ANGRY SPIRIT PART 2 Chapter Three

Luckily the young medium's skills extended beyond her psychic abilities and she was able to tend Nathan's physical wound swiftly and effectively. The mental scares left by the ordeal were another matter.
Miranda gazed around the room trying to comprehend the level of destruction. She seemed entranced, somewhat distant and distracted from the harsh reality of the situation she had stumbled into. Sitting in the chair opposite Nathan, she made no attempt at conversation; her only movement was concentrated on fingering a string of rosary beads.

"I'm sorry about the mess," Nathan exclaimed with some embarrassment. "It's not usually this untidy!"
Still Miranda offered no reply, her attention apparently captured by forces she had no wish, nor intention to explain, at least not at this early stage.
Before long the forced silence began to fascinate Nathan. He sat enthralled by the young medium's strange antics. Even he noticed an unfamiliar calmness around him. A welcome sensation that had become sadly lacking for so long.

With a suddenness that took Nathan by surprise, Miranda's eyes opened as she appeared to return to a shocked state of awareness.
"This is far from over, Mr. Harrison!" She proclaimed anxiously. "Far from over! I sense a great force of evil in this house."
Nathan's response was one of uncharacteristic amusement, quickly transforming to scathing sarcasm.
"With all due respect, Miranda, I don't think I need a medium to tell me that. Especially when the same medium told me exactly the same thing almost a year ago."

"I beg your pardon?" Miranda said.
"When you first visited here last year with your assistant Alice?"
"I have never been to this house before, Mr. Harrison. And, further more I have never had an assistant, let alone one by the name of Alice."
Nathan was mortified by this admission. He began to describe the events that had occurred, and the dire consequences which had followed. The consequences instigated by the actions of herself, Alice and the mysterious Max Deacon.

Throughout Nathan's detailed recollection of events, Miranda showed no signs of remembering any involvement. Although, she continued to listen intently. It was only when the name of Max Deacon was raised, did she display any reaction. "You must remember the séance. It was you who invoked the spirit of Joshua Edwards. No one could forget something like that! Are you seriously telling me I imagined the whole thing?"
"No. Mr. Harrison. I'm not saying that at all," she began. "I don't doubt for one minute that you experienced everything that you described."
"It doesn't seem like that to me," Nathan replied, his voice clearly tinged with frustration. "I get the impression you're patronizing me ... humoring me like some kind of weirdo, who's just seeking attention."

"No. No, Mr. Harrison. The events you're describing, took place in your nightmare. That doesn't necessarily mean they never happened."
The medium's hurried and obviously inadequate explanation did nothing to quell Nathan's rising frustration. "So, now you're saying it was all a bad dream?" His voice now rang with anger. "Oh, for God's sake! I need a drink!"
"You can drink as much as you like, Mr. Harrison, but it won't make any of this go away!"
Racked by a sudden shroud of desperation and intense frustration, Nathan beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen. Prior to contacting Miranda, he had foolishly convinced himself that the intervention of a medium, the one who so miraculously introduced herself to him, that normality would soon return. Now hit by the harsh reality it seemed that any hope had quickly vanished and he was doomed to endure this torment indefinitely.

After allowing Nathan a few moments to calm down and collect his thoughts, she could see and understand how traumatized he was. However, she had no intentions of allowing herself to become a convenient punch-bag for him to vent his frustrations, choose how well founded they might be. Only then did she decide to follow him and confront him with what she saw as the options.
By the time she entered the kitchen, she could see Nathan had ventured out into the garden and was midway through smoking a relaxing cigarette.
For a brief moment she stood, concealed by the partly closed window blind. It became instantly obvious what a shattered and desperate man Nathan Harrison was. She needed none of her unique abilities to detect the constant shaking of his hands, the pale complexion that extenuated the deep furrows above his brow, or the heaviness of his eyelids. Those alone were a clear indication of the sleepless nights he had endured.

Had she had the inclination, she was more than capable of linking into his thoughts and fears. She had done the self-same thing with many of her clients in the past. However, in Nathan Harrison's case, this would be a pointless and punishing voyage; she had neither the will not the courage to make.
"Do you mind if I join you in one of those?" she called from the doorway.
Startled at first, Nathan quickly responded with a welcoming smile. "No. I don't mind at all. Please have one of mine!"
Miranda walked towards him, to accept the cigarette Nathan had partly removed from the open packet he held out in a shaking hand.
"Thank you, Mr. Harrison."

"Do you think we can dispense with the formal Mister Harrison bit?" He finished his statement with a smile, one which assured Miranda was genuine and not merely as mask to hide underlying fears and tensions.
"Look, Nathan," Miranda began, a little hesitantly. "Can we start out a-fresh? We didn't exactly start out on the right foot, did we?"
"No. We didn't, did we?" Nathan agreed. "This whole mess has torn my nerves to shreds. Not that, that is an excuse for the unforgivable way I greeted you. Especially when you've done nothing but show me kindness and understanding since you responded so swiftly after my phone call out of the blue."

"I can't begin to imagine the agony you're going through, Mr. Harrison... Sorry, Nathan!" she added, laughing when she realized her brief slip back to formality.
Assuming that the welcome air of congeniality was a product of the less intimidating surroundings of the garden, and the abundance of the refreshing cool breeze, Miranda felt easier, if not compelled to quiz Nathan with renewed vigor and enthusiasm.
One hour passed another while Nathan revealed the horrors that had befallen him, while Miranda listened with what appeared to Nathan as subdued interest.
The conversation was brought to an abrupt halt when an almighty crashing sound from inside the house made them both freeze in shock.

"What the hell was that?!" Miranda yelled, her eyes fixed in a stare at the doorway into the kitchen."
"Believe me ... it could be anything!" In that instant the multitude of fears that had previously plagued Nathan, returned with vengeance.
"You stay out here. I'll go in and see what I can find." The medium began a confident walk towards the house.
"No. wait! Don't go in there alone. I'll come with you!" Nathan called after her, however, the reluctance rang clear in his voice.

Before passing over the threshold, the cause of the crashing sound was obvious. A frying pan and a large stainless steel sauce pan lay in the center of the tiled floor. Miranda glanced around, checking to see where the offending pans had come from;
"Now that's interesting," she announced, quite matter-of-factly. "Interesting, however not very impressive."
Nathan appeared shocked, more by Miranda's casual attitude towards the incident than the fact that the heavy pans had traveled a good six feet or more from their original and harmless location on the pan rack by the cooker.
"I expected better from you Joshua Edwards!" she called out; her voice was heavy with mocking sarcasm.

"What are you doing?" Nathan gasped. He knew only too well what this angry spirit was capable of. The fresh penetration wound on his upper arm was a painful reminder.
"Is this the best you can do? Come on! Show me what you can really do; your stupid party tricks don't impress me".
As if in answer, a tall, chrome barstool began to rock slowly from side to side. Its legs rattled against the tiled floor as it teetered precariously. Gradually the rocking increased, each time the legs raising higher and higher, first one side then the other. Nathan watched with a horrified fixed stare, as the stool continued to display an obvious disregard for the laws of gravity.

As unimpressive and contemptuous as Miranda thought the display to be, it was enough to scare Nathan to turn and make a hasty retreat to the garden. Before he managed to get clear of the door, the stool suddenly ceased its tormenting motion, and then launched into the air on a clear collision course with the apparently calm and unaffected medium.
When the stool neared its target, Miranda coolly plucked it from the air and set it down, casually on the floor in front of her. "Oh very good! Hardly what you could call threatening though was it?" she concluded with a loud laugh.
"This is all just a big joke to you, isn't it?" Nathan exclaimed scathingly, when Miranda finally emerged from the kitchen door. "You can just walk away from all this after you've stirred it all up. I have to live here and suffer the consequences after you've gone."

"No. Nathan I don't see this as a joke. I know better than most just how dangerous a poltergeist attack can be." Miranda's voice, took on a somber tone. "You must realize that these attacks are manifestations, of evil forces that have powers far beyond our knowledge or even imagination."
"Then why set out to openly provoke them, if you know what they're capable of?"
"Because, to show any sign of fear, or weakness would be fatal." Miranda's young face wrinkled as she recounted painful past experiences. Tears welled in her eyes; her lips trembled, making the agony of her torturing recollections all the more extreme and emotional. This was a side of the medium that Nathan had not so far seen and it clearly took him by surprise. The anger he previously felt for her disrespect for the situation instantly ebbed away.

"I can tell you now. Whoever or whatever was playing with us in there was certainly not the spirit of Joshua Edwards."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because Joshua Edwards would not play around performing such trivial party tricks. That would be a waste of his power."
"Then what the hell was it then, it seemed powerful enough to me!"
"Believe me Nathan. When Joshua Edwards decides the time is right, you will be aware of his presence, and make no mistake, if you show him the slightest sign of fear he will claim your soul and drain your life energy in an instant. Just like he did over two years ago when he ripped my poor Max from me at a séance we held in Suffolk."

"You mean Max Deacon?" Nathan responded. "Are you telling me that you 'do' know who Max Deacon is?"
"Yes. I know who Max is. He's my husband and a very powerful medium."
For a moment, at least Nathan was dumb struck by the almost casual way Miranda had announced the demise of her husband. She displayed no more concern than a wife announcing her husband was away on a business trip, and was merely awaiting his pending return.
"I have every sympathy for you, Miranda. I really do. But, what you are telling me is no explanation as to why Joshua Edwards or Max have involved me in this mess?"

"I wish I could answer that, Nathan. Believe me. While ever he is able to contact us, by whatever means that gives me the hope that I can get him back."
After touring the garden, for what seemed to be several hours, exchanging questions, with little hope of finding answers, and sharing painful memories of past experiences, both medium and victim were resigned to the inescapable fact, that at this unenviable stage, they were firmly locked in frustrating ignorance. The only prospect available seemed to be, to prepare for whatever nerve testing encounters lay ahead.