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She led us to the side of the church. Under a stained-glass window, at ground level, a dark stone marker was affixed to the wall:IN THIS VAULT LIES PETRUS STUYVESANT.
There were more words after that, but I was too nervous to read them. Probably they were the fine print, warning what would happen if Pete’s spirit was disturbed.Results may vary. Do not let ghosts operate heavy machinery. Seek divine help if your dead last longer than twelve hours.
Gale barked, leaping from Grover’s shoulder to mine.
“She says we’d better start,” Grover translated. “The goo is only effective for a few hours at most.”
I wondered if the polecat could feel my shoulders shaking. “Okay. Annabeth, you good?”
She hefted the unlit torches. It occurred to me that I should’ve brought a box of matches.
“Ready,” she said. “Just help me by concentrating on what we need.”
Right, I thought. I want the spirits to rebuild a haunted house. If this went well, we could start our own show on the Home DIY Channel:Renovated to Death.
Already, I wasn’t doing well staying focused. I was about to suggest we take a minute, maybe practice some meditative breathing, but it was too late.
Annabeth stretched out her arms and the torches blazed to life on their own.
Blue-and-white flames cast a sickly glow across the old stone wall, glinting on the stained glass. The depictions of saints leaped and danced in a way that wasn’t at all creepy.
Concentrate, I told myself.
I closed my eyes. That didn’t help. My mind just raced with more wild ideas. I focused on the stone marker. I imagined Hecate’s mansion being rebuilt. With pizza toppings.Stop it, brain!I hoped the rest of the gang was having better luck.
The ground trembled. Annabeth almost lost her balance, but she regained her bearings quickly. Gale jumped off my shoulder and hid behind me. The polecat was no fool. If the ghosts turned angry, much better to let them devour the big, juicy demigods.
The fire warmed the air. Blue light danced across my arms, making me look like a corpse—and I really didn’t need that analogy.
Hecuba growled as the specter appeared. It rose against the wall like a shadow—Annabeth’sshadow. Then the dark silhouette deepened, peeling itself from the bricks and taking on a smoky form like a cloud of coal dust. I sensed its aggravation, confusion, anger. It was asking a question.Why?
Next to me, Nope let loose a torrent of pee. Not going to lie—I had the same instinct. Somehow, I managed to keep myself together.
I didn’t know if this ghost was Peter Stuyvesant himself or some other poor schmuck, but I tried to communicate an image of the manse in Gramercy Park. I pictured the damage being repaired.
Beads of perspiration dotted Annabeth’s face.
“You’re doing great,” I murmured.
I didn’t know if she heard me. She had the expression of somebody arm-wrestling a Hyperborean giant. (And yes, I’ve seen that.)
The smoke thickened. The ghost took on a more definite shape. He had a broad-brimmed hat; long, stringy hair; a cape; a doublet; and puffy breeches—all made from swirling dust particles. A rapier hung at his side.
I wondered if we’d raised one of the Three Musketeers. I was starting to fret about where the other two might be. Then I noticed the ghost was leaning on a cane. His right leg ended in a wooden peg.
“It’s him,” Grover whispered in my ear. “They called him Peg-Leg Pete.”
“Isn’t that a cartoon character?” I whispered back.
“Different Peg-Leg Pete.”
“How do you know this?”
“I did the assigned reading.”
I glanced at him. He wasn’t kidding. Apparently, Annabeth had given him homework on Pete. Either I’d forgotten about it, or Annabeth hadn’t bothered giving it to me because she knew it was hopeless.
“Boys.” Annabeth gritted her teeth. “Help.”
