—— CHAPTER TWELVE ——
The Soul Charmer’s storefront would forever be creepy. Not that Callie had visited all that often. Derek led them through the front door this time, and the familiar stale scent of long-burning incense lodged itself in her sinuses immediately. She’d been waking in the middle of the night lately, smelling the cheap hippie shit and having to remind herself she was in her apartment and not rooted in the squishy carpet at the soul rental den.
She and Derek squelched their way across the room. What lay beneath that threadbare flooring? Rotting corpses was the best guess, if only because it’d explain the dank tinge underlying the incense.
As they bypassed the counter, the door to the building swung open behind them. The woman who bustled in rushed right to the counter in front of them. “I need a soul for tonight,” she blurted. It wasn’t clear if the proclamation was directed at Callie or Derek. Dark circles underscored her eyes. Perhaps several days without sleep had made it hard for the woman to differentiate between people. Callie wouldn’t know. As long as she got four hours, her body didn’t bitch.
Derek took the lead. “Wait here.”
“Can’t you help me?” When soliciting borderline-legal goods, it was best not to whine. This lady apparently had never gotten the memo to always be kind to your dealer. She was also wearing like-new shoes. Callie couldn’t keep a new pair clean more than a week. What kind of person was desperate for a soul, but had time to drop dollars on new shoes?
“Nope,” Derek said as he pressed his hand against Callie’s lower back and ushered her in front of him and through the curtain portioning the shop from the back workspace.
There was no avoiding the meeting with the Soul Charmer. She’d accepted this. Derek’s fingers lingered, a security blanket and a reminder she wasn’t going into this alone. Lot of good that’d done last time. He’d stood silent while his boss had forced magic into her body. Her knees now locked, and Derek stumbled into her.
“What’s wrong?” He scanned the floorboards and the ceiling, as if expecting an attacker wedged within the rotting wood to emerge.
“Do you have my back?” she asked, both hoping he’d hear her need and hating that she couldn’t do this on her own.
“Did you not feel me slamming into you?”
He overstated the situation, and she flushed. “Pretty sure I’d be on my back if you used that kind of force,” she said, but the chill of the eerie hallway in the Charmer’s emporium smothered the entendre.
The moment of brevity was worth it though, as Derek’s cheeks turned a subtle pink. Vulnerability exposed, he answered her original question. “Yes, I’ve got you.”
“You know—”
“I do.” She believed him, but Derek continued. “I’ll step in if I have to.”
Trusting Derek had to be a bad idea. Yes, he’d protected her in bars and diners and when her hands went “flame-on,” but he also worked for a man who terrified Callie. One she couldn’t say with one hundred percent certainty was totally human—there had to be some reptile gene splicing in action there. And yet Derek worked with him, willingly. The seedy business of soul renting was only a couple rungs up the ladder from the wares Ford shilled.
And yet.
Derek’s hand found her back again, and despite the reservations rumbling in her head, she started toward the next doorway without any additional urging.
Like the previous time, she still stumbled through the passage. She scrubbed her hands together, as though it’d remove the oily feeling the Charmer’s magic left on her skin. It might have worked, if the oil was something tangible. Derek didn’t flinch at the magic—maybe he was used to it, or maybe he didn’t feel it the same way she did—but he also didn’t acknowledge Callie’s obvious reaction.
The Soul Charmer wasn’t facing them when they reached the workspace. Callie did a double take. With his shoulders curled forward and his head ducked down, he’d appeared decapitated. Freaky shit was the name of the game here, but Callie had limits. Walking through magical tar was one thing. People literally losing their heads was a whole other.
They moved a few steps into the room, and the Charmer popped his head up. Well, at least people were keeping their heads. That had to count for something.
They edged a smidge closer, and Callie clamped her hand around Derek’s forearm. “We have a problem,” she hissed.
His eyes widened. Through barely parted lips he replied, “Not a good time.”
She squeezed harder, and seconds later he jerked his arm away.
“Shit.” Derek was staring at Callie’s hands. He hadn’t seen the full encounter with Bianca and her abundance of soul magic. He hadn’t seen Callie’s physical reaction. He’d stepped in at the last minute to stop her from torching Tess’s minion, but now he was witnessing the whole thing firsthand. The deep lines cutting across the center of his forehead suggested it was nearly as holy-fuck scary to watch as it was to experience. Why was it happening now, though?
It’d taken a few moments with Bianca for the dull heat to build up to scorching embers. Callie held her hands out, palms up, as though asking for a blessing. They’d already begun to peel and blacken. After the subdued heat with Joey’s soul repo, she’d almost made herself believe the fire with Bianca was a one-time deal. She whimpered, the sight harder to bear than the numbing heat. With each second they looked more like campfire logs that had settled to the bottom of a fire pit. She shuffled backward. If this was the Soul Charmer’s fault, she needed to put some distance between him and her to slow the burn.
“We’ve got a problem over here,” Derek hollered. The Charmer was only a couple meters away, but acted as though he’d barely heard him. Derek yelled again, louder this time. The Charmer finally turned, looking more absent-minded grandfather than the wicked serpent Callie knew him to be. Focusing on his paternal façade wasn’t an option, though, as flames began to lick her palms.
“Oh!” The Soul Charmer clapped in delight, a huge grin taking over his face. What the fuck? Callie wasn’t a shiny new toy being gifted to a toddler on his birthday, but that’s all she was to him, judging by that glint in his dark eyes.
Her attempt to bite out a cutting response was nothing more than a seething hiss. Callie’s body was funneling all its higher capabilities, trying to hold it together as goddamn fire tore her hands apart. She’d immediately healed last time, she reminded herself over and over. Mantras weren’t effective when you could see your skin scorching. No flames wove up her forearms, though. The searing flames remained contained within her hands and fingers.
“You’ve really taken to that gift remarkably, my dear,” the Charmer cooed as he scuttled toward her.
“Don’t think now’s the time to call it a gift, boss.” Derek spoke the words Callie had been thinking, only far more politely. He stood at her side as she shook and sparked, despite the threat of third-degree burns.
“Nonsense.” The Charmer waved a dismissive hand at Derek, and hovered closer to Callie’s outstretched arms. “Not everyone can wield this kind of power, you know. I told you your soul was special.” His voice trailed off, as though he was already plotting the next awful way he could use her.
Callie tried to scream, but the breathy sound she managed was probably only audible to certain breeds of dogs.
And apparently Derek, too. “Can you cap it while she’s in here? If not, I need to get her outside.” He moved behind her and cupped her upper arms, ready to steer her through the door.
“Goodness, yes. I suppose my wards really should mute that for you, but it’s so rare—” The Charmer abruptly stopped speaking and shot a dark look over Callie’s shoulder. Whatever Derek had communicated, Callie appreciated it.
The Soul Charmer cracked his knuckles, and then grasped Callie’s wrists. His hold was too close to Derek’s for any sort of comfort. He muttered words in a language she couldn’t follow, but a half second after he finished speaking, the heat disappeared and her skin looked positively human and unbroken again.
It took Callie fourteen (she counted) deep breaths to pull it together enough to fake being steady on her feet. Derek kept a hand on her. She didn’t mind him being ready to catch her if she dropped, especially since the odds were fifty-fifty.
“What. The. Hell. Was. That?” she eked through lips so taut she half expected them to crack as she spoke. Did they do that Gatorade dunk thing if you survived magical trauma? They should. She’d settle for a gallon of water to chug.
“Excuse me?” The Soul Charmer’s dazed response would be more appropriate in the dementia ward at the retirement home, but Callie didn’t buy it.
“I did not sign up for magic. I did not sign up for being burned alive—”
“You’re being melodramatic,” the Charmer said, casting a glance Derek’s way. Did he think they’d share a women laugh? Fuck him.
“That is the second time my hands have looked so completely burnt, I thought I saw bone. And then poof it’s gone. I can retrieve your souls. I can handle the stiff fingers and the tingly warmth. I cannot handle fucking fire.”
Callie was out of breath. Whether from the force of her words or the lingering panic simmering steady in her stomach, she wasn’t certain. She hauled in a few more deep breaths, and the Soul Charmer simply stared her down.
“Well?” she nudged.
That genial smile was gone. “I wasn’t sure if you were done with your childish tantrum.”
She was ready to correct him, but Derek jumped in first. “Did you take the magic from her?”
“Take it away?” The Charmer balked.
Callie opened her mouth to explain a gift-return policy to him, but Derek cut her a look, so she tempered her emotions. She should be choosing her battles, especially when creepy-ass men who can steal your soul or turn you into Fire Girl are involved. With that life lesson in mind, she muttered a few words of gratitude, and edged closer to Derek.
“I assume you brought me souls.” The Charmer’s tone had soured.
Callie managed to still her facial reaction, but she internally flinched. She’d pissed him off right before she needed to deliver bad news. Would she ever have an encounter with him that didn’t result in her making her life worse?
“Of course.” She handed him the flask. Despite whatever he’d done to dampen the juju around him, she avoided touching the inlay. Tonight had already crossed into WTF territory. No need to make it more painful.
He moved toward his large desk, lifting one of the black jars from an open drawer. He then popped the lid on the flask and inhaled. Callie hadn’t smelled anything when she’d collected them. The Charmer tilted his head from right to left and back again, a soul sommelier in action. After a few tense moments, he turned his all-too-knowing gaze on her. “Only three?”
Innocent words. Cutting words. Was there any safe answer? “Yes,” she replied, before Derek could. Speaking up might be the trick to controlling her situation. The quiet and invisible plan had already failed miserably.
His brow arched in question, without twitching another muscle on his face. How could he keep giving her the same passive face with that wicked, questioning eyebrow lifted? Creepy fucker.
“Only three were available,” she said. Derek squeezed her arm softly. He remained at her side; he’d help.
“Tess is targeting us,” Derek said, trying to steer his boss away from Callie’s interrogation.
The Charmer’s response was so profane that she’d never heard most of the expletives he unleashed. As his railing ebbed, he finally added, “Tell me what we know.”
Derek and Callie reported the basics—the Charmer’s frequent customers were being approached with promises of fixing them. She held back her encounter with Tess, because she wasn’t a moron. Derek wasn’t either, and kept quiet, too.
“She tells them she’s saving them, and they believe it?” Incredulity coming from the Charmer was new and jarring to Callie.
She replied without thinking. “If they’re using other people’s souls for absolution when they sin, why wouldn’t they be interested in something even better, some sort of full redemption offer?”
“Everyone knows that borrowed souls mitigate any celestial misconduct.” The way the Charmer put the emphasis on what the customers knew instead of whether Tess’s offer might have some veracity to it, unnerved Callie. She’d often doubted a higher power would be cool with the sin equivalent of a Get Out of Jail Free Card. Either you did right, or you didn’t.
“She’s messing with repeat business, boss,” Derek said, diverting the conversation away from the theological. “She’s not after the one-offs, either. Oh, shit, I almost forgot. There was some woman, a customer, up front waiting for you.”
“She’ll continue to wait then,” the Charmer said, in the same tone he dismissed Callie’s comments.
Must be nice to not need business. Whatever. She would stick to the script. “Will you rent to those people again?”
“I wouldn’t leave them in need.” Right, because the Soul Charmer was benevolent.
“How big’s the markup when they come crawling back?” Derek knew the game.
“Forty-eight hour wait, and triple price until I’m confident of their renewed loyalty.”
Callie couldn’t fight the shiver spiraling up her spine. Derek gave her a little squeeze, but he didn’t understand. The parallels between Ford’s business and the Charmer’s were becoming clearer each day. Ford’s drugs might drop you down a well faster, but the Charmer leveraged the same kind of business practices. He’d hustle, he’d hunt, he’d punish, and he’d burn those who stood in his way.
“I’m more concerned that our current clientele, the ones who haven’t been approached yet, understands the ramifications of dabbling with that conniving woman.” The Soul Charmer’s monotone whisper belied the barely contained fury dancing in his eyes. Witnessing such restraint should have been impressive. Instead, Callie’s temperature dropped, and it didn’t have a damn thing to do with magic.
“Understood.” Derek was unnerved, too.
The Charmer huffed, and then nodded.
“Next steps?” Derek asked. He bounced his right heel on the floor as though the nervous energy could slip out with a touch.
“You don’t have a plan?” The Charmer had resurrected his coy tone. The sound sent Callie’s stomach sinking.
“Put current customers on notice. Find our souls.”
“Find Tess,” the Charmer added.
“To question her?”
“I’d rather you brought her directly to me first.”
Derek shot a quick look at Callie, but must have decided to go for broke anyway. “That could mean war.”
“Are you doubting your abilities to bring her to me, or mine to handle her?” Simple questions could often be the most threatening.
“If she has the magic to steal our souls, what can I do to nullify her enough to bring her in?” Derek avoided eye contact with everyone. The simple fault of being mortal shouldn’t cause him shame.
The Charmer gestured to Callie. “You have her.”
“Me? I can’t be all magical and stop her,” Callie said in a rush.
“Did you not burn her hanger-on?”
Callie’s jaw started to drop, but she snapped it closed. Had Derek told him? Did he really refer to Bianca as a “hanger-on?” She packed enough power to set Callie’s hands ablaze.
“Word travels,” he said with a saccharine smile, exposing his few rotted teeth. He then turned his back and continued whatever he’d been working on when they’d arrived. “You need to fix this. Both of you. We will eliminate Tess and move forward.”
He didn’t ask if they understood, because there wasn’t an option not to.