Page 11 of Deceiver

“Yes, it is. Can I help you?”

“This is Keagan Bishop. I met with you?—”

“I remember. What can I do for you?”

“This might sound weird, but I had a visitor today who’s pretty sure my dad’s soul is haunting me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s in my house.”

“He? The visitor or the spirit?”

“The spirit. The man who came said he’s in charge of getting souls back to the, um, underworld, I guess. But before he doesthat, I need to be able to get answers to my questions. Can you help?”

The silence on the other end of the line is so dramatic I look at my screen to make sure the call is still connected.

“Talon?”

“I’m here. I was thinking. I’m not sure this is the right approach. There’s something about your energy that attracts spirits. Attempting to talk to him again could open portals for other souls to escape.”

A shiver moves down my spine, but I shake my shoulders out to rid myself of the sensation. “Wilder, the guy who was here, said I should use spiritual protection, whatever that means. I was hoping you knew.”

“Yes.” She clears her throat. “Let me consult with a few people on the best way to approach this. I’ll get back to you soon.”

“Okay.”

“Is it active yet?”

“Not really. It’s just hanging around. Wilder said it’s trying to fully manifest.”

“Did Wilder say anything about being a Soul Chaser?”

“You know about this?”

“I’ve heard about it through others. Is that what he said?”

“Yeah.”

“I see. Okay.”

I notice the shift in her tone from confident to nervous. “What’s wrong?”

“From what I understand, when a Soul Chaser shows up, it’s because the spirit is dangerous and difficult to get rid of.”

“Wilder mentioned that, but if it’s really my dad, I don’t think he’d hurt me.”

“Well, he didn’t come to have a picnic in the park, so we need to be careful.”

“Right. I’ll wait to hear from you.”

“Okay.”

She ends the call without saying anything else, which gives me bad vibes. She was really friendly when we met the first time. Now she seems almost afraid of me. If she can’t help, maybe she knows someone who can. It feels like this is my only chance to get information from my dad.

I walk back to the living room and plop down on the couch, staring straight ahead for a minute. Ever since his arrest, my life hasn’t been the same. Hardly fair when my dad was mostly absent from my life, and my few remaining family members did their best to keep him away from me.

Bad news, they said. Nothing but a fuckup his whole life. My mom used to say the only good thing Harold Bishop did in his life was contribute to my existence. My eyes sting with unshed tears as the memory of my mom clouds my emotions. I didn’t get nearly long enough with her.