“Hey!” But she was smiling, so she’d taken the ribbing well. And there was much chuckling. “You’re not very formal about this. Some people build up whole rituals, stock phrases, the right colored candles, incense, the works. They say it won’t work without it. That it’s a way to show the spirits respect.”
“Different strokes,” Tina said. “I’m self-taught; I never learned any rituals. But it seems like all the ceremonial crap is distracting. Puts up more barriers between us and the other side rather than reducing them. Conrad’s right on that score—too much mysticism only confuses people. Makes it easier to dupe them. I’d rather cut through all that. Most of this is instinct anyway. I can’t explain what it is I do.”
“What are you going to do for us today? Channel Houdini or what?” I said.
“You can’t channel Houdini,” Conrad said, predictably. Tina rolled her eyes.
“I’m going to try to read something off you,” she said to Conrad. “This is supposed to be about shocking you, right?”
“Do your worst,” he said.
Across from each other, Tina and Jeffrey placed two fingers from each hand on the plastic planchette in the middle of the board. Then nothing happened.
I’d seen Tina do this before, but it was still spooky. It didn’t help that the last time we’d done this, it had initiated some really scary fallout. Buildings spontaneously combusting, demon possession. Yeah. What was going to happen this time? So much of the tension of this came from expectation. The atmosphere of it, as Ariel said. Everyone must have been holding their breaths, the room was so still.
The plastic scritched across the printed cardboard, a tiny scraping noise. Someone might have scuffed a foot. Except that Jeffrey and Tina both held their hands above the Ouija board, tense—and not touching the planchette. It had gotten away from them.
“What was that?” Ariel whispered.
“Shh,” Tina hissed. She craned over the board to see where the arrow pointed. “The letter N. Well, it’s a start.”
“How are you going to prove to me that you didn’t move that yourself?” Conrad said, once again taking a page out of the skeptic’s handbook.
“Here’s the thing, Conrad,” Tina said, sounding frustrated. “I can’t. Shall we try again?”
Again, Jeffrey and Tina placed fingers on the plastic. Candles flickered. Their shadows wavered across the board, ghostly. Like something from beyond really was reaching out, nudging.
“We have an N,” Tina said. “What is Conrad thinking about that has to do with N?”
They must have sat like that for a couple of minutes. Jeffrey had his eyes closed. Tina’s were half-lidded, her gaze on the planchette. Somebody fidgeted; the noise of fabric on fabric seemed loud.
The plastic shifted, again scooting out of Jeffrey and Tina’s grasps. This time, we all leaned in. It pointed at A.
“Sleight of hand. It’s a stage trick.” Conrad looked at Grant. “Right?”
Grant shrugged noncommittally.
“This doesn’t prove anything,” Conrad said, shaking his head.
“Natalie,” Jeffrey said. “Someone named Natalie. Young. A terrible loss.”
His eyes were still closed. He pursed his lips, like he was trying to solve a puzzle. He didn’t see Conrad staring at him, his mouth open.
“What is it?” Tina asked.
We were all looking at Conrad now. He stammered, “My-my sister. Natalie. She was a couple years older than me. She died.”
“Drowned, right?” Jeffrey said.
“That was twenty-five years ago,” Conrad said. “How did you know that?”
“It’s a common feeling. You lose someone you love in an accident like that, you spend the rest of your life wondering if you could have prevented it. You may think you’ve moved on, but the thought of it is always there. It wasn’t your fault, Conrad. You couldn’t have done anything,” Jeffrey said gently.
I knew how Conrad was feeling, because Jeffrey did the same thing to me when I first met him and asked him to prove he could do what he claimed. He pulled a name out of my past and knocked me over with it.
Nothing in the room moved until Conrad shook himself, shuddered almost, like he was waking up from a spell. He glared at Jeffrey.
“You could have learned about that a dozen different ways. It was in the newspapers. Provost dug it up and fed you the line. That’s all it is. And it’s a cheap stunt, throwing something like that at me. Nice try—for a second there I almost believed you.”