Chapter 22 #2
So not something she could straighten out without someone here, advocating for them to listen. Got it.
Mrs. Fairchild lunged for Gwyn. “My baby, please come here—”
Without hesitation, Gwyn slapped her hands away. The sound rang loudly through the room, making everyone stop and look. Mrs. Fairchild appeared stunned, like she never expected her daughter to completely reject her like that.
“What are you doing?” Gwyn demanded, her voice rising like a building tidal wave. “I’m finally safe! I can finally sleep through the night without being harassed, I can finally walk down a sidewalk without worry I’ll be attacked and end up in a cast again! I am finally safe! Stop it already.”
Gwyn started crying, but these were angry tears. She still vibrated with the need for violence.
I took a side step, blocking their sight of Gwyn and pushing the mother back by sheer force of presence. “All right, let’s take this from step one. Who are all of you? I’m Special Agent Brandon Havili, FBI. Everyone with me is FBI, by the way, and from the Paranormal Activity Division.”
Except three, but close enough, no need to nitpick.
The older woman stepped forward, one hand clamped on Mrs. Fairchild’s shoulder as if she was holding her physically in place. “Agent Havili, I’m Edith Fairchild, Gwyn’s grandmother. Can you explain what’s going on? Why would you take my granddaughter into custody?”
“Because she’s a Medium,” I answered simply.
“Well, actually, she’s a Medium and Psychic Energy Reader, so two talents.
Your daughter-in-law and son do not want to admit she has talents, or let Gwyn train them, or even admit to ghosts existing.
They won’t give her proper medical help when a ghost hurts her, they won’t let her defend herself, they’re threatening exorcisms and religious nonsense instead of getting her actual testing and help.
Gwyn was on a course straight into an early grave.
We had to take her in because otherwise she wouldn’t have survived high school. ”
Oh, Grandma didn’t like hearing my words. Not sure if that weighed in my favor as of yet.
The grandfather joined us, looking at Mrs. Fairchild like he was ready to shake sense into her. “Agent, is there any way you can prove your allegations? I’m not against the belief in ghosts, I’ve just never seen one, so it’s hard to wrap my head around it.”
I had no idea, to be honest. I looked to Mack for help.
But my lover didn’t need my cue. He took a half step forward. “Special Agent Mackenzie Lafayette, and I’m not only a Medium, but Gwyn’s master. If I show you a ghost, will you back down?”
“I will, yes. I can’t speak for my son or daughter-in-law.”
“That’s fine. I’ll take convincing some of you.” Mack turned, walked a few steps away, then conferred with thin air. Well, I assumed a ghost, but to me it looked like thin air. “Sir, will you assist me? Yes, of course, I’m happy to do that before leaving. Yes, them as well.”
A deal was struck and Mack extended a hand, like he was escorting a lady at a grand ball. With every step they took toward us, the outline of the ghost became clearer. More solid, like an illusion taking shape. It was only five steps, but in those five steps, the ghost became a tangible person.
Mrs. Fairchild screamed, scrambling back until she was behind one of the desks, her eyes bulging out of her head. Her husband wasn’t much better. He didn’t scream, but he was breathing hard and heavy, eyes wild.
The grandparents, interestingly enough, took this almost in stride. Startled, yes, but they held their ground. So this disbelief in the existence of ghosts didn’t come from them. I wondered how it got so solidly lodged into their son’s head, then?
Mack stopped in front of the grandparents. “I’m boosting this ghost so you can see him. A thing that only can really happen in Black Rock, for reasons I’ll explain later. Now, would you like to ask him questions?”
Grandma rallied first. “Sir, I’m Edith. What’s your name?”
“Charlie,” the ghost said.
“You look like you came from the past, sir?” She was being very careful in how she phrased things.
“Died in 1820, methinks. Nearabouts.” Charlie made a face. “Can’t find my damn grave, pardon my language, ma’am. So not sure on that.”
Could be why he was still wandering around, since unburied people became ghosts.
Edith looked progressively more unnerved as he spoke. “And can you tell, as a ghost, who is a Medium?”
“Yes, ma’am. Easy to spot Mediums. They glow real bright, y’see.” He turned his head a little and pointed. “The redheaded lady, the brunette lady, and this older gentleman are all Mediums. Don’t know who this Asian man is, but he glows too, just in a weird sense.”
So they could see Seiji’s aura too? Huh. Interesting.
“And of course, we all know Gwyn,” the man finished.
His casual line felt like a gauntlet thrown. Grandfather stomped in closer.
“What? You all know Gwyn? What exactly do you mean?”
“Just that, sir. We’ve seen Gwyn grow up, walk through town, go to school, all of that.” He frowned at her parents. “I don’t have much respect for two parents who make their little girl deal with hardened criminals all day and night.”
The mother looked white at this point, trembling like a leaf.
She stared at Charlie like she doubted every sense she had, but I could see the realization slowly dawn in her eyes.
This wasn’t a trick. It wasn’t stage magic.
Hell, Mack was in short sleeves, you could see his hands and wrists; this wasn’t a projection or some sleight of hand.
You could see her try and find a logical explanation, fail, and realize a core belief she held dear was nothing but lies.
And I watched her mentally break as she had to accept that ghosts were real.
Not much sympathy in this crowd for her.
The father, though, he was still trying to make this not his fault. He didn’t come around the desk, but he leaned over it, and while his voice shook, he did address Charlie directly. “Hardened criminals?”
“You think the men who lived in this area were all good?” Charlie snorted in disgust. “Thieves, murderers, rapists, they all died on this land. Some of them moved on, some didn’t.
The ones who didn’t take great delight in harassing the ladies.
Especially Gwyn. With her so bright, she makes an easy and obvious target.
You couldn’t even protect your sole child from criminals. ”
Gwyn’s father looked to her and he almost pleaded, “It wasn’t that bad, right? Tell them!”
His daughter stared stonily back and didn’t say a single word.
Mack, though, Mack had a lot to say. “She literally broke her arm trying to fight off a ghost and you have the temerity to say it wasn’t that bad?”
That broke him a little, and he retreated to stare at the floor.
Grandma had now had enough. “Mr. Charles, thank you for speaking with me. I’ll handle things with my granddaughter.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Charles grinned. “Glad someone is. Gwyn, I’ll miss seeing you.”
Gwyn actually smiled back. “You were always nice, Charlie. I appreciate you. Say, I know how to pass ghosts now. Can I do the honors?”
“Well, now, that’d be fine. Mighty fine, and I accept.”
Knowing what she’d want next, I pulled a flashlight from my pocket and handed it to her. She took it with a nod of thanks, turned, and aimed it into a dimmer corner nearby. Then, while holding the light steady, she held her hand out to him. “Just walk with me and imagine you’re going home.”
“That easy?”
“Well, yes, because that’s precisely what you’re doing.”
I watched her as she took a step, and the pathway opened, Charlie practically skipping at her side.
In the week we’d had her, she had mastered this skill.
She walked him through to the afterlife without missing a beat.
Even I could see the door open before Charlie stepped through.
I watched the crowd more than Gwyn at this point.
I’d seen hundreds of ghosts pass on, nothing new there.
But the rest of them? Oh, this was quite the show. Mrs. Fairchild’s legs gave out, leaving her crumpled on the floor as she watched her daughter pass a ghost on. Mr. Fairchild watched Gwyn with a slack expression, like he really was suffering from a mental breakdown over there.
There were people in this world who couldn’t accept when they were wrong.
They couldn’t handle when a core belief was dismantled.
They lost their minds over it, doing mental gymnastics to claw their belief back.
But between Mack and Gwyn, they had proven in multiple ways that ghosts were real.
Very, very real. I didn’t think her parents would be able to really recover from this.
They weren’t the type of people who could be corrected and move on.
Well, maybe I was wrong. Maybe they would learn how to adapt. I wasn’t holding my breath.
Gwyn came back, handed me the flashlight, then faced her grandparents. “Your son and daughter-in-law failed me as parents in every possible way. I will not have contact with them from this point forward, not without some massive groveling. I wish you two had believed me when I asked for help.”
“Oh, honey, we thought it was a phase you were going through,” Grandma Fairchild explained with sad eyes. “You stopped talking about ghosts once you hit ten, so I thought you were past it.”
“I stopped talking about it because I was punished for even saying the word ghost.”
She winced. “Oh.”
I didn’t fault the grandparents. Gwyn had told me they lived in California, and they didn’t see her face-to-face often. A lot could be hidden with distance, as I’d seen while a cop. I didn’t think Gwyn really blamed them, either, but she was livid with her parents. Understandably.
Grandfather Fairchild stepped forward to speak to Gwyn. “I’m not entirely comfortable with you going off with these men—”
Gwyn was quick to defend us. “I want to be with them!”