The Soul Collector - By Tamela Quijas Page 0,71

dude.” Gil admitted.

“When we're working and using those cameras, everyone else's eyes look like…well, eyes. You look at a camera and,” � Ethan shrugged, his smile vanishing. He struggled for the proper words and resigned himself to the inability. “Your eyes are like WOW, dude!” �

Lucien rose to his feet, his eyes still shut and his complexion paler than normal. He wavered for a moment, his footing uncertain, and his expression troubled. He kept his eyes closed, unprepared for the feel of Brice's hand as it pressed his sunglasses into his palm.

He detected the sound of Gil moving across the lobby, pulling the last of the spectators and the hotel staff after him. He heard Deborah's sandals clicking on the foyer floor as she neared, and smelled the pipe tobacco lingering on Brice's coat. Nikolai's hand remained on his shoulder, steadying him.

Hesitantly, Lucien placed the lenses over his eyes and focused on the group. They stared back, varying degrees of concern in their expressions, and he felt humbled.

“You can touch me?” �

They nodded in unison.

“Birdie says you glow.” Ethan whispered in awe.

“When did this miracle occur?” �

“This morning,”� Deborah chirped with a shy smile. “I knew we could touch you when your aura began to glow.”

“Infrared cameras and an aura?” Lucien released a tight breath, feeling his heart flutter in his chest. He rolled his shoulders, attempted to ease the pain filling him, and winced.

“Nope,” Nikolai managed in his gravelly voice. “I would say a woman led to your downfall.”

Sometime, during the hours he had spent in Evangeline's embrace, his world had changed.

“Do you know what I am?” �

They nodded somberly.

“We were never the ones to judge you, Luke.” � Nikolai growled.

“Never the ones,” � Deborah chirped again, shaking her head, and tears filled her eyes as she recalled her past. “You saved us, when our world was at its worst.” �

“Yep,”� Ethan echoed the sentiment. “So the boss man’s is a little different? We're all weird, in our own way.” �

“We owe you,” � Brice's words didn't register as a renewed keening burst of wind filled the lobby. The sound rose high, resembling an outrage screech of pain, before dropping off into a weighty silence.

“What the hell was that?” Ethan questioned, watching the lobby chandelier swing in a wide arc above their heads.

Lucien's head cocked to the side and he listened to the whispering tones of a desperate voice. He pulled in a trembling breath, the exhalation leaving him in short gasps of disbelief.

His attention became riveted on a spot past his team members. The entity that had made such an entrance into the hotel, the shadow wreaking havoc, stood defiantly before him. Lucien's mouth tightened into a grim line and intense anger flushed his face crimson.

Despite the human essence flooding him, the coursing blood, the beating heart, or the breath trembling past his lips, he retained the part of him linked to the other world.

….and Reese was screaming his name.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

�There is the horror of confrontation, when this fragile essence we shall call life, hangs by a delicate thread�

Eva struggled to her knees, her eyes closed. The deed was tediously executed, and a gasp escaped her. Her hands slipped to her ribcage and she winced.

She ached with every breath. Kneeling, she gagged at the sharp and bitter taste rising in her throat.

She swallowed, scowling as the sourness took its precious time to settle into the region of her gut. She inhaled a trembling breath, the pain ebbing. Eva remained on her knees and shuddered, wondering where she was, the last few hours dim.

Wherever she was, it stunk far worse than the man who held her captive. Not by much, she admitted, but enough.

She opened her eyes. She shivered again, feeling the intense cold seeping from the hard stone floor. A long and quivering sigh fell from her, and much-needed moisture rose to her pained eyes. Salty tears streamed from the corners, wetting her face, before dripping off her chin.

Angrily, she swiped her hand across her eyes. She wanted to curse, but she didn't know if Julian lurked nearby, determined not to show him any weakness.

She wouldn't reveal the coiling fear rolling through her, knowing he would savor her terror. He would do that insane little dance of joy that was such a part of his character, leaping and bouncing in a macabre pirouette of madness.

Of course, he would be near. He would be waiting for someone far more important than a frightened investigative reporter.

He would be waiting for