The Soul Collector - By Tamela Quijas Page 0,46

if he were regally righting royal robes. The lines of his face creased deeper and he graced the misty figures with an imperious glare.

It was just as well the spirits of the dead knew who walked among them this very eve. He was the rightful heir of St. Lorraine, the crown prince who had yet to claim his thrown. Julian was well aware of his identity and the hushed accusations and, in truth, savored the extent of his power. He reeled about on his heel, his arms flying wide and successfully scattering the smoky images to the wind.

“Heed this warning, dear people, and ghosts of yore. Lock your windows and bar your doors!” He began in an eerie and peculiarly singsong voice, reciting the hushed words of warning echoing through his father's land many centuries ago. “Beware, for the Daemon of St. Lorraine wanders your thoroughfares this night!”

Julian's long gaited stride increased, each step bearing more of a resemblance to a lop-sided skip. He chuckled, the sound akin the crunch of dry leaves beneath booted feet, as his words lifted in the chill night air.

“Run, Lucien, run.” He chanted in a low baritone hearkening back to the forgotten days in his youth. “Run, dear little brother, for the demon of St. Lorraine is seeking your soul!”

�CHAPTER TEN

Beware of angels granting life

Under the fringe of her lashes, Eva looked at the man who stood before the large windows of the conference room in Miami, Florida hotel. The gentleness of the ocean breeze moved the large palm fronds in a delicate dance in the blueness of the afternoon sky. The sun was brilliant, flooding the room with a bright and radiantly warm amount of light.

Normally, a person would've moved, seeking the comfort of the air-conditioned interior. Lucien chose to remain, the heat bathing him in warmth. He stood in sharp relief against the shimmering glass and his attire seemed darker than before, more identifiable than if he would've been a shadow of some forbidden entity.

Eva had taken the dare Lucien issued the fated night of their interview, so many weeks ago. He’d been smoothly eloquent; discussing the upcoming investigation with Geoffrey Noah, explaining her presence would boost the channels ratings to a phenomenal level. He had stressed today’s population wanted reality television with a twist. Humanity thrived on the absurd and frightening and Those among Us had all the necessary oomph needed.

Geoffrey had fallen into the play, completely. Mute, she had listened to Lucien's smooth delivery. Later, she realized he was extracting his pound of proverbial flesh….in exchange for the kiss she forced on him. In return, he had scheduled an investigation in the one place she avoided…Miami, Florida.

Eva eyed his tense form. He had shed the trench coat, due to the warm climate. She detected the firm outline of tense muscles rippling beneath his lightweight silk shirt and his rigid shoulders. His back remained to the assemblage gathered at the table, his calm features raised to the blue skies beyond the glass. Among people he knew, he continued to be haunted, troubled by the echo of voices others couldn't hear.

She shook her head. She knew what he felt, and sympathized with a portion of what he heard. She had her own ghostly presence, one that frustrated her. Thankfully, her brother had been absent for the past few days.

Only she’d get an apparition with attitude, she thought with a grumble. Reese appeared irritated with the fact she’d sent him away a few nights past. Granted, she wouldn't have been able to endure his lingering presence when she performed her experiment on the unfortunate Lucien D'Angel.

“Mendelssohn House was built in the latter part of the nineteen hundreds by the prominent banker, Elijah Mendelssohn, for his wife, Rebeka.”

Brice Linton's voice was calm and soothing as it echoed across the conference room, interrupting her thoughts. She focused on the older man who stood at the head of the table and waited for him to continue. Hastily, Eva began to jot notes on the pad she placed on the table.

“The home is an architectural masterpiece. There wasn't an expense spared to appease Rebeka. As you can see by these pictures,” he paused, shuffling a stack he handed to the woman at his right. “Elijah took extreme pride in the construction and design. Take a moment and examine the gingerbread trim,” he waited for the photos to make their slow way around the table. “As you can tell, there’s a sweeping porch ensconcing the front of the