Page 107 of Bound By Fury

We place our fingers back onto the board.

“Fiona, if you have a message for us, use our hands to spell it out.”

The air in the room is dense, like we’re playing this dangerous game at the bottom of the ocean.

This time when the planchette moves underneath our hands, the hairs on the back of my neck begin to rise.

“M,” Daisy whispers as the piece settles above the letter. I can’t breathe.

“A,” Sam says, their pitch unusually low.

“U.” I think I say it, but I can’t hear myself over the pulse thundering in my ears.

The wooden heart travels to the R, and black spots threaten my vision.

The draft from the window has picked up, and the flames around us dance wildly in the wind.

My shirt flutters against my chest, like the air is not simply drifting in from outside, but like something is circling us.

“Guys. I don’t like this.” My throat is tight.

“R,” Daisy says with conviction, confirming what I’ve seen. “We need to let the spirit speak!” I look at her, unused to her harsh tone, and I blink a couple times to make sure I’m not hallucinating. Her eyes are different. It’s like they are glowing from the inside.

“Uh. Daisy. I think—I mean your—your eyes are—”

“Quiet!” she snaps. “E.”

I look at Sam, whose expression is vacant, their hand twitching under mine as the piece continues to move across the board.

The world is tilting, and I’m sinking to depths beyond my comprehension.

“E.” Daisy’s voice is guttural. Her face contorted, her eyebrows pinched together, her mouth terse as if she’s in pain. The flames from the candles are elongated and fluid, whipping in the gushes of air beating against us.

Beside me Missy’s head is tilted all the way back, her mouth open wide, her throat bobbing like she’s swallowing something too big to fit. Foam spills from the corners of her lips.

Behind her in the window’s reflection, flames like a blazing fire tear up the length of a homespun skirt.

The woman from the woods is here, standing directly behind me, her jaw unhinged, gaping with a violent scream.

No, that’s not quite right. That roaring, animalistic sound is ripping from my own chest.

This isn’t okay. We can’t do this. I can’t do this.

Our fingers are moving again.

“Guys! Stop! We have to stop this!”

Sam doesn’t respond, but when I try to pull away, their other hand slams down on mine and holds it there. I bite my tongue, copper filling my mouth.

“No!” I yank my hand, but it’s cemented down. The planchette is moving quicker now toward the middle of the board. I look up, and Daisy’s eyes are all whites.

Just like the witches in my dream.

“That’s it!” I scream, calling my power to me, sending a shock of electricity around the circle to fight against my friends who are nowhere to be found, their bodies vessels for something other, something impossible.

Amazingly, my static obeys me.

They finally release my hands, but the momentum is too strong, and the planchette goes flying across the room. Thunder cracks overhead, an earsplitting sound that startles us all. At once the flames around the room are reduced to tendrils of smoke that drift to the ceiling, glowing blue in the moonlight.