Page 45 of House of Hearts
“Let me set the mood first,” Ash insists with an unceremonious dump of his duffel bag onto the floor. In it, he’s got a folded-up paper Ouija board, a guitar-pick planchette, and some candles he stole from Sutherland Hall’s dining tables.
“Set the mood?” Tripp snorts. “What is this, prom night? You trying to get my clothes off after this?”
“Trust me, bruv. No one wants to see it,” Ash taunts with a strike of a match.
What follows is a mad scramble to sit down and “get the atmosphere right.” Lazy droplets of black wax roll down the sides of the candles around us. The flame eats away at the tapered edges, burning them down in strange stalagmites.
“How do we do something like this?” I ask, looking around the group for someone to chime in on Spirit Protocol 101.
“I’ve watched enoughGhost Adventuresto get the gist of it,” Birdie says before throwing a shy glance Sadie’s way. “One finger on the plan-chette per person, right?”
She nods, and my stomach flutters strangely as Calvin’s hand brushes against mine.
The firelight casts curious shadows on our faces, lighting us up in primal ways. Even Tripp looks nervous as he adds his hand to themakeshift planchette. He grimaces harder to mask the worry etched in his brow.
“Emoree Marie Hale, are you with us tonight?” Sadie asks the room with a small sniff and a clench of her fist against her knee. I strain for any sign of her, be it a tap against the windowsill or a jerk of the planchette. I’ll take anything, anything at all, but nothing comes. “Maybe you ought to try, Violet. You were her best friend.”
I nod even though all the moisture has wicked from my mouth and my stomach tightens with a nervous bout of energy.I can do this.“Emoree,” I say, and my voice might be small, but I desperately hope it carries to wherever she is, “can you hear us?”
This time it’s instant. All at once, I feel my finger moving upward.Yes.
“Oh my God, it’s working,” Ash whispers with a shocked laugh. “Quick, ask her where Percy is.”
“Shhh, I’ll get there,” I snap back, and my voice isn’t the only thing that’s trembling. My finger feels clammy against the planchette, my whole hand cold and slick with sweat. “Em, I’ve missed you so much. I should’ve been there for you, and…and I wasn’t, and I’m so sorry for that.”
“Emoree, side note, you still owe me five dollars,” Tripp chimes in, and as if I’m not the only one irritated by him, the flames suddenly run sideways in a sharp burst. “Sorry, fine, you can keep it, Em. Hit me back in the afterlife.”
“I’m here to fix things,” I start again. “You wanted me to find Percy, and now I need your help to do that. Can you please tell us if he’s still on campus?”
Yes.
I wet my lips. Okay, good, we’re making progress here. “Can you tell us if he’s alive?”
Everyone goes dead silent at that, the group of us holding our breath at once as if the first to exhale will break this spell we’re in. I wait for her to guide our hands toward a damning yes or no answer, but the planchette gravitates down to the alphabet beneath.
I…n…b…e…t…w…e…e…n
There’s a flurry of shock around the room—Birdie gasps; Tripp pretends to scoff.
Calvin continues staring down at the board incredulously.
“Could we try that one again?” he asks, his face ashen. “Preferably without speaking in riddles, Emoree?”
The planchette doesn’t budge. No further elaboration comes, and after a second and third time asking, I worry it never will. Shifting angles, I switch my question. “Okay, fine, new question. You said he’s on campus. Where?”
Finally we move again, but if I was expecting a coherent answer, I’m sorely disappointed the moment I piece together the words.
D…o…w…n…t…h…e…r…a…b…b…i…t…h…o…l…e
“This isn’t making sense,” Tripp bemoans under his breath. “I swear she’s just messing with us now. Some sort of ghost prank.”
If I didn’t know Em as well as I do, I could see myself siding with him at this moment. But I do know her, which is why I know there’s no way under the sun that this is some paranormal prank. “Please, Em, is there really nothing else you can tell us?”
The planchette doesn’t move, but the room around us does. With a flutter of a white sheet and a plume of dust, a flurry of sudden wind unearths an Edwardian writing desk waiting in the dark.
“I…think she wants me to go look,” I whisper, and I’m aware I sound half-dazed, but this all feels like a strange waking dream.
“We’ve scoured this entire room before. What evidence could you possibly find?”
