pointer. Cain advanced on the table. “That’s enough, Marlowe.”
Lisa stiffened. “I’m not—”
“I know you’re doing it.”
“ I fucking am not .” Lisa shoved the board away from her.
“She’s not,” Robin protested.
Silence fell in the room. The logs snapped in the fireplace as flames ate at the logs. Patrick and Cain circled the shadows around the table, the board.
Robin bit her nails, stared down at the black letters, focused in on the burn marks along the edge of the board. Charred . There was something ominous about the black now, something that didn’t make sense.
Stop now , she told herself. I don’t like this game .
Cain stopped across from her, met her eyes. He seemed about to say something.
Robin suddenly put her hands back on the indicator. Lisa looked at her, slowly reached out to the wooden piece. A garnet in one of her rings caught the light, glowed briefly like a drop of blood.
Robin drew a breath and asked tightly, “Zachary, why are you angry at Martin?”
The pointer circled, slid almost sullenly from letter to letter. Lisa sounded the words out, frowning.
ADON OLAM
Robin and Lisa looked across at each other, then at Martin. He stared down at the board as if mesmerized.
“What does that—” Robin began.
The planchette jerked under their hands, scraping violently across the board. Robin and Lisa could barely hold on.
ASK HIS COCKSUCKING MASTER OF THE UNIVERSE
Lisa gasped and stood, pushing herself away from the table. Robin sat frozen, staring down at the board. Martin’s face was very still.
“Master of the Universe? Is this a video game now? What the fuck…” Patrick looked around, bewildered.
“God. It means God.” Martin pulled back Lisa’s chair and sat heavily down, put his hands on the indicator and stared across at Robin. “Let’s go.”
Robin jolted, startled by his vehemence.
Cain stepped closer to the table, behind Robin. “I don’t think—”
Martin glared at Robin, eyes burning. “Let’s go .”
Transfixed, she slowly extended her hands to the planchette. Her fingers touched Martin’s cold ones. Martin spoke through clenched teeth, unfamiliar, grating syllables: “ Haim ata ru-ach o Qlippah? ”
The pointer jumped violently under Robin’s hands and flew off the table, clattered to the stone hearth.
“ Shit ,” Patrick yelped, jolting back.
Robin found she was standing—she’d jumped up so quickly, she hadn’t realized she was on her feet. Everyone was standing except for Martin, all of them frozen in disbelief.
Cain whipped around toward Martin. His voice was strangled. “What the fuck did you say?”
Martin sat back against his chair. He spoke evenly, his face like alabaster in the flickering light. “I said, What are you, you fuck?”
He stood up with eerie calm, crossed to pick up the pointer from the hearth. He put it back on the board and sat, looked up at Robin intensely. “Come on.”
Cain moved forward. “No. That’s enough. You’re too into it.”
Martin nearly shouted over him. “ Come on .”
Robin flinched, blinked back tears, but she felt for the back of the chair and sat, reached to the pointer.
Cain spoke low behind her. “You don’t have to.”
Martin’s voice cut through his. “What are you?” he demanded of the air. All scientific detachment was gone; he’d spoken as if to a real person. He pushed his fingers into the pointer, stared down at the board as if he were alone in the room.
Robin touched the pointer with her fingertips. Immediately, the piece began to move. Robin recoiled. There was something different there, not a new energy, but a change in the energy. So much…loathing. Malice. Fury . The malevolence fairly crackled through her fingers.
But the words the pointer spelled were slow, almost teasing.
WOULDNT YOU LIKE TO KNOW ?
Martin jerked forward, his voice raised. “ What are you? “ The planchette scraped, swift and violent, across the board.
ASK YOUR PORK LOVING KIKE
Lisa stiffened. “I’m not—”
“I know you’re doing it.”
“ I fucking am not .” Lisa shoved the board away from her.
“She’s not,” Robin protested.
Silence fell in the room. The logs snapped in the fireplace as flames ate at the logs. Patrick and Cain circled the shadows around the table, the board.
Robin bit her nails, stared down at the black letters, focused in on the burn marks along the edge of the board. Charred . There was something ominous about the black now, something that didn’t make sense.
Stop now , she told herself. I don’t like this game .
Cain stopped across from her, met her eyes. He seemed about to say something.
Robin suddenly put her hands back on the indicator. Lisa looked at her, slowly reached out to the wooden piece. A garnet in one of her rings caught the light, glowed briefly like a drop of blood.
Robin drew a breath and asked tightly, “Zachary, why are you angry at Martin?”
The pointer circled, slid almost sullenly from letter to letter. Lisa sounded the words out, frowning.
ADON OLAM
Robin and Lisa looked across at each other, then at Martin. He stared down at the board as if mesmerized.
“What does that—” Robin began.
The planchette jerked under their hands, scraping violently across the board. Robin and Lisa could barely hold on.
ASK HIS COCKSUCKING MASTER OF THE UNIVERSE
Lisa gasped and stood, pushing herself away from the table. Robin sat frozen, staring down at the board. Martin’s face was very still.
“Master of the Universe? Is this a video game now? What the fuck…” Patrick looked around, bewildered.
“God. It means God.” Martin pulled back Lisa’s chair and sat heavily down, put his hands on the indicator and stared across at Robin. “Let’s go.”
Robin jolted, startled by his vehemence.
Cain stepped closer to the table, behind Robin. “I don’t think—”
Martin glared at Robin, eyes burning. “Let’s go .”
Transfixed, she slowly extended her hands to the planchette. Her fingers touched Martin’s cold ones. Martin spoke through clenched teeth, unfamiliar, grating syllables: “ Haim ata ru-ach o Qlippah? ”
The pointer jumped violently under Robin’s hands and flew off the table, clattered to the stone hearth.
“ Shit ,” Patrick yelped, jolting back.
Robin found she was standing—she’d jumped up so quickly, she hadn’t realized she was on her feet. Everyone was standing except for Martin, all of them frozen in disbelief.
Cain whipped around toward Martin. His voice was strangled. “What the fuck did you say?”
Martin sat back against his chair. He spoke evenly, his face like alabaster in the flickering light. “I said, What are you, you fuck?”
He stood up with eerie calm, crossed to pick up the pointer from the hearth. He put it back on the board and sat, looked up at Robin intensely. “Come on.”
Cain moved forward. “No. That’s enough. You’re too into it.”
Martin nearly shouted over him. “ Come on .”
Robin flinched, blinked back tears, but she felt for the back of the chair and sat, reached to the pointer.
Cain spoke low behind her. “You don’t have to.”
Martin’s voice cut through his. “What are you?” he demanded of the air. All scientific detachment was gone; he’d spoken as if to a real person. He pushed his fingers into the pointer, stared down at the board as if he were alone in the room.
Robin touched the pointer with her fingertips. Immediately, the piece began to move. Robin recoiled. There was something different there, not a new energy, but a change in the energy. So much…loathing. Malice. Fury . The malevolence fairly crackled through her fingers.
But the words the pointer spelled were slow, almost teasing.
WOULDNT YOU LIKE TO KNOW ?
Martin jerked forward, his voice raised. “ What are you? “ The planchette scraped, swift and violent, across the board.
ASK YOUR PORK LOVING KIKE
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