Read Online Forgotten Self (Forgotten Self #1) by Rachel Carr - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rachel Carr
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will get him to spill.
Jonathan lets out a long, slow breath. “You should enjoy this life for a while, Abby. Being human, really human...there's nothing like it.” He reaches for my hand and I let him grasp it. His palms are soft, and comforting.
I don't know what to say to that. How would I? Instead I ask, “That's not really fair, Jonatha n. This is my life. If you really care about me -”
“ I do care about you, Abby,” he interrupts. “That's why I...”
I give him my most intense look, one I use when I'm trying to guilt someone into something. He grumbles indecipherably under his breath.
“ Jon athan. Everything in my life is so messed up right now. I keep seeing what are apparently demons, everyone and their grandma is glowing, and I spend my nights in a cemetery.” Whoops. Didn't mean to say that. I rush into my next point. “I just need someone I can trust and talk to. That's you. But I can't trust you if you keep big, huge, gigantic secrets from me.”
Frustrated, he musses up his curls. Then he abruptly stands and paces the room for a good two minutes before dropping back into his seat.
“ You're r ight. Everything is culminating now. I need to be realistic.” He pauses before groaning and sighing simultaneously.
He gives me a pointed look. “And don't think I'm going to let that cemetery comment drop.”
Damn.
There's another, more drawn out pause befo re he reaches out for my hand again. “Alright. Let me show you what happened – why you're here.”
I walked across the wooden floor of an unfamiliar dining room, my footsteps making no sound. A man sat alone, eating a sandwich, reading the paper. He did not look up. To him, he was alone. I pulled out a chair at the table and lightly took a seat. I watched the man enjoy his meal for a time. Then a voice came from across the room.
“ Abigail.” It was Jonathan. His glow illuminated the painting hung behind him.
I gestured for him to take a seat. “Just waiting. Heart attack.”
He sat down and tapped his fingers slowly on the table's shiny surface. “Our time's almost up again.”
I didn't look away from the man. “Yes, I know,” I whispered.
“ I wish things had gone diffe rently this time.”
Finally, I turned to look at him. “There's nothing we can do, Jonny.” My voice was hard, unforgiving. Then I looked away. “You know we can't stop them.”
The dim beginnings of what would become a high-decibel shriek could be heard. I glan ced upward. “Here they come.” I stood and walked over to the man who was still calmly eating his lunch. He heard nothing; he knew nothing of what was about to happen. I laid my hand upon his forehead and he slumped over in his seat.
As soon as the man's sp irit appeared I ushered him along quickly. “Trust me, Tom,” I told him. “I would love to explain more, but you don't want to be here when they are.” I pointed to the ceiling. The man could now hear the loud hum of archangels on their way. He gave me a quic k nod and disappeared.
Finally, as the noise reached a deafening level, I looked at Jonathan and gave him a wry smile. “See you soon,” I mouthed. And then there was only bright, white light.
That dizzy feeling comes over me, and then:
A starry night sho ne just enough light down on the scene to make it visible from a small distance. A family of four, slaughtered in a field. Mother, father, young boy, and baby sister lay strewn not far from one another. I stood vigil by a tree maybe fifteen yards from them .
Torches flared in the next field over while men yelled for the father of the slain family. I made no move. I was waiting for someone. I'd felt a summoning after guiding the souls on their way. A breeze blew lazily through the forest behind me, creating a n eerie whistle. It didn't take long before a figure became visible next to the bodies. Not waiting for a greeting, I stepped out and met the stranger. He or she was black-robed and a shadow hugged their
Jonathan lets out a long, slow breath. “You should enjoy this life for a while, Abby. Being human, really human...there's nothing like it.” He reaches for my hand and I let him grasp it. His palms are soft, and comforting.
I don't know what to say to that. How would I? Instead I ask, “That's not really fair, Jonatha n. This is my life. If you really care about me -”
“ I do care about you, Abby,” he interrupts. “That's why I...”
I give him my most intense look, one I use when I'm trying to guilt someone into something. He grumbles indecipherably under his breath.
“ Jon athan. Everything in my life is so messed up right now. I keep seeing what are apparently demons, everyone and their grandma is glowing, and I spend my nights in a cemetery.” Whoops. Didn't mean to say that. I rush into my next point. “I just need someone I can trust and talk to. That's you. But I can't trust you if you keep big, huge, gigantic secrets from me.”
Frustrated, he musses up his curls. Then he abruptly stands and paces the room for a good two minutes before dropping back into his seat.
“ You're r ight. Everything is culminating now. I need to be realistic.” He pauses before groaning and sighing simultaneously.
He gives me a pointed look. “And don't think I'm going to let that cemetery comment drop.”
Damn.
There's another, more drawn out pause befo re he reaches out for my hand again. “Alright. Let me show you what happened – why you're here.”
I walked across the wooden floor of an unfamiliar dining room, my footsteps making no sound. A man sat alone, eating a sandwich, reading the paper. He did not look up. To him, he was alone. I pulled out a chair at the table and lightly took a seat. I watched the man enjoy his meal for a time. Then a voice came from across the room.
“ Abigail.” It was Jonathan. His glow illuminated the painting hung behind him.
I gestured for him to take a seat. “Just waiting. Heart attack.”
He sat down and tapped his fingers slowly on the table's shiny surface. “Our time's almost up again.”
I didn't look away from the man. “Yes, I know,” I whispered.
“ I wish things had gone diffe rently this time.”
Finally, I turned to look at him. “There's nothing we can do, Jonny.” My voice was hard, unforgiving. Then I looked away. “You know we can't stop them.”
The dim beginnings of what would become a high-decibel shriek could be heard. I glan ced upward. “Here they come.” I stood and walked over to the man who was still calmly eating his lunch. He heard nothing; he knew nothing of what was about to happen. I laid my hand upon his forehead and he slumped over in his seat.
As soon as the man's sp irit appeared I ushered him along quickly. “Trust me, Tom,” I told him. “I would love to explain more, but you don't want to be here when they are.” I pointed to the ceiling. The man could now hear the loud hum of archangels on their way. He gave me a quic k nod and disappeared.
Finally, as the noise reached a deafening level, I looked at Jonathan and gave him a wry smile. “See you soon,” I mouthed. And then there was only bright, white light.
That dizzy feeling comes over me, and then:
A starry night sho ne just enough light down on the scene to make it visible from a small distance. A family of four, slaughtered in a field. Mother, father, young boy, and baby sister lay strewn not far from one another. I stood vigil by a tree maybe fifteen yards from them .
Torches flared in the next field over while men yelled for the father of the slain family. I made no move. I was waiting for someone. I'd felt a summoning after guiding the souls on their way. A breeze blew lazily through the forest behind me, creating a n eerie whistle. It didn't take long before a figure became visible next to the bodies. Not waiting for a greeting, I stepped out and met the stranger. He or she was black-robed and a shadow hugged their
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