The Host

by Allison Hobbs

  “It turns out that poor Glen has a weak constitution. He can’t hold his liquor the way I can, and he swiftly became a stumbling-down drunk. After a fun night of binging, he ended up in the hospital with alcohol poising. He’s in rehab now and that’s not the kind of environment that I prefer to be in. There’s too much fun to be had out in the real world,” he said smugly.

  “Okay, so are we just gonna ignore the fact that you’re the one responsible for poor Glen ending up in rehab?”

  Tucker shrugged indifferently and sneered, an expression that was frightening to see on the face of a young child.

  “Why on earth did you decide to become a snot-nosed kid?”

  “Tucker shrugged. “I want to view life from all perspectives. It’s not so bad being a four-year-old, especially when you have wealthy parents who can give you the best of everything. I’m actually thinking about taking over Silas’s body permanently. It’ll be the ultimate do-over in life, and this time the deck will be stacked in my favor. You should try starting over, Mila.” He pointed to a red-haired little girl who was flying through the air on a swing. “She’d make a good fit for you,” he said with a wink.

  “No, thanks. I don’t want to endure puberty and pimples again,” Mila said, shaking her head briskly. “I don’t understand you, Tucker. Didn’t you warn me not to change my host’s behavior too drastically for fear of her friends becoming suspicious? Well, don’t you think that a drunken preschooler will draw a lot of attention?”

  “I don’t plan to pollute this young body with alcohol. If I feel the desire for liquor, I can always persuade Glen to bust out of rehab for a few hours,” he said with a spiteful chuckle.

  “You’re an awful person,” she said, rolling her eyes skyward.

  “No, I’m a shrewd spirit,” he corrected.

  “Whatever,” she said with a sigh. “Listen, I didn’t come here to discuss your second childhood.”

  Tucker tilted his head inquisitively. “Why’d you come?”

  “I’m in trouble,” Mila said gravely. “Imani is aware of me, and she called on a Navajo medicine woman to perform some kind of primitive ritual that’s supposed to keep me away from her.” She gazed at him intently. “Do rituals actually work?”

  “I don’t know. I told you before that I’m discovering what works and what doesn’t as I go along. But we need to get something straight, Mila.”

  “What?”

  “Although I was more than happy to give you guidance to help get you on your feet, I don’t intend to hold your hand throughout this entire process. I have a bright new future ahead of me as young Silas, and I don’t want to be constantly distracted with your never ending problems. Seriously, you’re going to have to start figuring out your own shit.”

  “Wow! So, you’re just gonna abandon me now?”

  “You call it abandonment, but I call it tough love.”

  “Screw you, Tucker. If you don’t want to help me, then don’t. But if that medicine woman’s ritual sends me to another dimension or has me floating around in a dark abyss, just remember that you turned your back on me when I came to you for help.”

  Tucker mimicked playing a violin and then jerked his head around as a group of squealing kids ran past. “Gotta go. Playtime will be over soon, and I’d like to stir up a little trouble out here on the playground before it’s time to go back to the structured environment of the classroom.”

  Mila made a shooing motion with her hands. “Go, ahead. Be with your new friends. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine,” she said, trying to elicit sympathy.

  “See you later, Mila. Be safe out there,” he said nonchalantly and then ran off to join the other children.

  After a few minutes of being alone with her thoughts, Mila was suddenly whooshed back to Imani’s apartment. She hadn’t intended to return to Imani’s place, but she was incomprehensively drawn there. The atmosphere was charged with an unwelcoming kind of energy. Curious to see what was going on, Mila roamed the rooms. She found Imani resting in the bathtub. The scent of the concoction that she had poured in her bathwater prickled Mila’s nostrils and burned her throat, causing her to hack and cough as she backed out of the bathroom.

  Common sense told her to leave Imani alone and start searching for a new host, but Mila didn’t want to end her relationship with Logan. She had big plans for the two of them, and she was a hundred percent certain that he enjoyed being with her much more than being with Imani.

  With her life cut short, Mila had missed out on the big events in a woman’s life, such as getting married and having children, but with Imani as her host, she didn’t have miss out on any of those big events.

  Mila wandered to the living room where the air wasn’t so toxic. She decided to stick around and wait for the medicine woman to show up and begin her rituals. She wanted to know what she was up against. Hopefully, the ritual would be unsuccessful, but if it turned out to be a powerful force that threatened to extinguish Mila’s existence, she planned to quickly escape before any harm could be done to her.

  CHAPTER 20

  Waiola arrived dressed in Navajo ceremonial attire. Carrying a lit sage stick, she went from room to room waving the smoking object through the air. Imani accompanied her as she smudged the apartment while chanting some sort of incantation in her Native American language. The laundry room was the last room to be smudged, and then they returned to the living room.

  “Sit down,” Waiola said, motioning toward the sofa.

  Imani sat with her hands folded in her lap as Waiola waved the smudge stick over the top of her head. In a calm, non-confrontational tone she said, “Mila Pemberton, I command you to leave this home. You are not welcome in this realm; you must find your way to the light that will guide the way to your true home. You can no longer harm Imani Pollard for she is protected from all evil. No negative entity may remain here. I consecrate and clear Imani. She is surrounded in sacred light and love, and nothing except light and love can penetrate these walls. Nothing except profound goodness can linger within her soul.”

  Waiola surrounded the sofa in a circle of lit white candles. “Making a circle creates a sacred space that an unwanted spirit cannot enter,” Waiola explained. “This circle holds our positive energy and increases its power.”

  Imani nodded, grateful that Waiola was conducting a civilized exorcism, and hadn’t insisted that she be strapped to a bed like the young girl in the famous horror movie.

  Next, Waiola began to spray a variety of pleasant scents into the air while she prayed over Imani. Without cessation, Waiola prayed and chanted. “Mila, you are not welcome here. Mila, I cast you out of this home. Mila, I command you to see your way to the light of the Lord and move onward to your spiritual home. The body of this person that you choose to harass is impenetrable to negative influences, and her body will reject all attempts to enter. She will no longer house your wandering soul,” Waiola chanted.

  She went back and forth, chanting in Navajo and English.

  A full hour passed and Waiola was still at it. Streams of perspiration ran down the sides of her face as she waved her arms around, chanting and praying. There was a vibration in her voice that had such a soothing effect on Imani, it was if she’d been given a sedative.

  But Imani was jolted from her peaceful state when a foul odor suddenly filled the air.

  “Oh, my God, what is that?” Imani asked, covering her mouth and nose as she coughed and gagged.

  As suddenly as it had appeared, the odor disappeared. Weariness settled over Waiola’s slender frame and she dropped down on the sofa next to Imani. “It’s over,” she said in a tired voice. “The spirit of Mila Pemberton has moved on.”

  “How do you know?” Imani asked, swiveling her head around, as if searching for tangible evidence that Mila had gone.

  “From my experience, negative spirits tend to emit an unpleasant odor before exiting for good.”

  “Are you serious? She’s gone for good?”

  “Yes,” Waio
la said, meeting Imani’s gaze.

  Imani noticed that Waiola’s face looked so fatigued, it was as if she’d aged ten years in a short time span.

  “Can I get you a glass of juice?” Imani offered.

  Waiola shook her head.

  “Do you need to lie down?”

  “I’ll be fine. Hand me my bag,” she said wearily and pointed to a canvas bag that she’d placed in a chair on the opposite side of the living room.

  Imani retrieved the bag and Waiola pulled out a container of something that resembled water. Not wanting to appear overly curious, Imani didn’t ask what was in the container. But whatever it was, it replenished Waiola so much that she reverted back to looking as refreshed as she did when she had first arrived.

  “Do you think that Mila went to the light?” Imani asked.

  “I hope so. Unfortunately, in many cases, the earthbound spirit will simply attach itself to another host.”

  “Are you saying that she might possess someone else?”

  “I doubt if she could find another body that quickly. But if she didn’t go to the light, then she’s wandering aimlessly, looking for another host. Most likely, she’ll attach herself to an animal while she’s searching for a viable human.”

  “Should I pray for her?” Imani asked

  “I will continue to pray for her and hopefully my prayers will guide her to the light. I want you to focus on living your life to the fullest. Try to forget about Mila. Dwelling on her will only attract her to you if she’s still drifting around on this plane.

  “I don’t want to do anything that will attract the soul of Mila Pemberton to me, again. So, I’ll take your advice and focus on moving forward.”

  Waiola patted Mila’s hand. Smiling, she muttered something in Navajo.

  “What did you just say?” Imani asked.

  “I said congratulations. I see that you’re going to be a mother in a year’s time. You’ll be so busy tending to your little one, you won’t have the energy to think about the poor soul that was banished today.”

  I’m going to be a mother in a year’s time! Imani was floored by Waiola’s prediction, but this time she didn’t doubt that the prophecy would come true.

  EPILOGUE

  With Logan by her side Imani pushed the stroller carrying their eighteen-month-old son, Benjamin, through the city park. Benjie, as he was called, was a smart and handsome little guy and his parents adored him. They beamed with pride as he accurately called out the names of everything within his line of vision.

  “That’s a squirrel,” Benjie exclaimed, pointing to a squirrel that scampered up a tree.

  “That’s right, Benjie,” Logan agreed. “And what do squirrels eat?”

  “They eat lunch and dinner,” Benjie shouted.

  “Yeah, but what do they eat for lunch and dinner?” Imani asked.

  “Nuts!” Benjie replied gleefully.

  “That’s right, son,” Logan exclaimed.

  “Skateboard!” Benjie yelled, pointing to a teenager whizzing past on a colorful skateboard.

  You’re right again, sweetheart,” Imani chimed in.

  “When did he discover skateboards?” Logan asked in a whisper.

  “No idea,” Imani replied, looking surprised.

  The park bustled with activity. Joggers, cyclists, and dog walkers were on the go. There was a vendor selling bottles of water for a dollar. Smiling tourists took selfies standing next to the park’s renowned fountain. And a homeless-looking street musician strummed a guitar while singing Luther Vandross songs for tips. The musician’s voice was surprisingly strong and pleasant-sounding, and Logan tossed a couple of ones into his open guitar case.

  When Benjie detected a flock of pigeons searching the ground for food, he began squirming to get out of the stroller. “Feed the birds! Feed the birds,” he squealed.

  “Okay, okay,” Logan said, lifting him out of the stroller.

  Imani retrieved a Ziploc bag filled with breadcrumbs from her purse and handed it to Benjie. She tousled Benjie’s hair and lovingly rubbed Logan’s arm before pushing the empty stroller to a nearby bench where she took a seat and pulled out her camera.

  If there was such a thing as a perfect life, it was hers and her heart swelled with love for her two guys as she watched them tossing bread crumbs to the birds. Aiming the lens at her little family, she snapped a series of candid shots.

  She had everything she could have ever hoped for and was eternally grateful. Married life hadn’t dulled or eroded the love she and Logan had for each other. Logan was as loving and attentive as when they’d first started dating, and Imani still thought that he was the sexiest man alive.

  Benjie lost interest in the pigeons when he noticed a man tossing a Frisbee to a dog. As the man tossed up a red Frisbee, his cute little black and white dog leapt high in the air, catching the brightly-colored disc. To give Benjie a better view of the dog’s amazing leaps, Logan hoisted him on his shoulders. Imani switched the camera to video and began filming the delightful spectacle. It warmed her heart to hear Benjie’s gleeful yelps each time the dog caught the Frisbee with his mouth.

  She was so engrossed in filming that she didn’t notice a wretched stray cat that slowly slinked toward her. It wasn’t until the cat had put its grimy front paws on the seat of the bench and pulled itself upright that she became shockingly aware of its long, skinny body stretching toward her. It hissed and snarled menacingly, causing her heart to thud in her chest. And when she noticed that the cat had half an ear missing, a terrified scream caught in her throat.

  “Get away from me,” she yelled, recoiling.

  Unintimidated and refusing to scamper off, the stray cat embedded its claws in the fabric of her slacks, attempting to hold her in place. She could feel its sharp talons scraping against her flesh and she was momentarily paralyzed with fear.

  The cat fixed its eerie gaze on her and hissed, “Eee-mahn-eee!” The sound of her name emerged from deep within its throat, a strangled sound that was as ominous and threatening as a gun being pointed to her head.

  Panicked, she snapped into action. She lifted her camera, and using all of her strength, she bashed the demonic cat upside the head and then struck it a second time. The cat shrieked in agony and skidded off the bench. Then it took off like a bat out of hell.

  At the sound of the cat’s painful cry, heads turned in Imani’s direction. Animal Rights advocates seemed to appear out of nowhere, and they glared at her with accusing eyes and pointed fingers.

  “You monster!” spat an old lady with snow white hair.

  “Didn’t you see what happened? That cat attacked me,” Imani said in her own defense.

  “How could you harm that poor little kitty?” the woman asked.

  It was on the tip of Imani’s tongue to point out the demon-cat was hardly an innocent little kitty, but she didn’t bother.

  “I caught the assault on tape,” said a man, holding up his phone with one hand and clutching his male lover’s hand with the other. “The cat was hungry and was obviously begging for food. You should be ashamed of yourself,” he said, giving her a withering look. And then he began snapping pictures of Imani, pictures that he undoubtedly intended to post on social media, and that would label her an animal abuser.

  From her peripheral vision, she saw Logan with Benjie in his arms hurrying toward her. Not wanting him or Benjie to get caught up in the chaos, she jumped up, grabbed the handle of the stroller and raced toward them.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Imani said, taking Benjie from Logan and placing him back into the stroller.

  “What happened? Why were all of those people crowded around you?” Logan asked, looking over his shoulder confusedly.

  Imani grasped Logan’s arm, steering him away from the growing crowd.

  “It’s crazy. A cat tried to attack me.”

  Logan looked dumbfounded. “A cat?”

  “Yes, a vicious cat that probably had rabies…and when I hit him with my camera, all of tho
se people back there accused me of animal cruelty.”

  Logan stopped in his tracks. “We’re not running out of here like criminals. You had every right to defend yourself and I dare anyone to say otherwise.” He whirled around, prepared to confront the angry mob.

  Imani grabbed his arm. “There’s more to the story, and it’s so farfetched I’d prefer having the discussion at home, after Benjie’s in bed,” she said in a low voice, tinged with pain.

  “Not bedtime, not dark yet,” Benjie protested after hearing his name associated with the word, bed.

  “I know, sweetheart. It’s not bedtime yet,” Imani said in a soothing tone.

  “I’m confused,” Logan said.

  “It’s an unbelievable story, but it’s true, and I should have told you a long time ago. We’ll talk tonight. Okay, Logan?” Wanting him to drop the subject for now, she appealed to him with an unhappy expression.

  “Sure, we’ll talk tonight,” he reluctantly agreed.

  Mila was back with a vengeance and was ready to wreak havoc in her life again. Imani couldn’t fight her alone and hoped that she could count on Waiola to help her for a second time. With a baby to protect, she needed all the help she could get. As unbelievable as the story was, she had to trust that Logan would stand by her side and not write her off as a lunatic.

  She had to trust that their love was strong enough to survive anything…even spiritual warfare.

  “Whatever is going on, Imani, you know I’ll be right by your side,” he said and squeezed her hand.

  She squeezed his hand back and took a deep breath, as if preparing herself for the supernatural battles that lie ahead.

  *****

  Mila had never experienced pain while inhabiting a body, but her head was hit with such force that she saw double of everything. The tremendous amount of pain caused by the two blows forced her to exit the cat’s body, leaving it to deal with the throbbing discomfort on its own.

  For over two years, there had been a force field of sorts around Imani that prevented Mila from getting close. But for some reason, the protective energy had receded into the atmosphere and Imani was vulnerable again.