Page 24 of I Will Break You

Ignoring them, she asks, “Is anybody out there? If there are any spirits present, please make yourselves known.”

“Got your spirit right here,” Sparrow mutters.

I crack open an eye to find him swigging a bottle of Armagnac. Closing my eyes, I hide a smile. What a dick.

Relaney gasps. “Someone’s here! Spirit. Knock three times to announce your presence.”

Three knocks echo through the room. My eyes snap open and I glance around the table, finding everyone sitting around it with their hands still connected. When I look at the brothers, they smirk.

My eyes narrow. What the hell do they think they’re doing?

“Wonderful!” Relaney says, her voice quickening. “Let’s ask the spirit some questions. One knock for yes, two knocks for no. Alright?”

One knock sounds through the room and it doesn’t come from the brothers. Relaney's and the other two men’s hands are visible atop the table. I glance at Sparrow, who passes his bottle to Wilder and folds his arms.

“Very good. Are you at peace, spirit?” Relaney asks, her eyes still closed.

Two knocks.

My throat tightens, and I glance around the room. Maybe there’s another acolyte standing in the hallway, faking these answers. That might explain these responses. I steal another glance at Sparrow, who shakes his head.

“We hear you, spirit," she says, her voice softening. “Is there anything we can do to help ease your burden?”

One knock.

“Shouldn’t we identify it first?” I ask.

There’s a pattern of knocks, a combination of singles and doubles. I stare, wide-eyed, at Sparrow, who stares back with mirrored confusion. They repeat over and over until Ezekiel gasps.

“It’s Morse code.” His face scrunches.

“What’s he saying?” Relaney asks.

“H…Y… S… T… A… M… E… T… H?—”

“Amethyst,” I say. “Who is this?”

The knocks change rhythm, and Ezekiel translates. “E… R… O… X… E…”

I bow my head, my eyes stinging. How is this even happening?

“Xero Greaves?” Relaney squeaks.

One knock.

My lips tighten. This is where I draw the line. Xero wouldn’t float into Relaney’s house to communicate with me via Morse code… Would he? Or am I being too skeptical?

Memories of our conversations flood my mind—his soothing voice, the way he made me feel understood and cherished. Each memory is a caress and a sharp pain, a reminder of the love we shared. His attention was my sanctuary, his letters my refuge. The thought of never hearing his voice again, never experiencing our connection, crushes my spirit.

What would it cost me to cover my bases and say hello? Nothing. What would it cost to remain hardheaded? More haunting. More creepy messages. More needing to call the police. More chances of someone discovering what I did last night.

“Is it really you?” I croak.

One knock.

“Did you come back for closure, because I can explain.”

Two knocks.