The Thanksgiving edition of the Giles Hollow Mosquito displayed a full-page color photograph of several prominent town leaders dressed as pilgrims.  Together they stood beneath a cloth banner with the words Giving Thanks spelled out in yellow squash and orange pumpkins.  A short, rotund gentleman gripped a large live white turkey in the middle of the group.  Both bird and man stared into the camera with the same look of unease. 

  Lester dropped the bundle of papers into his bag and shook his head, grateful neither of his parents had chosen to appear in the image.  With all he’d learned in Salem, from the madness of the Witch Trials, to what his ancestors had endured, this hokey version of fellowship among the first settlers had lost its sheen.

  The garage door complained loudly as it dragged itself open, and Lester wheeled his bike into the pale gray morning.  Each day would lose a few minutes of sunlight from now until the winter solstice.  In another couple of weeks, he’d be making his deliveries in complete darkness.

  Switching on his bike light, Lester jumped as it illuminated a pair of golden eyes.

  “Mac!” he said in a loud whisper.  “You nearly scared me to death.  How are you, boy?”

  The dog responded with a low growl, then shook, sending a spray of water across the yard.

  “Have you been chasing geese out of The Ditch’s pond again?” Lester asked, eyeing the icicles beginning to form in Mac’s fur.

  The morning air was frigid, and Lester shivered as he looked up and down Main Street, then back at the dark windows of his house, before reaching out a hand and slowing his breathing.  The tingling started around the silver ring and spread quickly up his arm.  

  Mac whimpered, and his ears went back.

  “This isn’t going to hurt, boy,” Lester said, bringing his fingers together and pulling downward as if plucking a ripe apple from a tree.

  Hundreds of water droplets began rolling off the dog, gathering in a wobbling puddle at his feet.  Concentrating, Lester moved his hand to the side, and the puddle followed.  When it reached the storm drain at the edge of the street, he made a fist, and the water disappeared through the grate.

  Mac gave a shake of his now dry fur, barked once, and ran off.

  “You’re welcome!” Lester called after him, grinning as he watched the dog go.

  The rest of the morning’s paper route was devoid of spectators, canine or otherwise.  Lester rode along alone in the stillness, making his deliveries as the town slept.  Finally, coasting past the new For Sale sign sticking out of the ground in front of The Darling Place, he arrived at his last stop.

  As he propped his bike against the side of the Post Office, Lester fought back a twinge of sadness.  It had been nearly a month, but part of him still expected to see Ben’s smiling face waiting to greet him from behind his counter.  The temporary replacement they’d sent to fill in for the absent postmaster was a thin man with a bad combover and no sense of humor.  He wasn’t from Giles Hollow, didn’t know who anyone was, and did everything by the book.  Despite being the office’s only employee, he’d installed a time clock, which he used to regulate his meticulously calculated breaks.   

  The bell above the door rang, and Lester tossed a rolled-up paper through the customer window and into the back office.  He was turning to go when a voice called out from behind the wall of mailboxes.

  “Lester North, is that you?”

  Mae’s father suddenly appeared in a brand new blue and gray uniform.  Grabbing a picnic basket from the counter, he quickly stepped through the half door.

  “Mr. Chase?” Lester said.  “You’re the new Postmaster?”

  “Surprise!” Mr. Chase said in his thick southern drawl.  “They made it official yesterday.”

  “Wow.  That’s great!” 

  Lester knew Mae still carried a lot of guilt for tricking her parents into moving and hoped her father’s newfound employment would help.

  “Oh.  Now, where are my manners?” Mr. Chase said, opening the lid of the basket.  “Have one.  Go on.  Don’t be shy.  They’re sugar-free.  Mrs. Chase’ll be madder than a wet hen if I don’t give all these out today.”

  Lester reached inside and removed a blueberry muffin.  It was still warm.

  “Now, since I’ve got you here,” Mae’s father said, reaching into a plastic mail bin.  “You might as well take these home to your folks.”

  Lester accepted the rubber-banded stack of envelopes and put them in his bag.  “Thanks, Mr. Chase.”

  “Don’t mention it.  Well, I’d better get back at it.  I wouldn’t want the boss to catch me slacking.  Oh, that’s right.  I am the boss!”  He laughed at his own joke and tossed Lester another muffin.  “See you tomorrow.  Come hungry.  I think Mrs. Chase is making banana bread.”

  Back home and freshly showered, Lester jumped over the final three steps of the stairs, landing at the bottom with a thud.  He was the last one down to breakfast and stood for a moment in the doorway of the kitchen.

  Mr. North was rummaging around in the refrigerator, pushing aside stacks of plastic containers full of Thanksgiving leftovers and grumbling about it being impossible to find anything.  With a bowl of cranberry sauce in one hand and a bottle of orange juice in the other, he deftly used his knee to keep a sliding plate of sliced turkey from crashing to the floor.

  Bernard sat at the table in his usual spot, a dower look on his face.  He’d given up on his sweater-vest and tie combo, returning to a regular rotation of sports jerseys.  Today being the first day of school after the holiday break, he had on his best Boston Red Sox shirt.  A matching hat hung on the back of his chair.

  A broad smile spread across Lester’s face as he watched Mathis, seated opposite Bernard, studying his new school schedule.

  “What’s PSD?” his brother mumbled through a mouth full of food.

  “Physical Skills Development,” said Mrs. North.  She was expertly flipping pancakes from a cast-iron skillet atop the stove, each one going a little higher than the last. 

  “What?” asked Mathis. 

  “Gym,” Mr. North said, trying not to drop anything, as he closed the refrigerator door with his foot.

  “Then why don’t they just say that?” Mathis said.

  “Come on in, sweetie,” Mrs. North called to Lester.  Her eyes had never left her cooking, but as usual, she somehow knew he was there.

  Lester plopped into the last empty chair and looked around the table.  He still wasn’t quite used to the five of them all being together.  With Mathis home, the house felt fuller and more vibrant.  Lester hadn’t realized what an essential part his brother played in their family and how much his absence had affected them all.  It was like finding the final piece of a puzzle you didn’t know you’d been missing.

  As the oldest, Mathis had a knack for defusing situations.  When Bernard had broken into an extended victory dance after beating Lester in a video game, Mathis had silently followed behind him, copying every move with hilarious exaggeration.  Lester had been laughing too hard to be upset, and the usual fight that would have followed never materialized.

  It also didn’t escape Lester’s notice that his brother was solely responsible for their mother’s dramatic uptick in mood.  So much so that he felt guilty for not realizing how significantly the fracture had weighed on her.  Now that Mathis was home, Mrs. North practically floated around their house, and her cursing was at an all-time high.

  For the first time in years, the whole family had been together at Thanksgiving.  The Pooles had joined them for dinner, and when Lester bent to retrieve a dropped fork, he’d seen his parents holding hands under the table.

  “So, what’s on the agenda for this weekend?” Mr. North asked, filling everyone’s glasses.  “I see the Chases have returned.  Should I assume the three of you will be hanging out at the library, as usual, Lester?”

  “That’s the plan,” Lester replied, taking a large bite of his pancakes.

  Mae had been away visiting her parent’s families in the south for the holiday.  While she was gone, she’d sent Lester a string of emails detailing her search for a batboy rumored to be living in a local swamp.

  “Mathis?” Mr. North asked.

  “They’re holding auditions for the school play on Saturday,” said Mathis.  “I thought I might give it a go.”

  Mr. North frowned.  Then, noticing his wife’s pointed stare, he quickly changed his expression.  “Sounds interesting.  And you, Bernard?”

  “Huh?”  Bernard looked up for the first time since Lester had sat down.

  “You’ve got a hockey game coming up, right?” said Mr. North.

  “Yeah.  Looking forward to it,” Bernard said, with about as much enthusiasm as he seemed to have for the breakfast he’d been pushing around his plate.

  For the first few weeks following Halloween, Lester had thought Bernard’s sour mood might have been an aftereffect of whatever Thomas had done to him.  His brother claimed to have no memory of the event, and the doctor had given him a clean bill of health.  But when their father started taking Bernard to The Council in the evenings, the source of his continuing bad temper became clear.  Each time they returned, a sweaty, pink-cheeked Bernard would stomp his way wordlessly up to his room in an even worse funk than when they’d left.  Of course, no one came right out and said it, but it looked like his brother’s abilities still hadn’t emerged.

  There was a knock on the front door, and a moment later, Amanda came bounding into the kitchen. 

  “Good morning!” she practically sang.

  As she greeted everyone, Lester noticed her voice go slightly higher when she reached Mathis, who she’d taken to calling Matty.

  “What are you smiling about?” Amanda asked, catching Lester in a smirk.

  “Nothing,” said Lester.  “I’m just finishing my breakfast.”

  Amanda looked at his plate, reached down, and popped his last piece of bacon into her mouth.

  “Looks like you’re done,” she said with a grin of her own.” 

  Bidding goodbye to the rest of the Norths, Lester and Amanda trundled off to school.  They took their time, walking slowly as they lamented the end of the break.  Both of their backpacks were heavy, and they stopped periodically to shift them from one shoulder to the other.  Though they hadn’t thought it possible, their middle school coursework had increased considerably.  They’d even been assigned homework over the holiday, and it was showing no signs of slowing down.

  Crossing the edge of the soccer field, they heard a familiar voice call out and stopped to wait.

  “Here she comes,” said Amanda, rolling her eyes.

  Though she made a show of acting irritated, it wasn’t very convincing.  While she’d never admit it, Lester knew Amanda had missed Mae while she was gone.

  “You guys are not going to believe what I discovered!”

  Dressed in a puffy pink parka, thick mittens, and a hat knitted to look like an alien was sucking out her brain, Mae beamed at them as she caught up.  As usual, her arms were loaded with books.

  “If it’s about that batboy, I already got your emails,” Lester said.  He held up a shiny new smartphone and brought it to life with a gloved finger.

  “Will you stop pulling that thing out every ten seconds,” Amanda grumbled.

  “Jealous?” asked Lester.

  “You know I am.  My parents keep telling me to put it on my Christmas list, and I keep telling them that Christmas is a month away!”

  Lester smiled as he slipped the phone back into his pocket.  He was going to enjoy the next four weeks.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be warm enough?” Amanda asked, turning to Mae and eyeing her outfit.

  “Oh.  I hope so,” Mae replied, again proving her imperviousness to sarcasm.  “Do you think I should have worn my new boots?  It’s freezing out here.  I know I’m from the south, but this is as bad as it gets, right?”

  Lester and Amanda shared a look.  The day was already a balmy thirty-nine degrees, and it had barely been cold enough last night for the ground to freeze.

  “This is definitely as cold as it gets,” said Lester.

  “You’re through the worst of it,” Amanda assured her.

  “Thank goodness,” Mae said, pulling her hat further down over her ears.  “Anyway, wait until you see this.  I took the opportunity to do some research in the university library while I was away.”

  Mae flipped open the book at the top of her stack and thumbed to a spot marked with a paperclip.  A black and white photograph of a large stone tablet covered in hieroglyphs filled the page.

  “You found a picture of a rock?” asked Amanda, squinting at the image.

  “It’s not just any rock,” said Mae.  “This is the Kylver stone, discovered in Gotland, Sweden, in 1903.  It dates back to 400ce.”

  “So —,” said Amanda.  “You found a picture of an old rock?”

  “Very old,” said Lester, staring at the photograph.  “CE means before the common era.”

  “That’s right,” said Mae.  “It’s the earliest known futhark, an ancient runic alphabet.  This carving shows 24 symbols from one of the oldest writing systems ever discovered.  And look what it contains.”  

  Mae slid her finger down a column of symbols, stopping just above one that looked like an hourglass without a top.

  “That’s it!” Lester said excitedly.  “You found it!”

  “Yes,” said Mae, “and you need to see the translation.”

  Lester scanned the key at the bottom of the page until he found the right entry.

  “The Perthro,” he read, “is the rune of fate.  It is the rune of the unknown and the art of magic.  Most importantly, it is the rune of —”

  Lester stopped and looked at Mae.

 “The rune of fate, magic, and most importantly, what?” Amanda asked, leaning over his shoulder to have a look.

  “Prophecy,” finished Lester.  “It means prophecy.”

  “I don’t get it,” Amanda said, taking the book and reading the passage herself.  “Why would a symbol that means prophecy be on my grandfather’s mailbox and grave?  And what’s it got to do with rounding up the Lingering?  Lester saw Bernard use it in the cemetery with Truck Boy, and it was hidden on the paper we found behind The Mortician’s Eye.”

  “And stitched onto a cloth at The Marine Society,” Lester added.

  Mae’s face suddenly went a ghostly white.  “Unbelievable,” she whispered.

  “No.  It’s true.  I saw it in a case marked for Edward Teach,” said Lester.

  “Not that,” said Mae.  “Look.”

  Mae quickly took out a notepad and pen.  Turning to a blank page, she wrote the words Mortician’s Eye.  Then, crossing out each letter as she went, she rearranged them until they spelled something altogether different.

  “Mortician’s Eye is an anagram for Marine Society!” gasped Lester.

  “That can’t be a coincidence,” Amanda said, taking the pad and double-checking Mae’s work.

  “Of course!” Mae said.  “Why didn’t I see it before?”

  “See what?” asked Lester.

  “Think about it.  The Dark carry around this symbol and show it to every Lingering before releasing them.  I would bet they also show it to every thirteen-year-old before they’re Drawn In.”

  Lester thought back to the card Doorman had given Bernard at his ceremony.  He’d been too far away to see what was on it at the time, but he remembered how his brother had been transfixed.

  “Also,” Mae continued, “Ben Titus was a member of The Light.  Why did he live in Giles Hollow for all those years and never confront The Dark?  Even after what he thought they did to his wife?  Why would he wait so long?  Then, there’s Amanda’s aunt.  Jennie Poole disappears to travel around the world, only to return just before a three-hundred-year-old Lingering tries to destroy the town.  That’s quite a coincidence.”

  “What are you getting at?” asked Amanda.

  “It’s almost like they’re all searching for something,” said Mae.  Then looking fixedly at Lester, she added, “Or someone.”

  “You can’t be serious?” Amanda scoffed.  “You think this rune, this Perthro thing, has something to do with Lester?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I think,” said Mae.  “If The Light believes Lester is part of some prophecy, it means they’ll keep coming.”

  Lester felt a familiar knot of tension twist in his stomach.  These last few weeks had been like a dream.  Mathis had come home, and his family finally felt complete.  The Council had returned to just a place his father worked.  And, with Thomas’s departure, that work seemed to have slowed considerably.  His father was home each evening for dinner and remained there until morning.  During Thanksgiving, he’d even taken four days off.  Still, it wasn’t the possibility of losing all of that that worried Lester the most.  If Mae was right, and she usually was about this sort of thing, it meant he would have to make a decision he’d been hoping to put off for at least another year.  Would he join the family business, as so many expected of him, or would he go his own way?   

  “So what?” Amanda said.  “Let them come.”

  “Excuse me?” Mae asked, surprised.  “I know it sounds weird coming from me but are you nuts?”

  “Yeah.  Thanks for the support,” said Lester.  “Maybe you think I should wait by the side of the road with a sign so I’m easier to find.”

  “No, you idiot,” Amanda said, giving Lester a quick jab in the arm.  “Obviously, we keep a low profile.  We tell no one about this.  If they’ve been looking for so long, let them keep searching.  Maybe, eventually, they’ll give up.  But if not, don’t forget, we just thwarted a member of The Light, survived a Wrasp attack, and stopped a plot to destroy Giles Hollow, and we didn’t even know what we were doing.”

  Lester and Mae looked at each other.

  “We do make a great team,” said Mae.

  “True,” Lester said.  “But no more randomly throwing things at me to test what will happen.”

  “We’ll see,” Mae replied, a gleam in her eye. 

  The three friends resumed their walk across the soccer field.  Ahead of them, large yellow busses unloaded waves of kids outside the school as a sea of colorful backpacks trudged slowly up the front steps towards the entrance.

  “Don’t think I’m going to be treating you any differently, Lester,” said Amanda.  “Simply because a bunch of fanatics think you might somehow be special.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Lester.  “The only prophecy I care about is the one that contains my grade in Mrs. Q’s class.  Frankly, I’m a little disappointed she didn’t turn out to be a member of The Light.  I think I’d rather have to close another portal than take her mid-term exam.”

  “One can always hope,” Amanda laughed.

  “That reminds me,” Lester said, opening his bag.  “With everything that happened, I forgot all about this.”

  He removed a book and handed it to Mae.

  “The Greater Key of Solomon?” Mae said, turning it over in her hands.

  “I found it under my bed this morning,” said Lester.  “The night I woke up in Mrs. Q’s classroom, it was sitting on her desk.  I thought for sure it meant she was a member of The Light until she told me it was yours and asked me to return it.”

  “Mrs. Q asked you to give this to me?” said Mae.

  “Yeah,” said Lester, confused.  “She said you’d left it there.”

  “You’re sure?”  

  “Yes.”

  “Then we have a big problem,” Mae said.

  “Why?” asked Amanda.

  Mae slid a beat-up book from her stack and held it next to the one Lester had just given her.  The two volumes were identical.

  “Because,” she said, “this is my copy.”