From the Journal of Dylan Foster, March 1981.


    The news reports are overflowing with the overwhelming alarm and terrifying uncertainty on the shooting of President Reagan. I still hear the crack of the shot over the crowd''s endless turmoil and outcries. They are rightfully scared, as am I. I have no significant political qualms with the administration. The last few months have been relatively uneventful. I should have realized that as a bad omen, though, especially when there were unexplained corpses in Central Park and there were ghosts. I saw more ghosts in two days than most of my family have seen in a lifetime. I have not had a good night''s sleep in almost a week now. I am at a loss regarding how to proceed. No one before me has encountered this sort of chaos. There are so many ghosts in cemeteries, and some have been seen on famous Civil War battlefields and along areas of the coastline in Maine. I write this next part as a suspicion because I don’t have the evidence. Yet, necromancy at this level means only one thing. He''s back and on the move. Pyron Fowler is back.


    Necromancers were my childhood boogeyman. There is an actual boogeyman, but he doesn’t hold a candle to a wild necromancer.  Dylan, it turned out, was a relative who thwarted the last of black-robed Klansmen when they unleashed zombies and the undead on unsuspecting crowds and towns.


    He concluded in an entry just before his death that later necromancers would hide in plain sight, and while Pyron was the worst, he figured that others would hide their identities like true to form super villains. Mom and Dad had emphasized similar warnings and cautions. A necromancer, a witch, a wizard, a ghoul, a warlock, a gremlin, and several other terrifying monsters. They were out there and could be the unsuspecting barista or a random dog walker as easily as they could be a bus driver, a serial killer on the news, or the neighborhood bully. We had worked so hard to remain unseen, and several ancestors apart from Dylan, Alice, or even the colonel who by fair had been the most knowledgeable had talked about seeing necromancy in action, but those entries were customarily followed by a clipped copy of their obituary or a headline that talked about an unsuspecting death.


    I refused to accept that this was going to be the end, and Pop gave a run down about how to deal with the undead after he introduced some upgrades, we contemplated the best kinds of enforcements we could conceal in Halloween costumes, Mom and Grandma set to work pulling out a variety of trunks, opening closets and dresser drawers along with disappearing into the attic and coming out with a dozen well-maintained garment bags.


    “We can’t have armor or something cumbersome,” Dad said as he tried out a coat and Mom put a fedora on his head. “In place of armor, wear a wig. If you want to be comfortable, it''s ok to wear something with layers that we could easily dispose of.”


    I searched through some options and selected a flowery skirt with a long-sleeved purple shirt with poofy sleeves. I wasn’t going to wear a catsuit, and any kind of superhero was out of the question. I tried a few wigs and messed with a few corsets but substituted them for a slightly stiff vest with some scarves and a shawl, and they were all soft to the touch and I figured some flowing bulk would help me hide any hands.


    Once I was dressed, it looked good, but I was worried. Chad, the vampire’s scream slashed at my thoughts. A few Fosters had dealt with vampires before, and only one, to my knowledge, had ever described what it felt like to be bitten, but it was based on a victim who they had been trying to save.


    I don’t have time to be afraid.


    I returned to the kitchen, and Mom did my hair while Grandma showed me some jewelry; where I selected some hoop earrings and some ringlets that fit comfortably on my wrists, and they were stylish to accent the costume.


    “We’re meeting in the garage,” Mom said, “Dad and I will be down in a minute.”


    I gave Mom a thumbs up and headed to the laundry room and I took the two steps into the garage. Pop had pulled out some new enforcement and had them arranged on his workbench. I knew how to use each one, so I selected the best ones to function with my wardrobe, and then I took a look at his arranged tools, pictures, and several old maps. All of this was super cool, and it was just the tip of his collection.


    What do we have here?


    I slid Pop’s creaking three-legged stool, flaked with chipped paint, dents, and oil stains, and it wobbled if you didn’t sit on it just right. I slid it to the side, prepared for an accustomed squeak. I reached up to a small manual propped against a lamp, Pop’s handwritten Maneuvers Manual, and his Tic Tac Tool guide. I opened a book-marked section where Pop had drawn what looked like a Catchers Mitt, and beneath it was Pops instruction material with a variety of names. The Eviction Notice had been scribbled at the top of the page, but then it had been loosely scribbled out, but I could read it without to much trouble. The next attempt which had been vetoed, but I was intrigued at the possibilities when I deciphered the phrase, Deadman switch. The one that followed was Phantom Ticket and the Pop appeared to have settled on, You’re out Sparky! With the word Ghosty written in pink ink and enshrined in a heart. I figured it had been Grandma have fun with Pop as he had worked out the wording.


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    You''re out, Sparky.


    Do you have terrible curses lingering over your head like gloomy ring clouds? Do you find yourself linked to some bizarre creature? Or maybe a horrible case of the Lucks?


    You’re out, Sparky! (Ghosty), Grandma had written again. She sure was a lucky catch for him. There was a method to their madness. And they suited each other really well.


    This is an infiltration device. The user won''t have the capability to check for squeaky grade traps, enchantments, or enforcements that have been employed to delay entry, cause distraction, or disrupt the superb flow of your highly trained special operations team because previous traps have made you all run around like children on a playground with no supervision.


    Sparky is a proximity device. It can detect active magic within a few inches to a few feet. If multiple spells are active, Sparky centers on the most robust readings, illusions, and distortions. It is highly advisable that you stick to the perimeter of your area. This is not an assessment tool. Sparky can disrupt spells, but the loose magic must be redirected, so keep your eye on the ball.


    Warning! Sparky is a spectrally fortified device not recommended for large military compounds. Large haunted houses have three stories or more. And do not go near Pee Wee or Little League baseball diamonds.


    I set the pages down as everyone else filed into the garage. Tony was the first to stroll in. He wore a tuxedo and had his hair slicked back to either say billionaire superhero or superspy. He messed with the cufflinks and then looked a look as he fiddled with his bowtie. Dad and Mom came in next. Dad wore a Royal blue suit from the 1930s complimented by a brown fedora and a matching trench coat. Mom came up beside him. She wore a similar colored blouse and skirt. The four-button jacket had fur along the collar. In her hands was a pair of fashionable white gloves, undoubtedly embroidered and stitched decades ago. Mom set a matching clutch purse on the workbench, and then she gently padded at her hair done up in a bun. She blushed as Dad shot her a smile, and I saw that he had a thin mustache that stretched the length of his mouth. It was odd to see my father with facial hair. I almost didn’t recognize him.


    “Jenna, I found it.” Grandma called and she appeared a moment later carrying a veiled hat that would cover the top portion of her face. Together my parents were the damsel in the distress to his hard boiled private detective.


    I wonder if that veil will help her avoid being discovered if Suzy is there.


    When we were kids, Tony and I both could pin down moments when Mom had often threated to summon a relative and make us sit through life story segments if we didn’t accomplish tasks, chores, homework or simulations to being in fighting shape. These last few days had really shattered the casual mood she had expressed or presented. We had come face to face with multiple witches. We had dealt with ghosts, and I wondered what the three robed ones mean, but I doubted Mom wanted to revisit that topic. We never knew her parents and she hardly talked about them. Tony and I knew was strictly off-limits unless she broached it first. Grandma secured the hat, and Mom adjusted the veil to suit her wants. Once done, I heard someone cough and Pop strolled out wearing a dress shirt with no tie, but he did have goggles, a belt full of instruments, and elbow-length black rubber gloves.


    “Pop, you’re coming too?” I asked.


    Pop looked at me and nodded. “Your Dad and I concluded that it would be best to have all hands on deck.” He turned to Grandma. She had a great poker face usually, but she was not pleased with this turn of events.


    “Van ready?” Pop asked.


    Grandma nodded, “And I put a few extra things in there, just in case.”


    Pop adjusted his lab coat and then took Grandma into an embrace. Necromancers were no laughing matter, and standing there, I couldn''t help but imagine what life would have been like back in their day. I entertained a few possible scenarios but then dismissed them because the look on my grandparents’ faces told me I needed to take this seriously and this was a blast from the unwanted past.


    Dad took his hat off and held it in front of him. “When we get there, we''ll need to spread out but stay in each other''s line of sight. The town has been through a lot and people need this to go well. As was mentioned earlier. You will probably be recognized so do your best to be causal and unassuming. If you see something suspicious, document it, but wait until you’ve coordinated with someone before you strike.”


    “We’ll still have the short-range comm system active,” Pop added, “I’m reasonable sure Amy won’t be able to hack this one, but just to be safe be as brief as possible. Lets talk in nicknames and no sensitive information if you can avoid it.”


    “There will also be police presence,” Grandma said, “So people will be watching.”


    Dad adjusted his coat collar, and for a brief second, I glimpsed the bulge of a shoulder holster. Hopefully, any wandering eyes or police would think it’s a prop.


    Dad cleared his throat. “We’ll only use it if things go south. Let''s coordinate a plan to meet every so often, and we’ll create a signal to use if we see any suspicious activity.”


    Tony put his hands in his pockets. “So, above all, we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves, and we need to question and consider the situation before we rush into potentially dangerous situations.”


    “That way,” Mom added with a grim glaze across her face, and she took a moment to pause to get her point across. “We’ll live to see tomorrow. Try not to linger in one place for too long. Avoid contact with as many people as possible. Because they could be enemies.”


    Then, on that note, we climbed into the van and headed into town.