A Quarrel Called: Stewards Of The Plane Book 1 by Shannon Wendtland Page B

this point. But still, the whole experience was crazy-scary. But
also cool . I didn’t want to miss a
single word.
    “So your friend Sam had the dream, and he called you on the
phone and you think that is what woke you?”
    “Yes. Because at that moment I remember hearing the chime
for voicemail just as I realized that there was this thing sitting on my
chest.”
    Esme nodded and took a sip of her tea, silver bangles
chiming against the saucer as she set her cup down. “It was indeed a thing. An etheric parasite. They do not have physical bodies like
you, but they can feed on your energy. The human soul is a powerful source of
energy and yours is very bright.”
    “But why mine?” asked Mel, clearly dubious. “What’s so
special about mine?”
    “Nothing really. Etheric parasites
feed on anyone, anytime. Whenever there are strong emotions, the parasites will
show up to gorge. Your thoughts are things, so are your emotions. In the ether,
they are”—she pursed her lips—“they are like the wind and the sun. You can feel
the wind or the heat from the sun, right? Even though you
cannot see them?”
    I nodded as if I had been asked the question, entranced. I
had forgotten to watch for customers as the front door chimed.
    “So even though you cannot see your thoughts or your
emotions, these etheric parasites, they can. And for them it is fuel, just like
sunlight is fuel for a solar cell or wind is fuel for a windmill. Do you see?”
She took another sip of tea. “When you are dreaming, you are broadcasting –
your wind is blowing – and these entities feel the breeze, so to speak, and
find the source. That you finally awoke and saw this one, don’t be alarmed, but
this was only one of dozens that have fed off of you in the past. Especially
since your brother died.”
    “What do you mean, since my brother died?” Melody demanded.
    Esme paused as if considering her words. “Of course, one of
the reasons is because of the anguish and pain that his disappearance has
caused you. You can hide it all you like, but the emotions are still there
under the surface, and they are gourmet fare to a parasite. But it’s not just
anguish and pain – any intense emotion will do. Except for joy; they cannot
tolerate joy. But so few people know what true joy feels like anymore, that
they are susceptible all the time. Everywhere.” She
paused and then leaned in close, looking first at Melody and then at me.
“Everywhere,” she said again, her tone deadly serious.
    I couldn’t take it anymore. I had too many questions. “Even
me?”
    “Especially people like you, Tara,” she said. “People who
are energy sensitive are like a banquet – if you do not realize you are feeling
other people’s emotions in an empathic way, if you do not realize you are
broadcasting your emotions like a loudspeaker, you are also a victim of these
creatures. This is universal – it does not matter who you are or where you come
from.”
    “How can I stop it?” Melody asked, her
voice strained. “I don’t ever want to go through that again.”
    “Where is the ring I gave you?”
    Melody dug the ring out of her pocket and presented it to
Esme.
    “Tsk, Tsk. You should wear it on your finger. Or if you do
not want to wear it on your finger, at least wear it on a string around your
neck, positioned over your heart chakra, like so,” she pointed to her breast
bone, between her breasts. “Where was the ring last night? Was it in the room
with you?”
    Melody blushed, “No. It was in the dirty laundry. I forgot
to take it out of my pocket the other day.”
    “You must keep it with you from now on. The crystal inside
of it puts out a positive energy called orgone energy, it will create an area around you that is intolerable to parasites. They may
try to feed on you again, but they will not stay, because the positive orgone
energy is like acid to them. They cannot tolerate it.” She got up from the
table and walked toward the counter.
    I moved