“It said ‘designate.’ That means we can choose. I think you should stay here in this room.”

“And I think”—she pushed Stella’s hand off her arm—“you just got used to getting all the presents. It’s my turn.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I don’t think you want that present.”

Harlow scoffed.

“I’m serious. I have a really, really bad feeling about this. Bad enough for me to amend my rule to only be serious about three things in my life.”

“You had a bad feeling about the Ouija board too, and that turned out okay, didn’t it? And if it’s so bad, why are you volunteering to go?”

For that, Stella didn’t have an answer. Speechlessness didn’t strike her often, but it had landed with the full force of a train derailing.

Too bad for Black sacrifice is the game.

When all is said and all is recorded, you’ll go back to inhumation.

A Ouija board to talk to the dead.

A Bone Room with an obvious warning.

Was it really Stella’s responsibility to help Harlow, who hadn’t connected the dots of the game?

Or maybe she had and just didn’t care. Winning must have meant something to her to make it worth it.

Harlow began to enter the short code into the keypad, complete with a B. “I’ll be fine. Worry about yourself.” She looked back with a teasing smile as the door closed slowly behind her. “See you on the other side.”

“That’s not funny.” Stella shook her head, turning away. Some people just didn’t have the sense they were born with. “Okay, bird. Let’s get this over with. Show yourself.”

Bird in the bones.

Stella circled the room twice, trying to take everything in, noticing as much as she could. Once the initial shock of bones!? wore off, one chair—a bone throne—caught her eye. She kept coming back to it because it was weirdly in a corner by itself. The rest of the room felt like one cohesive set piece, every bone item staged intentionally to fit a larger, complete picture.

The seat resembled a flattened rib cage, the back had a spine (naturally), and spindly fingers flared out at its sides like a small pair of wings. Stella crouched in front of it, inspecting the arms and legs, which were probably constructed with their literal counterparts.

Bird in the bones.

Something about that kept tickling Stella’s brain.

“Bird in the bones,” she whispered to the empty room. Why did that sound familiar? But it was off—like it should have been something else.

Bird in the bones …

… birds in the box.

Nicole had metal bird bones in her iron box.

How was that supposed to help her now, though? She didn’t have the box with her. It wasn’t her present.