"Okay," Danny said to himself once he was back in the forest and sitting on a springy bed of moss. He ran a hand through his hair. "They know. Or at least they practically know, because there's no way they bought that." That was a problem. Not them finding out the truth, exactly, unless it meant they played that card and trapped him again. (He'd really have to figure out how to prevent that from happening again. His parents didn't believe in non-ghostly magic, but Vlad would have a field day if he realized that had actually worked.)

Thing was, though, if what he'd done had really been enough, if he'd somehow managed to do whatever Clockwork had wanted, Danny would be on his way home right now.

But he wasn't, which meant he hadn't.

And he couldn't exactly time travel without help, so it's not like he had an alternate route home.

That probably meant that they hadn't believed his warning, either. He'd have to figure out how to convince them, assuming he could talk to them without them trying to exorcise him or something. Unless exorcism would send him to the Ghost Zone? He'd be a lot more willing to let that happen if he knew that for sure; it beat waiting around for a natural portal or risk getting caught by Vlad if he tried to sneak into one of the ones he'd built over the years.

Unfortunately, given some of the things Danny had seen in the past, he wasn't going to bet that exorcism wouldn't equate to destruction.

Especially in a place that gave off such skin-crawling vibes—seriously, what was wrong with that place?

Well.

Real magic, apparently. Somewhere. Buried within all the scams.

Buried.

Like his thermos had been buried.

What else was buried, then?

Danny slumped back against a tree, absently flicked an ant off his knee, and stared upward at the branches. "I have to go back, don't I?"

No one answered, which was probably a good thing. It was too much to hope that Clockwork would come back so soon. Especially when he was set on 'not interfering' while interfering as much as possible through Danny.

Mabel and Dipper's magic, whatever sort it was, worked better on him when he was Phantom. His best defense was staying as Fenton. Even if he couldn't resist whatever they tried next forever, it would buy him time, and that might be all he needed.

It would be nice to think that they wouldn't be plotting something at this exact moment, but he knew better than to engage in such wishful thinking—at least out loud—when magic was involved.

"I'll just stay invisible until I can figure this out," he muttered.

The forest seemed to swallow his words.

This whole place was weird.

The sooner he could get out of here, the better.

"Are you sure about this?"

Dipper didn't bother to look up from his reading. "The journal hasn't been wrong before. I've just been wrong when interpreting it. If he's a ghost, those runes should keep him from harming us." He made a vague gesture at the walls of their room, which he and Mabel had carefully covered in chalk runes. Not as permanent as he'd like, but a lot easier to get rid of in a pinch if someone came poking around.

Or, more to the point, if something turned out to be the wrong rune or drawn incorrectly and having a meaning that was extremely counterproductive.

"Should." Mabel's voice was flat. "Can't you be more confident than that?"

"I'm starting to wonder if he's really a phantom, whatever he says," Dipper explained as he sat up. "He doesn't have their distinctive piercings, and he didn't try to hurt me, even though I summoned him. Which means he's either a category ten ghost or he's not really a ghost at all."

"But you summoned him," she said, "and he was trapped in the circle."

"That might just be what he wants us to think."

"So what, then? Oracle? Because of the prophecy?"

Dipper grimaced. "Only if we're lucky." He turned the journal around to show her what he was looking at.

"Some kind of demon? You think Danny's possessed by him?"

"He did say something about interdimensional travel," Dipper said defensively. "You don't need to say that like it's impossible. And that would merit the author's warning."

"So would a category ten ghost, and a ghost could possess someone as easily as a demon."

"I guess."

He'd tried not to grumble it, but Mabel slid down beside him and leaned against his bed as well. "It's okay not to know something, bro-bro."

"I know," he said, flipping through the journal again to see if he could find something else that might be relevant, "but if I mess this up, things could get bad fast."

"Maybe we should tell the others, then. At least Grunkle Stan."

"But then we'd have to tell him everything, and…." And he didn't want to tell them about the journal yet, not even Grunkle Stan. He just…didn't. It would feel too much like admitting defeat. What if he wasn't even allowed to keep the journal?

Mabel hummed in agreement, stayed silent for about three seconds, and then asked, "What if he's right?"

"Grunkle Stan? About what?"

"No, Phantom. The warning. What if he's right? What if he is an oracle, or a messenger for an oracle, or something like that?"

Dipper scowled. "Anyone with actual foresight would know that saying something the way he did is just going to make people more determined, not less."

"Maybe that's the whole point."

Dipper glanced at her. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe the point isn't to warn us off."

"Really? That's what it sounded like to me. He kept telling us to stop."

"But that's not the actual message he gave us. If you stay on this road, you'll find yourself on a path you can't turn away from. That just means if we keep going, we won't be able to stop later. It doesn't necessarily mean we have to stop now. Stopping now was just what he thought we should do."

She had a point. If he really was just a messenger, he wouldn't necessarily know the true meaning of the message. And if he was wrong? About them needing to stop? Then that had to mean— "It's forewarning. So we'll be better prepared for whatever's coming. Whatever has to come."

Assuming Mabel wasn't wrong about that, that changed things.

Phantom might not be an enemy. Danny might not be a conduit or something like that. And the journal's warning….

But maybe it hadn't been a warning. It had been in a different hand than the rest of the journal. A special thermos to contain the messenger until it was time for the message to be heard….

"I hope you're right," Dipper said.

"But in case I'm not, we still have to do all of this." She nodded at the chalked runes. "These will stop ghosts and demons?"

"It's every protection rune I've found in here," Dipper said, lifting the journal a few inches for emphasis. "I'm hoping none of them cancel each other out."

Mabel snorted. "I'm surprised you didn't do that weeks ago."

"I've been practicing drawing them," Dipper admitted. "In the dirt. With a stick. I didn't want to risk getting something wrong when it mattered. I'm not as good at freehanding as you are without practice."

"That's just because you spend more time reading than drawing and crafting." Mabel climbed to her feet. "You can keep looking through the journal. I'm going downstairs to wait for Danny."

"You think that's how he'll come back? After that story he fed you about his family before running out?"

Mabel smirked. "I'm pretty sure he's figured out we don't trust Phantom. Trying to convince us to trust Danny is his best bet."

"But we're not going to trust him." Not liking the look on Mabel's face, Dipper added a pointed, "Right?"

"I like to hear people out."

"Mabel!"

"What? He was kinda cute."

Dipper groaned. "For all we know, he's as real a person as Norman was."

She just shrugged. "Summer romances are all about risk-taking and mysteries. It's part of the thrill."

"But this is serious!"

"And I'll help you with all the serious stuff once you figure out what preparations we need to actually make. Just like I helped you draw all this. Doesn't mean I can't have fun in the meantime."

She wasn't going to listen to him, was she? "Just be careful, okay?"

"I'll be as careful as I ever am," she promised before slipping out of the room, and he bit back the urge to yell at her that that wasn't careful at all. Her definition of careful had nearly ended with her as queen of the gnomes.

But she had helped him with this, and she'd help him in the future, and she really did hate all the research, and that was his favourite part.

He just wished she'd give up the idea of having a wonderful summer romance with any boy who came near the Mystery Shack. It would make his life a lot easier. But that's what siblings did. They made things harder.

And, usually, they made things worth the effort.

With any luck, that would hold true this time.

Danny had absolutely no idea what the siblings—twins?—had up their sleeves, nor how fast they could pull something together, but judging by the magic circle, it would be faster than he'd like.

He knew blood blossoms weren't the only things that fell under traditional methods of ghost hunting. His parents relied on technology, using their inventions before anything else, and Vlad (and therefore Valerie) was little different. Even Technus and Skulker used it. Danny was getting pretty good at dodging anything Tucker couldn't just hack, but magic? He barely dealt with that outside of Desiree. He knew next to nothing.

That didn't make him feel any better about going back to the Mystery Shack.

It didn't keep him from going, either.

The place wasn't closed, but it was empty—or, at least, it was as empty as it had been earlier. He would've been better off if there had been a crowd. No crowd meant no hope of distraction. He could try being his own distraction, of course—knock a few things around with well-placed ectoblasts, since attempts to duplicate himself would probably end badly with how he felt right now—but the truth was, he didn't know if that would help.

If the adults bought into the whole magic thing as much as the kids, doing something like that would draw more attention to himself, not less. It was more likely to be recognized for what it was: something unnatural. And for all that this place was clearly set up like some sort of scam, it…. It wasn't all a scam. He'd felt that much before. He was sure it hadn't just been the beginnings of that magic circle.

He could still feel it now, hovering where he was underneath a window. Something that made his skin crawl. Something that had his arms covered in goosebumps. Something…something that felt achingly familiar but made him want to run away at the same time.

Or maybe that was just whatever the others had already done.

Or what he was supposed to be warning them away from.

It would've been nice if Clockwork could've given him some straight answers for once.

Danny put one hand on the sun-warmed side of the shack. Nothing happened, so he tried to phase through the wall. Tried being the operative word, as it didn't work. He scowled and pushed harder, to no avail. He even tried the windowpane in case glass reacted differently than wood. It didn't.

It figured.

These guys would find a way to make the entire place phase-proof without coating it in anti-ecto goo.

"Why can't just one thing be easy for me, huh?" Danny muttered. Clockwork didn't answer, of course; he was probably back in his tower watching through a portal, sure that everything was going the way he thought it should.

Fine. Whatever. He'd do what he could, even if that meant taking more risks than he'd like in a place like this. Anything to get back home.

Still, what he was doing wasn't the smartest. Even by Tucker's terms, it would be a fairly bad idea. Danny knew that even as he circled the shack, looking for an open window that didn't exist. Everything was closed. Most likely, if anything had been open, the others had closed it. Since phasing wasn't an option, he'd have to go through a door. Maybe the back door was still open? If Mabel hadn't locked it behind him….

Danny peeked through the screen on the back door. He couldn't see anyone, but there wasn't a full view. He turned the handle slowly, easing the (thankfully unlocked) door open and slipping inside, closing it just as silently. He half-expected to come face-to-face with someone, but the kitchen was empty.

Small mercies.

Danny hesitated, trying to figure out where he should start his search when he wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for. Did these people hide stuff in plain sight, or was he better off digging through closets and the basement and the attic? Except the room he'd been in with the other kids had pretty much been the attic, or at least some kind of attic room or loft—is that what a loft was?—and he wasn't sure if this place had a basement, but…

Danny slowly stepped onto the floor, holding his breath as he let it take his full weight. Flying in human form got exhausting after a while. He tried to go intangible and keep going, hoping to slip right through the floor, just in case he wasn't prevented from that now that he was inside, but his shoes stayed firmly on the wood beneath them.

Fine.

Old fashioned way it was, then.

It's not like he really expected anything else.

Besides, this place was the Mystery Shack. It had to have secrets. And, well, clearly these people were prepared for the supernatural. Announcing his presence wouldn't necessarily win him any favours, but maybe he could be his own distraction if he did it in a more old-fashioned way instead of trying to fool them like he had earlier.

Knocking on walls should still help him find hollow spots—hiding spots, for whatever information had to be hidden around here to merit Clockwork's interference—and they shouldn't expect anything less from a ghost. Judging from the junk for sale in the gift shop, the head guy would probably use the excuse of calling this place haunted to up his prices anyway. Danny might be doing them a favour.

It wasn't very subtle, and it meant completely abandoning any hope of coming out of this unnoticed, but it was also very unlikely that he wasn't expected. He knew that. It was too much to hope for that they weren't expecting him, especially considering he couldn't phase through any of the walls. That wasn't a coincidence.

He just hoped he was right about them not being able to do as much to him as long as he didn't go ghost, even though he was using his ghost powers.

Wendy didn't pay attention to the floor creaking at first.

She didn't pay attention to the odd knocking sound, either.

At least, not until she realized it was moving and coming far too regularly, too rhythmically, to be something Soos was tinkering with while they didn't have any customers.

But that's what made the floorboards creaking wrong, too. No customers. She knew the squeaky floorboards in this place. They all did. They all also avoided them now, more from habit formed by annoyance than anything else. But the last customer to come in had been that kid, and according to Mabel, he was long gone.

Wendy popped the bubble she'd been blowing but didn't look up from her magazine. Instead, she listened while pretending to read, scanning the page to keep up appearances but not taking in any of the words.

The floorboards shouldn't be creaking, and there shouldn't be any weird knocking. Tap tap tap. Tap. Tap tap. Tap tap tap. It definitely wasn't a woodpecker, even if that might be a seemingly logical conclusion from some city slicker who knew nothing about Gravity Falls. Someone—something—was inside the Mystery Shack. And if it was supposed to be tapping out Morse code, well, it wasn't being rapped out by someone who had a concept of long and short; the pauses were too inconsistent, even if the reoccurrence was not.

Wendy flicked her eyes to Mabel, who'd come downstairs to borrow one of Wendy's old magazines and was sitting up on a stool in the corner. She was still humming to herself. Either she hadn't noticed or she was doing exactly what Wendy was and pretending.

Wendy sighed. Sometimes, she was really not paid enough. Still, this was a good job on the whole. Plenty of time to read and just enough of the inexplicable to keep things interesting. About par for the Mystery Shack, really.

"Hey, Mabel, what's your brother up to?"

"Reading," she answered without looking up. "Boring stuff." She folded open the magazine and turned it around, showing off a bright advertisement for perfumes. "Do you mind if I cut this up for my scrapbook? I like the flowers."

"Go wild," Wendy said. Mabel chirped her thanks, but Wendy was still listening to the tapping and the occasional floorboard creak. Whatever it was was coming closer.

She checked her watch; almost closing, but Stan was probably still in town, looking after…something. Wendy didn't ask anymore. Stan had had that look in his eye recently, been in a sort of mood where he answered questions with a joke, and she hadn't bothered trying to get anything out of him. He'd fill her in if she needed to know. She knew Soos had gone into the hardware store earlier, too—something about wiring disappearing again—but she was pretty sure she'd seen him in the yard not that long ago. He had to be back, anyway. Stan wouldn't have left without having him fill in as Mr. Mystery should any tourists swing by.

Not that she needed either of them to deal with this for her, but it's not like this was an infestation of raccoons. She wouldn't mind a bit of backup if she found herself dealing with something from the side of Gravity Falls that most people ignored. Or tried to ignore, anyway. Sometimes, it really wanted to be known.

This…might be one of those times. Which might mean she wouldn't have a choice about giving Dipper and Mabel a crash course in whatever they wound up facing. The truth of it, not whatever stories she knew Dipper tried chasing; however much he seemed to be trying to keep that from her, it's not like she never heard him whispering to Soos or Mabel. Trouble was, Soos and Mabel being who they were, she wasn't sure how much of those whispers were truth….

She could remember being as ignorant of all of this as they had been at the start of the summer, as they might still be aside from an encounter or two, but that was before she started working at the Mystery Shack and realized her dad's ulterior motive for all those survival lessons.

She was pretty sure her dad didn't believe in any of the stories people told. As far as she could tell, most people didn't. Urban legends were just urban legends, and a good campfire story was just a good campfire story. If anyone had a particularly good one, well, then it might be deemed something on par with what Old Man McGucket might tell. It was weird, though. People would tell those stories, and then they'd never mention them again, even when offered the perfect circumstances for call-backs. It was like they'd just put it out of their mind completely.

Still, no longer mentioning something and not admitting to even entertaining the idea that there was a modicum of truth in any of those stories didn't mean people didn't prepare, even if it was mostly unconsciously.

And even though Stan laughed it off, even though she usually laughed it off, it hadn't taken the haunting at the convenience store to open her eyes to the fact that there was more going on in Gravity Falls than anyone admitted.

Whatever. Mabel and Dipper were going to find out sooner or later that Gravity Falls wasn't the sleepy little town it appeared to be—assuming their run-in with the ghosts at the old convenience store hadn't already done that. Honestly, even she'd thought ghosts were just stories before that one; she'd figured all the real stuff was the sort that was much less popular. Who would've thought it was all real?

The door separating the gift shop from the main Mystery Shack showroom creaked open.

Mabel, having torn the page from the magazine, was back to humming to herself and didn't look up from her reading.

Wendy reached below the counter, trying to figure out what in their eclectic emergency supply would actually be useful in this situation, and settled on the baking soda box that was supposed to be placed in various nooks and crannies to keep the place from smelling too musty when it rained.

There was no tapping, but she heard a floorboard creak. The one by the vending machine, if she had to guess.

"Screw it," she muttered. She tore the cardboard on the top of the baking soda box and flung the contents in the general direction of the vending machine. For the briefest moment, she saw a humanoid outline in the dust, and then it was gone.

"Wendy?"

Mabel's voice wasn't scared, exactly. Nor did it sound like she thought Wendy was crazy. But it was still too cautious for Wendy's liking.

"What are you doing?"

"Summer dusting," Wendy deadpanned. "It's like spring cleaning. This helps you spot all the places you need to dust." Mabel's face told her she clearly didn't buy that, but Wendy didn't care. She just smirked and added, "Go grab your brother and run outside and help Soos gather some wood. We should roast marshmallows tonight."

Mabel stared at her for a beat longer before she squealed, "I love roasting marshmallows! It's fun to catch them on fire and watch Dipper's face. He hates that. He wants his to be this perfect golden brown, but it's not done till it's crispy." Grinning, she slipped off the stool and out of the room.

Wendy turned her gaze back in the direction of the vending machine. "What the hell are you?" she hissed. "And what are you doing here?"

Something shifted, and she could see the faint impression of footprints in the thin dusting of baking soda.

And then she blinked and saw the kid from earlier standing there.

"This isn't what it looks like," he said. "I swear."

Right. Like she was going to buy that.

"I mean it," he insisted, probably reading her expression. "I… There's something wrong with this place, okay? I need to figure out what it is. I…. It's the only way I'm going to get home."

There was a thump from upstairs. She had to deal with this fast. "What are you?" she repeated.

"Stuck," the kid said. "And not a threat to you. Honest. Unless you're, like, secretly planning to eat the kids who live here or something."

Well, it's not like she expected straight answers from something that no doubt loved to trick humans.

"Get out."

"But—"

"Out!" she jabbed her hand towards the front door. "Now. I'll know if you try to come back."

"Not necessarily," the kid muttered, not quite quietly enough that she couldn't hear him, whatever he might think.

He vanished again.

No more footprints appeared in the white dusting the floor, but she heard that tapping again.

And then she heard the sound change.

It wasn't the rap of knuckles against solid wood. There was something hollow, something hidden, something—

Footsteps coming down the stairs.

Mabel and Dipper.

She lunged for a rag beneath the counter and wiped it across the countertop, pretending to be cleaning. When they waved as they ran out the door, she offered a weak smile.

No more knocking.

No more footprints.

Man, sometimes she really wasn't paid enough for this.

Okay, that had not gone as well as Danny had hoped.

Fine, he'd been stupid. Revealing himself had been stupid. He shouldn't have expected help. Clearly, these people were not here to help him. That would have been too easy.

But at least whatever they'd done to the shack itself to make it phase-proof didn't extend to its contents. He hadn't been too hopeful when he'd tried to stick his arm into the vending machine, but once it had worked, well, of course he'd gone right in and tried to keep going. The fact that there really was a hidden passageway behind it was an unexpected bonus. He'd been half expecting a hidden door that would have been just as effective at barring his way as every other wall in this place.

Danny dropped his invisibility and intangibility once on the other side, but he kept floating as he held up a hand and let a ghost ray illuminate the passage. There was a faint light coming from below him, but it wasn't enough to light his way by itself. Rickety stairs led downwards, the angle steeper than any stairs he'd come across before. This place really did have secrets. Maybe the Mystery Shack wasn't a total scam after all.

The stairs didn't seem terribly dusty. Despite creaking under his weight, they held when he stood on them, so he crept downwards.

When he reached the floor, it was just the landing for an elevator. A lone light bulb shone overhead. He pressed the elevator button and waited for it to come up, shifting from foot to foot. Just how deep were the secrets of this place buried that they needed an elevator?

Three floors down, apparently, which might explain why it was so dark when the elevator doors opened.

Danny could hear the low hum of machinery even before he stepped out of the elevator, which made it immediately evident why Clockwork had put him up to this.

This place didn't only have a creepy hidden room, it had a creepy basement lab. Because, naturally, basements were where creepy secret labs were kept.

He kept walking, calling up a ghost ray again to light up what the various computer screens and blinking lights couldn't.

Despite having more construction tools and computer screens than beakers or Erlenmeyer flasks, this lab came complete with what looked suspiciously like a nearly finished ghost portal. This one was at least ten feet above the floor, set in some kind of reverse triangle mounting, but it was definitely a portal. Which meant these guys had magic and technology on their side. Perfect. This couldn't get any worse. This couldn't—

Danny frowned and walked forward, letting the ghost ray burn a little brighter to give him some more light. That book by the control panel looked like what the kid had had. Danny still didn't recognize the handwriting—not another novel by Freakshow, thankfully—but those were definitely blueprints to a portal. Incomplete blueprints, but still blueprints. And the portal in front of him was a heck of a lot more complete than the drawings on the page, which was not a good sign in his book.

"Maybe this is what's going to go wrong," Danny whispered. "Maybe Clockwork wants me to prevent another accident." Though, considering no one had stopped what had happened with him or Vlad, that struck him as unlikely. But an unstable portal could lead to a giant explosion, and—

The room flooded with light from overhead, and Danny jumped even as the buzzing of electricity filled his ears.

"I'm not going to let you destroy everything I've spent the last thirty years building," a voice behind him growled, and he turned just in time to see the net flying towards him.