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145_Chapter Two – Getting Acquainted continued

“Welcome, Amber. You can see how the rods have been moving. Can you please cross the rods for me?”

I feel her energy in the corner. She is nothing like she was the day at the church or even on the first day I met her. She is more like she was during our second meeting, raw and vulnerable. She reminds me of a small child who has been sad but has just discovered a new toy. She is interested in how it works but is a little nervous about manipulating the tool. Finally, her desire to communicate overcomes her fear, and the rods move, just a little. The motion is not very strong, but I know it will improve as she becomes comfortable communicating.

“There you go. Good girl.” My voice is soft and nurturing. I speak to her like I would when comforting a frightened child. “You cross them for ‘yes’ and open them for ‘no.’” Sensing the risk of her fleeing again, I decide to move forward quickly, “Are you at peace?”

She answers. ‘No.’ 

The rods move again, pointing to the corner. I see that she is nervous, and I say, “Okay, I know you’re over there, sweetheart. Can you sit? Can you come and sit in front of me? Just sit straight across from me. That way, you can just reach out and cross the rods with your hands.”

I see her now, sitting directly in front of me, with her legs crossed. She’s mimicking everything I do. She wants to make sure she does it right. Her effort is touching. It is pure and innocent and honoring. I can see she is beginning to lose her fear. She wants help.

“Is that easier?”

‘Yes.’

“Okay. Can you straighten them, please?”

The rods do not move to the forward position but turn instead, to point at our puppy.

“That’s our dog. Do you want her to move?”

’No.’

“Okay. Are you concerned about something else over there?”

‘No.’

“Do you recognize me, Amber?”

‘Yes.’

“Do you remember me from the funeral?”

‘No.’

“Do you remember me from before the funeral?”

‘Yes.’

“From the day when you were sad?”

‘Yes.’

“Okay, sweetheart. We’re going to solve all of that tonight. I promise.” I pause for a moment, waiting for the words of Spirit to fill me. After I receive the guidance I need, we continue, “I’m going to have some tough questions for you that you may be scared to answer, but you’re safe here.”

Again, the rods move, as if pointing to the corner of the room.

“Okay, straighten the rods, sweetheart. I’ll ask about that too. Go ahead and straighten them.”

When the rods straighten, I continue, “Is there someone else in that corner?”

‘Yes.’

“We’ll talk about that. There are some Native American men here, do you see them?”

No answer.

“Look close.”

Almost before the words are out of my mouth, the rods cross.

“There you go. They’re here to protect us. Nothing can harm us. Do you trust me?”

I wait, but the rods do not move. I can sense her fear. She can’t bring herself to believe we are safe, but I know I must get an answer. Even if it is a ‘no.’ I don’t want to let her think about the threat for too long, or I may lose her. The one who stalks her may convince her not to speak with me. I must keep her focus on us and what we hope to accomplish before he recognizes my intention here.

I press her to communicate. “Yes or no, sweetheart, think about it.”

Finally, the rods cross. ‘Yes.’

“Okay.” I do not move into the questions immediately. She is afraid. I want her to know where my heart is so that she can feel safe with me. My voice is soft when I continue, “I was so honored when I met you. You were so beautiful, and I wanted to tell you…”

The rods move again to the corner as she impatiently interrupts my words.

Trying to comfort her, I continue. “It’s o.k….the one…”

Again, the rods point to the corner of the room.

“Okay, straighten them. Do you see the man behind me?”

‘Yes.’

“Does he frighten you?”

‘No.’

“Did he bring you here?”

The rods waiver carelessly. They sway and will not return to the center.

“Alright, let’s try that again. One more time.” It is like trying to tame a panicked child. The rods continue to sway. My voice is still soft and comforting. It is no more than a whisper as I try to help her center, “Alright, alright. Calm down.”

Finally, the rods come back to center.

“Did he bring you here?”

‘Yes.’

“He is IEO. He is my Spirit Guide. Do you understand what a Spirit Guide is?”

‘Yes.’

“Alright. He brought you here because he wants to help you. Do you believe that?”

I wait for some time with no answer. I feel her examining IEO, trying to get a bead on him. I remember to be patient, allowing her the time she needs with this question until eventually, she answers. ‘Yes.’

“Do you see the other man, the Native American man, with the intense eyes? Do you believe he is here to help you?”

‘Yes.’

“Okay. That is Two Feathers.”

“Do you see the other Natives here? Do you believe they are here to protect you?”

‘Yes.’

“They are the Ani Kutani.” She recognizes the full force of those in the room, and I feel her relax. Now is the time to continue, “Amber, I want to ask you about something you saw before you died. Are you ready for that?”

She does not answer.

“Amber, Monica told me that before you died, you saw a man, who you believed to be the devil coming for you. Do you recall that?”

‘Yes.’

“Do you recall that man?”

‘Yes.’

“Does he still stalk you?”

‘Yes.’

“Are you afraid that he is going to hurt your family?”

A loud thump from the corner startles me, and I jump. It is not from the corner that has been Amber’s focus. This sound is behind me and to my left. Pulled from our conversation, it takes me a moment to realize it is my rabbit thumping his foot. He rarely does this. He only thumps when he feels threatened.

“Buster!” I speak firmly to him, trying to grab his focus.

I can’t imagine what would be bothering him, but he does not stop. My words do not phase him. Quickly, I decide the work I must do with Amber is too essential to pause and address the interruption. He is upset about something, and I don’t have time to evaluate what it might be. I can only assume there must be a presence in the room that he doesn’t like, so I decide to put him in the hall. He’ll find a better place to be than this room.

I quickly return to my conversation with Amber. “Is that being in this room with us now?”

‘No.’

“Was he in the room?”

‘No.’

“Is he with the rabbit?”

‘No.’

“Do you know where he is?”

‘No.’

“IEO. Do you know where he is?”

The rods move and point to my left and slightly forward.

“Is he in the living room?”

‘No.’

I hate it when I get stuck in a guessing game, but this time it only takes a short pause for the clarity to come. I feel I know the answer before I even ask the question. “Is he at the window?”

‘Yes.’

In the work we do, we will sometimes be interrupted by entities who come to communicate. Long ago, we established my house’s walls as a boundary that only allows entities who are my Spirit Guides and the Spirit Guides of those who share the table with me. I do not open any door to paranormal activity in my home, as I have learned you never know who might come through. We are often dealing with centuries-old entities, and I understand there is no way my forty years of experience can compete with what they know. So, the rules for my home are hard and fast. Whatever work we do, if an entity requests help or conference with us while we are in my house, they must make their presence known at the front window, and we will attend to them when the time is appropriate.

The man who pursues Amber stands at the window now.

A thought suddenly penetrates my mind, and I ask the question quickly before anyone else can see. “Is what I’m thinking of in my head…?”

‘Yes.’

“Okay, Amber, I am first going to…I need first to dispel this man, and then I will come back to you. I need you to stay in this room. Do not leave it for any reason. Do you understand?”

‘Yes.’

“Your family is safe and protected. Do you believe me?”

‘Yes.’

“Okay. I’ll come back to you in a second. I need to put the rods down.”

‘Yes.’

“Okay” Moving quickly, before he is fully aware of me, I release the rods, and I close my eyes, “IEO, are we ready?”

He responds using my body signal. ‘Yes.’

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