Page 83 of She Haunts Me Still

“It might.” Mallory places the planchette onto the paper. “It might not.”

“Feels a bit like playing Light as a Feather or Bloody Mary.”

“Worst-case scenario, we leave with no more answers than we have now.”

“That’s theworst-case scenario?” Saskia lifts an eyebrow. “Seems to me the worst-case scenario would be accidentally opening a portal to hell or something.”

Mallory smiles wryly, gently touching her choker necklace. “Honestly, that might be preferable at this point.”

With a soft laugh of agreement, Saskia places her fingers atop the planchette, nails grazing Mallory’s hands. “Alright, Nancy Drew. I’ll play along.” She lowers her lashes, a tranquil expression softening her face. “Is there anyone here with us?”

For the longest time, nothing happens. The flames crackle at their thighs. Saskia’s fingers brush hers again. Mallory waits for her to move, but she leaves them overlapping instead.

And then, the planchette lurches with a warning scratch.

Mallory peeks to find the pencil scraping the paper and her jaw falls open.

The planchette’s journey is languid and uneven, rattling beneath their hands. An acerbic breeze claws at Mallory’s skin while a pungent, sour scent pierces her nostrils,bordering on rot. Her stomach flips, that queasy feeling returning, and she struggles to ignore it.

Just as the pencil works out a sharp, messyYES.

“Holy shit,” Saskia whispers, and the air turns even colder. She moves the planchette to a fresh spot on the paper. “What’s your name?”

The wooden object jerks again. Mallory already suspects what it’s going to say, but she holds her breath anyway as it spells outL-I-L-Y. The letters all rush together, like tipped dominoes. Mallory thinks of her mother’s grocery list notepad, those scribbles over the medical records. As if Lily has been waiting for years to be invited to speak.

The flames sway. The floorboards hiss. Mallory swallows and glances back down.

“Were you buried here?”YES.

“Did someone do something to your grave? To your body—your heart?”YES.

Mallory bites her lip. Sweat trickles along her spine. “Was his name Jacob?”YES.

Saskia narrows her eyes. “Did he want your heart for something bad? Something evil?”

At that, the planchette halts. An even deeper cold settles into the loft.

Saskia frowns. “She doesn’t like that question.”

“Why not?” Mallory whispers. “This seems likethething she’d want us to know. There’s no reason not to tell us. Unless…unless she can’t. Because of the curse? Or…because someone won’t let her?” She flexes her fingers. Her pulse starts to race. “Lily, how many souls are in this room?”

The planchette hesitates.

Then, a fast scrape of4.

Mallory slams her gaze to Saskia’s. A stale taste spreads in her mouth, like molded fruit, and that hollow feeling expands in her stomach. Like a clawing hunger, widening into famine. She doesn’t need to take her temperature to know she’s burning up again, her fever climbing to dangerous levels.

“Is there…another spirit with us?” Saskia asks.

NO.

“What?” Mallory whispers, teeth suddenly chattering. The puncture wounds throb on her neck. Her mouth is like sandpaper. “What could it—”

The planchette moves again.WORSE.

“Worse?” Saskia reads. “Worsethan a spirit?”

That frostbitten cold sharpens around them, the stench of decay overpowering. Lights dance along Mallory’s vision. She’s suddenly so thirsty. Like her throat is closing in on itself, desperate for water, for food, for—