When I only stared at him, Neil rolled his eyes and continued. “Grab the crank and think about whatever—or whoever—it is you wanna see. If your connection is strong enough, Crystal will find it for you. Wanna check in on your friend?”

Behind me, Riley gave a disapproving snort. “Waste of time. The boy will be fine. We should be focusing on the cultists.”

“Well, none of us have intimate connections to any cultists, now do we?” Neil countered.

I almost wanted to agree with Riley, but then I hesitated, remembering the resentment in Vik’s expression as he stormed away from me, and I felt sick. What if he was still upset? I needed to know. I couldn’t stand the anxiety.

Riley’s annoyance softened into indulgent resignation as he saw my face. “Very well,” he begrudged, flicking off the lights. “But let us make this quick.”

I wrapped my hand around the crank of the projector.

“Think about finding your friend,” Neil instructed, adjusting the lens. “His name, his face, his personality, as you’re turning the crank. Give it a go.”

It’s worth a try, I thought, and pushed the crank. It made a clattering sound as it moved, and a light came on inside the machine. A glowing, flickering box appeared on the sheet on the wall. As I turned the handle, I thought about Vik’s house, the Bollywood music playing in his kitchen as we snacked on naan together, his cute, bright smile, his faint accent, the way he loved his Vespa, the way he defended yoga as manly… Vik, my friend. We were still friends, right?

Colors and images flickered across the sheet.

“Slow down,” Neil said. “I think we’ve got it. Is that him?”

A slender frame faded onto the screen, and I recognized the figure, the sweater vest and white shirt. It was Vik. I saw him like I was standing right there next to him. He stood at the edge of a platform in some kind of darkened cavern, his arms crossed as he studied the space. As he turned, I saw a sea of empty seats filling the space behind him and I realized he was standing in an old, dimly-lit theatre. Dark figures milled around the edge of the stage, melting in an out of the shadows as they worked at something just out of sight.

Across the stage, a white sheet covered a tall rectangular box standing almost like an upright coffin. Next to it, a gnarled leather tome sat open on a wooden podium. Letters and geometric designs were drawn onto the stage around the podium, radiating outward like a star. I recognized the book.

The Necronomicon.

I heard Riley gasp.