There were many places Coleen could go. Any of them would do. If she was not a dead man, she was still Coleen. There was nothing she could do about a trespasser unless they were nervous and inexperienced (or maybe experienced) enough to let her talk. But her voice wasn’t something to use anymore. Or her body. Or anything.
Emil was not at home when the doorbell rang. Coleen no longer had an impulse to see who it was or ruin everything by opening the door. She had not had that impulse for fifteen months.
Something was wrong. Coleen could feel it, even though she had not neared the door to check. The person had not left. They wanted someone to answer the door. They knew she was home.
They knew someone was home. Though if they saw her face all they would know was that the usurped King Cole was here. No matter what, Coleen could not allow that to happen. Not even if someone was breaking in to steal things. She would have to hide and wait it out. A passive tactic she had never before implemented, but knew was her only option.
She felt a slow smoulder in her chest, before remembering it shouldn’t matter too much to her.
Coleen walked away from the living room. The handle jiggled – the person was not giving up. Then she heard a familiar sound.
They are picking the lock.
She heard another familiar sound.
They succeeded in picking the lock.
It was the first anniversary of her death. Coleen might have forgotten, but their new neighboring town had a celebration about it. Down with the corrupt king and praise to the Faith who had saved them all.
“Could you just see their faces if you went down and joined the festivities?” Emil asked as he took another piece of chocolate Coleen had made off of the plate. He ate it very slowly, likely by forcing himself. If there was one thing Coleen had managed to uphold in this new household it was the rule of no buying chocolates.
He probably ate some while he was out, but there was only so much that Coleen could do. Emil had not started up a new garden yet. Maybe next time they moved she would remind him about greenhouses and they could find a place with one where he could work in it all year long.
Coleen pushed Emil’s feet off of her. “Would be a waste of a death.”
Emil didn’t really suggest he go. He just said what he wanted, as he usually did. He really needed to figure out how to be more tactful to live as a mortal. Some people wouldn’t like him talking to them like that.
“Yes, because after something as public as your death, the first thing they will think is that it is the real King Cole.”
It would not be the first time someone called her a demon.
Only after Emil’s eyes widened slightly in surprise did Coleen feel that her left eye was twitching. A muscle spasm she was unable to control. No, not that. A muscle spasm which meant her body felt something her mind hadn’t caught up to yet. Because despite realizing her reaction, Coleen did not feel like trying to deny it or bring any further attention to it.
She had been trying to not think of Lamar.
She had been trying not to think at all. After all, thinking was something that King Cole had done to ruin everything. And Coleen was not that person now. What was there to think about? It was not like she needed to rush it. She had an eternity to think.
Coleen would not pass this curse onto anyone.