Free The Angel of Death (The Soul Summoner Book 3) by Elicia Hyder

car, allowing me plenty of time to consider the implications of the FBI’s visit to find me.
    When we arrived at the cemetery, about fifty people had gathered under a green tent surrounded by sprays of flowers. A shiny mahogany casket rested over a giant hole in the ground.
    It reminded me of my mother.
    The moment I stepped out onto the cemetery path, a strange sensation came over me. Death. Warren had once tried to verbalize his ability to detect the presence of the dead. He said it felt like a vacuum. It was an accurate description. Death pulled at my attention in every single direction.  
    I felt it because the baby felt it.
    Nathan’s hand on my back snapped me out of a daze. “I’m going to go talk to some people,” he said.
    My smile was gentle. “Do what you have to do. Don’t worry about me.”
    He straightened the angel pin on the lapel of my coat. “Are you warm enough?”
    I lowered my voice. “My boots may be hideous, but they’re nice and toasty.”
    He laughed softly, but his eyes were sad.  
    I wandered the grounds as Nathan and his family mingled with people I didn’t know and would probably never see again. It was eerie to be able to distinguish the empty grave plots from the occupied ones as I left my tracks in the untouched layer of snow. Unlike Warren, the awareness creeped me out, and I suddenly realized how far I’d strayed from the group. Turning on my heel, I double-timed my pace back to the tent.
    Rows of chairs faced the casket, and I sat in the back and watched mourners come by and pay their respects. But something beyond the ornate box caught my attention.  
    Transparent against the scenery, three rippled figures hovered near the casket. Everyone but me was ignorant of their presence. Family members passed by and through them undeterred. It was chilling. Even more disturbing was, despite their lack of faces, I knew they were watching me.
    They didn’t strike me as sinister, but I got up and backed out of the tent nonetheless. Their gazes followed me, but they didn’t leave their post. It was like they were guarding her, but I didn’t know why.
    As I watched them, my mind went to dark places. Had the angels been there in the woods where she was discarded and hidden for ten long years? Were they standing watch during her rape and torture? Did they really do nothing to intervene?
    With everything I had experienced in the past few months, I could no longer believe the supernatural existed only in fairytales and Bible stories. God was real, and I knew it. But the more I found out, the more pissed off I became.
    A tall, stout man who looked more like a politician than a minister, walked up in front of the chairs, clutching a brown Bible in his hands. “Everyone, I’d like to ask that the family please be seated. Friends and loved ones, please gather close for a word of prayer and a message of thankfulness for the life of sweet Ashley McNamara.”
    The crowd filed in, and I kept my distance near one of the back poles. Then Nathan waved to me from the front and motioned me forward. When I approached, I saw he’d saved a seat for me between him and his brother. I squeezed my way across the cramped second row and into the seat beside him.
    The pastor opened with a prayer, then read a few letters written by various friends shortly after Ashley disappeared. Nathan’s body tensed next to me, and when I looked at him, his face was frozen, staring ahead. I rested my head against his shoulder, and he wrapped his hand around mine.
    I squeezed.
    He squeezed back.  
    The pastor hugged his Bible to his chest. “Can I be honest?”
    Everyone looked up at him.
    He let out a heavy sigh and slowly shook his head. “For the life of me, I can’t understand this tragedy.” He took a step closer to Nathan’s parents. “James, Kathy, I’ve looked at my little girls this week and wondered how a God who claims to love us like a father loves his children could let something so horrific happen. I’m