Soul Whisperer by Jenna Kernan Page A

order.
    She requested the calamari, mussels, lobster bisque, house salad and entrée of Columbian salmon. Cesar silently cautioned himself to disguise his surprise at her appetite, and then ordered the rib eye with potatoes.
    â€œHow very pedestrian.” She smiled.
    She sipped her sparkling water, crossing her legs and bouncing her foot in a way that made him draw his chair closer to hers. Two tables behind her, the hostess seated another couple.
    He tried small talk but she shut him down.
    â€œWhat do you really want to talk about?” she asked.
    Sex was his first thought but he managed to censor that and instead said, “Tuff.”
    â€œAh, yes. You were very territorial, for a man who has no claim on me.”
    â€œDoes someone else have a claim?”
    She made him wait for the answer, all the while his stomach squeezed as if encircled by a boa constrictor.
    Her musical laugh struck him in the center of his chest. This was why it was forbidden to have a Skinwalker. They were as compelling as sirens and twice as deadly.
    Forbidden.
    Why should he care what his people thought? They already would have nothing to do with him, repelled as they were by his useful if repugnant gift of sight. Soul Whisperers were not permitted to have connections to anyone except the dead.
    But he did care. Outcast or not, he still had his position and his work. He’d lose both if they caught him with Bess. He glanced about, searching the arriving diners to see if he spotted any other golden aura. It was dangerous to be out in public with her.
    When he brought his attention back to Bess it was to find her glaring at him.
    â€œDon’t worry, Cesar. I never stay in one place for long. If I decide to have you, your little racist friends won’t find out.”
    She’d somehow guessed his thoughts, but he knew enough not to walk down that road. Besides he didn’t have friends. He kept the conversation on the Skinwalker. “How does he do it?”
    â€œTuff? He’s a buffalo.”
    Cesar choked on his wine, but Bess continued without pausing.
    â€œThey have the gift of sacrifice. Terrible burden, I imagine, but that is their life’s purpose. He bears the pain with the dignity of his kind and can heal anything. I’ve seen him take on one injury after another, more agony than any one being was ever meant to bear, but he does it and he regenerates.
    â€œThe more egregious the wound, the longer it takes to heal. And it costs him more of his strength. Buffaloes are very strong, but even he must have a limit to his endurance.”
    â€œAnd you can fly to the Spirit World.”
    She lowered her water goblet, circling the rim of the crystal with her index finger until it hummed. He imagined her running that finger down his stomach and felt his muscles twitch.
    â€œThat is my purpose. But I can only travel over the Way of Souls. I can’t really cross to the Spirit World. Well, I can, but just like everyone else, I can only do so once and there is no coming back.”
    â€œAnd you can talk to the ones who have departed?”
    â€œIf they have entered the Spirit World. But I can’t speak to my own relations or anyone I love. My mentor said it was to keep us from lingering too long or crossing the veil and losing our way. But…” She straightened and shook her head, as if warning herself not to go there.
    â€œBut what?”
    She studied him for a long moment. He felt her judging him and held his breath awaiting her decision, hoping she would trust him with the answer.
    At last she said, “But it didn’t stop me from thinking about it after my mother died and then again after my dad. I almost crossed. All that stopped me was knowing how angry they would be at my decision.”
    She scowled so deeply that Cesar grew wary.
    â€œBut for years when I flew over the Ghost Road, I would try to speak to them. I called their names and waited.” She lifted her hands,