“Will do!” she said, palming her stone.
“What’s mine?” I asked, holding up the polished rock he’d given me while I was on the phone with Aunt Zoe.
“Black tourmaline. It will help you block out negative forces that might try to keep you from succeeding.”
“How come Doc doesn’t have a stone?” Natalie asked.
“Because he’s an Oracle. He stores the visions of his stones in his mind’s eye.” Cornelius sat cross-legged on the desktop, facing me. “Now, I will begin while you focus on the candle flame, channeler.”
“Right. The old flame game.”
“But only one flame this time,” Cornelius said. “And don’t cross the flames. We’re keeping it simple tonight.”
“Simple. One flame. Got it.” I looked at Doc, who gave me a thumbs-up. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Then I opened one eye. “What is Cooper supposed to do this time?”
“He’s the gatekeeper for your dead boss. She’ll have to pass through him to join us.”
“Isn’t that sort of detrimental to what we’re trying to accomplish here? I mean, he’s blocking the way.”
“Coop’s the most likely one to see her coming,” Doc said.
“He will step aside when the time is right.” Cornelius sounded so sure about this rodeo, while I felt like I was climbing on the back of a particularly cantankerous bull right before they opened the chute door.
“That sounds like too easy of a job for Cooper,” I grumbled. “One of these days we need to sit him in the center of the circle.”
“Naked,” Natalie added with a giggle.
“Not naked,” Cooper said in a growly tone.
“Doc,” I whispered in the heavy silence before the storm, both eyes open now. “You’ll keep me in your sights, right?”
“That’s the plan, but do not leave that chair, Killer.”
“Aye aye, captain.”
Cornelius began his rhythmic humming, the frequency of which somehow helped me to widen the channel to the other realms or planes. Doc had explained it to me once, calling it aerokinetics, but my ears had tuned out when he started in about vibrational frequency something or other.
I closed my eyes again and tried to clear my mind. It wasn’t easy. I felt awkward for several minutes, aware of every sound in the room. Then I began to worry that Jerry would come back to the office and catch me summoning ghosts. Lord only knew how he’d spin that one. After I moved past those worries, I kept having problems with itches—first my nose, then my right ear, then my neck, and then back to my nose.
“Violet,” Doc whispered, or maybe he spoke in my thoughts—I couldn’t tell. “Focus on the flame.”
Right. The flame.
I turned my attention inward then, picturing a single white candle’s flame flickering in the dark. Cornelius’s humming grew quieter until all was silent. I watched the flame dance in the darkness, letting my breathing slow, my shoulders relax, my focus narrow as the darkness opened up around me.
After some time, I heard a swishing sound, like a sheet dragging across linoleum.
What was that?
“Violet,” I heard Jane call my name. The sound of her voice was so familiar, yet unease made me stay still.
“Help me,” she cried in the dark.
I kept silent, listening, not moving, waiting. I’d been tricked in the dark before. I wasn’t going to fall for that twice.
“Violet!”
This time her voice was right next to my ear, making me flinch. I opened my eyes, expecting to see her wispy form standing in front of me in her old office, decorated with her pictures and knick-knacks while the air was filled with the scent of her favorite perfume.
Only I wasn’t in her office, and there was a definite curdled milk mixed with old roadkill smell in the cold, damp air. Instead, I was sitting on the cobblestone floor next to the locked iron grate covering the Hellhole.
What in the hell happened? I’d done everything Cornelius had said, using only a single flame, not crossing two together.
I looked around, finally seeing what had been lighting up the basement all along—it was the white candle I’d been visualizing in my mind. It sat on the floor in a brass holder halfway between me and the base of the steps leading up to the trapdoor, only the flame was bigger and was spreading light farther than a normal candle.
I ignored the goose bumps tickling their way up my back and pushed to my feet. I moved over to the candle, the ceiling beams just high enough that I didn’t have to duck, but the overhead pipes draped with cobwebs made me dodge and cringe plenty.
Candleholder in hand, I headed for the short set of wooden stairs leading up and out through the trapdoor and into the closet. But when I reached the steps and looked up, I stopped.
The trapdoor was shut.
I set the candle down and climbed the steps. When I pushed on the door, it wouldn’t budge.
My stomach fluttered.
“Stay calm,” I said aloud. My voice sounded muffled, like my ears were stuffed with cotton balls.
I knocked on the door. The thuds were muffled, too.
Nothing happened.
I pounded on it, calling, “Doc! Cornelius! Natalie! Somebody open the door!”
Still nothing.
“Shit!”
I hit the door hard with the meaty side of my fist just to make myself feel better. Unfortunately, I could still feel pain, wherever I was.
Rubbing my hand, I climbed down and looked around the cramped, shadow-filled space. The old cobblestone floor was still visible throughout. The gut-churning smell I’d noticed was stronger. My hunger pains had been replaced with mild nausea.
I picked the candle up again. My hand shook slightly, making the candle flame tremble.
Something moved in the dark corner to my left.
I gasped and turned.
Wait! It was just the shadows rippling due to the flickering candle flame.
I tiptoed back to the Hellhole on the far side of the room, trying not to panic, but
