He texted right back with his address and told her he’d love for her to come through. He added that he’d pick up some steaks after work and put them on the grille for their dinner.
Hooking up with Logan would distract her from thinking about the appalling way her mother had treated her. Heather hadn’t recognized her and her lack of recognition hurt Mila to the core. And although it was irrational to take it personal, she couldn’t help feeling disappointed and depressed.
As she paced in the bedroom, trying to come up with another idea that would help her reunite with her mother, she happened to glance in the mirror. This time she gasped when she saw her reflection. Imani was a beautiful woman and all, but she looked so different from Mila that she couldn’t help being startled. Trying to get used to her new image, she stared at her face—Imani’s face—and then smiled. She studied her features and was pleased with her dark eyes and thick eyelashes. She particularly liked her new mouth. In fact, she liked everything about the body she had inhabited except the hair. The hair was a train wreck. She ran her fingers through the thicket of wild hair and grimaced at the dryness and the coarse texture.
A closet in the bathroom contained a plethora of hair care products that she was unfamiliar with. Needing to do something with her wild mane, she went to the bathroom closet. Her eyes roamed over the innumerable bottles, jars, and tubes and she concluded that Imani’s hair-product stash bordered on obsessive.
First thing tomorrow she would make an appointment with a salon and get the unruly hair on her head straightened into submission, but in the meantime she had to figure out how to style it. She wouldn’t attempt to do any of the intricate styles that Imani liked to wear, but she needed to know how to make it look presentable.
Luckily there was YouTube, the best source of how-to videos on the Internet. After watching videos for over an hour, she had a basic understanding of how some of the products worked. Spritzing water on sections of the tangled tresses and following that procedure with the application of a curling gel and then applying oil was messy but allowed Mila to successfully soften her hair and style it into a basic curly puff.
With hours to go until her date with Logan, she decided to kill time by watching TV. She needed to do something that would shake the hurt feeling of being banished from her parents’ house. She pictured her mother yelling at her, and her eyes became teary again. Distracting herself from crying, she scrolled through the TV menu and found a movie that looked interesting. She plumped up the pillows on the sofa and got comfortable.
More tired than she realized, Mila told herself that she’d close her eyes for a brief moment. But it was apparent that she had dozed off when she found herself back in her ethereal body, floating in the air above Imani.
CHAPTER 18
Imani bolted up right, her eyes wide with fear. She couldn’t understand why she had woken up on the sofa instead of her bed, and it took a few moments for her to orient herself. She remembered that she and Logan had been watching the game and drinking beer. Had she drank so much that she passed out on the sofa?
She glanced down at her clothes and frowned. She was wearing a totally different outfit than the tank top and jeans she had on last night.
Imani gazed at the sun streaming through the curtains and squinted in confusion. Her eyes darted to the digital numbers on the DVR. It was one-fifteen, and judging by the brightness of the sun, it wasn’t one in the morning.
She wondered why Logan had let her sleep in. Did he think she had the day off from work? She hopped off the sofa and hurried to the bedroom in search of her phone. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the bureau mirror and she frowned in confusion. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a pitiful-looking puff that that was limp, greasy and unattractive.
Her confusion about her hair, however, was pushed aside for more important matters. When she spotted her phone on the nightstand and snatched it up, she literally hollered when she saw the numerous texts and voice messages on her phone.
Niles had texted several times wondering why she hadn’t shown up for work, and her supervisor had also expressed concern about her absence from work. Imani’s stomach tightened into a knot when she saw that the hospital had left messages. Afraid that she’d been fired, she was too upset and frazzled to listen to the messages.
Scrolling through more texts, she saw that Hope wanted to speak to her about something important. Although it was unusual for Hope to contact her, she didn’t have time to find out what Hope wanted to talk about.
There was a lengthy exchange between her and Logan, and after reading them she was embarrassed to learn that she’d invited herself to his home. Humiliation washed over her and she tried to figure out a way to get out of the date without letting on that she had no memory of initiating it. Judging by Logan’s tone in the texts, he hadn’t noticed anything unusual about her behavior when he left last night.
Or did he leave this morning?
Imani furrowed her brows. She remembered suggesting that they finish watching the game in her bedroom, but she couldn’t recall anything after that.
And that was a problem. Something was dreadfully wrong with her, but she no longer suspected that she was going crazy like her father. There was something neurologically wrong with her that caused her to black out and do things that she couldn’t remember.
Suspecting that she might have a deadly brain tumor, Imani’s heartbeat quickened. Gripped by fear, she imagined having to undergo brain surgery and possibly losing her ability to care for herself. Her future looked bleak, but she could no longer ignore what was happening. She had to take care of her health, make an appointment with a specialist, and have tests done.
First things first, she sent Logan a text and cancelled their dinner date without an explanation. Next, she listened to the voicemail from her job and was somewhat relieved over the three-day suspension she’d incurred. She needed the time to deal with her medical condition.
While searching online for the top neurologists in the city, her phone began to ring and Hope’s name appeared on the screen. She started to dismiss the call, but curiosity got the best of her.
“Hi, Hope,” she said, forcing herself to sound cheerful.
“How are you, Imani?” Hope asked in a somber tone.
“I’m good.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Hope said, letting out an audible breath.
“What’s this about? Why did you think something was wrong with me?”
“This is going to sound crazy, so brace yourself. You remember Waiola, the Native American tarot reader who was at my housewarming party, right?”
“Yeah, I remember her. I didn’t know she was Native American, though. I thought she was Mexican or from the Middle East somewhere,” Imani commented.
“She’s a member of the Navajo tribe,” Hope informed.
“Okay, well, what about her?”
“This is gonna sound bananas.”
“Just spit it out,” Imani said sharply.
“I went to Waiola the other day for a reading, and she asked about you.”
“Why’d she ask about me?”
Hope cleared her throat. “Actually, Waiola is more than just a tarot reader, and the way she does a reading isn’t simply based on how she interprets the cards. She’s an intuitive reader. She’s clairvoyant and she’s also a respected medicine woman for her tribe. Listen, there’s no way to sugarcoat this. Waiola said that you’re under some kind of psychic attack,” Hope blurted.
Her mind racing, Imani went silent as she recalled Waiola’s prediction the night she read her tarot cards.
“Are you there…did you hang up on me?” Hope asked.
“I’m still here,” Imani said in a quiet voice.
“I know this is one of the strangest phone calls you’ll ever get, but Waiola was adamant that I deliver the message. I couldn’t help thinking about how you came to me in desperation when you couldn’t sleep. That wasn’t like you at all, and I was wondering if y
our sleep problems might have something to do with…” Hope paused. “I feel ridiculous asking, but have you noticed any supernatural events? Waiola said that prior to being possessed there might be a lot of paranormal activity around you.”
Imani swallowed. “The tarot reader thinks that I’m possessed?”
“I’m not sure if she said you’re actually possessed, but she mentioned that it could happen. She senses a lost soul around you, and that soul doesn’t have good intentions.”
“Oh, my God,” Imani uttered, glancing warily over her shoulder, checking for a ghostly figure lurking nearby. But there wasn’t anything unusual, at least not anything that she could see.
“I don’t know all the details, Imani. You’re gonna have to call Waiola.”
“What’s her number?”
Hope rattled off the number and Imani jotted it down. “I’m going to call her right now, Hope. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Be sure to keep me in the loop, okay?”
After promising to keep Hope in the loop, Imani hung up.
But she didn’t immediately call the tarot reader. First, she needed to allow Hope’s words to sink in. And she also needed to pull herself together. With her chin resting on her hand, she gradually began to accept what she’d known deep down inside: the car accident victim hadn’t gone away. She was still haunting her. And it was entirely possible that the dead woman had escalated to possession.
The thought of being controlled by a spirit caused a chill to run up her spine. It was bad enough that a spirit had harassed her in her home, but possession was taking the haunting to a whole other level. She shuddered at the realization that the dead woman had been using her body to do whatever she chose to do for the past few weeks. And if Imani hadn’t somehow reclaimed her body, the ghost chick would have gone to Logan’s place and done God knows what to him.
Imani cringed as she recalled the first time she and Logan had sex. He told her that she had been assertive in bed, demanding sex over and over, but that sexually aggressive person had most definitely not been her. It was absolutely scandalous that a spirit was screwing around with her boyfriend, pretending to be Imani while in the midst of fulfilling unholy desires.
The dead chick was also responsible for Imani’s bad hairstyle. Her hair was her crowning glory, but today it looked terrible. Her fingers flitted to her hair and she winced when she felt the sticky gook that clumped her curls together. As much as she cherished her hair and enjoyed styling it, there was no way that she, in her right frame of mind, would have abused it by slathering on a ton of hair butter and curling gel.
Accepting that there was nothing a neurologist or psychiatrist could do for her, Imani dialed Waiola’s number.
“Hello,” she said meekly. “My name is Imani Pollard, my friend Hope told me to give you a call.”
“Hello, Imani. I’ve been waiting to hear from you. How are you?”
“Not great,” Imani said wearily.
“I have an idea of what you’ve been going through, and I’m sorry it’s happening to you. When a wayward spirit attaches to a human body, it wreaks havoc in the person’s life, making him or her question their sanity.”
“Exactly,” Imani agreed, comforted by the fact that someone understood how insane her life had become. She thought about the way she had treated Waiola at Hope’s party, and she felt deeply ashamed. “Waiola, I want to apologize for being rude the night you did the tarot reading for me.”
“No need to apologize. The reading I gave you wasn’t typical, and it’s perfectly understandable that it upset you.”
“But I shouldn’t have behaved that way. You were trying to be helpful, and I acted like a bitch. I’m really sorry.”
“Apology accepted. Now, let’s discuss the matter at hand. Have you experienced any paranormal activity in your home?”
“Yes, it’s been a living nightmare for me,” Imani said and then began to tell her everything that had happened since the night of Hope’s housewarming party.
“I want to be completely honest with you, Imani. Earthbound spirits can be difficult to remove once they’ve found a host,” Waiola said ominously.
Imani gulped “A host? I don’t like the sound of that.”
“There’re many names for the body that a spirit chooses to occupy, and host is one of them. In order to help you, I think it’s best if I come to your place. It could take several days to drive the spirit away from you, and so you might want to take some time off from work.”
“Will it take more than three days?”
“It shouldn’t take that long. Forty-eight hours or less is usually sufficient.”
“I hope this isn’t going to be like the movie, The Exorcist,” Imani said grimly.
Waiola chuckled. “No, not at all. Since the entity isn’t currently occupying your person, all I have to do is put a protective barrier around you that will prevent it from reentering. But, if by chance it has returned, it’ll take more than prayers to drive it out.”
“It’s not inside me at the moment. I know this because it feels like my mind is asleep during the, uh, the possession,” Imani said, finding it difficult to say the word, possession.
“I need you to stay alert until I get there,” Waiola said in a hushed voice. “I sense that the entity is close to you right now, and it’s desperate to get back in.”
Imani whirled around, expecting to see an ethereal figure, hovering nearby. “What makes you think it’s here at this very moment?”
“I know things,” Waiola replied mysteriously. “Listen to me carefully, if you can find out the name of the spirit, that’ll be helpful. Also, you’ll need to take an herbal salt bath and use peppermint soap to cleanse yourself. If you don’t have peppermint soap, then add a few drops of peppermint oil to your bath gel.”
“I have Dr. Bonner’s peppermint soap, is that okay?”
“That’s excellent. The combination of salt and peppermint are powerful substances that spiritually cleanse and drive away negative energy. Try to remain calm until I get there. What’s your address?”
Imani rattled off her address and then hung up. She quickly texted Niles and asked him to do her a favor and check the hospital records for the name of the female car accident victim who was brought in during the middle of March and who was pronounced dead on arrival.
Niles didn’t ask any questions, he simply said that he was on it. Niles was nosey as hell and it was out of character for him to not ask a million questions. Perhaps he was showing uncharacteristic sensitivity because he felt bad about Imani’s suspension. Whatever the reason, she was relieved that he didn’t probe.
Twenty minutes later he texted the name, Mila Pemberton.
CHAPTER 19
Mila had expected to find Tucker getting wasted in a bar, and she was stunned to find him in the middle of a children’s playground.
A horde of preschoolers were running around the area that was filled with brightly colored apparatuses. The children’s joyful yelps and their howls of delight were deafening. Some kids were swinging on a red swing set, some climbed to the top of a blue and orange sliding system, and others slithered through the tunnels of green crawling tubes.
In the thick of the all the childish activity was none other than Tucker. He was in line to get on the sliding board when he started yanking on the arm of a little girl who was wearing a T-shirt with a silver crown emblazoned on the front of it. Tucker was yelling at the top of his lungs, accusing the girl of cutting in line
As a teacher hurried to the scene to break up the squabble, Mila gazed at Tucker with her arms folded, shaking her head in condemnation.
Completely invested in a full-fledged tantrum, Tucker ignored Mila’s look of disapproval as he flailed about, pulling away from the teacher and stomping the ground in a fit of rage.
Mila thought she had seen it all, but witnessing Tucker in the form of a bratty four-year-old boy was disconcerting to say the least. After the teacher interceded, separating Tucker from t
he little girl, Tucker blurted that the teacher was a bitch.
“Watch your language, Silas. Don’t let your potty-mouth earn you a time-out,” the teacher reprimanded in a voice that was too sweet and sugary to evoke fear in the child.
Mila wondered if Silas had always been a little hothead or if his obnoxious behavior was a result of Tucker taking over his body.
Tucker, currently known as Silas was making a big fuss and insisting that he had been standing in front of the little girl before she cut the line. The old adage, the squeaky wheel gets the oil proved true. Instead of the teacher chastising Silas, she tried to cajole the little girl into letting him have a turn on the slide before her. When the little girl started whining, the teacher began to bargain with her, stating that she could be the teacher’s helper for the day if she left the sliding board line altogether and played on the jungle gym.
When the teacher led the little girl away, Mila sidled up to Tucker. “You’ve stooped to an all-time low, Tucker. I don’t understand any of this. Why’re you masquerading as a pre-school bully? And why would you traumatize an innocent little girl? I get that you’re immature enough to identify with a bratty toddler, but what are you getting out of it? And what happened to your host, Glen?
When Tucker reached the front of the line he held up a finger, indicating that Mila had to wait for his response. He happily scampered up the steps that led to the top of the apparatus and despite being told by a teacher to come down the slide on his butt, he whizzed down lying flat on his belly with his arms stretched out in front of him, and yelling that he was Superman.
He was truly an insufferable child, Mila decided. The kind of child that only a mother could love. For the hundredth time, she wondered what she had ever seen in Tucker.
When he completed his turn on the slide, Tucker came trotting over to Mila with a cocky, self-satisfied look on his face.
“What’s up, Mila?” he asked telepathically.
Finding it difficult to deal with Tucker in his new four-year-old form, Mila frowned at him. “I don’t get why you left Glen’s body to parade around as a child. What’s this about?” she asked, holding up her hands in confusion.
The Host Page 14
