Free Better Left Buried by Belinda Frisch Page A

talk to us?” A long minute passed without anything happening. “Can anyone hear me? I’m calling the person who asked me for help. Are you here?”
    Brea tensed. “Maybe it’s only at your place?”
    “ He .” Harmony corrected. “This can’t work if you’re playing statue.”
    Brea relaxed and the glass moved. “Harm—”
    Harmony shushed her. “ You’re still pressing too hard.”
    Brea concentrated on letting her arm go limp and the glass moved to “Hello”.
    A cold breeze blew across the table .
    S he shivered. “I don’t like this.”
    “ Shh. It’s fine.” It felt anything but. “Is this the man who contacted me last night? The one who asked for help?”
    The glass moved to “Yes”.
    Brea lifted her fingers, nervous that the answers were coming too quickly and easily. “Are you moving it?”
    “No. I’m not moving anything. You have to focus. Now come on.” Harmony scowled and Brea reluctantly resumed her position. “Can you tell me your name?”
    The glass moved in a circle and settled on the letters T-O-M.
    “Tom?” Brea asked.
    The glass stopped on “Yes”.
    She hadn’t meant to ask it a question.
    “Can you tell me your last name? Something I can use to find you?” Harmony asked.
    1-9-9-6
    “Nineteen ninety six? Is that a year?”
    It stopped on “Yes” again.
    Brea did the math. She would’ve been two. “Tom and 1996. That’s not much to go on.”
    “What do you want , Tom? How can I help you?”
    The glass moved faster, looping in circles, and stopped three times on the same number.
    6-6-6
    “Jesus!” Brea jumped out of the chair. “I’m done.”
    “Sit down.” Harmony clenched her jaw. “You need to give it a chance. He’s probably just repeating the last number of the year. It’s hard for them to be clear sometimes. It’s not what you think.”
    “Your books tell you that? No way, Harmony. No. Way.”
    “I ’m telling you right now, Brea, I’ll do this alone if I have to, but worse things will happen.”
    “Worse? Triple sixes is the sign of the devil. What could be worse than that?”
    “Trust me, you don’t want to know. And you’ve communicated with him, whether you like it or not. You can’t just walk away from this.”
    “Watch me.” Brea picked her books up off the stairs by the front door and screamed.
    Harmony rushed into the room after her. The look of anger on her face was replaced by one of absolute terror.
    Papers scattered and Brea’s calculus book landed binding -first on her foot. As much as it should have hurt through canvas sneakers, she barely felt it.
    At the top of the stairs, in shadows cast by a mostly closed bedroom door , was the misty outline of a man—black and willowy with tendril fingers.
    “Harmony, do you see that?” She was convinced it was a hallucination brought on by fear.
    Harmony opened her mouth to answer, but could only manage a nod. Her hands shook and the color drained from her face.
    “Help me.”
    A bitter wind descended and the whisper surrounded them, filling every inch of space.
    Harmony crumbled, covering her ears , screaming for the noise to stop.
    “Help me.”
    Brea reached out for her and what felt like a pocket of air threw her backward into the banister.
    “Help me.”
    “I’m trying,” Harmony screamed.
    T he glass on the spirit board flew across the kitchen and shattered against the wall.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
     
    “Brea, wait!” Harmony chased her through the double doors, her face bright red, her chest heaving. She bent over with her hands on her knees and went into a coughing fit trying to catch her breath.
    A hush fell over the cafeteria .
    Brea’s heart pounded, both from what they’d seen and the full sprint back to school which left her winded.
    “Leave me alone!” Tears blurred her vision, but not enough that she couldn’t see all eyes were on her as she headed toward Jaxon.
    “Brea, are you all right? What happened?” He met her halfway.
    “ Please, take me out of