Harbinger in the Mist (Arms of Serendipity) by Anabell Martin Page A

People these days were always playing with supernatural mediums, but it rarely resulted in anything. To truly reach the other side took specific tools, know how, and intent. This was probably nothing. Then again, if Uriel was disturbed enough to send him out, it could very well be something.
    He stood, bowed before the crucifix on his wall, grabbed his essential tools, and took off into the setting sun.

Nine

    “Do you work today?” Michelle asked Lindsey.
    For the last few days the twins had been coming over first thing in the morning to have breakfast with Lindsey.  They said it was more interesting being there to hear Aimee’s stories when she came home from work than it was at home.
    Lindsey thought, though, that it was out of guilt that they stayed with her so much.  She knew they felt responsible for the angry tone of the spirit that lurked the halls of Retreat House. Not a day had gone by without something happening to Lindsey physically. The rancorous spirit would breathe on, scratch, and poke her several times a day. Unlike the friendly spirit before, this angry specter didn’t care if anyone else was around.
    “Look at this!” she squealed at her mother one afternoon when a large welt rose up on upper arm. The stinging wound was obviously a scratch, but it wasn’t bleeding. “See, I told you, Mom. Something is in this house!”
    Aimee rolled her eyes and said with a deep sigh, “Lindsey, you just came in from outside ten minutes ago. You snagged your shoulder on a thorn bush and didn’t feel it. Get a grip, honey. I’m not calling on ‘The Exorcist’ because of the bramble outside.”
    Lindsey knew it was pointless to protest or try to prove her point anymore. This was in her lap now and she had to figure out a way to stop it. She knew the harmless pranks from before had been replaced by something more sinister and that the catalyst had been that night with the board, the night of the storm. But how could she reverse it all?
    She thought back to the morning after that fateful night. She slept on the cold, hard, concrete floor of the barn with her friends. They were there for the mare, they’d told Mr. and Mrs. Robbins. Neither girl wanted to divulge the fact that they had just seemingly angered a spirit from beyond the grave. They woke sore and stiff the next morning and walked, hesitantly, back to Retreat House. 
    The morning had been calm and beautiful. The storm had blown up the coast and was hammering North Carolina instead. The doom and gloom had been replaced by bright sunshine and a huge, bright rainbow that arced across the baby blue sky. A thick mist hovered over the estuary waters and low to the ground around the trunks of the trees. For a few moments, she thought it had all been a bad dream.
    One step into the house told her she was dead wrong.
    The air in the house was thick and foreboding, very heavy. It was like a giant hand had pushed the 12-foot-high ceilings down several feet, changing the pressure in each room.  As they stood in the living room, they heard footsteps creak slowly across the floor in the room above them – Lindsey’s room.
    “Maybe your mom is home,” Maddie rationalized, staring up at the ceiling.
    “No, her car wasn’t out there,” Michelle said, staring up, too.
    The steps stopped and everything was quiet again, but they felt the presence there all the same; they could feel it looking at them.
     “Lindsey? Are you listening to me?”  Michelle snapped her fingers over Lindsey’s bowl.
    “Oh, sorry,” she pulled her focus from her timorous musings and back to the girl sitting across from her. “No, I’m off for the next two days, why?”
    “Maddie and I are going to drive out to Charleston and go to the water park. Get away for a day, you know? Can you come with?”
    “Wow. Yeah, that’d be cool. What time?”
    “Well, now if you want to go.”
    Lindsey tossed her cereal bowl in the sink and ran upstairs. Inside her room, she could feel it