Page 7 of The Fifth Soul

“You come from the City of Sin?”

I nod.

“You do not know the name of the man who sent you?”

“No.”

“Is she lying?” Santiago asks him.

“Doesn’t sound like it,” he confirms. He steps closer to me. “Tell me a lie.”

“Why?” I look between them, confused.

“No one can lie to me.”

“Yeah, because you will scare them into confessing?” I mock him.

He doesn’t find it funny, but Santiago’s lip curves at the edges.

“He is the Lord of Wisdom,” Santiago explains after an uncomfortable silence.

Jesse can’t be older than thirty-five. He’s tall and fit, and while his eyes are unreal, he’s definitely not what I would imagine the Lord of Wisdom would look like. The title suggests an old man with a white beard—perhaps a funny pointy hat and body odor.

“Who on Earth agreed to give you that title?” I raise a brow in question.

“An angel from Luzes,” Santiago supplies with a small smile playing on his lips. His voice lowers to a whisper. “He did it after Jesse returned the angel’s daughter. The girl saw him once at a gathering and thought they were soulmates. She traveled all the way here on her own before they found her. As a thanks, the angel gave him the gift.”

“Wow.” It’s all I can say.

“It’s tricky. People have to know they are lying, and he also has to be looking for the truth.”

“Santiago,” Jesse says with disapproval.

Jesse is not a bad-looking male, by any means, but I wouldn’t cross the ocean and leave the island of the blessed for him. Some people dream of one day making it to the island, but only angels and those deemed holy ever set foot there. The chosen ones.

“So, the title gives him the power to know the truth?” I turn my question to Santiago, who seems to have forgotten our current situation and is happy to fill me in on all the gossip. The guy is turning hard to dislike.

“More like he can hear when people are lying. He knows when it’s a mixture of the truth. He doesn’t outright know the truth, just knows when people aren’t being truthful.”

“Sounds more like you have a lie detector gift.”

Santiago taps his cheek. “That is a good observation.”

“Santiago,” Jesse says louder.

The guy’s cheeks turn a rosy pink. “What?”

“Stop entertaining the thief.”

I make a noise in the back of my throat, but there is no way to defend myself at this point. He isn’t wrong.

A loud door opening and shutting, followed by several footsteps, announces the entrance of even more people. Their silhouettes show two figures making their way over.

A hulk of a man approaches me with a menacing scowl, ignoring Santiago and Jesse as he passes them.

If I could take a step back, I would.

He is tall, nearing seven feet. His dark eyes and dark features reflect a darkness within him. Few people have ever made me shiver with just a look, but I know danger when I see it. It is an instinct that has helped me survive all this time—and this man is dangerous.

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