The Medium

"No. It's not that." He laughed ruefully. "You don't scare me in the least. It's-." He shook his head and started again. "It feels like I'm losing my humanity. Every day I'm with you, every hour, every minute, gets harder and harder to-." He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes.

I waited but he didn't continue. I didn't know whether I should prompt him or if that would only anger him, or upset him. I reached out and caressed his cheek instead. The hard, chiseled line of it gave his face a regal quality, commanding and majestic. Fascinating. The skin was soft, cool, and I sighed, enthralled.

With a matching sigh he opened his eyes. And stepped away. "You shouldn't do that," he said but there was no anger in his voice, or alarm. "We must go."

"But I haven't told you what I wanted to say," I said. He waited, feet apart as if steadying himself on a rocking ship. "I wanted to do something for you in exchange for the service you rendered me."

"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."