But instead, he moved to the other side of the cloth, reaching around with his other hand, clawing the air on that side. He didn’t even lean over and look around, probably because his glowing eyes could see her on the other side of the cloth. She could see those eyes clearly enough, and they only added to her terror.

Even as she gasped for air, trying to get her breath as she struggled to figure out what to do, Magda frowned. Why didn’t he simply come around the cloth to get her? It was obvious that he knew she was back there.

He roared in frustration, slashing wildly, blindly, around the side of the cloth. He raced over to the other side, trying again to reach back and snag her. But he wasn’t leaning in far enough to get to her. She couldn’t imagine why not.

It seemed like the silky cloth was somehow keeping him back.

Magda wondered . . . could it be?

She remembered Isidore saying that some of the spells on the hanging fabric were her own creation. Isidore knew more about the underworld and the dead than most people.

Magda held the lantern up. She could see then, through the diaphanous cloth, besides his glowing eyes, that there were symbols all over the other side. They were drawn rather crudely with what looked to be a thin wash of paint that wrinkled the fabric. Magda could see that they were definitely spell-forms. She tried to picture in her mind what they would look like if she were on the other side and wasn’t looking at them backward.

She had frequently seen Baraccus draw spells. She tried to think if she recognized these drawn spells. They were unusual; they didn’t look like anything she had ever seen Baraccus draw.

The man lunged, reaching around the side, grasping empty air with his clawed fingers. Magda ducked in and jabbed at the filmy cloth, pushing it toward him. He stepped back with a surprised, angry growl, then raced to the other side to try again to reach around and get her while she was close.

Magda remembered Isidore saying that the spells she had drawn were born of her work as a spiritist, and that they were both powerful and significant.

Magda remembered Isidore saying The dead must heed them.

The man on the other side hadn’t yet tried to come past the cloth but he showed no signs of giving up. She knew that he would not leave until he had her. If anything, he was getting ever more frantic to reach her.