Page 3 of Deceiver (Soul Chasers #2)

Keagan

W ilder. What a name. But his face is even more interesting than his moniker.

He’s taller than me, and looks pretty fit under his trench coat.

He has dark red hair, almost brown, and green eyes; two traits I’ve always been a sucker for.

He’s heavily freckled too. My kryptonite.

It’s been a long time since a man caught my attention.

So long I started to wonder if maybe my college years were just a fluke.

But nope. I’m still attracted to men. This one, anyway.

“How did you know?” I ask. “You said it’s your job, but how?”

Wilder isn’t looking at me, instead he walks around my small living room and glances up the stairs. “I’ve been assigned your case,” he says, then turns to face me. “Can we sit? I’ll explain.”

“Yeah, of course.” I gesture to the couch, choosing to sit on one end while Wilder takes the other.

“I’m what’s called a Soul Chaser.” Wilder’s deep voice vibrates like heavy bass. “When souls escape the underworld, I’m part of a team that hunts them down and returns them to where they belong.”

“Like a Ghostbuster?”

He looks slightly annoyed by the comparison, but nods. “If that helps you understand, sure. My job is to locate the offending entity, capture it, and return your life to its pre-haunting state. What questions do you have?”

A million. I rub my forehead, trying to make sense of everything he’s telling me. “How much do you know about whatever this is haunting me?”

“Probably a little more than you do. Are you aware of who it was?”

“Who it was?” I pull my head back. “What do you mean?”

“All spirits were human once. Is there anyone in your life who would’ve wanted to haunt you?”

I shake my head. “I’ve been trying to think about that for days now. My mom died when I was young, so I don’t know why she’d come back all these years later. My dad died a year ago, but he was pretty absent, so not sure it’s him.”

“So the Horror hasn’t made its identity known to you yet?”

“The what?”

“Sorry,” Wilder says. “We refer to these escaped souls as Horrors.”

“That’s not at all comforting.”

“It’s not meant to be. Can you tell me what’s been happening so far?”

I nod, picking at a cuticle on my thumb.

“It was subtle at first—creaking floors, objects moving, things like that. I convinced myself either I was imagining it or it was just the sounds of an old house. Yesterday, it intensified. I’ve been seeing shadows.

I started to wonder if maybe it was the original owner of this house.

He was killed in a terrible accident on the property when a beam fell on him in the barn and he was basically crushed to death. ”

“It’s not the original owner.”

“You know who it is?” My stomach flutters with nerves. “Like, exactly who it is?”

Wilder nods, holding my gaze. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but the soul was your father.”

“What? He didn’t talk to me much while he was alive. Why would he want to now?”

“That’s what we need to learn.”

A knot forms in my stomach, and I know I need to fess up to what I did. “Shit. It might be my fault.”

“I’m listening.”

“I went to see a medium a few weeks ago, before everything started. I tried to connect with my dad because I had questions.”

“Questions?”

“Do you know anything about him?”

“I received a briefing.”

I rub my hands together. “So you know how he died and why?”

Wilder nods. “I know what was written in the news about him.”

“Yeah, so obviously it’s pretty freaking disturbing to find out your dad might be a serial killer.” Just saying the words makes my body heat with embarrassment. “I wanted to know if it was true. I want to know if it could be inside me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Whatever caused him to do it, if he did, I want to know if those tendencies are in me too. So I can do something about it.”

“I see. Were you able to make contact?”

“I didn’t think so. The medium had to shut things down pretty quickly.

She said there was a barrage of spirits trying to get through.

” I drag my hand through my hair. “Honestly, I wasn’t even sure I believed in this stuff for a long time.

My grandparents were religious and told me stuff like that was from the devil, but I had a friend a few years ago who was really into tarot cards and spiritual stuff, and he made me a believer. That’s why I went to see the medium.”

Wilder nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“Did I bring this on myself?”

“Hard to say. Spirits will find a way to get through, so it’s possible your father’s soul slipped in another way.”

I exhale slowly. “You’re sure it’s him?”

“I’m sure the soul escaped the Below. I’ll have to engage to see if it’s actually this one or not.”

Nodding, I sit back on the couch. “I don’t know why he would though. I haven’t seen him since I was seventeen. He’s been in and out of jail, moved around the country, and was pretty absent most of my life. Why now?”

“That’s the question. Maybe he has regrets, or maybe…” Wilder pauses, and his expression turns deadly serious. “Maybe he has some unfinished business.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“It was meant to. What I need from you, Keagan, is information and your trust. I’m here to help you and get the Horror back to the Below, but I’ll need your help to do it.”

Biting my bottom lip, I consider his words. “What if he doesn’t want to hurt me?”

“Doesn’t matter. He can’t stay here.”

A loud thump comes from above us. Wilder glances up at the ceiling.

“What was that?” he asks.

“That happens a few times a day. I think it’s in the attic, but every time I go up to investigate, it’s empty and quiet.”

“It usually takes time for a spirit to fully manifest. It could be the Horror trying its powers.” Wilder puts his hand on my knee. “Try to detach the connection from your father. His humanity isn’t attached to the soul anymore, just the core essence of who he was.”

“What does that mean?”

“The traits that make us human leave us in death. He can no longer love, or use reason or restraint. Whatever mission the Horror is on will be its only focus, but I’m here to get it back in the Below. I’m the best at this job. You can count on me.”

I search his eyes for a moment, then chuckle. “I should be questioning my sanity and yours at this point. Everything you’re saying should sound ridiculous, but I already know it’s not. This is really happening, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so.”

I nod, wringing my hands together. “So what now?”

His eyes go to the ceiling again for a second before returning to me. “I think we should start in the attic.”