That's A Rap Chapter Two

"Are you ready for this?" Carl asked Olivia, as he steered the car past the rusty iron gates onto the gravel drive outside the old manor house.
"You know me," she smiled. "I'm always ready for anything."
"Looks like George is ready," Carl added, when he saw the ancient relic, George fondly referred to as his reliable old passion wagon.
As they emerged from the car, it was just about possible to make out the form of George busily setting out the monitoring equipment in the large, former library room on the ground floor.
Pausing for a moment at the door, Olivia announced, quite matter-of -factly that she had detected a subtle change in the atmosphere.
Carl had expected her to pick up on something, however, he was the first to admit he was surprised she had done so, so quickly. "What kind of change?" he asked.
At first she made no attempt to respond to his enquiry, then slowly she moved into the entrance hall. Her gaze firmly fixed on the floor, almost as if she were trying to prevent herself from visually inspecting the area around her, as if such an action would divert her attention from whatever she sensed.
"I'm not sure," she finally muttered. "I sensed a presence, but it's not ready to communicate yet."
"Maybe we should make an appointment and come back later when its more convenient?" George quipped, as he emerged from the library, and proceeded to the doorway behind them.
"Don't start, George!" Carl rebutted sternly.
"It's alright, I'm used to skeptic's and their narrow-minded sarcasm."
"Sorry about that ... you know what he's like,"
"Don't worry about it Carl. As I said, I'm used to it. Besides, I'm not here to impress anyone, especially George, so let's just get on with it, shall we?"
Although Olivia showed no outward signs of being affected by George's harsh greeting, he suspected that contrary to her statement, impressing everyone present was higher on her list of priority's than she cared to admit.
When George re-entered the house he was accompanied by Joanne, laden with her respective monitors and recorders. "Hi, Olivia!" she greeted, seeing the medium standing with Carl, about to ascend the stairs.
"Hi, Joanne. We were just about to check out the bedroom. Seems to be the epicenter of activity, apparently."
"I'm about to go and set up in there right now, I'll show you up if you like?"
Carl moved aside to allow his two eager female colleagues access. "Aren't you coming boss?" Joanne asked, when she reached his side and attempted to squeeze the narrow gap between him and the stairs wall.
"Yes, I ..........."
"Good! You can take some of this lot with you," Joanne interrupted, quickly unburdening herself of the heavy equipment, dumping it precariously into Carl's unsuspecting grasp. "Thanks!"
"Don't mention it," Carl mumble, a grudging reply. "My pleasure!" For a moment he stood, trying to rearrange his bulky load, sufficiently to allow him to continue his ascent. By this time, Joanne and Olivia had already reached the landing.
"Well, come on then," Joanne urged with a mocking smile. "We haven't got all night you know. I want to get that lot set up before it gets too dark."
To add to his irritation, George edged his way round him, making an overly dramatic gesture, suggesting that Carl was blocking his path. "Are you ok with that lot Boss," he laughed when several steps above Carl.
"Ok." Carl exclaimed, "I can see this is going to be a long night."
The others laughed for a brief moment while they watched him take the first few tentative steps towards them.
When Olivia entered the bedroom, all signs of joviality vanished immediately. She stopped in her tracks and sought the support of the wall behind her.
"Are you alright?" Joanne asked, reaching out her hand and resting it reassuringly on her shoulder. Even George diverted his attention towards her, his face showing uncharacteristic signs of concern.
Olivia remained quiet, the healthy color draining gradually from her cheeks, leaving her face, worryingly, ashen white.
"What's wrong ... what's happening?" Carl said in horror, when he entered the room.
No one spoke, all focus was on Olivia. She stood, leaning heavily against the wall. Head in hands, as if racked in a horrific headache, her fingers frantically clawed in her blonde hair.
"Get her out! ... Get her out of here quick, Joanne." Carl yelled, disposing of his burden of electronic equipment with desperate abandonment on the bed.
Joanne did little, she appeared frozen in fear at Olivia's reaction to the room. Luckily, George was more mobile and made a frenzied leap towards the stricken medium, grasping her arm firmly in his hand and pulling her towards the door, her prone state offered no resistance or help to the suddenness of his reaction. Like a limp rag doll, she fell into his arms and they fell through the doorway onto the landing.
"Joanne!" Carl yelled loudly, though apparently onto deaf ears, when he noticed his dumb struck colleague still frozen to the spot, as if she had suddenly become petrified in stone. "Joanne!" he yelled again, by now throwing himself towards her, realizing it was not fear that held her immobile, she was entranced, held solid by whatever force Olivia had unwittingly awoken in the room.
It took a few moments for the team to compose themselves, during which time each member stood silently, desperately to rationalize the utter mayhem that raged within them. Even George, with his sometime irritatingly calm level headedness had been shaken to the core by the suddenness and severity of the brief experience they had just escaped.
"What the hell was all that about?" Carl eventually asked, though deep down he suspected he knew the answer. He had been on enough investigations in the past to know what it felt like to be on the receiving end of a malevolent spirit, who wished to be left alone. Olivia's next statement came as no surprise, when she announced in a still shaky voice that was exactly what had just happened.
"I don't know who that presence is," she began, but one thing is crystal clear. He is very, very powerful. The energy that he feeds on is pure evil. We must be extremely careful not to rile him."
"So it's a male spirit?" Carl asked.
"Oh yes," Olivia, still seemed reluctant to describe what she had just sensed, however, with all eyes on her for some kind of explanation she felt duty bound to satisfy their raging curiosity, not to mention quell the fear they each felt.
"There were many spirit's in that room ...."
"How many?" Carl interrupted.
"I couldn't tell, The male presence was strong. It took all my energy to hold him back. The others are frightened of him. And with good cause. I've never sensed such intense evil manifest in one spirit before. I need to get some air, before we go back in there again," she concluded.
"Hang on ... Nobody is going back in that damn room, till we have a clearer idea of exactly what we're dealing with." Carl announced, determination ringing clear and resolute in his voice.
Much to the relief of everyone present, the decision was made to reconvene downstairs in the library and discuss the nights course of action.
Upon reaching the entrance hall, George and Joanne set a course for the library, while Carl and Olivia made for the main door'
"Listen Olivia," Carl began, after lighting a cigarette, a ritual he had adapted to calm his nerves on such occasions as this. "If this one is too much for you, call it a day now. Everyone understands."
"No!" She replied quickly. "I can't let this thing beat me. I have to stay and face it."
"You don't need to prove yourself to anyone here," Carl assured her. "You're worse than you're Dad was, and look where his stubborn pride got him." No sooner had he said it than he regretted making such a heartless comparison, her reaction was immediate, and intense;
"My Dad was the best damn medium as ever seen." She almost screamed at him, her face instantly drenched in a flood of angry tears. "He paid the ultimate price in his search for answers. He wouldn't walk away from this, and neither will I."
"Ok, Olivia but we take every precaution possible, yeah?" Carl pleaded, hoping to make amends for his cruel statement. "I don't want to be the one responsible for you joining you Dad."
"You really don't get it, do you Carl? I joined my Dad on the day I realized I had the same ability that he had.
"No one had more respect than I had for Max Deacon," Carl began, "But what good did it do him in the end?"
"Better than you could ever imagine!" she sobbed. "My Dad didn't commit suicide two years ago. He made the decision to search for the answers on the next level. He chose to join the spirits on their plane of existence, not communicate with them through the great divide of mortality."
Carl was speechless. Even if he had a reply it would have been pointless airing it after such a profound revelation. All he could do was offer whatever feeble attempt he could muster to console and comfort her, even then he was unsure she needed consolation, she had the unique comfort of knowing her dead father was still beside her, as strongly and firmly now, if not more so than he had ever been.
On that note, Olivia wiped her face free of tears and returned to the house. "By the way Carl," she said, quietly before opening the door. "No one needs to know what I've just told you."
"No, of course not," Carl agreed, politely opening the door and allowing her to enter."
"Are you ok," Joanne asked, when they entered the library.
"Yes, I'm fine, Thanks. It was all a bit sudden, that's all. I didn't have time to prepare myself. How are you?"
Joanne offered a weak smile, which fooled no one. A few more seconds in that bedroom and there's no telling what could have happened to her. She had been lucky on this occasion and she more than anyone, knew it. "I'm fine now," she concluded.
"So ... What do we do now. Any suggestions?" George added, in his usual casual, unaffected manner.
"I suggest we all have a nice hot cuppa, and calm down a bit before we start the second round."
"I'll second that idea," Joanne announced, already retrieving the thermos from the pile of boxes and canvas bags they had previously placed in the corner of the room.