“You’re not into this, are you?”

The voice, low and male, cut through Tatum’s thoughts. Automatically, she looked across the table at its owner, wondering at the same time how she had even heard him. He was on the other side of the table and conversation was going on all around them, yet she had heard him as clearly as if he had spoken directly into her ear.

She didn’t recognize him. His dark hair was slicked back, revealing high cheekbones and a chiseled jaw, a surprisingly modelesque face she was sure she would have remembered if she had seen him before. Ice blue eyes were focused on hers, a mysterious smile flickering on his lips.

“It’s not my thing, but I’ll go with it.”

“Mine neither.” His smile broadened just a little. “I’m Zack, by the way.”

“Tatum.”

His voice was still low, deep, and yet seemed to be cutting through the surrounding noise as though directly connected to her ear. Nobody else seemed to be paying attention.

“Ouija boards are an uncontrolled medium. Too many people, not enough care, not enough … respect.” Zack threw a glance at Nicole, who was swigging from a glass of punch. “Anything could go wrong.”

“So why are you doing it?” Tatum knew the question could have been directed equally at herself, but somehow she found herself wanting to know the answer.

Zack arched an eyebrow. “Somebody has to be in control.”

His eyes were still locked on hers, and Tatum felt a dark flush cover her face. To have somebody’s attention so tightly focused on her made something tingle low in her gut.

Jed had never been interested in her this way, even when he wanted sex.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Natalie sitting next to Harper, Nicole’s cute uber-blonde sister, flicking her hair flirtatiously as she spoke to her. Good. Natalie had been chasing Harper for weeks, and she had been single for months. It would do her good to finally get what she wanted.

She knew Natalie would say the same about her, and she was already wondering if Zack might be what she wanted. At least for tonight.

Nicole’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“Okay, everybody, one finger on the planchette. Let’s do this.”

Before Tatum could drag her eyes away from Zack’s, she saw him wink. Then he looked down at the planchette, reaching across the table, and Tatum mirrored the action automatically.

I bet this doesn’t even work.

Nicole’s voice dropped to a spooky, low whisper. “Is there anybody here with us tonight?”

A gasp ran around the table as the planchette quivered, then slowly moved to YES.

Tatum slid her eyes toward Nicole’s face, searching for clues. Is she pushing it?

If Nicole was cheating, it was impossible to tell. Her expression was one of drunken glee.

“Can you spell out your name for us?”

The planchette slowly moved onto NO.

“No?” Nicole tilted her head mockingly. “Maybe you don’t know how to spell?”

The planchette remained on NO.

“Nicole.” Zack turned to look at her, his face serious. “Don’t provoke it.”

“Oh, please.” Nicole waved him off. “It’s just a bit of fun.”

“Nicole.” Zack’s voice was starting to grow colder. “Stop it.”

Nicole turned back to the planchette, which was still quivering in place. If anything, she seemed spurred on by Zack’s interruption.

“Come on then. Am I making you mad? Let’s see what you can do.”

Tatum felt something spasm in her gut. Something was wrong.

“Go on,” Nicole taunted. “Possess someone here. Can you do that? You can’t, can you?”

In one swift movement, the planchette shot across the board. Nicole lurched across the table in an attempt to keep her finger on it, but a second later it had moved again, darting from letter to letter too quickly for anyone to track them. Voices clamored, shocked faces flickering in the candlelight as arms were dragged back and forth, following its movements, and Tatum could see Nicole leaning farther forward--

Whoosh. The tealight flared up and Nicole screamed as her red hair was set alight, flames dancing around her jaw. She clawed at her face, fighting to bat the fire out, and then Zack was behind her, wrapping his arms around her and smothering the flames with his shirt, leaving the smoky smell of burnt hair in the air.

“What the fuck?” Nicole held out a lock of her hair, now blackened. “How the hell did that happen?”

“I told you this was a stupid fucking idea,” Harper commented from beside her. “Good job you know a lot of hairdressers.”

Nicole threw up her hands in irritation. “Forget the Ouija board. I need a drink.” She stalked away toward the punch bowl, leaving confusion in her wake.

At least that’s over.

Except the feeling of wrongness still lingered somehow.