for their first session with the board. That, and because the old dining hall had never been renovated.
The Acheron campus was a converted old plantation, one of the oldest in Virginia. Most of the school buildings were new, but their dorm, where all the high school students lived, had been the plantation’s big house, where the master and his wife and children lived. It was huge and ostentatious—a typical plantation house—and it had been remodeled and expanded over the years, with new technology put in and more rooms added to the wings. This part of the house, though, was original. For all any of them knew, the table they were sitting at was the same one where Acheron’s original owners, the Siward family, had been served dinner by their slaves. The room had high ceilings, a huge fireplace, dusty landscape paintings in moldy frames, and a diamond-patterned wood floor that had probably been beautiful before it was scraped raw by generations of chairs. In the far corner was a rocking chair too rickety for anyone to sit in. The lower-school students liked to spook each other, saying they’d walked by the old dining hall late at night and seen the chair rocking with no one in it.
The nicest artifact in the room, though, was the ancient chandelier over their heads. It had surprised them all by lighting up when Brandon climbed onto the table and pulled the cord, shaking up enough dust they were still sneezing an hour later.
The shadow in the corner of the ceiling was ten feet from the chandelier. It wasn’t moving, but Maria could still see those bent knees and elbows. Crouched. Waiting.
Waiting for what?
The planchette started moving again before Maria could ask the spirit another question.
“What’s it doing?” Brandon said.
Maria didn’t know. She’d never seen this happen before.
The planchette slid into the top right corner of the board. That didn’t make sense. There weren’t any letters or pictures there.
It slid to the bottom left corner. Then the top left. Then the bottom right.
“What does that mean?” Lily said.
A faint hum buzzed in Maria’s ear. It didn’t sound like it was coming from the board this time. It was as if someone was humming a tune.
“Who are you?” Maria whispered. She kept her voice low. No one but the spirit needed to hear. “What happened to you?”
The planchette slid toward the dead center of the board. Then it moved fast, so fast Maria and Lily had to sit up in their chairs to keep up with it. It slid out in an arc, then down, then over, in a figure eight. Then another figure eight. The same pattern, three times, four, without stopping.
“How the hell are you doing that?”
Brandon really couldn’t tell. The girls were both biting their lips, leaning over the board as if they were trying to keep up with the planchette’s movements instead of the other way around. Brandon watched their arms but he couldn’t see their muscles flexing, the way you’d think would happen if you were trying to swoop a chunk of wood in an enormous figure eight.
Then the planchette moved back to the alphabet at the top of the board. It slid from letter to letter, moving so fast Brandon had to lean all the way over the board to see where it paused. It started at F, then moved to I, then R, then E.
“Fire,” Brandon whispered. He shivered.
“Is there something you’d like to tell us?” Maria murmured into the still-swerving planchette. “Do you have a message for the living?”
The planchette started moving even faster as soon as the words had left Maria’s lips. Brandon did his best to scribble down all the letters.
MARIA MARIA MARIA
USTED CONSEGUIRÁ LO QUE MÁS DESEA
MARIA
“Usted,” Lily whispered, her eyes flashing as she followed the planchette’s movement. “That looks Spanish. What does it mean, Ree? What’s it saying?”
Brandon expected Maria to flinch, the way she always did when someone brought up the fact that she knew Spanish. Maria liked to pretend she was just as pasty white as Brandon and Lily, even though anyone who looked at her knew better.
Except—Maria had her eyes closed. It didn’t look like she’d heard Lily at all.
How was Maria moving the planchette with her eyes closed?
“What’s going on?” Brandon whispered to Lily.
Lily shook her head. Her eyes never left the board. Her long blond hair was falling out of its neat French braid. Brandon would’ve thought she’d whip out her bobby pins and fix it back up—Lily hated for anything to be out of place—but this was a different Lily from the one Brandon knew. This Lily was bending forward over the board, sweat clinging to her temples. Her eyes were fixed on the planchette, waiting for it to move again.
The pointer swung to the C.
“C,” Brandon read, scribbling it down and looking back toward the board to make sure he didn’t miss any more letters. But it was moving slower this time, looping around the board, until it finally spelled out:
CAWDOR KINGSLEY
“Whoa,” Brandon muttered. “This thing must think it’s talking to Delilah.”
As soon as he’d said it, Brandon wished he could take it back. Maria’s mouth was set in a straight, tight line. He’d hurt her feelings.
Then her arms jerked to the left so fast Brandon was worried she’d get hurt for real.
Lily moved too. It looked like the board was dragging her.
The planchette was pointing to the word “NO” in the far corner of the board. Then it moved back toward the center, only to jerk back again to the “NO.” It moved there two more times. Then three.
NO. NO. NO. NO. NO.
“All right, we get it,” Brandon said. “You said ‘no,’ right?”
The planchette was still moving. Back to the alphabet this time. More Spanish.
LO QUE ES SUYO ES TUYO
Brandon rubbed his forehead, trying to figure out what that could mean. He’d taken a year of Spanish in middle school before he transferred to Acheron and started French. The first sentence, the one with “usted” in it, had meant something like You will have what you most desire. And “lo que es suyo es tuyo” meant something like That which is his is yours. Well, it could be either “his” or “hers.”
The planchette was still moving.
LO QUE ES SEGUNDO SERA PRIMERO
That was a little easier to translate—That which is second will be first—but it still didn’t mean anything to Brandon.
“All righty, then,” he muttered. “Thanks, spirits, for your ever-so-clear words of wisdom.”
He
