Page 137 of Conjure

Brielle turns away from the window. “Josephine from my science class once told me she’d seen a young man with an axe when she and Lori entered the woods.”

Timothy chuckles around the rim of his beer. “Everyone knows you don’t enter the woods. They’re haunted.”

“So is this house,” Brielle says. “Can’t you feel it?” She rubs her arms.

“Aww, babe, want me to warm you up?” Timothy wiggles his brows.

“About the man with the axe,” James replies, sliding his duffel bag from his shoulder and placing it on the island. “He’s become a bit of a folklore in this town. No one knows who he is, exactly. Some believe he was Wilfred’s cousin who was visiting for the summer. Little is known about him, other than that he disappeared shortly before the Kriger murders.”

Goosebumps dot my arms.

Timothy drains the last of his beer. “I heard a rumor that claimed he was fucking Magdalene Kriger.”

“Fucking? Really?” I sneer.

“What?” he asks, chuckling. “People bumped uglies back then. Maybe Magdalene’s father found out and killed him.”

“It’s possible,” James says, removing a box from his bag. “They did find unidentified skeletal remains in the basement believed to be male.”

“I like to think they were madly in love,” Brielle says, giggling.

“Just like I’m crazy about you.” Timothy nips at her earlobe with his teeth. “How about we go somewhere more private? Give those ghosts a show.”

I stiffen, placing my hand on James’s arm. He pauses, lifting his gaze from the box in front of him. “Did you hear that?” I ask.

“Hear what?” He looks confused.

“A dog barked.” I walk across the room and peer into the dark hallway. Silence greets me. Heavy silence. Another chill breezes past, and I slowly look at the door leading to the basement.

“Babe, there’s no dog here,” he calls out, removing the lid.

My eyes widen when I turn around to see him lift out a spirit board. “What’s that?”

“It’s a spirit?—”

“I know what it is.” I march over. “Why did you bring it here?”

He chuckles, unsure, exchanging glances with a snickering Timothy and Brielle. “It’s just a little bit of fun, Grace. Relax. You’re too serious about all of this.”

“Relax?” I all but shriek. “A lot of people were murdered here, James. Can’t you feel it?”

He rests both hands on the counter, the muscles bulging on his arms. “Feel what? Huh? What do you feel? Ghosts? Spirits? Pixies, maybe?”

“You’re mocking me.” I swallow hard, feeling hurt.

Even Brielle is stifling laughter, and she’s supposed to be my best friend. My eyes burn, but I refuse to cry. The spirit boardtaunts me. My every instinct tells me to leave, but it only makes me double down.

“We came here to have fun.” James waits for my response. “No one is keeping you here. You’re free to leave.” He raises his eyebrows, shadows flickering over his features from the candlelight. “Are you in, or are you out?

The others join him at the island.

“What if…” I clear my throat. They watch me expectantly. “What if we…wake something dormant? Something...”

“Something what?” There’s a tinge of impatience in James’s tone.

“Evil,” I whisper, unable to look up from the darkened, stained wood beneath my feet.

Blood.