Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“Some do.” He’d shrugged, his broad shoulders rolling with the motion. “Not me. Never seen any proof that she exists.”
“Lots of Kindred have, though,” Sam pointed out. She’d read an article about that—many Kindred reported having some kind of contact with the Goddess they worshipped. Often she warned them of impending danger to them or a loved one or spoke to them in dreams or answered prayers. Such personal interaction with their deity made them much more likely to believe in the spiritual realm. It was one reason that her Aunt Luna’s Kindred husband was so willing to believe in her gift and assign a Protector to her niece.
Just my luck that I get the one Kindred who’s a non-believer, she thought sourly as she frowned at R’orn, who was watching her unpack her ghost hunting equipment from the back of her van. She’d driven all the way up from Florida— where she lived—to Massachusetts. He had offered to give her a ride in his shuttle, but she had declined—mostly to avoid conversations like the one they were having right now.
Her van was parked side-by-side with his sleek Kindred shuttle, both of them under a huge old maple tree with gold and red and orange foliage spreading overhead. There was a distant smell of smoke in the air, as though someone was burning leaves and the sky was a clear autumnal blue. The air was crisp and cold without being freezing and Sam could feel the tip of her nose tingling with the chilly weather.
It was, in short, absolutely gorgeous—she never got to experience Fall weather in Florida where the only two seasons were hot and hotter. She should have been enjoying herself—not only did she get to experience this beautiful time of year but she was about to explore one of the most haunted houses in the entire country—The Belgrave Mansion.
But it was all spoiled by the big idiot beside her.
“So this whole ‘talking to the dead’ thing you say you do,” R’orn said. “Do humans really believe that shit?”
“By ‘that shit’ do you mean do they believe in ghosts?” Sam inquired, raising her eyebrow as she placed her spirit box carefully in her bag. “Because the answer is complicated—maybe too complicated for a guy with a brain that’s not big enough to comprehend the paranormal.”
He frowned.
“Hey—there’s no need to be insulting. I was just asking a question.”
Sam blew out a breath in frustration. Seriously, couldn’t Aunt Luna’s husband have found another, more agreeable Kindred warrior to watch out for her? Or at least one who didn’t sneer at the way she earned her living?
“All right,” she said, trying to hold onto her temper. “Well, the answer to your ‘question’ is, like I said, complicated. Statistically speaking, about a third of humans believe in ghosts and spirits. But that’s because only about a third of us have any kind of sensitivity to supernatural phenomena. Even fewer can actually communicate with the dead.”
“And I’m guessing you’re one of the few?” he asked raising one eyebrow skeptically.
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Sam said frostily. “I have a small talent. My Gift is nowhere near as strong as my aunt’s or my sister’s, but I’m what you call a ‘Sensitive.’ And yes, I make my living from it—the same way you make your living by being a big, strong, scary-looking guy.”
“Hey, being big and strong is not how I make my living,” he protested, frowning. “I’m a Protector—I keep females safe.”
“Safe from danger or safe from your stupidity?” Sam muttered to herself.
His face darkened.
“I can hear you, you know, sweetheart. Kindred have much sharper senses than you humans—which is one reason I don’t believe in the bullshit you’re selling. I’ve never seen or heard or smelled anything in my life to prove paranormal or supernatural beings exist.”
“You—you exist!” Sam exclaimed in frustration, pointing at him. “You’re a Wulven Kindred—doesn’t that mean you can turn into a beast or a wolf or something like that?”
He frowned uncomfortably.
“It’s true I have a Beast inside me—but he never comes out. Believe me, sweetheart, you wouldn’t want him to.”
“Actually, I would—he might be better company than you are,” Sam said tartly. “Now look—I don’t care how skeptical you are, I’m going to be filming this and I need you to not blurt out your uninformed opinions while I’m working. Okay?”
R’orn raised both hands in a “don’t shoot” gesture.
“Hey—this is your world. I’m just here to protect you while you do…whatever it is you do.” He frowned. “And speaking of that, are you aware that a human called ‘Slasher69’ has been leaving a lot of threatening comments on your social media? He has some seriously deranged ideas. That’s the kind of thing you need to be worried about—not ‘scary ghosts and ghouls’.”
Sam was surprised.
“You’ve been watching my show?”