Page 15 of Haunting the Deep

“Again,” says Alice, and I repeat the words.

By the third repetition, they say the words with me. Nothing happens.

They all look at me.

“What?” My voice is self-conscious.

“The more you focus and mean the words you’re saying, the better it works,” Susannah says. “You can’t lead a spell if you’re apprehensive.”

“So stop judging magic and get over yourself,” Alice says.

“I…” But there’s no point. They’re right. “Okay.”

I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a second. I start the words again and they all join in. Our voices meld together like a song, ethereal and layered. “From now on I will only find the spirits whom I need to mind.”

A breeze bursts through the room, but not from a door or window. It swirls around us in circles, lifting our hair as it buzzes past. The pages of the spell book turn by themselves. I squeeze Susannah’s hand. Mary’s already white-knuckling my other one.

The wind carries pieces of whispering voices, male and female. They murmur, like they’re far away. The buzzing intensifies, and our hair swirls more violently. The voices get closer, more precise.

A journey…to start…help…no stopping…yet in my dreams I’d be nearer. Yet in my dreams I’d be nearer.They’re loud now, verging on wailing.Yet in my dreams I’d be nearer!

Mary clamps her eyes shut. The wind is frantic, twisting in and around us, flapping our clothes. Our hands vibrate. The candles waver, but strangely don’t go out. Then all at once, the air whooshes away and there’s complete stillness. Our hair settles back around our shoulders.

Mary’s eyes widen. “Those voices.”

I drop Mary’s and Susannah’s hands as though I could drop the whole experience.

For a second we all sit there watching the dust settle in the candlelight.

“Are you convinced now that something’s going on?” Alice asks.

“You can’t be sure what that meant. It could be total nonsense,” I say, but my voice betrays me by shaking. “It might have nothing to do with your riddle.”

Before I even finish my sentence, the candles go out.

“Alice!” Mary yells.

“Samantha, the lantern,” Susannah says quickly.

I pat the rug around me. Something slams onto the floor with a bang. Susannah screams. I catch the edge of the lantern with my hand and turn the knob. The small room lightsup.

A book lies open on the floor.

“Maybe it fell off the desk?” Mary says, gripping Alice’s wrist so hard I’m sure it hurts.

I close the book, and the black-and-white photo of Archibald Gracie’sTitaniccover looks back at me. I hold it out for the girls to see. The upper left corner is frayed. My stomach sinks all the way to my toes.

“We got that in literature class today,” Alice says.

“This is definitely my copy,” I say.

“Were you reading it up here?” Susannah asks.

“No.”

“It was a ghost?” Mary asks with a high-pitched voice.

“This spell was supposed to keep spirits away, not attract them,” I say, trying to convince them as much as myself.