Chapter XXIX

AIt was clear that Mr. Stokes was uncomfortable not being the one in control of our plan and actions to bring return Aunt Rachel to her body, but since he seemed to be lost with how to handle it all and I had become the one who was focused, it seemed logical, at least to me, that I take the leadership role. I was determined that nothing was going to stop me from accomplishing the goal of returning my aunt to us.

As I had sat in silence after communicating with my aunt it felt as if I had wiped the grime from an old window and was finally allowing the light of the late morning sun to illuminate the interior of my mind and the obvious solution, as if each piece of the puzzle had easily fallen into its rightful place bringing me the revelation I required. It felt simple and obvious and I wondered why I hadn’t been aware of the solution before since it seemed as if I had been in possession of the knowledge and skill all along.

I walked into the library searching for my bag and once I located it on the floor by my favorite chair, I plunged my hand into its depths and retrieved the wooden box I had purchased from the occult shop last month.

“I have a plan and I can execute it myself, but I could use your help, Mr. Stokes. Would you to be my anchor?” I asked him, confident that he would be willing since I could see that there was something between the two of them.

He nodded without hesitation. “Yes, of course, but Angie, how do you know what needs to be done? As you can see for yourself our previous attempt to boost her energetic vibration seems to have failed. How can you be certain that what you have planned will work?”

“It didn’t completely fail,” I said, retracing my steps back to the living room with the box in my hands. I glanced from Mr. Stokes, who walked beside me to the object. “And I can’t explain it, I just know.”

He didn’t seem convinced, but didn’t outwardly challenge me. I gestured to the sofa. “We need to bring her body back into the foyer. I will only be able to reopen an existing portal and her vessel needs to be nearby so that her doyens can reunite with it.”

Mr. Stokes carefully bent over, lifted her body and cradled it in his arms as he carried her into the foyer. He gently placed her onto the cold tiled floor where she had fallen the previous night once I had freed her from the vortex. He took a few steps back closer to my position and looked to me, waiting for whatever was going to happen next.

“Let’s bring her home.”

***

As I stood barefoot in the middle of the foyer, I closed my eyes and exhaled, clearing my mind of all extraneous thoughts and focused solely on Aunt Rachel, summoning forth the numerous memories of her that I held within me, allowing them to seep into my mind bathing me with their warm, soothing emotional liquid, causing me to smile as I re-experienced each one. I allowed them to evolve and even though I was tempted to rush the process along, I knew it was more beneficial to allow it to proceed organically. I carefully sorted through the pages of our shared history in search of the nexus, the shared mere of power, and once I located it, I delved into its murky waters with my consciousness, drowning within it and drinking in the inessential energy from the rest of my being. I was filling myself with the energy and spindling it. I intuitively knew that this vibrant and living energy would be required to power the reopening of the vortex.

“Aunt Rachel? Aunt Rachel? It’s me, it’s Angie.”

There was silence. With my eyes still closed, I inhaled deeply and exhaled, repeating this action a few times as I allowed the energy to wash over and through me.

“Aunt Rachel,” I called, in the quietness of the house, my voice sounded louder to me that it probably was. Mr. Stokes stood beside me, his irregular breathing audible to only me.

“She’s being restrained,” I explained.

I had located Aunt Rachel’s vibrational energy signature that was concealed within the sounds that constantly swirled around everything on the earth, but hers was not freely flowing as it had been just hours ago. It was being restrained by other energetic entities, entities that I was intimately familiar with.

“I can hear them,” I informed Mr. Stokes, who was unable to hear the organic musical sounds as I did. “They’re attempting to keep her from me. They are aware that I am going to reopen the vortex and bring her home.”

“Who? Who is restraining her?” he demanded.

I inhaled and exhaled slowly before responding, distancing myself from his agitation and maintaining my internal focus on Aunt Rachel and the cocoon of energy that embraced me. “The Ancestors.”

“Who?” he paused. “What? Why are they restraining her? Why would they do that?” distraught, he screamed at the unseen accompanying us in the foyer. “Release her!”

If they truly were our ancestors, I understood that they had some motivation for wanting her to remain, but their reason, their purpose for keeping her with them was unknown to me. Only Aunt Rachel would be able to provide him with the answer. But frankly, my friends, between you and I, I didn’t care what the Ancestors’ motive was or what justification they had to keep her with them, I rejected it.

“I don’t know.”

I felt their looming presence, surrounding me in an attempt to create a barrier between Aunt Rachel’s essence and my own. I wasn’t sure if in her current condition she was strong enough to break free of their grasp and breech the wall, but I hoped that our earlier attempt to boost her energetic vibration with our own had not been in vain. I felt sweat bead across my brow and even though I had my physical eyes closed it was so bright within the recesses of my mind.

“Rachel!” he screamed, unable to keep a meditative focus. “Rachel! Can you hear us, Rachel?”

Moments passed with no response. The energy barrier, invisible to the human eye, swirled around me as I endeavored to reach beyond it with my essence, searching for a way to psychically connect with my aunt. It seemed as if Mr. Stokes’ patience had dissolved and he had lost hope, which only fortified my determination and focus. I heard him drop to the floor behind me and weep.

“Gerald?” her whisper surrounded us. “Is that you?”

My tutor jumped to his feet. “Yes! Yes it is.”

“Where are you? Why can’t  … “ her voice faded into murmurs.

“Rachel!” he yelled at the nothingness.

“Aunt Rachel … focus on my voice. Find my vibration,” I instructed. “I’m here. I am right here.”

“They are … all … around …”

The sound of the murmurs that were once shrouded within the air current grew, becoming louder and more forceful. They reached entrainment with more than one vibrational frequency including that of the physical plane. The chorus of haunting moans, high pitched screeches, and myriad of peculiar organic sounds pushed at our human bodies.

Mr. Stokes furrowed his brow. “What the hell is that sound?”

“That,” I clarified, “Is the Ancestors.”

If Aunt Rachel listened and followed their instructions, she would fall into resonance with them and never to return to her body. Their whispers cajoled and persuaded her to push me from her mind, to create a gap of frequency between us, but I was counting on the power of our shared memories and her energetic vibration to empower her resistance.

“Don’t listen to them,” I encouraged. “Listen to me, Aunt Rachel, hear only my voice. My sound. Block them out. Focus on me. On my voice speaking to you, connecting to you. Focus on our memories, focus on us, on our bond.”

“Angie … Angie, oh, Angie,” she whispered, her voice becoming stronger. “… you have always … always been … a … a special girl.”

Out of the pocket of my sweater I removed the box I had retrieved from the library and opened it. I had studied the runes that were skillfully etched into the wood weeks after I had purchased the item and hadn’t been able to discern their meaning until a few hours ago while I sat alone in the living room. Othilia, Dagaz, Laguz, and Ansuz were the four Elder Futhark runes that were carved inside the lid hundreds of years prior to my current birth date, as a personal message and warning meant for me:

Your inheritance: the ability to transform (alter) the planes of reality, create portals between the planes. Be warned: do not exceed that which you have the ability to do, for if you do, you shall summon Loki, god of chaos.

The sphere’s loud humming that previous customers complained about, that I had not heard for myself until that moment, filled the foyer, overpowering the odd energetic sound of the Ancestors. I felt the vibration not only from the hum, but also from the physical sphere itself, shifting my own energetic frequency just as music could. With my eyes still closed I handed the empty box to Mr. Stokes who obediently took it from me.

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