Soul Whisperer

by Jenna Kernan

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  An uneasy silence followed. None of them were innocent. Not according to what he had been taught.

  “Is there anything else you wish to know?”

  “How did you escape them?”

  “I had not yet changed and so I did not have the aura of a Skinwalker. They found me, but assumed I was human and let me go.”

  “That was lucky.”

  “Lucky.” She gave a short exhalation and a half smile that seemed laced with hatred, as if she had also just recalled who and what he was. “I should go.”

  “No.” He rested a hand on her knee and the depth of her loss rolled through him, cold as an ice storm. He drew back his hand, unable to bear it. “At least stay for supper.”

  Her nod was barely perceptible. He blew out the breath he’d been holding. He had her for a little while longer.

  She pressed her hands together and lowered her head for a moment as if praying. But he knew better. Bess was reining in her emotions. When she lifted her chin her face was placid, but her eyes were intent as ever.

  “Why do you always take your women to Dominicos?” she asked.

  Now she was trying small talk. He appreciated the effort and responded with honesty that even surprised him.

  “Closer to my bed, I suppose, and impressive enough to get them there.”

  Her eyes rounded and she pressed her hand over the smile that had returned like the sun emerging from behind a storm cloud.

  “Honesty? Something I never expected from one of your kind.”

  “And you, Bess. What keeps you from boredom as the decades inch past?”

  “My work you mean? I’m with the National Wilderness Coalition. Mostly on the coast, but I do travel domestically if there is a natural disaster that affects wildlife. It’s all about The Balance, for us, as you know.”

  To the point of making man extinct, he thought, but said nothing. The Skinwalkers made the most militant of animal rights groups seem like a litter of kittens by comparison. Still, he did not want to say anything that would add further cracks to their fragile truce, so he held his tongue.

  The waiter brought all Bess’s appetizers at once, as she requested. Cesar wondered if their discussion had spoiled her appetite, but she attacked the calamari with singular attention.

  “It’s been so long since I’ve been in human form. I’d forgotten the pleasure of eating fried food.”

  Her comment reminded him of all the reasons that teaming up with a raven was a bad idea. Such a liaison would have consequences for them both.

  But he found himself saying, “Been a long time since I enjoyed a conversation with a fellow Halfling.”

  She lifted her gaze to his, her eyes searching his face for what was left unsaid. But he had years of practice and knew his expression revealed nothing.

  “I thought Niyanoka lived in tight groups. You must have many opportunities to converse.”

  In answer he lifted his wine and took a large swallow.

  She leaned forward. “They really won’t talk to you?”

  He lowered the wine and glared at her, heartily sorry he had brought it up.

  She flopped back in her chair, indignation making her cheeks turn an appealing pink. Did she know how lovely she looked?

  “That cracks it. Only Spirit Children would make an outcast of one of their own and one who holds such a valuable gift.”

  Valuable? Now there was a word he had never heard associated with his ability. Nor was it a gift, but rather a curse.

  “I’m tainted by the dead.”

  Bess waved a dismissive hand, graceful as a conductor leading an orchestra. Then she used her fingers to pick up a piece of fried calamari, its brown batter-coated tentacles twisted in some representation of a dreadful second death in the fryer. She lifted it between them.

  “Dead,” she said, and then popped it into her mouth. “And they are hypocrites unless they are all vegans.”

  “It’s different.”

  She rolled her eyes and headed back to the bisque. It was both refreshing and maddening to have someone not understand how impossibly difficult it was to be outcast by his own people. He didn’t tell her that he was a double outcast, first for what he was and second for what he had done.

  “So you only date human women then?”

  He nodded. It was lonely passing like a shadow among them.

  “That’s depressing. Not that I’ve managed anything long-term, except for Gordon. I was with him twenty-one years. One day he didn’t come home. I found his remains in the snow. An eagle got him.”

  “An eagle? How could an eagle kill a full-grown man?”

  She met his eyes and held them, her expression unapologetic. “Gordon was exceptionally bright and terribly handsome. But not human. Raven, full raven, not a Inanoka. We met in British Columbia in the 1920s.”

  He couldn’t quite get his mind around that. “You stayed with a raven, a bird, for twenty years?”

  She cast him a look ripe with annoyance. “Twenty-one, and yes. He was very attentive and a great provider.”

  “Did he know what you were?”

  “Of course. It didn’t matter to him.”

  Cesar lifted the bottle and poured himself another full glass as their dinners arrived. Bess held on to the calamari but had finished everything else.

  “What about you? Any Soul Whisperer ladies in your life?”

  “I’m the only one of my kind,” he answered.

  “What? How can that be?”

  “One at a time, that’s the deal.”

  “How does that work?”

  He knew only that it seemed as if the world had been structured to close him out.

  He shrugged. “I’m not really sure. I was born a Truth Seeker. It wasn’t until…well, no one realized for some time that I was a Soul Whisperer. I was thirteen before it was discovered.” He’d nearly told her, nearly mentioned how he’d learned of his terrible curse. He wondered if she noticed his hesitation. Cesar reached for his water glass and took a swallow. His mouth still felt dry.

  “Your people have too many rules.”

  “Designed to keep us safe while working toward the betterment of mankind.”

  She gave him that enigmatic stare and then she cut into her salmon.

  Cesar tried to keep his attention on his steak, but he was distracted by his thoughts and the woman. How did she call to him without saying a word? He should ask for the check and leave her here. That was the proper thing to do. His people used their ability to read auras to avoid such encounters. This was exactly why. He reconsidered bringing her back to his place. After all, she might take a cleaver to him while he slept.

  For all his training, he’d failed to recognize a Skinwalker when he finally met one. But she knew him on sight. Until today he never knew any of her kind could spot them the same way. It made him wonder what else the textbooks got wrong.

  Bess finished first, licked her lips and eyed the remains of his steak.

  He exhaled in a gesture of bewilderment. “You cannot possibly still be hungry?”

  “Always,” she said and smiled.

  He slid his plate a little closer to himself and she laughed outright. He liked the sound because her mirth had a rich genuine tone to it.

  “So, you don’t work with a partner?”

  He lowered his fork. It was a touchy subject, but she couldn’t know that, could she?

  He was careful to keep his tone level, to prevent her seeing the depth of pain this question caused. But inside he coiled like a nest of rattlers.

  “No partner,” he managed.

  “So what makes you so furious, not having one or what the last one did?”

  “I’m not furious.”

  She slung one arm over the back of her chair and motioned with one finger. “Your aura says differently.”

  He should have thought of that. The nice dark room and candlelit tables made for perfect conditions to read auras. No wonder she seeme
d to know what he was thinking. She just made educated guesses from his changing auras.

  “I’m not discussing my past with you.”

  Bess’s smile turned wicked. “What about your job with the FBI?”

  Cesar glanced around. A few patrons now sat within earshot but seemed absorbed in their own conversations.

  He lowered his voice. “I don’t talk about my work with…” He was going to say his women but decided against it.

  “Of course. Why should you have to explain anything to the likes of me? It must be so frustrating to have to deal with an inferior species.”

  He lowered his knife and fork to the table. “I didn’t say that.”

  She snorted. “You do, with every breath.”

  “We do not have to be enemies in this. What do they say about common interest leading to strange bedfellows?”

  “That’s politics and why does everything lead back to bed with you?” She studied him in silence as if trying to decide if she should waste her breath on him. “Despite what you Niyanoka think, Inanoka have perfectly good minds. But if you feel you cannot speak of your work, I assume you don’t need my help. You’ll likely solve the case, eventually. No need for me to tell you what I discover from those young mothers.”

  “Bess, that’s not fair.”

  “Really? I thought you worked alone.”

  He lifted his gaze from his plate and saw her leaning in, her chin lifted in a clear challenge.

  “Is that what you really want to know, why I work alone?” he asked.

  “I want to know how you’ve existed without anyone to talk to about something other than the weather. You want my help. That entitles me to some answers and I don’t give a damn if you aren’t accustomed to sharing.”

  He pushed the remains of his meal aside and looked for the waiter. He was interested in sleeping with this Skinwalker. Conversation was not part of the deal.

  The waiter caught Cesar’s eye and hustled right over. “All finished?”

  Cesar nodded and the plates were cleared, leaving them alone amid the other diners, who were unaware of the threat posed by the two Halflings among them.

  “Sharing goes both ways,” he said.

  She gave a nod in concession to that point.

  “So if I tell you, you’ll promise to share what you find out from the two deceased women and explain to me about your powers.”

  She hesitated. That boded well, for a quick acceptance might mean she did not intend to keep her word. But Bess deliberated over her answer and then gave a slow, thoughtful nod.

  “Done.” She sat back, regarding him, as if deciding where to begin, but he asked the first question, comfortable in that role.

  “So you can read auras, travel the Way of Souls, speak to the dead. Anything else?”

  “I can’t speak to the dead. I can only speak to those who have followed the Red Road, led a decent life and gained entrance to the Spirit World. I can’t see the ghosts who remain upon the earth, nor can I speak to those who have failed to cross because of their misdeeds upon the earth. Those, as you know, have fallen into the Circle of Ghosts. Besides that, I have all the powers of a raven. I can fly, I can see exceedingly well and I am a more than passable thief, though I shouldn’t say so in present company. I do love glitter and flash. Gemstones especially. What about you?”

  “Besides the ability to see how a person died, you mean?”

  “But you can’t talk to them.”

  He was reluctant to tell her but decided it wasn’t worth watching her walk away if he didn’t, so he answered.

  “That’s right. I see and hear only what has already occurred but it is usually enough to discover supernatural interference with mankind and identify simple murderers.”

  She glanced about the busy room and then back to him. “Can you witness an animal’s death?”

  He was about to ask to what purpose, when he remembered the mountain lion shifter and nodded.

  “That’s interesting. And you said you are a Truth Seeker. I have heard of that. How does it work exactly?”

  “I can tell if someone is lying by touching them.” Except her, apparently. He kept that bit of information back, for it was foolish to tell an enemy your weaknesses.

  “You can read minds?” she asked.

  “That’s not exactly how it works. I have to ask a question.”

  “Show me.”

  He really should have expected that. He pushed back the strong urge to touch her. Her silly ultimatum had now trapped him. Cesar stared out at her from the corner he had backed himself into. He’d have to use some stranger as illustration or she’d discover herself immune to his Truth Seeking gift. And so there would be no taking of her hands, no asking her everything he wanted to know and no satisfaction in learning all her secrets. He had read every woman he’d ever met for more than a century.

  But not Bess.

  She was the exception to his rule and that fact both annoyed and fascinated.

  Chapter 6

  Before he could get himself into further trouble, the waiter turned up carrying a tray laden with sweets, capturing Bess’s attention. He decided the wisest way to demonstrate his Truth Seeking was to do so on a human. That way he wouldn’t have to reveal that he could not read the answers to questions he posed to her.

  “Have we saved room for dessert?” asked the waiter.

  Cesar sat bemused as Bess leaned in to inhale.

  “They all smell delicious,” said Bess as if she hadn’t eaten in days.

  “Which do you recommend?” said Cesar, lightly brushing the back of the man’s hand.

  Bess went silent as she witnessed the gesture and her eyes flashed from one to the other.

  “Oh, the chocolate lava cake is our bestseller.”

  “And you recommend it because it is the most expensive and you are out of the crème brûlée.”

  The waiter flushed. “The cherry cobbler is also excellent.”

  “I’ll try the cobbler,” she said without taking her attention from Cesar.

  “Coffee, black,” he said.

  The waiter smiled weakly and retreated.

  “So you just ask a question and then touch them for the answer?” she asked.

  “That’s it.”

  “Try me.” She offered her hand, palm up.

  He already knew he couldn’t read her, because he had tried and failed on several occasions. It was one thing to know he couldn’t tell if she was lying, quite another to let her know. So he stalled.

  “That would be rude.”

  “I insist.” Her eyes held a challenge.

  “Bess, we both know what will happen when I touch you. It’s why we’re here.”

  She extended her hand to him.

  “How do you stay so slim?” he asked, and clasped her hand in his.

  “I work out two hours a day on a treadmill.” Her words trailed off and she stilled as her soft mouth parted.

  But he barely heard her answer, because the brush of his palm on hers sent tendrils of excitement all the way to his heart, which began galloping as if he’d just been given a shot of adrenaline. He saw the sheen of moisture appear on her face and the lovely blossoming of pink creep up her neck and into her cheeks. She pulled back, but he tightened his grip instinctively, unwilling to let her go. His mind engaged a moment later and he opened his hand, releasing her.

  “Wow,” he said.

  “Did you get an answer?”

  “All I know is that I don’t want to wait for dessert.”

  She made a sound in her throat and then wiped her hands on her napkin as if trying to remove all evidence of his touch. But her breathing gave her away. The woman was like heroin. Each time he touched her, he wanted more. He reached and she dropped her hands from the table to her lap, protecting herself from him.

  “Does that happen when you touch anyone?”

  He shook his head.

  “Just me?”

  He inclined his chin.

  She purs
ed her lips as if giving a silent whistle. “What’s happening between us?”

  “I’m not sure. But I can’t read you, Bess.”

  There. He’d said it.

  Her expression still looked grave. “I’m glad you told me.”

  “That’s not all. I have one more power.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Three. Isn’t that unusual?”

  He nodded. “I was born a Truth Seeker and my parents were pleased. My father had the same gift. I developed the other two after…” He’d almost said after his brother’s death. But he stopped himself just in time. “I didn’t discover I was a Soul Whisperer until after I went through puberty.”

  Bess held his gaze in a speculative sort of way that made him think she had noticed his blunder. But she let it go.

  “That’s the way it is for Skinwalkers. We turn and our mentor arrives to take us from our families. If the Inanoka who sired us is a part of the family, they might choose to act as mentor and take their son or daughter away for training. I knew what I was since birth, so my change was less traumatic than some.”

  She scrunched up her mouth and her eyes grew glassy before she dropped her chin. Her hair fell like a dark curtain, shielding her face from his scrutiny. Her father had been killed by his people after the war. So her father could not have been her mentor.

  She lifted her chin and forced a smile. “So what’s giftie number three?”

  “I can make people forget they ever met me.”

  She laughed. But when he did not join in she fell silent, studying him once more.

  “How is that possible?

  He shrugged. “Dunno.”

  “So why don’t you make all of your people forget that you are a Soul Whisperer?”

  “Doesn’t work like that. I can only remove one memory at a time and only if I touch them.”

  “Does it work on Skinwalkers?”

  “I’m not sure. I never tried.”

  She drew her chair back several inches and did not ask him to demonstrate this gift. The vibration of her aura showed apprehension.

  “It’s called Memory Walking.”

  “Have you used it on your kind?”

  “It’s against the law to do so without the permission of the District Council.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”