Two glowing jack-o-lanterns flanked the Giles Hollow Post Office’s broad front porch.  The pumpkin’s candles flickered yellow and orange beneath a string of bright skeleton lights that danced gently in the soft breeze.  The rest of the space was blanketed in a patchwork of fake spiderwebs.  Given the building’s age, these did not look entirely out of place.  However, the drooping gray threads had the added impact of obscuring the front door and its neighboring round dark windows, creating the impression of a leering face.  Altogether, the scene became magnitudes spookier than perhaps originally intended.  Unfortunately, the haunting result was seemingly lost on the older man sitting and smiling at the center of it all.  

  Lester waited across the street on the stone bench in front of the library.  He watched costumed kids in groups of three or four tentatively make their way forward.  After chorused cries of “trick or treat!” they happily made selections from a large metal washtub filled with candy.  The older ones helped themselves and hurried off to the next house.  Younger kids took longer.  Their little hands picked up each piece of candy, determining which was bigger, had more chocolate, or might be sour.  Ben Titus, dressed in his ever-present uniform, rocked in his chair, laughing as they thanked him and ran back to their parents.

  The flow of trick-o-treaters continued unbroken for nearly forty-five minutes before a gap in the procession appeared.  Finally, as the third werewolf of the night and a kid dressed as a bad report card exited the porch, Lester stood and approached.

  “There you are,” Ben said, his face lighting up.  “I was wondering if you were going to come by.  Thought maybe you’d gotten too old for trick-or-treating.  What, no costume this year?”

  “Hi, Ben,” said Lester, stepping up onto the porch.  “I was wearing one, but I kind of had to ditch it.”

  “Is that so?  I suppose I can’t say much myself since I’m going as a postmaster.  Not that scary, and I guess it doesn’t count as a costume, especially if it’s the one you hide behind every other day of the year.”

  “Ben,” Lester said, looking around to make certain they were alone.  “Can we talk?”

  “Sure we can.  What’s on your mind?”

  “Inside?  It’s serious.”

  “Oh — of course.  Give me two seconds.”

  Ben got up and placed what Lester thought was the world’s most optimistic sign in front of the washtub full of sweets.  Please Take Just One.  Then he grabbed a couple of candy bars and handed the larger of the two to Lester.  

  “Chocolate’s some of the best serious conversation food there is,” said Ben.  

  Lester peeled back the wrapper and took a bite as Ben brushed aside spiderwebs and used his key to open the door.  

  The inside of the post office was dark.  

  Following the dim glow of light from the back room, they passed the wall of mailboxes and stepped through the half-door next to the customer window.  Ben took a seat behind his desk, and Lester plopped into the chair beside it.  

  Sitting in silence, Lester tried to figure out where to begin while Ben busied himself by pretending to sort through a stack of papers.

  “You’re going to think I’m crazy,” Lester said, deciding on the direct approach.  “And I wouldn’t blame you.  But sinister things are happening in Giles Hollow.”

  Ben stopped his shuffling and shifted his chair to face Lester.  “What kind of sinister things?”

  “You know the rumors about The Council?  How people are always saying it’s a front for organized crime?  Well, they’re wrong.  It’s actually something much worse.”  Lester studied Ben’s face.  “What would you do if I told you there was a secret war that had been going on for centuries?  One that no one but those fighting it knew about?”

   “I think,” said Ben, thoughtfully, “I’d probably start by brewing us a couple of mugs of tea.  Because that sounds like the sort of thing that might take a fair amount of explaining.”

  Alone in the quiet office, Ben and Lester sat and drank their tea while Lester did his best to explain.  He started with the accident on his paper route.  Then described Bernard’s Drawing-In ceremony and his brother’s strange behavior afterward.  When he got to the part about their fathers and the man behind The Mortician’s Eye, Ben put his mug down and leaned in closer.  By the time Lester finished with what had happened earlier that night to Truck Boy, their drinks had gone cold, and it was Ben’s turn to sit in silence.

  Lester watched him out of the corner of his eye, wondering what he was thinking.  Would he write it off as a Halloween prank, accusing him of making it all up?  Or worse, would he tell Lester’s parents?  Ben and his father already didn’t get along.  What would happen if Ben informed him that his son was going around telling people that he was a demon who shot fire from his hands?  Had Lester just made a colossal mistake?

  Ben got up from his chair and retrieved his walking stick from its place in the corner.  He held it out to Lester, who took it.

  “Do you remember what I told you about that?” Ben asked.

  Lester turned the stick to see the recently completed carving of the beetle holding a ball between its front legs.

  “It’s from a myth,” he said.  “Something about the god Khepri rolling the sun through the sky?”

  “Correct,” said Ben.  “The ancient Egyptians saw the scarab beetle as a symbol of creation and rebirth.  Khepri was never quite as popular a deity as the likes of Ra, but his followers were extremely loyal.  Generation after generation, they dedicated their lives to assisting him in his work.  They believed if they ever failed to help Khepri protect the light — all of creation would be plunged into everlasting darkness.”

  Lester looked from the beetle to Ben, and his heart sank.  “No.  You can’t be.”

  “It’s true, Lester,” said Ben.  “Like my father before me and his before him, I am a disciple of the Secret Order of The Light.”

  It was as if time had come to an abrupt stop inside the small post office.  The laughter of kids passing outside disappeared, replaced by the rushing sound of blood in Lester’s ears.  His body suddenly felt weightless, and he had the surreal feeling it might float away, leaving him behind.  Lester gasped for air and released the walking stick, letting it clatter to the floor.  This couldn’t be happening.  Was everything in his life a mirage?  The Council, his parents, Jennie Poole, and now Ben?  If nothing was what it seemed, what was left to be real?

  “Why, Ben?” Lester asked, his eyes welling up.

  “I’m sorry, Lester,” Ben said.  “I truly am.  It can’t be easy to find out this way, especially after all you’ve been through.  I had planned on telling you in time, but your father’s actions have left me with no choice.”

  “So you believe I’m evil,” said Lester.

  “What?” said Ben, shocked.  “No.  Of course not, Lester.  Why would you think that?”

  “I’m the child of two members of The Dark.  My father said no matter what I did, The Light would always see me as the enemy.”

  Ben picked up his walking stick and slowly ran his finger over the beetle. 

  “What your father and his friends are doing is wrong,” he said, meeting Lester’s tearful gaze.  “I think you know that.  But it doesn’t mean you have to be wrong too.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by the jingle of the bell hanging above the front door of the post office.  Both Lester and Ben stiffened at the sound of footsteps as someone came inside.

  “Hello?” a voice called out.

  Lester leaned forward, straining to hear.  Was it his father?  Had he come to find him?

  “Please,” the voice continued.  “Is anyone there?”  

  Ben gripped his walking stick, inched forward, and peered around the corner.  He signaled for Lester to stay where he was, then stepped out.  “My apologies, but the post office is closed,” he said as he disappeared through the half-door.

  Lester slid from his chair and onto the floor.  Staying low, he crawled beneath the customer window to listen.

  “I’m sorry,” whoever it was said.  “I didn’t know where else to go.”

  It wasn’t Lester’s father, and though the person was obviously frightened, there was a familiar lilt to their voice.   

  “It’s alright,” said Ben.  “Just slow down and tell me what’s wrong.”

  Lester recognized Ben’s calm and reassuring tone.  He used the same one whenever Lester sought him out for advice over some worry or anxiety.  Had it all been an act?

  “These men.  They’re chasing me.”

  “What men?” asked Ben.  “Where?”

  “I didn’t get a good look, but one was tall with red hair, and there was a boy about my age.  They said I needed to come with them or something terrible would happen.  I didn’t know what to do, so I ran.”

  Lester’s blood went cold.  He popped up from his hiding spot to see Ben standing beside Thomas, who jumped at his sudden appearance.  

  “What’s he doing here?” Thomas asked, pointing a trembling finger at Lester.

   “It’s okay,” said Ben.  “He’s a friend of mine.”

  “No.  No, he’s not,” Thomas said, taking a stumbling step backward.  “He’s one of them!”

  Before Lester could protest, Thomas ripped open the door and sprinted back outside.

  “Son!  Wait!” Ben called after him.  “Don’t go!”

  Lester stared at Ben, sure he too recognized the description of his father and brother.  “What do we do?” he asked.

  “You stay here,” Ben said, tossing a fat ring of keys to Lester.  “Lock the door behind me, and don’t open it for anyone.”

  Then Ben was gone too. 

  Lester stood alone in the dark post office, unsure what to do.  He was in no hurry to have another run-in with his father, but could he leave someone else to suffer Truck Boy’s fate, even if that someone was Thomas?

  “Oh, hell,” Lester said aloud to no one.  The bell above the door jingled once again as he shut it behind him.

  It was getting late, and Main Street was empty.  The nearby houses had all turned out their lights, signaling to any straggling trick-or-treaters that the candy was gone and it was time to go home.

  In the distance, Lester spotted Ben passing beneath a streetlamp and, though he couldn’t see him, knew Thomas must be somewhere farther ahead.  The postmaster was moving fast, displaying surprising speed for an old guy.

  Lester followed, thankful he was no longer wearing his heavy rock costume, but even so, he was finding it hard to catch up.  As he ran, his labored breath puffed out in front of him, forming small clouds in the cold air.  Reaching the streetlamp, he heard someone call his name and skidded to a stop.

  Two figures came walking out of the dark.  One was dressed as a pair of scissors, the other a gigantic ball of paper.

  “Where the heck have you been?” Amanda asked, the tips of her cardboard shears bouncing above her head like rabbit ears.  “We’ve been searching for you all night.  Do you know how stupid we look?”

  Lester’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, unable to answer immediately.

  “People keep thinking we’re going as office supplies,” said Mae, motioning to her paper costume.

  “Yeah.  These outfits don’t make any sense without rock,” added Amanda.  She looked Lester up and down.  “Wait.  Where’s your costume, and why are you so out of breath?”

  Finally rested enough to respond, Lester quickly told them all that had happened since he’d left his house that evening.

  “And now, if I don’t do something,” he said, “Thomas will be next.”

  “You mean if we don’t do something,” corrected Amanda.

  “Listen,” said Lester.  “My father knows I’m on to him.  After tonight there’s no going back for me, whether I try to help Thomas or not.  If you two get any further involved, it will mean crossing a line you can’t return from.  I can’t ask that of either of you.”

  Amanda made a show of looking at her watch.  “Are you done?”

  “What?” asked Lester.

  “With your speech, are you done?  Because we’re wasting time.”  Lester opened his mouth to argue, but she quickly waved him off.  “I’m only going to say this once.  We started this together.  If you remember, I had to convince you to investigate The Council.  Nobody’s turning back now.  So what’s the plan?”

  Lester looked at Mae.

  “Amanda’s right,” Mae said, taking off her costume.  “Rock’s no good without Paper and Scissors.  It was a pretty good speech, though.”

  Lester smiled, remembering what Mathis had said on his trip to Salem.  How if he’d only had friends like Lester’s, things might have been different. 

  “Okay,” Lester said, braver now that he knew he wouldn’t be facing whatever was coming next alone.  “We need to find Thomas before our parents do.  There are only so many places he could be headed.  I’ll go down Thorndike Street, and you two loop around the school and through the playground.  We should be able to spot him somewhere in between with any luck.”

  “And when we do?” asked Mae.

  “Hopefully, Amanda can calm him down and make him understand we don’t want to hurt him.”

  “Why me?” asked Amanda.

  “Seriously?” Mae and Lester said at the same time.

  Amanda didn’t respond as her cheeks went pink.

  “If I spot him first,” Lester continued, “I’ll hang back until you get there.  Got it?”

  “Got it,” said Amanda, regaining her composure.  “Let’s go, Velma.”

  The two girls began making their way toward the school.

  “Why am I Velma?” Lester heard Mae ask as they faded into the night.  “I think I’m more of a Daphne.”

  “What?” said Amanda.  “Don’t even start.  If anyone’s Daphne, it’s me.”

  Checking that he still had his ring, Lester set off at a run in the opposite direction.  He was in too much of a hurry to notice the large fluffy snowflakes drifting down through the star-filled sky.