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“You know what you need to do,” a ghostly voice whispered. “Bring us back to fight the danger.”

“I’m planning to,” Simon told the disembodied voice. “A lot has been forgotten.”

“Remember us, and we will do our duty. We swore a vow that did not end with death.”

Simon woke with a start. Vic mumbled and turned over but didn’t rouse.

I need to see if I can summon the ghosts of the guardians to help. They might not all answer, but if some of them lend their assistance, it will strengthen the new wards.

The next morning, a leisurely round of sixty-nine followed by slow, lingering love-making was well worth the wait. Simon and Vic showered together, not quite ready for round three, but with promises to pick up where they left off once Vic got home from work.

After Vic headed for the station, Simon set his laptop on the kitchen table and pulled up an ensorcelled encrypted video meeting program right in time for his appointment. One by one, Father Anne, Gabriella, and Miss Eppie flickered into view.

“Good morning, everyone! Nice to see you all,” Simon greeted them, raising his coffee cup in a toast.

“Good morning to you, Sebastian,” Miss Eppie replied. “And to everyone.”

“Same,” Father Anne chimed in. “It’s been a hot minute.”

“I swear every day goes faster than the one before it.” Gabriella shook her head.

“Vic and I drove to the South Carolina lighthouses—at least to the ones most likely to have any protective mojo left.” Simon gave them a quick recap of their adventure, relating which sites he thought were their best bets for any spellcasting and renewed wardings and which had minimal or no power remaining.

“Well, first off, I envy you the drive,” Father Anne admitted. “It sounds like fun. I hope you got to enjoy yourselves at least a little.”

“There are some mighty fine places to eat on that stretch,” Miss Eppie pointed out. “The view is fantastic, but the crab cakes are even better.”

“Yes to all that,” Gabriella replied. “And now I’m hungry!”

They all laughed, easing the tension that went with the subject matter.

“I looked over the notes and photos you sent me from the lighthouse keeper’s journal.” Father Anne eased into the main topic. “And I found someone who was a direct descendent of the Charleston light’s keeper, who was able to corroborate. So I’m feeling pretty good about the incantation and the general outline of the protections.”

“Four lighthouses that were once operational are now either tourist attractions, converted to houses, or defunct,” Simon added. “Three of them would have access problems if we needed to make regular visits to maintain new wardings. There is a faint hint of energy left on the fourth, but I didn’t know if we needed to include it since the other lighthouses are stronger.”

“Teag Logan has been going over the information you’ve sent him from Vic and Ross,” Father Anne said. “He agrees that it’s likely the troll has been breaking the bargain with the motorcycle gang for quite a while, focusing on taking people who won’t be missed. That means the entity won’t be as weakened as he might have been, so we need to be braced for a more formidable foe. He won’t like being on a diet.”

“Damn,” Simon muttered under his breath. He hadn’t doubted Vic’s research, but this was one time when he had hoped Teag would find a flaw in the data.

“I want to reach out to the ghosts of the lighthouse keepers,” Simon added. “One of them contacted me and wanted to be involved. I think for some of them, the protective wardings were considered almost a holy obligation.”

“That makes sense,” Father Anne agreed. “Even though most of the keepers had families, it was a semi-monastic life, and it took a person with a highly protective nature to deal with the hardships.”

“I can’t imagine how it was in the days before phones and computers,” Miss Eppie said. “They might have had radios and telegraphs, but they didn’t get back to shore often. I imagine they read a whole lot of books.”

“It raises the question of whether someone in the know chose keepers who had at least some supernatural abilities,” Simon mused. “They also needed to be open-minded enough to be willing to work the protective wardings and not freak out over it being magic.”

“Oh, I imagine a bit of psychic know-how went into it,” Gabriella agreed. “Certainly didn’t end up that way by accident. It also meant that someone at the Coast Guard must have known, since they were in charge of the lighthouses.”

“Technology and cost-cutting led to automating the locations, but I wonder if a change in the people in charge also meant that the new bosses either didn’t know or didn’t believe in the supernatural protections, so they weren’t worried about what happened when there wasn’t anyone to carry on,” Simon replied.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Miss Eppie sighed.

“I turned a couple of our scholars loose on the St. Expeditus library, which has information from all over the world. They’re looking at lore about trolls. Apparently the most common way of dealing with them was warded lighthouses if the creatures were near the ocean, or beacons if those monsters were in mountainous areas,” Father Anne added. “Particularly in Europe, they often solved the continuity problem by making the locations into monasteries. Elsewhere, the sites were usually maintained by ascetics or meditative communes who saw it as part of their debt to society.”

“Which would make continuity less of a problem because an outside third party wasn’t going to suddenly decommission the location,” Simon noted.

“Exactly,” Father Anne replied.

“How about you, Miss Eppie, Gabriella?” Simon asked.

“I’m particularly interested in the Morris Island light,” Miss Eppie replied. “Back during the Civil War, runaway slaves found shelter on the island. I don’t doubt that a creature like a troll took advantage of people who were so vulnerable. We might find that their ghosts choose to be allies in some way when they know what’s at stake.”

“What do we need to work the ritual? Because the troll has figured out something is going on. Vic and I dodged a few strange things that could have been weirdly random—or the troll giving a warning even if our protections keep him from directly harming us.”

They listened as he told them about the incidents, wondering whether they would agree it was the troll or his imagination.

“I don’t think you can afford to see that as anything other than attacks,” Gabriella said. “The troll either didn’t have the power—right then—to do real harm, or he didn’t choose to, for some reason. But he’s reminding you that he knows you’re onto him and warning you to back off.”

“Even if we did step back—which I’ve got no intention of doing—it wouldn’t stop the troll from making me disappear when he powered back up to eliminate the threat,” Simon pointed out.

“True,” Miss Eppie agreed. “I don’t think you dare ease up. If we can bind the troll, we can save a lot of lives.”

“We have a solid version of the incantation, and I’ve put together a ritual warding ceremony that I think will be strong enough to last for at least a year at a time,” Father Anne replied. “It’s also simple enough and not too weird if anyone happens to notice what we’re doing.”

“No eye of newt and tongue of frog?” Gabriella joked.

“Fortunately not,” Father Anne said. “Now we just have to come up with the right people.”

“I’m going to talk to a couple of my Skeleton Crew,” Simon told them. “I think they have enough ability and experience to help with the wardings, even if they don’t become the keepers. We’re going to need guardians for the Georgetown and Sullivan’s Islands lights who have more power and occult know-how because they’re the strongest focal places.”

“St. Expeditus can staff the guardians and ensure the lighthouses are handled going forward,” Father Anne said. “That keeps continuity and a central point of contact to ensure the ceremony is done right.”

“Thank you.” Simon, Miss Eppie, and Gabriella all spoke at the same time.

“You’re very welcome. Having said that, there’s strength in numbers,” Father Anne replied. “Teag is talking to the supernatural community in Charleston to see if there are any of the witches and psychics who want to help. We’ve also got a necromancer, so any of the ghosts of the lighthouse keepers who want to continue to be part of it are welcome.”

“We have people from Voudon plus brujas and curanderos who will add their power,” Gabriella said, and Miss Eppie nodded.

“I can gather the ghosts who want to maintain their oaths.” Simon paused to take a drink of coffee. “I’m going to reach out to the folks at St. Cyprian University. What about the descendants of the keepers?”

Miss Eppie shrugged. “If they want to help, the more the merrier. Having vestigial energy from the original guardians should strengthen the working.”

“I agree,” Father Anne said. “Our people will be doing the magic, speaking the incantation, and working the spell. Having sympathetic psychic energy surrounding us will lend us power and help protect us when we’re vulnerable. The troll isn’t going to want to be reined in.”

“When we’re done, does it void the deal with the motorcycle club?” Simon knew that many of the sacrificed members went willingly, but he still hated the idea of a blood offering.

“It should,” Father Anne replied. “From everything I’ve found, yes. Because we’re going to bind the troll by the guardian magic to stop him from preying on humans—all humans.”

“What happens then?” Miss Eppie asked. “He starves?”

“Not likely,” Gabriella spoke up. “There are animals and fish. He can sustain himself. But he will be weakened, and feeding from sources like that won’t strengthen his magic.”

“Correct,” Father Anne confirmed. “That squares with what we’ve been able to find from the St. Expeditus archive and European lore. I’m pleased to hear it validated from other magical legacies.”

Miss Eppie’s root work drew from African sources, while Gabriella tapped traditions from Central and South America as well as Mexico.

“What about logistics? Other than the guardians, is there a benefit to having people physically present at the locations when we do the ritual? Because for several of the spots, it’s going to be a stretch just to get one person close enough,” Simon asked.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Father Anne replied. “I think if you set up a group in Myrtle Beach and we have another group here in Charleston, we should be able to focus and concentrate the energy. We’ll be closest to the two most powerful lighthouses—Georgetown and Sullivan’s Island, and not far from the remaining, lesser lights. I can ask Teag if he’s got any contacts down in the Hilton Head area who could hold space for us, but those lighthouses aren’t really part of what we’re doing.”

“How about the North Carolina lighthouses?” Miss Eppie asked. “Wasn’t there a seven-pointed star connecting them?”

“It works for those locations, and it’s a nice well of power, but the South Carolina lighthouses are in a line down the coast, so that’s not a thing we can recreate,” Father Anne replied.

“How soon can we do this? The troll’s attacks are happening more often.” Simon reminded them.

“The full moon is in two days,” Father Anne pointed out. “My folks at St. Expeditus are already on standby, so it’s really how quickly you can marshal your folks to lend support.”

“We know the troll just took another person, so that timing should work for us to be in his recharge cycle,” Simon told them. “I’d rather do it sooner than later because we don’t know how long it takes for him to power back up.”

The supernatural community had its own informal grapevine, and those on the call were well-connected, so spreading the request wouldn’t take long.

“I’m happy to have people gather at my shop since we can’t take a crowd close to the Georgetown Lighthouse,” Simon volunteered. “My Skeleton Crew are comfortable at the store, and ghosts don’t take up much space. But I feel like I need to be with the group going to Georgetown. And that means Vic will be with me.”

“Eppie and I will go with you,” Gabriella offered. “I agree, Simon, that you should be near one of the powerful lighthouses. I have a very strong reading on that.”

Miss Eppie nodded. “So do I. Go. We’ll make sure there are associates who can handle both the living and the dead at the shop.”

“I’ll let Cassidy and Teag and the Charleston contingent know,” Father Anne said. “May wardings and light protect us all.”

They talked logistics for a few more minutes, then ended the call. Simon felt a little better about the plan, although he knew it was still an enormous risk. His stomach growled, and he decided to set the planning aside and eat lunch.

Simon warmed a plate of leftovers and checked to make sure Vic hadn’t been trying to reach him. Then he headed into the shop, where Pete had already opened for business.

“Hey, boss! Everything okay?” Pete greeted as he rang out a customer.

Once Simon knew they were alone, he gave Pete as quick an update as he could.

“Wow. That’s some story. Whoever said that truth was stranger than fiction didn’t know the half of it,” Pete said.

“Since the working is just a couple of days away, would you and Mikki be willing to continue staying upstairs? You’ll be safer there. Gabriella will have some of her people helping with the gathering here, so you don’t have to be involved unless you want to be.”

“We can hang a closed for a private event sign on the door to keep out looky-loos,” Pete suggested. “Because it’s definitely an invitation-only party.”

“That’s perfect. Please clear my calendar that day too. I’m sorry to have to reschedule people, but I have a feeling all hell is going to break loose,” Simon replied.

“Already planning to. Any time afterward will be good, right? Either the troll will be managed, or we’ll be in too much deep shit to care.”

“I don’t know that I would have put it that way exactly, but you’ve got the gist of it. I don’t think the troll will be happy with us, and if he still has the mojo to strike back, it’s not going to be pretty,” Simon answered.

“Can you actually destroy the troll, or just cut down on how much damage he can do?” Pete asked, and Simon was proud that his assistant seemed nonplussed at the idea of a major magical gathering downstairs from his temporary apartment.

“I don’t think it’s possible to destroy him—from what we’ve figured out, he’s an ancient, elemental creature. But we should be able to rein him in, which is what the original guardian wardings did,” Simon replied.

“I guess the people who set up the protections with the lighthouse keepers never envisioned a time when the lights wouldn’t be manned and the guardians would die out. And without a central group overseeing the magic—like the St. Expeditus folks will be doing from now on—there was no one to organize a Plan B.”

“It’s funny, we hear so much about shipwrecks and pirates, and I’m sure there was plenty of drama on top of the legends,” Pete said, “But beyond isolation, no one ever thinks about the lighthouses and their keepers. On bad days, I think being off on an island by myself would be sorta nice.”

Simon laughed. “Oh, I totally understand, although I’d take Vic with me. But not dealing with the hustle and bustle of everything and getting paid for it? Sounds amazing.”

“Although I might change my mind in a hurricane,” Pete mused. “The keeper had to stay at his post to man the light, even in the worst weather. Which I’m sure was absolutely terrifying. Not the kind of thing you want to have a front-row seat to watch.”

“And those stairs would be hard on the knees. I wouldn’t want to go up and down them all the time. Then again, it was built-in cardio since many of the lights didn’t have much open space around them,” Simon pointed out.

“Have you figured out what you’re reading for the Halloween program at the library?” Pete asked, switching subjects. “Any new inspirations from real life?”

“I don’t think ‘the troll that poofed Myrtle Beach’ would be a bestseller,” Simon replied, laughing. “I think I might see if I can find books about lighthouses for both kids and adults. I’d love to see if one of the keepers from any of the Carolina lights wrote either true stories or fiction about it.”

“Bonus points if it’s either a haunted lighthouse or involves a ghostly pirate or shipwreck,” Pete said.

“Sounds reasonable to me.” Despite the troll and the threat of catastrophe, planning a library event was a sure way to brighten Simon’s day.

“Go do what you need to do,” Pete told him. “I’ve got things covered here.”

Simon felt the boardwalk calling to him. “I think I need to take a walk to clear my head. Want me to bring anything back for you?”

“If you’re getting coffee, I won’t turn down a large pumpkin spiced anything.”

“Almost like you read my mind. I haven’t seen Tracey much since we got back from our honeymoon, and I owe her an update.”

Tracey Cullen owned Le Mizzenmast—usually called Le Miz—which Simon believed sold the best coffee on the Grand Strand. She was one of the people he had known the longest since he moved to Myrtle Beach, and next to Vic and Pete, his closest friend.

“Tell her hi for me,” Pete said.

Simon stepped out onto the boardwalk. His thoughts seemed jumbled and noisy, and he could feel a headache coming on. He knew that they had a great team working together on the project, people who were both knowledgeable about the arcane and had strong supernatural gifts. But no one had first-hand experience with trolls, and the stakes were too high to risk making a mistake.

He found an empty bench facing the ocean and sat, staring at the waves and trying to calm his mind. The beachgoers were older couples and retirees since kids and college students were back at school. Out of the corner of his eye, he sensed the ghosts from all eras who had never left the shore or were drawn to walk along the edges of the waves until they were ready to move on.

“I believe you are doing the right thing.”

Simon tried not to visibly react when Sister Petroula’s ghost showed up seated next to him. He fought the urge to reply aloud.

“You heard all that?”

“I heard enough. It is a terrible thing that the guardians died out, and the keepers were not replaced. People who don’t understand the power of magic end up paying its price,” the ghost replied.

“Did you mean that trying to renew the protections was the right thing or that our approach is correct? Because no one’s done this before.”

“Both, so far as I know. After you left, I followed the trail of your research. You were thorough. I did not find any sources you missed. Everything that was been done can be done again. The original protections were put into place. They can be renewed or replaced. Your work appears to be correct,” Sister Petroula’s spirit answered.

“Thank you. I hope we’re both right. Because we can’t afford to be wrong.”