the other ones first, then you can think about me. I’ve got this handled, don’t worry about it!”

Mac did not seem to have this handled, but Joey would have to take his word for it. He glanced at Caden, who was hovering near his shoulder. “Okay,” said Joey, voice pitched to carry through the door. His thoughts whirred frantically, then he knew what to do. “Okay,” he said to himself. For once raising his voice, Joey called out to the house at large, “All good?!”

“Nope!” came Indira’s voice from the living room.

At the same time, Frankie called, “Fine! We caught one!”

Peeking through the last two doors in the hallway, Joey saw a bedroom, surprisingly empty of ghosts, and a small dining room (full of ghosts) with a cased opening into the living room. Once more projecting his voice, Joey announced, “On my mark, everyone spread out and herd the ghosts into the living room! Caden will hold them and we’ll pick them off one by one!” He lowered his voice to a normal tone again, turning to Caden. “You can do that, right?”

Caden’s eyebrows were raised and he wore a tiny, impressed-looking smile. “Yeah.”

“Okay!” shouted Joey. “One. Two. Three. Mark!”