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“It’s time.” A woman with strikingly black hair announced. Later, I learned this woman, Irene Solomon was a renowned dealer of oddities who held the reputation of being involved with the occult. She had been the only one I truly liked out of that group.

Daisy tugged me along with her and Cassandra sidled up beside us. Kane and the other man closed in behind. I turned once, catching Kane’s gaze. His eyes darkened as I was drawn away down a narrow corridor toward a door already ajar, soft candlelight flickering within. The parlor was a small windowless chamber. I couldn’t compare the feeling of it to the rest of the house as I’d been dragged into whatever this was. Briefly I had thought of leaving, even slipped a glance toward the tall windows along the narrow corridor outside the room.

The bodies of other people standing at my exit impeded any thought of sneaking out.

Cassandra sat beside me, staring at the center of the round table. The object that lay before us was a spirit board. Its surface was worn smooth, the letters darkened by repeated use. It was one of the stranger moments in my life. But I had to admit, I was intrigued.

Irene had settled across from me, gazing at me every so often and appeared almost pleased by my attendance. She spoke of the sacredness of women communing with the dead, of how only we were capable of bearing such weight, her words reverent and speaking to my uncertainty. Men disrupted the balance between our world and the thinly veiled darkness of the beyond. When she was done, she inhaled deeply and began to murmur a prayer under her breath.

Cassandra remained distant.

Daisy sat beside Irene, a sharp glint in her eyes. It was a look I’d know from a mile away. Desire.

“Tonight we seek answers, whatever those may be,” Irene said at last. She opened her eyes and gave me a wink. “I think you’ll find what comes forth…illuminating.”

The mood was so tense even the fire behind us crackled faintly, scared to intrude.

Silence pressed and Daisy’s friendliness had shifted. Her youthful smiling face was replaced with a darker glower. What is this? I wanted to ask. Instead, I sat back and observed. Too often, I’d thrown myself into the fire without thinking of the consequences.

“We are conduits Sara,” Irene continued, smooth and hypnotic. “With proper intention, the veil may be lowered. You must allow yourself to be carried along the waves of shadow.”

My pulse quickened and curiosity flared despite the unknown. What would the dead have to reveal to me? What hid behind these shadows she spoke of? Cassandra reached forward and set a metronome ticking. One by one, she extinguished the candles until only a single flame remained, trembling alone on the corner of the table.

“As we descend inward,” she said quietly, “you must remember: the circle is never to be broken.”

“Don’t we place a hand on a planchette?” I asked.

“This is not a party trick my darling,” Irene reprimanded to which I smiled.

She produced a small vial beholding a thick black substance and without ceremony, poured its contents onto the board. Dark liquid spilled, seeping into the carved letters, pooling where other faint indentations lived. The sight turned my stomach upside down.

“Sara.” Irene nudged me under the table. “Is there something you wish to know?”

“Are there rules to this? Like I won’t be followed home by a spirit?”

“Let your mind lead, your soul will follow. Nothing will physically happen to you,” Cassandra murmured.

“Okay let’s do this,” I said, and we all linked hands.

They all closed their eyes and I followed suit.

The air shifted but nothing happened. Cold crept up my arms. My muscles locked. A few minutes passed with only the sounds of the muffled party and crackling embers.

I shifted in my seat, hesitant yet curious as to what was to come.

Then there was a stirring. Someone traced their cold fingers along the nape of my neck. My eyes shot open. Two figures emerged from the far wall, resolving slowly from the shadows around the flame.

A woman floated forward, her face sickly, feet dragging uselessly against the floor. Beside her, stood a man burned, molten flesh stretched tight, the whites of his eyes stark.

My breath hitched.

I turned towards the women at the table, but their eyes were closed, faces warped in darkness. Their hands were still locked with mine.

Kane. I told myself, if I could just get free, he would take me away from here.

“He won’t be able to save you. That is for you to do,” a voice croaked.

I searched for the source, but a force hit me like a wave.