able to solve this thing. This isn’t about catching a normal killer. Hell, you heard the chief. Even he believes that the Pumpkin Man has come back from the dead. This is not about the police, this is about catching a ghost. They can dust for prints in that house all they want, but they’re not going to catch anyone. We need my aunt. She had something to do with this. So, if I could just talk to her . . .”
“Oh no,” Kirstin said. “I think we’ve seen just about enough of that thing. Put it away.”
Jenn ignored her and sat back down. “My aunt started this. I’ve read just about all of her journal now. At first I thought it was all bullshit and she was crazy—she wrote a lot in there about collecting these weird herbs and mixing them with blood and all sorts of other shit. I really thought she had just gone batty out here in the middle of nowhere. But now, I don’t think so. The stuff that’s been happening to me, and to people in River’s End . . . it’s not natural. If half of what Meredith wrote about was true, then she was able to make contact with spirits, and she got them to help her do things that she wanted. That’s what magic really is: getting help from the other side.
“Well, guess what?” she continued. “We need help. But I can’t do it alone. And Meredith used this Ouija board to get help. Why shouldn’t we do the same?”
Nick laid his arm across her shoulder. “Let it go,” he begged. “You’re out of there now. You’re safe here with me. Just . . . please let it go.”
“Safe?” Jenn said. “Are you kidding me? Do you really think we’re any better off here, an hour or two down the road? I don’t think so. That thing came all the way to Chicago and killed my dad. They found pumpkin pieces in his apartment after they took away his body. Oh, and guess what? His head was missing. So don’t try to tell me I’m safe!”
“Well, I don’t think touching that thing is the answer either,” Nick said. “God knows what you’re really talking to on the other end. Maybe it’s the Pumpkin Man himself, did you ever think of that? Maybe HE is what’s answering you. Maybe every time you touch it, you’re letting him out again.”
“I don’t think my dad was playing with a Ouija board,” Jenn said. She set the board down on the coffee table. “Look,” she said, turning to Nick in a blatant appeal. “That thing killed Brian. Don’t you want to avenge his death? Don’t you want to make sure that fucker can never hurt anyone else again? Because I sure do.”
At first, Nick didn’t answer. When he did, it was in a very measured tone. “Your aunt may have stirred up something that ultimately caused her death, and she might have done it with
“Yes,” Jenn said. Her eyes pulsed with anger. “Because I don’t believe I can make things worse. The Pumpkin Man is already free. I want to find a way to send him back.”
She slipped off the couch and crawled around the table. Holding out her hands, she said nothing else; she just waited. And in a minute, a cool thin hand slipped into one grip, a heavier, warmer hand the other.
“All right,” Nick said with tired resignation. “Let’s find out how to kill this fucker.”
“Wait a minute,” Jenn said. “Do you have any candles?”
Nick shrugged. “Yeah, I think there are a couple in the kitchen. Hang on.”
He returned with two jar candles. “Will these do?”
Jenn nodded. “Yeah, I think it’s just important to turn off all the electric lights and let as much natural energy into the room as we can.”
Kirstin shot her a sideways glance. “Have you been studying?”
Jenn smiled. “Not exactly, I’ve just read a fair bit more of Meredith’s journal. And I know that all of the stuff we do now with electric fields and gas fumes and radio and TV broadcasting . . . it all closes us in. Or locks them out. Spirits, I mean.”
“So it’s actually safer to live in a city?” Nick said.
“To some extent. I think there are holes wherever you go, though. Spirits can get through if they really want to.” She looked at him. “I just want to make it easier. So if we kill the lights and use a couple candles . . .”
Nick lit a match, held it inside the jars to light the candles and then set them on either end of the coffee table. The glow of their natural flames in the darkness gave the trio’s cheeks a ruddy orange glow. Their faces seemed to float disembodied in the night. They all reached out to lightly touch an index finger to an edge of the planchette.
“Let’s see what the spirits have to say,” Nick said.
“Not spirits,” Jenn corrected. “I need to talk to my aunt.”
“I hope she has her spirit phone turned on,” he answered.
“They are never
She eyed her friends in the flickering candlelight. Kirstin’s normally animated face was drawn and thin. Her eyes were wide, and she was clearly too numb from the day’s events to do more than just be present. Meanwhile, Nick’s mouth was drawn in a tight line. He was doing this as a favor for her, and he just wanted it to be over.
But Jenn also saw something in both faces that she hadn’t the first time they tried this. She saw belief. The first time they had all been playing. Toying. Scoffing, if only just a bit. Now Kirstin’s jaw clenched and Nick’s lips held no trace of a smile. They looked committed and worried.
Jenn closed her eyes and concentrated. “Okay,” she said. “Just try to put everything from your mind. Focus on my words and will your energy to me. I’m like the transmitter here.”
She felt stupid and theatrical as she thought about what words to use to begin contact. What did you say to call the attention of the dead, spirits who no doubt were used to hearing a billion disparate voices chattering on incessantly every hour of every day? Everything sounded hokey, so all you could do was be direct. She took a deep breath and began.
“Spirits who are near, we call upon you. We beseech your help.” Jenn screwed up her mouth in distaste. Who used the word “beseech” anymore? She stifled a semi-hysterical giggle and struggled to focus.
“Spirits in this house, spirits who can hear me, please listen to my call. We are in desperate need. We must talk to Meredith Perenais. She was my aunt in her life. She lived not far from here, up the coast, and only passed on a few months ago. Please tell her I need her. Her niece from Chicago, Jennica Murphy, needs her now.”
Jennica paused and took another breath. She felt Kirstin’s fingers give hers a slight squeeze. “Aunt Meredith, are you here?” she asked.
All of them stared at the planchette in the middle of the board, both hopeful and fearful that it would move. It remained still.
“Meredith Murphy Perenais,” Jennica called. “Please come to us.
This time Nick squeezed her hand, but the wooden ring remained frozen at the center of the board.
“Maybe if we all repeat her name,” Kirstin suggested. “Like Mary Worth and the mirror.”
Jenn cringed at the thought. If you said “Bloody” Mary Worth’s name three times in the dark before a mirror, it was said she would sometimes be summoned from beyond the grave. It was a common dare at slumber parties because, if Mary Worth appeared, she would try to kill you from the mirror. Who was brave enough to try and call her?
“Let’s try that,” Jenn agreed.
“Meredith Murphy Perenais, come to us,” she said softly. And then she said it again with Nick and Kirstin joining her.
“Meredith Murphy Perenais, come to us. Meredith Murphy Perenais, come to us,” they repeated, their voices growing stronger. “Meredith Murphy Perenais, come to us!”
The planchette trembled beneath their fingers. Jenn opened her eyes wider to watch as it slowly slid across the board. She struggled to let her arm be relaxed, to not influence the device. A part of her wondered if either Nick or Kirstin were doing just that.
The planchette came to rest on the word YES.
“Will you help us?” Jenn asked.
The ring slid forward and paused on three separate letters: H-O-W.
“The Pumpkin Man has come back,” Jenn explained to empty air. “He killed my father, he killed our friend. And he has killed others. Can you help us stop him?”
The ring slipped from letter to letter, its speed decreasing with each movement.
I
AM
BEYOND
