"Gaynor? It's Mum."
Gaynor smiled in relief. The television show had creeped her out a little and the ring of the phone had startled her.
"Hi Mum. Where are you?"
"I'll be home soon, love. I just wanted to tell you there's food in the kitchen--"
"I already found it."
"Oh, good." Gaynor's mother sighed into the phone. "What are you up to?"
"Watching trash on the telly. Do we have an ouija board?"
"Uh...maybe. It might be in the closet. Why do you need something like that?"
"I'm bored stiff, that's all," she answered. "See you soon, mum."
She hung up the phone and rushed off to the closet. Sure enough, underneath layers of dust and old shoes, she found a ripped and abused ouija board, complete with planchette.
Returning to the floor in front of the television, Gaynor looked up at Jools. He was staring a little apprehensively at the board, and backed up out of the room.
She shrugged, and turned out the lights in the room, lighting one candle next to the board. The rain pounded against the windows.
Her hands rested on the planchette.
"I don't know how this works," she said to the air, "but I want to see my dad. I want to know who killed him. His name was Edmund, and he died a week and a half ago."
The planchette didn't move.
"Please?" she said. "Am I not doing something right?"
Suddenly, the planchette started drifting left, towards the B. B-L-O-O-D.
Gaynor started and lifted her hands from the planchette. It continued to move anyway, and she looked around her, terrified.
T-O B-R-I-N-G B-A-C-K T-H-E D-E-A-D
"How?" she whispered, clutching one hand against her chest.
I-N-T-O A B-O-W-L
Her hands shaking, but her heart determined, Gaynor went into the kitchen and retrieved a small bowl and knife. With only thoughts of her father in her mind, she set it down next to the board, gripped the wooden handle of the small blade hard, and cut a small slit in her forearm.
Blood dripped into the bowl.
E-D-M-U-N-D I-S C-O-M-I-N-G. H-E W-I-L-L T-A-K-E T-H-E B-L-O-O-D.
The planchette stilled and the candle blew out.
Smoke tickled Gaynor's nose and she backed up against the couch, blood still trickling down her arm. Her heart was racing in terror and from the other room she heard Jools howl in rage or terror, she didn't know which.
Then the door banged open and she screamed.
Gaynor's mother came tearing towards her, crying out at the sight of her bloody arm.
"What are you doing?"
"...nothing." Gaynor turned the lights back on. "It was a game."
"God, bandage this up! Are you doing okay? Is this about your father, sweetheart?"
"Mum! Just...let me alone!" Gaynor stomped upstairs, feeling a little bad for the gruff manner she was using towards her mother but also a little irritated that her sceance was interrupted.
She opened the door to her room and threw the board against the wall, throwing herself onto her bed without a second glance. The blood from her arm was still sticky on her fingers.
"That looks like a nasty cut. And by the way, who the hell are you?"
Gaynor sat up straight. Standing across from her was an angry looking boy, his arms crossed over a very muscular chest. Dark hair cut short framed two equally dark eyes, which were scrunched into a scowl. He was wearing dark jeans and a ripped black tee-shirt.
"Who the hell are you? This is my house!" Gaynor took a deep breath and got ready to call her mother.
"You called me here, idiot!"
Gaynor stopped short.
"You summoned me! Edmund? Died a week and a half ago?" he imitated her voice. "Ohhh, pretty please, send me Edmund!"
"I asked for my dad! Not you!"
"Hear that?" Edmund turned his head up towards the sky. "Hear that, big man? You messed up! Can I go home now?"
No response came. He scowled harder and looked at Gaynor again.
"What was the blood for?" Gaynor asked sulkily.
"Blood?" Edmund peered down his nose at her and started laughing. "Oh, poor kid. That must have been Charlie, bored again. He says the darndest things..."
Gaynor was so angry now that her arms were shaking. She took a deep breath and tried not to scream.