Page 32 of The Unknown

She instructed us to place two fingers on the bottom of the glass. If therewas someone willing to communicate with us, it would spell out words by moving the glass around the letters.

“I’m not sure this is proper,” Mrs. Minafer said. “If the good Lord wanted us to commune with the dead, He would have allowed us to do it without dabbling in the occult.”

“There’s nothing evil about it,” Katrina argued. “It’s just like using a telephone.”

Unlike Mrs. Minafer, I was concerned about more practical matters. While I assumed the letters and the glass on the table were a way to facilitate communication, I wasn’t sure if any spirits would arrive. I do nothing to summon the ones that speak to me. They just arrive, unprompted. When I brought this to the attention of Mrs. Semple, she said, “I’d like to try it this way for now. Let us not set expectations. Just invite people in and see who answers the call.”

I did as I was told, closing my eyes and clearing my mind as Mrs. Semple said, “Is there someone here who’d like to speak with us?”

There was no response. All was silent, save for the soft patter of rain on the windows ringing half the room. I looked to the glass on the table, which moved not one bit.

“Are we doing it wrong?” I said.

“Let’s try again,” Mrs. Semple said with a gentle nod of encouragement. “Things like this rarely happen immediately. It takes patience and perseverance.”

We made another attempt, again inviting any spirits interested in making their presence known. Although the glass remained completely still, something stirred in the darkness around us. It felt like someone had just entered the room, bringing with them a sharp chill.

Outside, the rain on the window increased as inside the parlor the cold movement continued to swirl around me. The flames of the candles on the sideboard began to wobble, as if buffeted by a strong breeze. I took it to be a sign that we were not alone.

“I think someone is here,” I whispered, suddenly fearful. This didn’t feel like my previous experience with the Gift.

“If that is so, we welcome you,” Mrs. Semple told the spirit who might or might not have been there. “Please make your presence known.”

I stared at the glass, astonished to see that it had started to move. Because each of us was touching it, one could assume that we ourselves were moving it. Yet my touch on the glass was very light. It seemed the same way with Mrs. Semple and the others. Even if one of us was pushing the glass, I saw no way in which all of us could have silently agreed to move it in a single direction—to the tile markedYES.

“Good evening, friend,” Mrs. Semple said to the spirit.

The overturned glass moved again, this time skipping around to several of the lettered tiles arranged on the table. Somehow we all managed to keep our fingers against the glass’s bottom, even though Jonquil made it clear she didn’t believe any of it.

“This is ridiculous,” she said. “You’re all moving it.”

“We’re not,” Katrina replied, giving her a sharp look. “If you don’t want to be here, then by all means leave.”

I kept my gaze on the glass, which moved so quickly that I could scarcely keep up with what the spirit was trying to spell. I caught anH, then anE, followed by anL. The glass slid away from it before looping back around again, signaling a secondL.

“‘Hello’?” Mrs. Semple said. “Are you attempting to greet us?”

The glass moved across the table, to the tile markedNO.

That brought a concerned look to Mrs. Semple’s face, who spoke again, this time with pronounced caution. “Perhaps we should start with your name. Please identify yourself.”

The glass started to move again, sliding around the table to theA, theZ, theR, and theAagain. When it stopped, Mrs. Semple spoke the name the spirit had given us.

“‘Azra’? Is that what you’d like us to call you?”

The glass returned to theYEStile and stayed there.

Azra.

There was nothing frightening about the name itself. Yet hearing it caused me to rattle with fear. Even though Katrina said she had made it all up, I pictured the dark figure she’d mockingly claimed to have seen outside my cottage door. Could that have been Azra? The very idea made me want to get up from the table and leave. I stayed only because that would have been rude and likely disappointed Mrs. Semple. I simply couldn’t do that. Not after she had shown such kindness by bringing me here. If we were here to test my Gift, then I just had to endure it.

“Greetings, Azra,” Mrs. Semple said. “You are among friends here and may speak freely. Is there something you wish to tell us?”

By then, the storm had fully reached the island, with lightning flashing in bright, ragged shards and thunder beating like drums in the roiling clouds. Even though I knew it was merely an act of nature, I couldn’t help but think the storm and Azra’s presence were related. The thought of those two forces arriving in tandem filled me with dread. I watched the glass as it began to move again, hoping it would go to theNOtile and that the séance would be over. Whoever this Azra was, I’d already decided I didn’t want to hear anything else from them. Unfortunately, the glass slid back to theYEStile, indicating they had more to say.

“I don’t like this,” I said. “I want to stop, please.”

“But we’ve only just begun,” Mrs. Semple said.