her voice dropping low, a strange, half-mad grimace on her face. “Grandmama isn’t here anymore, Celeste. This is a malevolent being. Everyone, remain strong in your minds and intentions and we can banish it together. Forces of evil, leave us be. Forces of evil, leave us be …,” she began to chant.
A scream echoed from somewhere, and then another answered it on the other side of the clearing. Celeste gasped, one hand flying to her lips, the other pointing upward at the leering green faces swooping overhead. She whimpered and scrambled backward, scuffing the circle of salt with her sandals.
“You have broken the sacred circle!” Madame Darkling cried, raising a trembling finger to point at Celeste. Celeste opened and closed her mouth like a fish. She glanced wildly around, her face pale under her mask. Emma watched something move in the shadows behind her. It was Nisha, reaching out from behind a rock with a peacock feather in her outstretched hand. She tickled Celeste on the back of the neck and vanished before the other girl turned.
“Celeste …,” a strange voice crooned from the bushes. Nisha had cued up the best of their sound bites, a superdistorted recording of Charlotte calling Celeste’s name in a creepy singsong. Nisha had warped it and added reverb until it was scarcely recognizable. The same call came from the other side of the clearing, and then from a third angle. Soon they were surrounded on all sides by the voice.
Goose pimples sprang up along the back of Emma’s neck. Even I shuddered, and I knew perfectly well that I was the only ghost in the canyon tonight.
“The spirits have come to claim you!” Madame Darkling screamed.
Celeste was huddled over, her hands covering her head, trembling. The chorus of voices overlapped and grew to a fever pitch, an insane babble. But just when Emma didn’t think she could take any more, the sounds stopped at once.
“Gotcha!” the other girls screamed on cue, all except Emma.
Light flooded the clearing. The girls whipped off their masks, clutching their sides with laughter. Madeline had tears pouring down her cheeks. Laurel could barely breathe, crouched over her knees in hysterics. Nisha sauntered out of the bushes smirking.
Celeste blinked into the bright lights, a dazed and blank expression on her face. She didn’t remove her mask but stayed crouched in the leaves and dirt.
Charlotte tossed her hair to fluff it after having it crushed under the mask. “How’s Sutton’s aura looking now?” she sneered.
“Did you get it on tape, Nisha?” Madeline asked. Nisha held up her iPhone.
“It’s uploading to YouTube as we speak.”
“On it!” the twins exclaimed, whipping out their phones to retweet the link.
Celeste stood up slowly. Dirt and leaves stuck to her cloak. One of her braids had flopped over the top of her head and jutted outward.
“We really got you, didn’t we?” Madeline asked. “I mean, shouldn’t you have seen it coming, in the stars or the tea leaves or whatever?”
“Hilarious,” Celeste snapped. Her voice was substantially less dreamy than usual. “You’re hilarious.”
“We know,” said the Twitter Twins in perfect unison. They were dancing around each other in a taunting do-si-do.
Celeste walked slowly to the side of the clearing and picked up her hemp knapsack. It was covered in patches and buttons that said things like FREE TIBET and VEGANS TASTE BETTER. Then she turned on her heel to face them.
“You shouldn’t play with forces you don’t understand,” she spat. She locked eyes with Emma. “It can be dangerous. You can accidentally call all kinds of problems down on yourself.”
“I think it’s time you stop with the lame aura warnings,” Charlotte said. “You’re the one who called down all kinds of problems on yourself when you messed with us. Remember that the next time you try to get in Sutton’s head.”
“You’ve been warned,” Celeste insisted, shaking her head slowly. “The spirits will not be mocked.” She tossed her bag on her shoulder and started up the path away from them. A moment later they heard a car start and drive away.
“That was brilliant,” Madeline told Madame Darkling. The medium had already lit a cigarette and stood to the side, examining their props. Charlotte handed the woman an envelope bulging with cash, and she opened it and began counting the bills.
“I’m going to have to remember some of this stuff,” she said. “Glow paint and balloons. Nice touch.”
Emma stood back, mask still on, not joining in the celebration of the rest of the group. She watched as the