Soul Whisperer

by Jenna Kernan

  “Why won’t you fight them?” she whispered.

  “It’s not what I do,” Cesar said. “I’m not an assassin. I read the dead, gather evidence and make arrests. I’m always too late to stop a crime and that sucks. But it is not my place to act as judge, jury and executioner, because that’s how mistakes are made—mistakes that cannot be put right. Do you understand, Bess?”

  He leaned in, breathing the fragrance of intoxication that was her skin.

  She turned toward the glass as she spoke, giving him her back. “They are not human.”

  “They’ve done nothing wrong.”

  She stepped back, bumping into the glass as she lifted a finger at him.

  “They will.”

  “Bess.” His voice was intended to pacify, but he failed to fully purge the irritation from his tone. “You have to believe me. Hunting them is a mistake. I know it’s a mistake.”

  “How?”

  He locked his jaw, willing to give her only a slow shake of his head.

  “There has to be some reason you are so adamant.”

  “There is.”

  “But you’re not going to tell me. Right?”

  “Right.”

  She gave an audible sigh, seeming to shrink several inches as she exhaled. At last she nodded, as if coming to some decision.

  “I promised I would reveal what I found. I have done so.”

  Cesar sensed impending doom. She was leaving him because he refused to take up her cause and go hunt the little Halflings with pitchforks and scythes. Or was it because he refused to tell her why he knew better than to prevent a crime by committing one?

  His mind scrambled for some reason to keep her—something, anything.

  Instead, he watched her posture stiffen to defensiveness as she stalked away. He pursued.

  “Bess, I can’t go on a witch hunt.”

  She stared at him, her expression a poignant mix of sorrow and regret. “Yes. I know. You must go to your people and me to mine. I knew this would come. I just, I hoped it could be otherwise.”

  Chapter 13

  Cesar could have stopped Bess. Instead he watched her go. He knew she’d leave him eventually. He just hadn’t thought it would be so damned soon.

  Well, better to have her gone than revealing to her why he couldn’t do as she asked, for that secret he kept locked in his heart with his other mistakes.

  The Book of Reasoning said that past errors could become a source of wisdom. It was a section of text that he has studied at length after his trial, trying to come to terms with his part in the murder. In his mind, they had tried him for the wrong crime.

  If he could go back… But he couldn’t.

  Cesar rubbed his thumb and index finger over his closed eyelids.

  Had his experience made him wiser? He didn’t know.

  Thinking back always ripped his guts out. That’s why he stayed away from his kind, away from everyone and everything that reminded him. “Hell.”

  Cesar stepped onto the balcony, letting the needles of rain sting his upturned face as he gripped the cold steel rail.

  He refused to go there. Instead, he thought of Bess.

  Had he really just let her go? Bess was difficult, but he knew she was the best thing that had happened to him in decades.

  Would he ever see her again?

  The icy rain soaked him, numbed him and finally drove him back inside. When he could no longer ignore his shivering, he retreated to his bedroom, stripped and toweled off, then dressed without much thought.

  He retrieved his laptop from his briefcase and booted up, determining to work for as long as it took for his mind to stop mugging him with memories. It was going to be a long night.

  Cesar reviewed everything he knew about the creatures and added what Bess had learned. Though the mothers did not directly say their offspring were born of Nagi, he had to admit that Bess’s theory, though alarming, was plausible.

  Despite his resolve, more than once he found himself losing focus, thinking about Bess. How exactly did she locate the Ghost Road? As it stood now, he’d probably never get the chance to ask her.

  He opened a new file and entered his notes on the creatures that he now agreed were a new Halfling race. The prospect excited him. As soon as he’d finished, he made the call to the head of his District Council, an elderly Peacemaker, named Holly Black Hawk. She was less than pleased to hear from him and resistant to having to meet with him, but he insisted, exerting his rights as a member of the community. Eventually she agreed to gather the District Council in the morning. If the seven members found merit in his concerns they would be the ones to proceed to the Council of Elders.

  His rights in the community continued, even if his people would generally cross the street rather than speak to him. His ability as a Soul Whisperer was only half the reason for his infamy. The rest came from what had happened after he and his partner had captured the puma Skinwalker. Many thought his old partner had done nothing wrong and blamed Cesar for the entire incident.

  After the phone call, Cesar rattled around his apartment like a ghost before finally turning in. He had a fitful night and rose early, after giving up on the hope of sleep. He arrived at the District offices and was shown into the Council chamber. Things went badly from there.

  The moment they learned that he had received some information from a Skinwalker they closed the session. Instead of the help and wisdom he had sought, he received an official reprimand and a warning that should he be seen in the company of Skinwalkers, he would lose all rights as a member of the Niyanoka community and be banished for life.

  He’d brought them the truth and in return they had threatened to take the only thing left to him—his work. He’d be damned if he’d lose that, too.

  After leaving the Council, his first thought was that he had to tell Bess what had happened. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t see her again, ever, if he wanted to remain one of his people.

  He weighed the shame of banishment against his desire for Bess and didn’t know what to do. All he knew was that his heart felt heavy and cold as a lump of melted lead.

  His gut told him that the Council knew more than they were saying. Was Bess right? Did they already know about the Seer, Nagi and the new Halflings?

  Cesar spent the rest of the day rereading all his open case files and adding to his notes on the new Halfling breed. Finally, Cesar shut down his laptop, spent forty minutes flipping from one station to the next and then gave up. He got dressed to go out to his favorite bar-restaurant and was at the door to his apartment when he felt the great yawning emptiness that his life had become.

  He forced himself out and ate a tasteless meal at the bar, ignoring the attempts of several women to engage him in conversation. His physical relationships with human females now seemed repugnant. Just the thought of taking another one to his bed filled him with despair.

  What the devil was wrong with him?

  Cesar felt weary to the very center of his spirit. Weary and lonely and sad.

  Where was Bess right now?

  He went home early, disheartened and alone. But sleep eluded him again and so, when his phone buzzed like an electric razor on his bedside table at four in the morning, he opened it on the first ring.

  “Garza.”

  He listened to the details of the crime scene, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the breeze off the bay. He’d left his bedroom window open, just for air, he’d told himself, knowing that he wanted her back.

  “Be there in twenty.” He snapped the phone closed and dropped it back on the table as he headed for the bathroom. Maka, he hoped that this was not the work of the Halflings, because if they were murdering people, as Bess had predicted they would, he’d have to hunt them down.

  He didn’t bother to shave, just dressed, forgoing coffee in his haste to reach the scene. He arrived a little after five and flashed his badge to the young officer then double-parked behind the squad cars. He stepped out onto the wet street. At leas
t the rain had stopped.

  Cesar ducked under the yellow tape. The victim lay on her back in the alley on the wet concrete in a pool of congealed blood. Cesar saw at a glance that she had not died giving birth. Someone had set up a portable light. The bright illumination and the stillness of the corpse gave the scene the surreal look of an image captured in a momentary flash of a camera. Matted hair lay across her face and neck. She’d been killed after the storm had stopped.

  Cesar squatted beside her, seeing no evidence of predation. The killer had not been after food. He sighed in relief and then looked at the detective who stood across from him. The man’s face held the gray tinge of blocked arteries and the deep lines of a guy who’d seen this kind of thing a few times too often. His watery, red-rimmed eyes said the coffee he held in the disposable cup was not doing the job.

  “Where’s the blood coming from?”

  The detective drew a slim gold pen from his front pocket and used it to lift the hair from the victim’s neck, revealing a laceration that had opened the jugular.

  “This like the ones you’re investigating?” asked the detective.

  Cesar shook his head. “Nope. You got any leads?”

  “She’s a business girl, so, you know, wrong place, wrong guy. She’s also got three pops for meth. Could be that or a john.”

  Cesar stood. A shadow swept just over him and he glanced up, shading his eyes against the spotlight in time to see a raven perch on a fire escape. Suddenly his heart was doing an aerobic workout without him moving a muscle.

  The detective followed the line of his sight. “Huh. You don’t see them in the city very often.”

  Cesar waved at Bess, who gave a regal nod of her glossy head. Just the sight of her lightened his spirit.

  “Anyways, no weapon,” said the detective.

  Cesar recalled why he was there. He squatted and touched the victim’s wrist. The last moment of the woman’s life played out in his mind in gruesome living color.

  “Hey, Garza. Put on some gloves.”

  The admonishment brought him back to this time and place. Cesar stood. “Do you know her old boyfriend’s name?”

  “Not yet, why?”

  “Because the killer’s name is Harold Marin. He tried to make it look like a robbery. Nice to meet you, Detective…” He let his words trail off waiting for the man to shake his offered hand.

  When he did, Cesar put the move on him, using his Memory Walking gift to draw back their conversation. As far as the detective knew, Cesar had never been there, but Cesar left one thing behind. The detective now had a real bad feeling about Marin and that would make Marin his prime suspect.

  Cesar ducked under the tape and headed back to his car where he held open the passenger side door. He looked up at Bess, now perched on a streetlamp. She made a chortling sound in her throat, but did not accept his invitation. So he shut the door and returned to the driver’s side.

  As he pulled out, the raven swept down the middle of the street. Should he follow her?

  “Hell, yes.”

  Bess had to stop on the top girder of the Golden Gate to wait for Cesar’s car to weave through traffic. Pity Cesar could not fly.

  Once his car finally appeared, she headed to a picnic area in the forest. There she waited at a table in her human form, dressed in black hiking boots, jeans and a fleece. He finally pulled into the parking lot.

  He exited his sedan, looking aggravated. Driving did that to all of them, she noticed.

  “You couldn’t use the cell phone number I gave you?” He finger combed his hair with both hands in a gesture that looked painful.

  Bess patted her empty pockets. “Must have left it in my other outfit.”

  They shared a look and after a long moment, his smile returned.

  “Yeah, right.” He laughed.

  “Did you talk to your people?”

  His smile dropped away. And she already knew what he would say.

  “Didn’t believe you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Not surprised.”

  “They also told me if I ever see you again, I’m banished for life.”

  Now that did piss her off. Then she realized he was defying them right now, for her. The realization sent a ray of sunshine that seemed to travel through the top of her head and straight to her heart.

  “Yet you followed me,” she said.

  “Can’t seem to help myself.”

  “That’s the sweetest thing anyone ever said to me.”

  He took her hand, letting his joy flow to her and feeling her pleasure vibrate back to him.

  “I missed you.”

  “Me, too,” she admitted, and then pulled back.

  He let her go, pressing down his disappointment at not getting to hold her.

  “Did you speak to your Council?” he asked.

  “We don’t have a Council. I found Tuff and told him what’s what. He’ll pass the news when he runs into someone else.”

  “Pretty low tech.”

  “But good for those who live off the grid, as many of us do.”

  Cesar rubbed his neck. “Did you bring me here for a romp, I hope?”

  She laughed. “Afraid not. Though I do have a place nearby if you like a bed.”

  “Not necessarily.” He craned his neck as if looking for a likely place for some privacy, the fatigue and annoyance now completely gone from him.

  Bess pulled them back on track. “I need you to meet someone.” She pointed. “The guy in camp site number twenty-two should be back from the emergency room by now.”

  Cesar looked cautious but took her up on the challenge. “You coming?”

  “Of course. I’m your new partner, remember?” She gave a mock salute. “Detective Suncatcher, here.”

  “Bess? Have you been impersonating an FBI officer?”

  Her smile was devilish. She looped her arm in his and set them in motion. After several moments he stopped. She glanced up at him, the question on her face.

  “Partners don’t walk like this,” he said, glancing at her arm looped through his crooked elbow. “At least, police partners don’t. Not that I’m not enjoying it.”

  She felt her face heat as she released him. “Oh, right.”

  Why was it so difficult to keep her hands off him?

  Cesar approached the small detached camper, walking past the white dually that was parked at an odd angle. Bess waited in the gravel driveway as Cesar knocked on the flimsy aluminum screen door.

  It opened and an athletic-looking woman filled the small door frame. Thirtyish, blonde, ruddy complexion, wearing twin braids, a T-shirt covered with images of a large variety of sea turtles all identified by type, khaki shorts and wool hiking socks without shoes.

  Cesar glanced back at Bess in confusion.

  “Ask to speak to her husband.”

  Cesar flashed his badge, introduced himself and was admitted. Bess remained outside. Cesar found himself standing in the kitchen, living-dining-sleeping room before the woman’s husband. Mr. Donald Ortega sat on the little sofa, a brown, lumpy looking pull-out, with his right leg propped up on pillows. A bag of frozen peas rested under his meaty calf, which was swathed in an expert wrapping of white gauze. He seemed the perfect male counterpart to his wife in athleticism and attire, except he was smaller and darker and his T-shirt identified various kinds of animal tracks.

  “I told the rangers it was no bear. Did they send you?”

  Cesar explained he was investigating another matter and wondered if this incident might be connected. Ortega gave him his story. He and the wife were hiking and had come upon a dead deer. They knew this was a bad place to be and feared the predator might be the mountain lion that had been sighted on Bull Creek Flats trail, which was ironic since they picked another trail specifically to avoid encountering the big cat.

  “But what ran out of the huckleberry was no cat and it sure the hell was no bear.” Ortega held his hand up to approximate the size of the creature he had seen. “Grayish skin
and a white mane. It had pointy ears like a German shepherd’s and eyes as yellow as those taxidermy ones they use for owls. Thing came at me with claws bared and I pushed Karen to get her running. I took off after her and thought I was in the clear when it gave me this.”

  He lifted his leg off the peas.

  “Thirty-seven stitches. What the hell was that thing?”

  Cesar sat on the arm of the sofa and helped Mr. Ortega adjust the peas, being careful to touch his ankle long enough to steal the actual sighting from his mind. The hiker now remembered everything but the little Halfling coming at him. Then he turned to Mrs. Ortega.

  Cesar shook her hand on the way out.

  “Did you see it?”

  “No. When Donny screamed, I turned back, but there was nothing there.”

  She’d told the truth. She hadn’t seen it and so he didn’t have to alter her memories.

  Bess waited on the picnic table, her expression eager. “They attacked a human hiker. Happy now?”

  “Of course I’m not happy.”

  “But you’ll go after them.”

  “He’s fine.”

  Bess was on her feet. “If a bear attacks a man, it’s a death sentence for the bear. No exceptions.”

  “Not the same.”

  “No, it’s not because these creatures are ten times as deadly as a bear. There are at least four now. How long before there are a thousand?”

  “I see no crime. If they are what you say, they have operated within our laws.”

  “By slicing open a hiker?”

  “They have a right to protect their kill from other predators.”

  “That’s all they do—kill and eat.” She stepped off the pavement and onto the 1.2 mile hiking trail. “I’m going to look for them.”

  He didn’t understand the Halflings, but it seemed they did not kill or eat men. If they did, Mr. Ortega would have been lunch, for he knew the man could not outrun them. That meant they had retreated and left him to escape.

  They had given Bess a similar injury. A warning or an attack? He didn’t know. “You coming?”

  Cesar feared if he didn’t join her, Bess would go off alone and that could put her in danger.