Cursed [Book 1] ✔

Chapter 17: Second Life

Rosalind knew her stuff. Leaping from a second-story building had been easy. After landing on the ground soundless as a cat, I was sure I could have survived even a ten-story drop.

Outrunning the police cars had been interesting as well. I had barely cleared the woods before the red and blue lights had warned me to increase my speed. I couldn't run as fast as Lillith and Samael, but I was definitely faster than most. With the wind rushing through my hair, moon beaming down on me, I thought maybe living wouldn't be so bad after all.

My joy faded when I neared my mother's house. I slowed, still ready to waltz in the front door when Rosalind cautioned me against it:

"She won't understand. Even if you explain, she won't understand."

For a minute more, my hand hung over the knob. Then I mentally ran over what I would say: "Hey, Mom...Wait! Don't run! Stop screaming. I know, I look like Rosalind, but I'm not her. It's me, Imogen. Weird, yeah, but I died and sort of went to Heaven. Now I'm home---"

My hand dropped, the intent to reconcile vanished. As I stepped down the driveway, I wondered if I would ever see my mother again.

"Probably not," Rosalind answered.

"So, you can still read my mind!"

"Well, yeah." She smiled. "And, I can also tell that you're hungry."

I stared at her, incredulous. "Did you gleam that from my subconscious?"

"No, dummy, your stomach just growled."

Homesick as I was, I couldn't help but laugh.

* * * * *

I walked to the nearest restaurant. Running would have gotten me there faster, but I needed the time to think.

During my trek, the sun made a shy appearance. The innumerable colors stole my breath, and for the second time in my new body, I was glad to be alive. I felt connected to the world, which I hadn't felt since my college days. Even as jaded as I had been in my first life, I had a new point of view now.

Living, dying, then living again was a profound experience. It had shown me that things weren't a random confluence of events, but rather a string of necessary incidents to facilitate the well-being of others. Sometimes those incidents were horrible, like the deaths of Juliet, Rosalind, and even me. That didn't mean they were in vain.

I asked Rosalind a question after leaving our mother's house. "Despite  everything, this is gonna sound silly, but...is there a God?"

Her ghostly face smirked. "Why would you ask me that?"

"Because you said there wasn't one."

"I said 'not like you imagine.'"

"Well, then on behalf of my imagination, is there?"

Rosalind smiled. "What do you think?"

On my spiritual journey and back, I hadn't come into contact with God per se. All the same, I knew there was one. That didn't mean I was ready to bow down and blindly worship Him or Her, but it did mean I was ready to accept a part of myself that I had denied for so long. I had a whole lifetime to figure things out before committing to any sort of organized religion like Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, or the like. In fact, I didn't foresee adhering to any one religion. There were admirable facets to each of them. It was enough that I had a spiritual side to carry within me. A church, mosque, or burning sticks of incense would not change that.

Sometime after 6 a.m., I arrived at a 24-hour diner. Rosalind had parted ways hours before, and it saddened me to request a table for one. A chubby blonde led me to a small booth, her curious stares not really registering with me. The last thing I cared about was the state of my appearance, even if it caused an entire restaurant of patrons to gawk, which they did. The old me would have squirmed under their intrusive stares, but the new me cared not.

Hangry as hell, I barked out an order: pancakes, and coffee with two sugars, thank you. A strange hum set my teeth on edge, but I ignored it.

I kept the menu, intent on requesting a lot more food. Thankfully, Rosalind had materialized some money for me, because the fairly recent resurrection thing had left me penniless.

The restaurant had mirror panels lining its walls, allowing me a peek at my reflection for the first time. Dirt-matted hair? Check. Soot-smeared face? Check. Singed eyebrows? Double-check. Yikes, I would have stared at me too. Behind my coffee cup, I chuckled.

"What a weirdo," I heard the waitress remark as she set down my order of pancakes.

"What did you say?"

Her judgmental look melted to one of confusion. "I didn't say anything." Weirdo.

While her lips hadn't moved on the last word, I had heard it nonetheless.

The humming I'd assumed to be background noise was anything but. It crested to a roaring din of conversation, revolving mostly around me. Yet, everyone in the diner was busy chomping away at their meals, but I could still hear them!

Rosalind had hinted at other powers, and her left-over telepathy must have been one of them.

Still reeling from that discovery, I glanced down at the newspaper the previous patron had left. Stupidly, I stared at the date for what felt like hours. An entire year had come and gone. In the time that I had died, gone to Heaven and back to kick comes serious ass, approximately 365 days had flown by. Rosalind had not been lying when she had said that time passed differently while in limbo.

I took a bite of my pancakes, chewing mechanically.  

Who knew how many Djinn were spawned in that time span, not to mention how many Lillin could have been inadvertently created. Go on living, indeed. What Rosalind had really meant to say (but had neglected to fully mention, yet again) was that my mission was not accomplished. Not at all.

I spent a few minutes seething. My anger intensified when I realized I had no way to track down these other demons. My omnipresent power was only effective when I locked eyes or touched my intended.

The buzz of random thoughts crowded my brain. The weight was like a physical entity, threatening to split my head open. With great effort, I beat it back and concentrated. I was able to individually sift through each thought, but maintaining that level of concentration was exhausting. Sweat poured down my face, cleaving clean lines through the layers of dirt. My head was near to bursting.

Still, it dawned on me that the telepathy might be worth a migraine or two. It was a potential tool, a net that I could cast to find and catch my demons. First, I would find Rafe, and then I would resume the search for Lillin and Djinn.

My stomach protested my plans.

I had months and maybe years stretching ahead of me. The demons and my husband could wait.

For now, more pancakes.

Author Note: That's the end of part three, but Imogen's journey has just begun. She'll have to figure out how and where to find Rafe, as well as the remaining Djinn...