Page 36 of The Unknown

“Violet, I think you should lead this,” Ronan says from his gloom-covered seat. “That’s how it is in the script.”

“I’m not sure…” Violet trails off, noting the expectant way Ronan looks at her. This no longer feels like a parlor game. It feels like rehearsal. “Well, I suppose I could try.”

Ronan nods, pleased. “That would be a good idea.”

“I think Marin should do it,” Susie says with a smirk that may be intended as friendly but doesn’t appear that way in this light. Shadows rest in the hollows of her eyes, even as the glow from the candles trips along her glossed lips. It gives her a sinister look. Like a vampire planning to sink her teeth into my neck.

“I don’t think I should,” I say quietly.

Violet, sensing my discomfort, swoops in to rescue me. “I’m happy to do it first. I think Ronan is right that we should try to follow the script.”

“I just thought Marin would appreciate getting the experience,” Susie says as she continues to stare at me. “Being new to the group, it makes sense that Daisy would want to impress the others.”

“I like that reasoning,” Ronan says, oblivious. “Marin, take it away.”

Everyone at the table looks to me. Even Violet. The expectation is like a weight on my shoulder than I’m eager to shake off. Still, I muster the energy to close my eyes, lift my face to the ceiling, and say, “Is there a spirit present?”

Nothing happens.

Of course.

Because this is a stupid idea that we’re only doing because we don’t want Ronan to know we think it’s stupid. At least that’s my reason. It could be different for the others, who keep their fingers still against the glass, waiting for something that won’t happen.

“Try it again,” Ronan instructs, ever the director. “Put more meaning into it. Sound like you believe this is possible.”

I close my eyes tighter this time, as if that will help. I try to clear my brain of all doubt and self-consciousness as I tip my head back and solemnly intone, “Is there a spirit present?”

A moment of nothingness follows. I remain completely still, eyes clenched shut, my two fingers on top of the glass. Just when I’m about to open my eyes and give up, I feel it.

The glass.

It moved.

Not a lot. Just fraction of a millimeter. But I felt it happen. An infinitesimal nudge that no amount of gin could have made me hallucinate.

The others at the table felt it, too, because when I open my eyes, I see all of them staring at the glass, as if mentally willing it to move farther. Across from me, Violet catches my eye and gives an encouraging nod.

“Spirit, was that meant to be a yes?” I say, this time never taking my gaze off the glass.

It moves again, this time a full-on nudge noticed even by those not seated at the table. Behind me, Brad gasps. On the other side of the room, I see Ronan emerge from the shadows. He swoops in close, eye level with the table.

Astonishingly, the glass moves yet again. Almost a full inch this time. Where it intends to go, however, remains unclear. It sits closest to me and Violet, apparently on its way to one of the letters between us.AthroughF.

“Spirit, if this is your doing, please make your presence known.”

The chair Ronan had vacated suddenly lurches forward, its legs scraping along the parlor floor. By the time it’s done, there’s a good foot of space between it and its former resting place against the wall.

Dumbfounded, I look at the others, trying to see if one of them was behind it. None of them look suspicious. Not even Susie, whose vampiric expression has melted into something resembling awe. I feel theopposite. A sticky tingle of fear on the back of my neck that I haven’t felt in twenty years.

This can’t be happening, I think.This can’t be real.

But the chair moves again, this time sliding halfway across the room. I continue to watch it. Although it’s hard to make out in the gloom, I think I see something tied around one of its legs. I squint, looking closer, as what’s attached to the chair comes into focus.

A length of needle-thin fishing line.

I follow it to its source—wrapped around Brad’s ankle. With a single shift of his leg, the chair moves yet again.

“Stop!” I say. “Everyone stop. Especially you, Brad.”