The Medium

Chapter 13

He stared at me, shaking his head over and over, all the while backing away but not towards the door. Jacob stalked him, taking a step forward for every one Blunt took back. His presence felt strong to me, real, and I wondered if either Blunt or George could feel it too.

"Tell us," I said.

Blunt, still shaking his head, said, "No. No, I...I won't. You can't hurt me. Your ghost can't hurt me."

It was my turn to shake my head. "What makes you think that?"

"Spirits travel right through solid things." He was blustering, his eyes wide, his hand gestures wild. It was almost as if he was trying to convince himself. "They don't have any form. They can't grasp objects." He spun round and lunged for the fire tools. He grabbed the iron poker and brandished it like a sword.

George whipped the coat off his arm to reveal the pistol. He pointed it at Blunt. His hand shook. "Put it down."

"You wouldn't," Blunt said, more self-assured than he had been when discussing ghosts.

"He's right," Jacob said to me. "George won't use it." There was no accusation in his tone. Neither he nor I would blame George if he couldn't fire the weapon.

But George, surprising us both, stretched his arm out. "I will use it. To save her." He nodded at me.

Jacob's gaze slid to mine. He grunted and crossed his arms then turned his attention back to the others just as Blunt lunged at George.

George jumped back and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened. He cocked the pistol again but Blunt was on him, bringing the heavy iron poker down onto George's head.

George ducked and put an arm up in defense. The poker kept coming. A scream tore from my throat and I closed my eyes, a reaction I later chided myself for.

But instead of the crack of bone, the only sound was a grunt and it came from Blunt. I opened my eyes. Jacob had both hands on the poker, inches from George's head. He and Blunt battled each other for control, the older man’s startled expression mingling with an angry one.

With a roar and a burst of strength, Jacob pushed up hard, causing Blunt to lose his balance and stumble. Using the momentum, Jacob thrust his opponent against the wall beside the fireplace. The force must have loosened his grip because Jacob was able to snatch the poker out of his hand. He swung it at Blunt's stomach. The impact made a sickening thud.

Blunt let out a whoosh of breath and bent over double, his face bright red. Jacob pressed the poker under Blunt's chin, sending his head snapping back. It hit the wall and his eyes rolled up into his head.

"Ask him about the demon again," Jacob said. He aimed the poker at Blunt's chest.

"Where's the demon being kept?" I asked, trying to keep my voice level. I did not want the men to see how squeamish the fighting made me. My insides might be wobbling like jelly but I would do everything in my power to ensure that's where the jelly stayed.

Blunt grinned a warped, nasty grin. "Get. Out. Of. My. School."

"Please, let's not have any more violence," I said. "I don't want my ghost to hurt you, Mr. Blunt. As you can see, he can wield weapons as easily as any of us. So please just tell us where the demon is and we'll let you go unharmed."

"It won't hurt me." He seemed to believe it too.

"Why do you say that?" It was George. He stood to one side, well away from Blunt and Jacob, the gun still in his hand but pointed harmlessly at the floor.