9. Games They Play

Things happened too quickly. One moment they laughed and passed the brass chalice, the next their fingers were touching the glass lens and the flames flickered, filling the room with the smell of burnt wax. Marek felt the thing start moving, seemingly on its own, as the girls started chanting in solemn voices. He grinned and had to suppress the urge for a sarcastic comment, as Irena's frown warned him. He dropped his eyes, mumbling the words with mock focus, glancing sideways at the last person at the table. He wouldn't have agreed to this, if she didn't drag him there with threats and – more importantly – promises. She gave him a half-smile and a wink. Not much longer and they will finally be able to enjoy the rest of the night… his way.
Just as his thoughts strayed from the living room nextdoors, there was a sound. A yelp and choking, followed by a crash, as Irena's chair toppled over with brutal force. He jumped up to help her, but at the same time Eliška cried out, doubling over in her chair in obvious pain.
The last thing he remembered was reaching for the phone and dialing the emergency number, then everything went black.
*
The back door of the ambulance slammed shut and the sirens started wailing as the vehicle pealed from the curb, red and blue lights flashing. Another van pulled up with far less rush, as a gurney with a body bag was rolled out of the front door of the 19th century apartment house. Police cars and tape kept the smallish crowd of late night spectators at bay, but their loud questions were almost legible even through the closed windows of the second floor flat. A young boy sat huddled in a blanket on a kitchen chair and seemed to shrink at every sound.
Thorne quit smoking just after he quit the SEALs, but right now he found his fingers and his lungs itching for the familiar comfort of a cigarette. Unlike the younger members of the team, he wasn't in danger of losing his lunch over the scene that greeted him when he first came inside, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it. Or the work he has been assigned tonight. He snapped shut the notebook and felt a pang of guilt, as the boy jumped at the sudden movement.
“Sorry about that,” the agent mumbled, then motioned for one of the policemen to approach.
“I have everything I need, sergeant, so why don't you take this young man home to...” he glanced at the boy -
“Sněženková, Jižní Město,” the youngster supplied meekly.
“There. The officer will take you home and we'll contact you if we need anything else. Alright?”
“S- sure. I… am I in trouble? And… what about Eliška? Can I… can I go see her?”
“They have taken her to Thomayer hospital. Otherwise, I can't tell,” Thorne answered and walked into the sitting room as the policeman took over the boy.
“What do you make of it, Owl?” he asked his older colleague, who stood at the door, looking at the investigators swarming around like ants.
“It's good we got here so early, there won't be many clues left when this lot finishes up,” Owl shook his head of grey hair.
“I didn't think there was too much to start with,” Thorne responded conversationally. “Just a silly kid's party game gone wrong...”
He shrugged, looking at the ouija board on a small round table in the middle of the room. There were three chairs around that table, one of them toppled over with a bloody stain around it on the ground.
“Something went wrong here, that's for sure,” Owl shook his head. “Magic mishaps are always the worst.”
“So you're telling me the kids stumbled on something real?”
“Why don't you tell me – you spoke to the boy.”
It was the ex-soldier's turn to shake his head.
“He's so scared he's barely coherent. And with the things they mixed together, it could have been anything. My money would be on drugs, rather than supernatural.”
“And that's where you still have a lot to learn, Raven, laddie,” the old agent smiled. “Anyway, I got everything I needed from here and the rest we can requisition later. Time to get back to the office.”