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we had all stuffed ourselves I turned my attention back to Emma.
    “So, the suspense is killing me,” I said. “What did the snake say to you today?”
    “It said that the missing boy, Sam, was underground, but still alive,” she said. “That’s good news, right?”
    Calvin and Simon exchanged a look, but didn’t say anything. What, do they have telepathy now or something? My mind conjured up images of being buried alive, but I shrugged it off. Emma’s spirit guide had said Sam was alive and underground, not buried alive, so there was no reason to jump to macabre assumptions. Way too much Edgar Allan Poe as a kid.
    “That’s definitely good news,” I said. “Any other clues?”
    “No, he just said he was underground,” she answered.
    “We’ll get the word out to pay special attention to basements and caves,” Cal said.
    “Someone should check the sewers as well,” Simon added. “What? Don’t shoot the messenger.”
    “No, you’re right,” Cal said. “We’ll put together search teams and draw straws to see who gets the sewers.”
    I winced at the thought of trudging through the town’s sewer tunnels. I thought I had it bad with smells.

Chapter 10
     
     
    I was exhausted from my ordeal at the cemetery and Emma continued to suffer with a migraine headache so Cal agreed to drive us home early. Simon volunteered to follow us in Emma’s car and leave it at her house. Cal and Simon planned to work late coordinating the search parties.
    When we finally reached my house Cal waited until I was safely inside before driving away. I sat on the bottom stair, building up the strength to climb up to my room, and unlaced my boots. Pieces of dried flowers and herbs trailed out as I pulled off each boot. Grabbing my boots in one hand and my coat in the other I stomped up the stairs.
    I was agonizingly tired, but the memory of cold spirit fingers on my face and the smell of hundreds of ghostly smells entering my head made me stop in the bathroom and run a steaming hot tub of water. I poured in a heaping scoop of sandalwood bubble bath and stared at the growing mass of suds. I had an antique claw foot tub in my bathroom, which I always thought was extremely cool, but right now I was regretting the extra high sides that I had to climb over. Oh well, no time like the present. The tub wasn’t getting any shorter nor the water any warmer. I peeled off my clothes and sank into the bubble filled water. My arms were the only thing above water, besides the top of my head, and I was startled to see the large black crosses and sigils I had drawn on each arm in stark relief against my pale white skin. I started scrubbing them with a loofah, but they wouldn’t budge. Son of a dung beetle. Leave it to me to use a permanent marker.
    When the water was only lukewarm and my hands shriveled like raisins I finally dragged myself out of the bathroom to flop on my bed. I picked up one of the library books from the stack and decided to research spirit wards some more. There had to be something in these books that could help me survive Samhain.
    I was reading excerpts from the Ulster Cycle, Irish mythology filled with heroic tales, and an analysis of the historical interaction of the Sidhe, or fairies, with spirits of the dead. In these old stories the Sidhe had the power to rule over the spirits and demons that were set loose on the night of Samhain. Now if I could just find a fairy to protect me on Samhain…yeah, like that’s going to happen. Not a likely scenario, but I added it to my wish list.
    I looked for more information on the Sidhe, but didn’t like what I found. Fairies weren’t cute glittery girls with wings. They were terrifying monsters who lurked in the shadows searching for mortals to torment. The more I read about the Sidhe the more I didn’t ever want to cross paths with one. I’d rather take my chances with the spirits of the dead.
    I read tale after tale of the bloody history of the Sidhe. My hope was that I