Giuliana Guidicelli's voice was clear and echoing in the empty ballroom of the hotel. Her hand was tightly wrapped around the pencil as she watched the two girls with closed eyes with two fingers each pressed against the triangular planchette.
Rufiana Marconi pulled one hand from the planchette and crossed herself, her eyes snapping open to look at the board as it started to move. "Giuli, start writing. Start it."
"R-A-P-E," Rufiana spelled slowly as Giuliana scribbled down the letters in her black notebook. When the word came to an end and the planchette came to rest on a blank area of the board, the girls exchanged glances.
"Rape," Sophia Fiorucci murmured.
There was a still, eerie silence as the girls took in what they had just seen. Rufiana began to whisper the Hail Mary in Italian before Giuliana gave her a sharp nudge. Her heart thudded in her chest, but she hid her anxiety with fidgety annoyance.
"Ask something."
Rufiana coughed. "Who did it? I—I mean, who . . . raped you?"
The same dictation was repeated as the planchette moved.
