Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

Desdemona stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. She looked
around wildly. Thin Man was clutching the pad of paper against his chest,
and Squat Man had joined them, holding the device out over the Ouija board.
It squealed again, louder than it’d been before, the light bulbs across the top
bright.
“We are meddling,” Desdemona breathed, “in things we don’t
understand.” She put the back of her hand against her forehead as her bosom
heaved, and she looked into the camera. “You’ve seen it here first. Satan is
here, and he wants to eat my liver. But I will not be intimidated.” She
dropped her hand. “Be you Satan or some other demon, you are not welcome
here! This is a place of peace and overpriced confectionaries.”
“Hey!” Hugo snapped.
Wallace moved the planchette faster. “You’re the one who’s not welcome
here,” he said under his breath, even as Thin Man said the same thing aloud.
“Leave this place. Never return.” He paused, considering. Then, “Also, be
nicer to Mei or I’ll eat your brain too.”
“Look,” Squat Man said, pointing a trembling finger.
Wallace turned his head to see Nelson standing near the sconces on the
wall. He pressed his hands against them, and the light bulbs inside began to
flicker. Wallace grinned when Nelson winked at him. The light bulbs rattled.
“Leave,” Wallace said, moving the planchette faster. “Leave. Leave.
Leave.” When he finished, he pushed as hard as he could, knocking the
planchette across the room. It landed in the fireplace and began to burn. The
Ouija board flew off the table, clattering to the floor.
“I did not sign up for this shit,” Squat Man said, backing away slowly. He
yelped when he bumped into a chair, whirling around.
Nelson left the sconces and went to the camera. He studied it closely
before nodding to himself. “This looks expensive.” And then he knocked it
over. It crashed to the ground, the lens cracking. “Oops.”
Hugo sighed once again as Wallace said, “Yes, Nelson. Yes.”
“We need to get out of here,” Thin Man whispered feverishly. He started
for the door, but Wallace kicked a chair toward him. It slid across the floor,
banging into Thin Man’s shins. He screamed and almost fell down, the pad of
paper hitting the ground.
“I won’t have this!” Desdemona exclaimed. “We won’t be intimidated by
the likes of you! I am Desdemona Tripplethorne. I have fifty thousand