“I got it,” William whispered more to himself than Edward. Then, he settled his entire focus on the board between them and addressed the dead. “Robert Thomas, are you here with us?”
The seconds passed slowly, each one counted by the slow beat of William’s heart. It seemed to fill his chest like a gong, even travelling into his skull and filling his ears with a persistent ringing.
But the planchet didn’t move – not beside the constant circular turning they both made.
Taking a deep breath in, William tried another question. “Isanyonehere with us?”
Again, the glass didn’t move.
“Are you here?”
Nothing.
“Fuck sake, don’t be shy now–”
“Will,” Edward interrupted. “Maybe we keep the swearing to a minimum. Wouldn’t want to offend them, remember.”
“By them do you mean no-one?” William retorted. “Nothing is happening, Edward.”
“It will. Believe it, and it will happen.”
“Maybe you should try,” William said, head aching from the increased concentration. It turned out that moving a glass with your nail was strenuous work, as was focusing on conjuring God knows what.
Edward nodded, cleared his throat and then spoke up. “Robert Thomas, are you here with us?”
So, he was confident that it was Robert Thomas haunting Hanbury. Still, nothing happened, no lingering spirit responded.
Edward persisted. “Did you die in this room?”
It was subtle, but there was a shift. Edward had barely finished asking the question, and the glass was moving. The scratch of it against the wood made William’s skin crawl. He knew he wasn’t doing it, and from Edward’s look of pure elation, he wasn’t moving it either.
Somethingwasin the attic with them. But if not Robert Thomas, then who?
“Holy shitballs,” William whispered as the glass slipped diagonally across the board, passing over the alphabet. With his eyes trained on where the glass would stop, he expected it to land on yes.
It didn’t. At the last moment, the glass jolted sideways, finally stopping over the word in the top right corner of the board.
Edward read it aloud. “No. So you didn’t die in this room?”
The glass shifted over to rest atop the wordYes.
“Yes, I didn’t. Or yes, I did?” William tested.
Edward didn’t reply. William drew his eyes from the board, looking towards the chair and the rope. All signs had pointed to Robert dying here, in this very room. And yet, the board had suggested otherwise.
Unless it really wasn’t Robert communing through the board.
“Ask the question again,” William prompted, returning his entire focus to the board. “But make it more specific.”
“Did you die in the attic of Hanbury Manor?”
A bead of sweat rolled down William’s spine. But then it did the strangest thing and stopped at the base, turned its direction and rolled back up. His entire body froze, every muscle seizing as the sweat continued to paint shapes across the skin beneath his clothes.
The planchet didn’t move.
“Edward,” William forced out, although it felt as though his jaw had completely clutched shut.
“I’m okay,” he answered, seeing the lines of worry and the sheer panic plastered across William’s face. “Do you want to stop?”
