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Thirteen Souls PRINT BOOK

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One man , thirteen trapped souls, all dependent on one woman’s belief in them
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Author: Larion Wills
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Thirteen Souls

by Larion Wills

Genre Paranormal Romance

Tags Ghosts, spirits, paranormal, mystery, romance, suspense, archeology, mediums, ESP, historical, slavery, child abuse, spousal abuse, sibling abuse, domestic violence, treasure hunt

Cover Designer Cora Graphics

Pages 328

Print ISBN: 978-1-77127-747-1

E-ISBN 978-1-77127-719-8

Price $12.95


Back Cover

Though he fell hard and couldn’t keep his hands off her, Gene couldn't believe a two-hundred-year-old ghost spoke through Heather to warn him of a danger to his life. Cynical and distrustful, it was easier to believe she was nothing than a con artist and send her on her way. His first mistake. Was the second, not believing, going to cost him his life?


Excerpt

He refused to take her back to her Jeep. He also refused to take her back to the motel. That didn't mean he would talk to her after they left Summer's Respite. He didn't talk at all.

To break the tense silence she told him, "At least stop and let me buy a change of clothes. I'm sweaty and dusty. I want a shower, and I don't have anything to change into. Mine are in my Jeep."

"I've got a washer and dryer."

"This is silly, Gene. You're so mad at me you won't even talk."

"I'm not mad at you."

"Then what's wrong?"

"You tell me. Twice now you've warned me away from that meadow."

"I only warned you once. Jessie warned you the other time."

"Why?"      

"She told you why." She bounced around to face him. "You can't be so dense you don't see the parallels. Your family, your names, your coloring and…and…both your fathers believed you weren't theirs. She says he sees you as John."

"Who does he see you as?"

"An intruder. He's evil, Gene. I've heard evil talked about, but I've never felt it like that before. It was suffocating and dark. I felt like I couldn't catch my breath. It's negative energy that keeps that meadow bare, not any good luck."

"I am not leaving that meadow until I've finished what I set out to do. I want you to stop saying it's the original home site. I don't want anything else interfering with my plans."

"Not saying it won't change it."

"I don't want my mother and brother to even think it."

"I doubt they'll—"

"Stop saying it," he shouted at her.

"Okay," she agreed quickly.

"Thank you." He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, repeating in a softer tone. "Thank you even if you don't agree with me."

"It's your property. It's your right to do what you want with it."

"Yes, it is, and I'm not mad." He reached for her and let a breath out when she went to him to lean against his side. "I've got a lot to think about right now."

"You're trying to figure out how I did it," she stated. "I can tell you a lot of charlatan tricks, if it will make you feel better."

"It wouldn't."

"Then try coincidence. That's what most people use. With as many slaves as he had or traded in I could have picked any names and had great odds of hitting with them."

"You've mentioned four names, and we found all four."

"Four?"        

"Jessie, Noah, Charlie Three, and John."

"I didn't think of John. Okay, four does stretch the odds, but maybe I found letters or journals in some dark, dank library basement, took a couple of names and wove a story around it."

"Do you enjoy messing with my head?"

"You aren't reacting any differently than dozens I've encountered. You see and hear, but you keep searching for a rational, logical explanation. The most obvious would be it's a scam, some elaborate con to bilk you or your family out of a big pile of money."

"In exchange for what?"

"Typically, it's contact with the dearly departed, feeding on grief, loneliness, or just plain greed. They tell them there's something, a message that isn't quite clear, something very important, usually hinting at money or treasure in some form like cash, insurance policy, jewels, something they hid away and didn't have the opportunity to tell about before they died. It works best with a sudden, unexpected death. Some clean out a life savings right away and move on. Others will refuse any fees to feed the con and then come up with 'my sister needs a life saving operation,' or the family just comes home some night to find everything of value missing along with their beloved psychic. Shaking tables, eerie lights and sounds, even a piece of gauze drawn across the room on a string can be really convincing if it's set up right. Iridescent paints and chemical smoke can create impressive other-world effects."

"Enough, the more you talk the dumber I feel."

"It's a profession, Gene, using people's feelings without conscience. The most generous thing you could be thinking is coincidence and a good imagination or that I'm just nuts with some great acting ability." She sat up to look at him. "I did forget one, that I'm in cahoots with your mother to cause you to fail and forfeit your loan."

"Mother doesn't have any imagination. She loaned me the money because she's certain I will fail."

"I don't understand the way she treats you."

"Because he treated her the same way because of me, therefore it was my fault."

"That's stupid."

"Yeah, but a pretty typical transference for convenience or conscience. In her mind, if I hadn't been born he would have treated her better, loved, et cetera. Much easier on her to hate me than him."

"Counseling?" she asked.

He hesitated before shrugging slightly and answering. "A lot of it, starting when I was in the army. They ordered me to take sessions, got tired of me fighting everyone, suppressed anger and all that." The backs of his fingers brushed along her jaw line. "Being here I've fallen back into some old habits. I'm sorry for that. I don't want to scare you away."

"It isn't that as much as…" Her voice broke, and she ducked her head, waiting for his response.

"I'm getting kind of used to Jessie."

"When she finishes what she's come for she'll go back," she told him. "That doesn't mean there won't be another one. I can't control it."

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