CHAPTER FIVE
"Shadows of Suspicion"
"A peep always makes mistakes."
It had been two months since Tao's death, and Monica had come to realize how deep-rooted Tao's webs were.
The girl had been gone for eight weeks and she was still everywhere.
In every conversation. In every room Monica walked into.
In the way people's eyes moved when Monica spoke, as though they were looking for Tao somewhere just behind her.
Priya had been watching Monica like a hawk. Monica could feel it, a consistent, low-level awareness that something was tracking her. She couldn't stop the feeling of being micro-analysed, of every smile she offered being measured against some internal standard she hadn't been shown.
"Tao wouldn't have liked that," Lila said, pointing to the chicken sandwich Monica had ordered at their usual campus table.
"But she isn't here, is she?" Monica hissed.
The table went silent. Every face turned toward Monica. She felt the weight of the mistake immediately.
"She isn't here," Monica rephrased, keeping her voice even. "I'm sure she wouldn't have minded." She folded her napkin in her lap and looked at no one in particular.
Their faces sobered up. Tao had been the glue that kept them together, and now in her absence it felt like the group was falling apart, unable to stomach each other without the particular gravitational pull of Tao's personality holding them in orbit.
They were barely able to remain in the same room. The dynamic had no centre anymore.
"Funny, you'd say that," Priya said. Her eyes were fixed on Monica as if she were reading small print.
"Say what?" Monica said, feigning ignorance.
"It sounded like relief," Priya bit out. Her eyes held deeper accusation than she let on through her tone.
"Priya, we are all hurting here. I can't imagine you'd really think that," Monica gasped, letting her expression do its work. Her summer at theatre camp was still paying dividends.
The others nodded in confirmation. If truth be told, Monica looked the most devastated of all of them by Tao's death. She had perfected the performance from the very first day.
"Hm," Priya hummed. She said nothing further, which Monica knew was considerably more dangerous than anything she could have said out loud.
Attacking Monica would only make her play the victim card further.
Priya knew she had to move stealthily if she wanted to catch her unaware.
She watched Monica paste a tiny, controlled grin back onto her face, like she believed she had just won this battle.
Priya noted it and said nothing. Let her think that.
?
Priya left the lunchroom and Monica tracked her movements carefully.
Priya knew Monica was smart. She would give her that.
But even the most brilliant of people always made the simplest of mistakes, and small mistakes had a way of becoming very large problems when the right person was paying attention.
"Priya," Taron called from the corridor beyond the lunchroom. His usually tamed hair was dishevelled and the dark circles around his eyes stood as evidence of what the past two months had cost him. It was obvious that he had not slept through a single night since the passing of his sister.
Monica, through the corner of her eye, caught sight of Taron and Priya moving toward the courtyard together, speaking in hushed tones. She excused herself from the table and followed, moving quietly to a position behind the statue of St. Louis where she could hear without being seen.
"I've been thinking about reaching out to a psychic," Taron said, low and careful. "I've made a few inquiries and I think I know how to reach out to Tao. I have her favourite scarf. I just need an ouija board."
Priya stood quietly at his side. She wasn't a fan of superstitious practices.
She had never believed there was anything to be felt through the veil of the afterlife.
But Taron sounded so completely serious, and she had made a practice of not dismissing the things people needed when they were grieving.
"I think I have an ouija board somewhere in my house," Priya said at last. "My grandmother gave it to me when I was fourteen. Tao and I used to be fascinated at the idea of reaching out to the other side back then." She paused. "I'll be home all evening."
"I'll drop by at six," Taron said, not giving Priya the opportunity to reconsider. He walked away before she could say anything else, and Priya was left standing in the courtyard looking at the space where he'd been.
Behind the statue of St. Louis, Monica pressed herself against the cold stone and considered what she had just heard.
Taron had been distant since Tao's death, her calls rejected, all contact essentially severed.
She hadn't been able to determine whether that was grief or something more specific.
Now, listening to him talk about reaching out to Tao through a board, she felt something cold move through her, perhaps it was fear.
She couldn't let that happen. She didn't know exactly what the dead could say or whether any of it would be reliable, but she was not in the business of taking unnecessary risks.
?
Later that day, at exactly six in the evening, Priya's doorbell rang. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a soft glow across the library where she had set up the board. She had instructed her helper to lead Taron in and to ensure they had privacy.
"Hi," she greeted him. The dimly lit room felt eerily peaceful, a calming kind of quiet.
"Are you ready?" she asked.
"As ready as anyone could really be for this," Taron mumbled, settling himself on the floor beside her.
The ouija board lay before them with its markings. Priya placed her pointer finger on the planchette. "Place yours here," she instructed.
She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. "If there's a presence here, please reach out. If there's anyone on the other side, please make yourself known."
The temperature of the room dropped. They exchanged glances. Their breath became visible, like clouds of smoke in the suddenly cold air.
The board vibrated. The planchette moved deliberately.
"Y-E-S," it spelt out.
"Are you Tao?" Priya asked. Her spine was tingling with both fear and anticipation.
"Y-E-S."
Taron's face had gone pale. "Tao, who did this? What happened to you?"
The planchette moved again. "G-A-R-D-E-N."
It began to move further. Then the door hit the wall.
Monica barged in, the bang startling Priya and Taron so completely that both their fingers lifted from the board. The glow of the planchette faded. The temperature in the room began its slow return to normal.
"You can't go in there!" a voice shouted in the hallway. The helper's eyes were wide in frantic apology behind Monica's shoulder.
"Monica," Taron said, standing, his voice carrying confusion and something harder beneath it.
"Don't stop on my account," Monica said, walking into the room with her chin up and her expression carefully calibrated to hurt and confusion. "Priya, I can't believe you're doing this without me."
The pair exchanged glances. Monica watched them do it and read them both correctly.
"It isn't what it looks like," Taron said, moving to explain.
"Isn't it? You're here with Priya after weeks of ignoring me and you're reaching out to Tao behind my back?" Monica pushed. The dim room hid the calculation in her eyes beneath layers of plausible hurt.
"Cut the theatrics, Monica," Priya said, crossing to the light switch and flooding the room with brightness. "We were trying to reach Tao. All we got was a quick acknowledgement of a presence before you interrupted."
"Did it say it was Tao? What did she say?" Monica asked quickly, her voice sharp beneath the veneer of grief.
"The connection broke when you slammed the door open," Priya replied, watching Monica carefully. "All we got was acknowledgement."
It was a calculated omission. Priya had heard the word garden clearly before the connection broke and she had no intention of sharing that with Monica.
Taron understood the game immediately. If Priya thought it wise to leave Monica in the dark, he trusted her reasons.
"I'm heading out," Taron said.
"I'll complete it," Priya said to him. The two words carried a meaning Monica wasn't meant to decipher.
"Complete what?" Monica asked.
"Try to reach out to the other realm again," Priya replied easily. "On my own. Calmer setting."
"Let me know what you find out," Monica said, already moving toward the door. "I have rehearsals for a show anyway."
"You sound almost excited," Priya pointed out.
"It's the Milan show," Monica replied, and closed the door behind her.
Priya stood quietly in the library after they had both gone. The board sat on the floor between where she and Taron had been sitting. The room was warm again, the temperature fully restored, and the planchette was still.
Garden. Tao had said garden. And Monica had stood in that garden two nights ago, alone, at night, a few miles from her own home. She also thought about Monica’s weird behavior at the funeral and even of her behavior while Tao was alive, the girl was definitely hiding something.
Priya had to figure out what the garden meant. And she had to do it before Monica figured out what she knew.