The words of the Christmas carol echoed in his mind, and Marco felt Rubio’s death wash freshly over him. This was all his fault.
Even as his insides reared up and his conscious mind threatened him with every weapon in its arsenal, Marco felt the invisible puppeteer pulling his marionette strings.
“What’s oo-ee ha?” Marco asked, the word feeling strange and mysterious in his mouth.
“It’s a board that lets you talk to the spirits of dead people.”