Violet distributed black pins from the pincushion to all of us, but we were three short and had to resort to coloring the heads of purple pins black with a Sharpie. When we were done, I arranged the four dolls on the music rack of the baby grand piano in the corner of the room. The dolls wouldn’t be visible to anyone standing in the living room unless they stepped around the piano as if intending to play it.

It was almost ten in the morning. My eyes fell upon my own voodoo doll, on which I’d drawn eyes and a smile. Someone was going to have to remove the black pins from my doll’s head and chest at the exact moment when someone else was going to attempt to kill me. This entire afternoon was going to have to operate like a well-choreographed Broadway show, and I hadn’t assigned any of the featured roles yet. I was running out of time, and I couldn’t blame anyone but myself for my indecision.

My phone buzzed over on the end table where it was charging.

MOM 9:54 A.M.

Visiting with Glenn this morning. I’ll pick you up at Cheryl’s around noon?

Contacting both my mom and dad that morning and having what might very well have been my last conversations with both should have been a top priority. But I knew that hearing either of their voices would wreck me, saying anything that felt like good-bye would feel like a concession to the spirits’ power, and I might chicken out if I thought too much about the danger I’d be leaving my parents in if I failed that day. So instead, I texted Mom back and informed her that I’d be going to the Portnoys’ funeral with Cheryl, and Cheryl would drop me off at the Emorys’ house later on.

“The funeral starts at Gundarsson’s, and then everyone’s driving over to the Mount Zion Cemetery,” Violet told us as she read Mr. and Mrs. Portnoys’ obituaries on the Willow Gazette’s mobile website.

“No way are we going inside,” I announced.

Henry said, “One of us will have to. You usually have to get a sticker to put on your windshield that says you’re part of the funeral procession.”

“We don’t need the sticker. We can just drive with the other cars,” Trey insisted.

“Seems like a perfect way for us to get separated from everyone else if something’s trying to stop us,” Henry said in a cautionary tone. “Like, if we come across a red light, and everyone else drives ahead? That’s the kind of stuff they like to do.”

“We need the sticker,” I agreed. “Can’t take any stupid risks today.”

“I can’t be the one to go inside,” Violet said, holding up her phone toward us as if it was the reason. “Pete’s been texting me all morning about whether or not I’m going. If he sees me there, it’ll just complicate everything.”

“That can’t happen,” I agreed and turned to Henry. “Henry will go inside. But you have to avoid Mischa at all costs, okay? Try not to even let her see you.”