Kitty's House of Horrors (kn-7) by Carrie Vaughn (christmas read aloud txt) 📕

more conspiracies, and probably playing the game exactly the way Provost would want me to.

Chapter 7

That night, when the vampires and Dorian arrived and we gathered in the dining room for the official structured-activities portion of the evening, Tina was the last to arrive, and she had a shopping bag with her. The item in it was long, flat, maybe a couple of inches thick.

“Ooh, I know what this is,” I said, my eyes getting big, because this was going to be good. Tina gave me a smile as she peeled back the bag and revealed the Ouija board box.

“Oh, now, this is interesting,” Anastasia said, leaning in.

“Give me a break!” Conrad said, looking away in disgust.

“No, seriously, she’s really good with this,” I said.

“You’re not going to get me to buy that a Oujia board really works. Especially not one that comes in a box from Parker Brothers,” Conrad argued.

“These are actually the best kind,” Tina said, ripping off the shrink-wrap. “These are clean. You don’t want to mess with a board when you don’t know where it came from or what it’s been used for.”

“I’ve never had much luck with any boards,” Jeffrey said.

“That’s because you’re all auras and empathy. I’m a little more hands-on,” Tina said, and the two grinned at each other like they were sharing a secret.

Did I sense sparks? Were Tina and Jeffrey developing a thing? I’d have to keep an eye on them. The thought made me giddy—they’d be so cute together. I wondered if their kids would be superpsychic. But I was getting ahead of myself.

The eleven of us gathered around the long dining room table. Tina sat in the middle and set up the board. “We’re not all going to be able to play, I’m afraid. There’s not enough room. But, Jeffrey, if you could sit across from me, I’m betting the two of us should be able to get something.”

“I’m game.” He always was.

Ariel dimmed the lights and brought out a couple of candles. “It’s all about atmosphere.”

“And she knows, because she has flapping bat icons on her website,” I said.

“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