The Medium

Chapter 9

"I told you, getting your aunt to come was a mistake. You owe me nothing."

The best response to that was to ignore it and move on. "I want to speak to your parents."

"No."

"I want to reassure them—."

"No, Emily." He paced from one side of the narrow alley to the other, hands on hips, head bowed. "I don't think it's a good idea."

"Why?"

"Because it's not."

"Why not?"

"Emily, just leave it be. I don't want to discuss this with you."

He stalked off. I remained in the shadows and waited for him to realize I wasn't following. When he did, he came back, his temper seething if the tightness of his face was anything to go by.

"Don't make me hoist you over my shoulder," he said. He wasn't laughing. Not even close.

"I'm going to see your parents this afternoon," I said. "Unless you can give me a good reason not to."

He scrubbed a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck, kneading it as if it ached. "Very well. You've forced my hand. My concern is that they won't believe you." He said it defiantly and I waited for the "so there" but it never came.

"Few people ever believe me at first," I said.

He shook his head and I waited for further explanation. I had the feeling there was more to it than he was letting on. "My father dabbles in the sciences—biology and psychology mostly. It's a hobby of his. He belongs to various scientific societies and regularly writes papers debunking the supernatural. He thinks all mediums are frauds, and that's putting it kindly."

"Most are."

"It won't matter how much evidence you present him with, he'll find a way to discredit you."

I shrugged. "I'm used to skeptics. Is that your only concern?"

He shook his head again and sighed. "You won't find an ally in my mother either. I'm afraid she won't want to believe you."

It took me a few moments to understand what he was saying. "You mean she still hopes you'll be found somewhere, alive?"

He nodded. "I visited them shortly after my death. The Administrators warned me against it and I should have listened to them. They said it can be traumatic for a spirit to know how their loved ones reacted to their death. They were right." He leaned against the brick wall of the chop house and tipped his head back. "It was awful. Mother was adamant that I must be somewhere, lost or kidnapped with no way of getting home. Father either believed it too or simply went along with her because it was easier. They've spent a fortune since my death on investigators who claim they can find anything and anyone. None have even turned up my body let alone any answers to explain my fate."

His shoulders stooped and he sagged against the wall. He was clearly distressed about his parents, despite the matter-of-fact way he spoke.

It made me more determined to see them than ever. "That was some time ago," I said. "Perhaps they've changed since then. Perhaps your mother is ready to move on, if only she knew the truth."

"I doubt it." He pushed off from the wall and leveled his gaze with mine. "So you see that she'll be as skeptical as my father. She'll simply refuse to believe you."

"I can still try. You could feed me some information that only you and they could possibly know."

"They'll think I told someone at school or—"