by S. L. Stacy
I nod. “I saw her ghost, and she spoke to me. She told me she needed our help. Just like this message.”
Sam rolls her eyes. “Fine. If you want to contact her, figure out a way, and we can do it. And when nothing happens, we can let this whole haunted sorority house business go.”
“That’s just it. I looked in the book all day”—I retrieve the book from the couch and start to idly flip through it again—“but I didn’t find anything about how to contact the dead.”
“That’s because—” I know she’s about to say “because there are no such things as ghosts,” but Gwen’s excited voice interrupts her.
“We don’t need the book,” she says. “We can do it the old-fashioned way.”
Sam raises her eyebrows, and we watch Gwen go over to the closest, standing on her tiptoes to reach the topmost shelf, where we keep a stash of board games for our annual sisterhood retreat. She pulls out a plain black box and opens it, bringing it over to show us.
“I didn’t even know we had a Ouija board.” Sam sounds like she wants to throttle whoever bought it.
“It’s perfect,” Gwen says. “We can gather a small group of sisters tonight and use the Ouija board to try to contact Genie.”
“Yeah, I guess it’s perfect, if you believe in that sort of thing.”
“Of course I do! I can’t believe you don’t.”
“Let’s do it,” I say, taking the box from Gwen. “Gwen, tell everyone on the executive board to meet in my room tonight at nine.”
“I don’t think we should do this,” Sam says, balling her hands in frustration. “This is so morbid.”
“It would be nice to hear from her,” Gwen says, sniffing. Using her thumb, she wipes away a tear spilling from the corner of her eye. “Just to make sure she’s okay. I think it would make everybody feel a little better.”
I find and hold Sam’s gaze, challenging her to argue. Sam opens her mouth as if to do just that, but only a hiss of air escapes. She closes it a moment later, shoulders sagging in defeat.
“Nine it is,” she finally agrees. “Although this is still really stupid.”
Chapter 5
HELLO
I tried ambrosia for the first time at a club called Infinity. Genie, Sam and I were the only girls there that night, surrounded on the dance floor by good-looking, mostly shirtless men, who were more interested in each other than in any of us. Not that I minded. We were there to celebrate Sam’s birthday and just wanted to dance and have a good time. At one point, we decided we needed a break and sat at the bar to catch our breath and cool down with grown-up refreshments. Genie pulled an amber-colored bottle with an eyedropper cap out of her purse, waving it playfully in front of us.
“You guys should try some of this,” she said, unscrewing the cap.
Sam narrowed her eyes at it. “What is it?”
Genie smirked. “The nectar of the gods. Literally.”
“Not this supernatural stuff again,” I groaned.
“What supernatural stuff?” asked Sam.
Genie told Sam about her mysterious, sexy new friend, the book with our letters on it, and her new abilities. I jumped in here and there to confirm that I had seen the book and Genie’s brief transformation. Even though I corroborated parts of Genie’s story, Sam still looked skeptical.
“A few drops of this”—Genie held up the bottle again—“and you’ll be able to change like I can. It will make you stronger, too. More resilient—more beautiful. You’ll live forever.”
“Sounds too good to be true,” Sam said. “Probably because it is.”
“We’ll only be able to change if we’re like you,” I pointed out to Genie. “If we’re part Olympian. What happens if we aren’t?”
Genie shrugged. “Nothing. It’s harmless. I swear!”
“Okay,” Sam said, taking the bottle from her. “I’m in.”
“What are you doing?” I asked, watching as Sam removed the loose cap and carefully squeezed two drops into her drink.
“Proving that this is a bunch of bullshit.” Sam sloshed the gin and ice cubes around in the glass before taking a deep gulp. Swallowing, she tilted her head to one side, running her tongue along her lower lip. “It’s sweet. Looks like your friend gave you a bottle of sugar water.”
“It’s not sugar water,” Genie insisted. Her face had grown serious, mouth twitching in annoyance. “It’s called ambrosia.”
“I’ll try it, too,” I said, feeling braver since Sam had gone first. Holding out my glass to her, I let Sam ease two drops of the ambrosia into my drink. I mixed it up and sipped it. I couldn’t taste much of a difference—then again, my cocktail was already full of sugar. I paused for a moment, letting the drink work its way through my system. Besides the buzz from the alcohol, I didn’t feel any different, so I took another drink, then another. And another.
Genie sat back in her chair, looking pleased. “It’ll work. You’ll see.”
She was right. As it turned out, Sam and I also had Olympian blood.
***
Sam pauses in the doorway to my bedroom, frowning at the sight of the candles Gwen and I have set up all over the room. “I thought we were trying to help Genie’s ghost, not seduce it,” she says.
“It’s a séance,” Gwen reminds her. “We need candles.”
“Gwen is our resident séance expert,” I tell Sam as I hold a lighter to the last candle, waiting for the slender, white wick to ignite.
The other members of our executive board appear behind Sam, and she steps to the side to let them through. “What are your qualifications?” she asks Gwen dryly.
“Countless middle school slumber parties,” Gwen says, making a face.
“You guys are acting like you’re in middle school.”
“You know, if you aren’t going to take this seriously, just leave,” I snap. “If Genie’s ghost is out there somewhere, you’ll probably scare her away.”
Sam’s mouth falls open, and she stares at me for a few seconds without saying anything. She works her jaw, then, finding her voice, says, “Fine. I will.” Turning, she goes back out into the hall, slamming the door shut behind her.
“Sam—wait. I’m sorry!” I shout. “I’ll be right back,” I tell the others on my way out of the room.
Sam hasn’t made it very far, one foot paused at the top of the stairs. Her back is to me, head bowed.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, going over to her. “I didn’t mean that. Come back inside. You might not believe any of this, but we still want you there. We need you.”
Taking her hand off the bannister, Sam turns to face me. I’m surprised to find that her cheeks are moist, and more tears are streaming from her eyes. The only other time I’ve seen Sam cry was at Genie’s funeral.
“I guess I just thought that…I mean, you were being kind of mean, sarcastic…I thought you didn’t care,” I admit.
“I know I was being a jerk,” Sam says, sniffling. “And I’m sorry. But it’s because I do care. A lot. I really miss Genie. I’m sad, and I’m scared.”
I run up to Sam, gathering her into a tight hug. “I miss her, too. And I’m scared. But we’ll never know if we don’t try.”
Sam pulls out of the hug, nodding reluctantly. “I want it to be true. I want us to be able to see her—to talk to her one last time. But I’m afraid that we won’t. And I’m afraid that, if we do, and if she really does need us, we won’t be able to do anything about it. We won’t be able to help her.”
“We have to try,” I repeat, my voice hoarse. Pursing her lips, Sam nods again, and we go back into the room.
I turn off the lights, and then Sam and I join the others sitting in a circle on the floor, the Ouija board set up in the center.
“Everyone place a hand on the planchette,” Gwen instructs us.
“The what?” Julia asks. She’s sitting next to me, looking around the room in panic.
“The little wooden thingy,” Gwen says, pointing to the small, heart-shaped piece of wood resting on the board. E
ach of us places a finger or two on it, except for Julia, who keeps her hands folded firmly in her lap.
“Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this,” she says. “Maybe—”
“If anyone isn’t comfortable with this,” I interrupt her quietly, “you can leave. We’re not forcing you to do this, and we’ll understand.”
No one makes a move to go. Eventually, Julia unclasps her hands and lightly touches the planchette with the tip of a finger.
“To any spirits that might be with us tonight,” Gwen says, voice trembling slightly, “we come in peace—”
“They’re ghosts, not aliens,” Sam whispers loudly.
“Shut up and let me do this.” Clearing her throat, Gwen continues, more confidently this time. “We seek communion with the spirit world tonight, not to intrude or tamper, but simply to communicate with one we have lost. Genie, if you are with us tonight, give us a sign.”
The minutes tick by in silence, and I watch Sam’s face fall. Our hands fidget on the planchette, growing restless.
“Genie,” Gwen tries again, “if you are with us tonight—if you can hear me—give us a sign.”
Underneath my fingers, I feel the flat piece of wood twitch, and I give a start.
“Did you feel that?” Julia leans forward and gapes at the board, wavy, auburn hair spilling in front of her face.
“It’s moving,” Gwen says in astonishment. We scramble to hold onto it as the planchette slides across the board, coming to a stop on the letter H. I hold my breath as I watch it move from letter to letter.
“H,” Gwen spells out loud. “E. L. L. O. Hello. Hi!” she answers, a grin spreading on her face. “Is this Genie?” Our hands are guided to the upper left-hand corner of the board.
YES.
“Okay, who’s moving it?” Sam asks.
“None of us are,” Gwen insists. “Genie, how are you? Are you okay?”
“Slow down,” I advise her, but the planchette is on the move again. This time, we say each letter in unison as the word is spelled out:
COLD.
“You’re…you’re cold,” Gwen says, her excitement faltering. “Where are you? H…” Our eyes follow the pointer as it passes over a familiar set of letters. “E…L…L…” This time, it stops moving on the second L.
HELL.
Sam retracts her fingers, clutching her hands to her chest. “This isn’t funny anymore. Whoever’s moving it, stop.”
“I’m not moving it,” Julia says, also taking her hand off the planchette. “I swear.”
“It’s not me, either,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Wait. Everybody take their hands off,” Gwen says. The rest of us let go. “Are you still with us, Genie?” We collectively gasp as the pointer zips to the top of the board.
YES.
“I don’t want to play this anymore,” Sam says, sounding close to tears. I consider reaching out and closing the Ouija board, but fear and curiosity keep me frozen in place. Eyes wide, lips parted, we watch the planchette continue to navigate the board on its own, spelling out a final plea.
HELP.
Chapter 6
Gateway to Hell
Sam picks up the rogue planchette and hurls it against the wall. It breaks upon impact, clattering to the floor in two jagged pieces. She grabs the Ouija board and tries to break it in half along the seam.
“Hey! Stop it!” Gwen cries, reaching for it. “That belongs to the house!”
“We’re done with this,” Sam says, managing to start a rip through the center of the old board. “This is dangerous. We’re messing with things we shouldn’t be.”
“Don’t fight,” a sobbing voice interjects, making us all freeze. “Please stop fighting.”
Sam drops the board, and we all look up.
“Genie,” Sam whispers. “It’s true. It is you.”
Genie hovers outside of our circle, above the space between the beds. She’s wearing jeans and an Alpha Rho t-shirt, dark hair falling around her face like silk. Her eyes seem to sparkle in the candlelight. Although she’s still transparent, this isn’t the horrific, bloody apparition from last night. This is the Genie I remember.
“It’s me,” Genie says. She glances over her shoulder, eyes fearful. “But I can’t stay long,” she adds, turning back to us. “She knows I’ve been trying to get in touch with you. She’ll try and stop me.”
“Who is she?” I ask quietly, the hairs on my arms pricking.
Genie gives me a sad smile. “Becky, I’m so sorry about earlier today, if I scared you. I was just trying to get through to you. But the residue of my death still clings to me. Down here, I relive it over and over again. It’s a nightmare I can never escape.”
I shiver as I recall the hallucination: the sound of running water, the sensation of drowning. “It’s okay,” I tell her. “I know you didn’t mean to.”
“How can we help you, Genie?” Gwen asks, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “Tell us what you need us to do.”
“Free me,” Genie says, sitting down and crossing her legs without quite touching the floor. “I’m trapped in another dimension. The Underworld.
“You see, when I died, I hadn’t completely finished the transition to halfling, hadn’t awakened all of my Olympian abilities. If I had, something as simple as drowning wouldn’t have actually killed me.” She gives a strange, airy laugh. “I also wouldn’t have had a soul.”
“But you do,” I realize, hope springing up inside of me. “That means you can come back. As someone else…but still. You can come back!”
Around me, the faces of my sorority sisters light up, but our excitement is quickly extinguished when Genie shakes her head. “I only had part of a soul left. Not enough to be reborn. I am doomed to wander the Underworld forever. Unless you can free me. But you have to be quick, and you have to be careful. She doesn’t want to me to leave. They’ve never seen one like me before, a fragment of a soul. She wants to study me.”
“Who is she?” Sam says in frustration.
“Tell us what to do,” I say almost at the same time.
“You have to find a gateway,” Genie says. Her next words falter on her lips. Stiffening, she looks back again. “Oh, God, she’s coming back. I can feel her. She’s close.”
“Then tell us quickly!” says Gwen.
“How are we supposed to find a gateway?” Julia wonders.
Genie turns backs to us. “There’s one at Point Park. But it requires a toll. Blood,” she says before any of us can ask. “Halfling blood. You don’t need a lot. A small cut should spill enough. And say these words: ‘With this blood, we open the gates. With this blood, we pay Charon’s price. Let those who are lost, be found. Let those who have fallen, rise.’ Say it three times.
“I have to go.” Genie’s voice is panicked. “Remember the words.”
“We will,” I assure her as I run through them again in my mind. Getting up, I grab a notebook and pen from my desk, scribbling down the chant and Genie’s instructions.
“And don’t forget me,” she says.
“Wait, Genie,” I say as I finish writing down the ritual, “where is it in Point Park, exactly?”
When there’s no reply, I look over, but Genie’s spirit is gone.
Chapter 7
With This Blood
“We should get help.” Julia’s small voice punctures the heavy silence that has settled over the room. Around us, the candles burn steadily, wax oozing down their sides like thick, hot tears, flames dancing in the dark. In the wavering light, the faces of my sisters look pale and frightened. “This is way out of our league.”
“Let’s give John Edward a call,” Sam says, rolling her eyes. “Maybe he can help.”
Julia’s brow furrows. “How could a politician help us?”
Sam shakes her head. “Edward, not Edwards. You know, the guy who talks to dead people? Never mind. Stupid joke.”
“She means our neighbors,” Gwen says, and Julia nods. “The Gamma Lambda
Phis.”
Sam catches my gaze. “We don’t need help,” she insists. “Especially not from those airheads.”
“Their president and their house mother are Olympians,” Julia says defensively. “We don’t have anybody. And Farrah’s helped us before.”
I gnaw on my lower lip, uncertain. Part of me agrees with Sam—that we shouldn’t ask the Gammas for help—although not for the same reason.
The Gamma Lambda Phis are our on-again, off-again rivals. In her final days, Genie had joined forces with the bad guys and helped lead an attack on their fall dance at the Riverfront Bar and Grill. As Nereids, we have the ability to control water, and Genie created a tidal wave off the river that took out the restaurant. She died in the process, the night’s only casualty.
From Farrah, the Gammas’ house mother, we learned that Genie’s body—which was still in water nymph form when they first found her—conveniently reverted back to human form before rigor mortis set in. (Thank God. I don’t know how we would have explained Genie’s scales and fin to her family.) Farrah was the one who spoke to the authorities that night and, later, the school, convincing them that the wave was some sort of freak occurrence. I’m not exactly sure what she said to persuade them, only that it was probably more how she said it than the story itself. She seemed to have a supernatural knack for getting anybody to believing anything she told them.
Farrah also helped with funeral arrangements and reassuring Genie’s parents, who knew nothing of the dangerous new world their daughter had become a part of.
What Julia said was true. While we were overwhelmed with grief, Farrah had helped us immensely. Still…
“We can’t,” I say, even though I’d like nothing more than to get Farrah or the Gammas’ input on this. “They have a lot on their plate right now. We’re on our own.”
We fall silent again as this sinks in. “So, what do we do?” Gwen asks me.
As I scan the room, I realize everybody’s looking at me, waiting for further instruction. Gulping, I say, “Well, she told us there’s a gateway at Point Park. Let’s head over and have a look around.”