She had acted as she spoke. By the time she finished, she had darkened the room except for two fat yellow candles burning on what had been our game table. Their wicks were short and the flame guttered shallowly in the fragrant wax. Epiny sat down in the dimness, folding her legs under her skirt. She extended one hand to Spink. For the first time, I noticed how slender and graceful her fingers were. He took her hand without hesitation. With her free hand, she patted a cushion next to her and extended her hand in invitation to me. I sighed, recognizing both that it was inevitable, and that, deep down, my own curiosity was urging me on.

I settled on the cushion beside her. There was a mildly uncomfortable moment as Spink took my hand. Epiny’s waiting hand hovered in the air between us. I reached for it.

Suddenly, I again felt that distortion of my senses. The room was closed and suffocating, the scent from the yellow candles so foreign that I could scarcely breathe. And the girl reaching for my hand had eyes deeper than any forest pond and fingers that could sink roots into me before I could draw a breath. Something deep inside me forbade this contact; it was dangerous to touch hands with a spirit-seeker, and unclean besides.

“Take my hand, Nevare!” Epiny spoke impatiently, as if from a great distance. In my dream, I reached for her fingers, but it was like pushing my hand through congealed jelly. The very air resisted the motion, and when Epiny reached her eager hand toward mine, I saw her encounter the same barrier.

“It’s like ectoplasm, but invisible!” she exclaimed. Her voice was triumphant with curiosity, not fear. She continued to push her pale white fingers toward me like seeking roots that could burrow into my heart.

“I… I feel something,” Spink said. I heard his embarrassment at admitting it. I knew, as clearly as if he had spoken it aloud, that he had thought this ‘seance’ all a sham, but an excellent excuse to hold Epiny’s hand in his. He had not bargained on whatever it was that was happening. It frightened him but a part of me noticed that he had not released Epiny’s hand.

“Stop!” I suddenly commanded them. My voice came out cracked like an old woman’s. “Stop, you little witch thing! By root, I bind you!”

My hand tried to do something it did not know how to do. I was shocked, shocked at my words, shocked at how my fingers danced frantically in the air between Epiny and me. I watched my hand, powerless to stop it. Epiny stared at me and Speck’s eyes were big as saucers. Then Epiny suddenly leaned forward and blew out both candles.

We were plunged into darkness. At least, my mortal eyes were. My ‘other’ eyes, the ones that saw Epiny as foreign and strange, suddenly looked out at the dense forest in front of me. For an instant, I smelled rich humus, even felt the tendrils that bound me to the tree at my back. Then someone yelped, a cry blended from surprise, fury, and yes, a touch of fear.

The ‘other’ left me. Suddenly I was sitting on a cushion in the dark. A tiny spark still gripped the end of one candle’s wick. It illuminated nothing, but gave me a place to fix my eyes. I heard the scratch of a sulphur match and smelled its familiar stink. I saw Epiny’s hand in the small circle of light the match made. She re-lit the two candles and looked from me to Spink and back again. She looked shaken, but her words were arch. “Well. As you see. It’s all people sitting in a circle in the dark, holding hands and playing at bogey-frights on one another. Still, it can be amusing, all the same.” A small smile came to her pale face. “I think you can stop holding Spink’s hand now. If you wish.”

I became aware of the bruising grips we had on each other. We dropped hands. I sheepishly massaged my crushed fingers.

“Are you all right?” Spink asked Epiny gently.

She was pale. By the candlelight, her eyes looked hollow. “I’m tired,” she said. “Tired as I’ve never been before. Guide Porilet, the queen’s medium, is often exhausted after a session. I thought it was just because she was old. Now I understand better what she feels.” Dismissing herself, she turned to me. “Do you recall what I said to you that morning, when you were departing for the academy? I told you that you seemed to have two auras. You do. But only one belongs to you. There is something in you, Nevare. Something strong. Something very old.”

“And evil,” I added, feeling sure it was true. I ran my hand over the top of my head. My bald spot stung like a fresh injury. I pulled my hand away from it.

Epiny pursed her lips for a moment. I watched her, thinking how silly and impossible this conversation would have seemed only a short time before. “No. I would not call it evil. It is something that wants to live, desperately, and will stop at nothing to keep on living. It feared me. It fears even you, but continues to inhabit you. Even now, when it has retreated, I know you are still bound to it. I feel it.”

“Don’t say that!” Spink begged this, but I would have said the words if I had thought of them first.

“We will not talk of it right now. But before you leave, we must try this again, I think. I must learn what it is that has touched you and taken you. I’ve never heard of anything like this before,” Epiny said earnestly, gripping my hand once more.

“I think we shall leave it alone,” I said firmly. I did not sound convincing, even to myself.

“Do you? Well, we shall see. For now, goodnight, sweet cousin Nevare. Good night, Spink.”

With that, she dropped my hand, rose from her cushion and swept out of the room, her exit surprisingly womanly after her behaviour had been so irritatingly childish all day.

I think my mouth was agape as I stared after her. I shifted my stare to Spink. He looked like a pup bird-dog the first time he sees a pheasant lift from the tall grass before him. Entranced.

“Let’s go,” I told him, a bit irritably, and after a moment he swung his gaze to me. We rose, and he followed me dumbly from the room. I tried to walk steadily. I was sorting what had happened though my mind. I needed to find an explanation that fit with my life. I was inclined to blame Epiny for the whole bizarre experience. As we went up the stairs, Spink said quietly, “I’ve never met a girl like your cousin before.”

“Well, at least there’s that to be grateful for,” I muttered, mortified.

“No. I mean, well…” He sighed suddenly. “I suppose I haven’t known many girls, though. And I’ve never before spent an evening almost alone with one. The things she thinks about! I never thought that a girl, well—” He halted, floundering for words.

“Don’t worry about saying it aloud.” I excused him from his awkwardness. “I’ve never before met anyone like Epiny, either.”

We parted to go to our separate rooms. It had been a taxing day for me in many ways, and despite my weariness, I worried that I would not fall asleep. I dreaded dark dreams of trees and roots, or staring endlessly into the black corners of the room. But I was more drained than I thought. The soft bed and feather pillow welcomed me and I sank into sleep almost as soon as I settled into them.