The Soul Collector - By Tamela Quijas Page 0,68

reveled in his unwashed state.

Eva gasped as Reese returned, the dark hollows of his eyes shining a vibrant red. He shot across the passageway with a great gust of chill wind, striving to strike at the figure threatening his sister.

“Tell your worthless imp to leave.” Julian’s command was harsh, although the sickening reality of a derisive smile twisted his distorted features. Her hand crept to her throat as Reese passed through him, his contact lacking the intended effect

…damn you! �

“Ah, I’ve been damned far longer than you’ve existed.” He countered, lifting a finger to the corner of his mouth and scraping at a tooth with the broken tip of a yellowed nail.

“Reese, go!”

“Yes, my luscious dear, tell your irritating shadow to leave.” Julian turned to stare at the spectral shape. She watched as the intruder's eyes darkened, the discolored whites ebbing and resembling the eyes of the man she loved.

“He should understand anything this spirit may do doesn’t affect me.” �

Reese shot to her side, the normally calming essence of his shadowy form filled with immense fury. She understood the change in temperature meant he was attempting to materialize, desperate to protect her.

�…Evie?

“You can't help.” She wanted to sob, but wouldn't allow Julian to witness her terror. He fed on weakness and fear, and she'd provide him neither. “Find him, Reese. He'll know what to do.” �

As Julian approached, Eva lifted defiant eyes, her expression mutinous.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

�There is the reawakening of the soul, often faint and unseen�

Silence was a trade she learned after years of hiding in the shadowed streets. A person had to learn to be invisible, as silent as the night, to avoid attracting unwarranted attention.

Her mouth puckered into a tight moue. He didn't know she was there, and she preferred it.

She learned a lot by simply watching Luke Angeles.

He stood in the glass walled lobby, rays of sunlight illuminating his face, seeming to wax all color from him. His dark attire added to the effect, lending him a ghostly touch.

To her, he appeared paler, almost unholy.

Deborah's brow furrowed and the wrinkles framing her eyes deepened. Long moments passed before a low chirp of laughter twittered from her mouth. She pressed her hands to her mouth, muffling her delight.

“What do you see, Birdie?" �

Ethan's voice sounded close to her shoulder and she startled but lowered her hands. Instead of answering, she pointed at the black garbed figure, afraid to speak. She knew the sound falling from her lips would have been a shrill screech of joy.

Puzzled, the youth remained by her silence. Deborah warbled in his company, her chirping observations often causing him to chuckle, thus her nickname. If she was quiet, something profound had occurred, and he would respect her judgment.

He followed the direction of her finger and frowned, wondering what held her so fascinated.

“I don't have your ability, Birdie.” He lamented with a pitiful sigh, witnessing nothing beyond the ordinary. “I can only do the computer stuff.” �

“Just barely,” a surly voice quipped nearby.

The old woman started again, unaware of Gil’s closeness, and surprised he had crept up on her. Normally, she wasn't as lax as today, forgetting to watch the various people who milled in and out of the hotel. She’d been sidetracked, her attention more focused on the solitary figure of Luke Angeles.

“I'm better than you.” Ethan couldn't resist the retort but kept the expected playful jab to himself.

“Not by much.” Gil conceded with a grunt. He moved to Deborah's side, his stance protective.

“What's up, Miss Deb?” He questioned, frowning. “Is there something wrong with the boss?” �

She shook her head, her gray streaked hair bobbing from side to side. There was nothing wrong with the boss, as the boy phrased it, and a wide smile creased her face.

Everything, in fact, was wonderful.

“Would you trust me?” She questioned in her soft and warbling tones. Her eyes darted from one to the other, intently seeking an answer in their somber eyes. “I wonder if you would believe me if I told you?” �

Ethan nodded slowly and waited for his partner’s response. Gil frowned, his brows drawing into a deep v and his jaw clenching.

“We've seen everything possible, humanly and otherwise, in this line of work.” Brice’s whispered admission interrupted him.

“What else is there to consider?”

“Birdie sees something.” Ethan interjected in reverent tones.

Buttoning his tweed jacket, Nikolai rolled his eyes and wondered why everyone was whispering. Deborah's sight wasn't anything, normally, that caused such a reaction among the investigators.

“Tell us, Deb.” Brice insisted, his glasses sliding