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“GRRRRR,”said Hecuba, which I took to meanI wouldn’t bet your candy corn on it.

“Guard the doors,” I told Annabeth. “The rest of us will take down as many as we can.”

I charged into battle, followed by Grover, two hellhounds, and an angry polecat.

Generally, attacking children with a sword is considered a no-no. Even if they are possessed by angry ghosts, you won’t get any points on the heroism leaderboards.

This made me worried about wading into the army of the dead. Trash zombies? No problem. I sliced and diced my way through them, reducing them to mounds of plastic bags, fruit rinds, and greasy cardboard. Spirits in empty costumes? Also no problem. Die, Disney Princesses! Die, generic Star Wars characters! Unfortunately, this only slowed the spirits down. They drifted up from their ruined shells and began re-forming as soon as I moved on to the next shambling group of baddies.

The possessed humans were trickier to deal with. Normally, my Celestial bronze blade would pass harmlessly through mortals. It was meant for monster killing. But I didn’t want to risk hurting the spirits’ hosts. I tried to work around them, leaving them to Hecuba and Nope, who jumped on the delivery bikers and taxi drivers, knocking them down and subduing them with kisses. That would teach the ghosts!

Grover helped with the sorting. He danced around the edge of the mob, playing his panpipes. Once he made it to the gate, he skipped backward toward the park, blasting out theGhostbusterstheme song, which was guaranteed to enrage anyone with mortal ears. The possessed humans began peeling off from the other ghouls and staggering after our Pan-powered piper.

Gale ran around the yard, biting ankles and chattering insults, but this didn’t seem to have much effect. Annabeth held the doors, using the torches to drive back any ghosts who got close. I imagined she was concentrating on one simple command:NOPE!Because that seemed to be the word of the week.

Some of the trash ghouls managed to climb the facade of the house. They rattled the windows and shook the iron filigree, but they weren’t able to cause any real damage before disintegrating under the power of Hecate’s torches and Annabeth’s formidablenope-ness.

So far, Annabeth seemed to be holding her own. I knew how much those torches were taking out of her, though. We didn’t have much time.

Unfortunately, the ghosts kept re-forming as fast as we cut them down. They could probably do this all night. We could not. These dead didn’t seem to have the same potency as Hecuba’s Trojans. When they touched me, I didn’t collapse into a dream vision. I saw snippets of things, but mostly it just hurt—like being snapped on the skin with a rubber band over and over and over. At first, it didn’t bother me much, but after a while, the pain started to build. Gale’s anti-ghoul salve had clearly worn off. I wished I could drink more nectar, even if it was candy-corn flavored, but I’d left the bandolier on the porch with Annabeth.

Meanwhile, the only possessed mortal seemingly unaffected by Grover’s theme music was Policeman Pete. He’d probably never seen the Ghostbuster sequels and so didn’t have any cultural context for the rage they inspired. He trotted back and forth on his black horse, directing his troops of Mandalorians, Cinderellas, and garbage mounds. His rapier/baton flickered at his side. His eyes glowed in his borrowed jack-o’-lantern face.

His trash- and costume-minions closed around me. Their smoky gray fingers slithered across my face and arms. Every time they made contact, I felt that sharp snap of pain. My whole body was as raw as an open blister. I was slowing down. Their voices echoed in my skull.Hate. Cold. Unworthy to live.

They were a ton of fun, these dead guys.

My knees were ready to buckle. If I went down under a mob of angry ghosts, I knew I wasn’t going to get up again.

Then a different voice slipped into my brain.Hey, kid, tag us in.

I didn’t know how, but it was Janet the eel.

I looked around. Of course there were no morays in the front yard. That was ridiculous.

We’re still in our tank, Seaweed Brain, said Janet.

You don’t get to call me that, I thought back.

Okay, then, Alley Boy. Tag us in!

What do you mean?

You want to talk, or you want help?

At the moment, help sounded better.Okay, sure,I thought.But how?

The eels were all aboutshow, don’t tell.

From the manse’s entrance, four streaks of yellow shot out around Annabeth like streamers from a confetti cannon.

Charge!thought Janet.

For Hecate!Fortunato replied.

For dead fish!Larry said.

For more dead fish!said Bigwig.