—— CHAPTER ELEVEN ——
Mob bosses were supposed to be scary, intimidating men, but Ford looked nothing like the Mafiosos from the movies. His kind features were better suited for the best-friend role in a teen comedy. His lack of imposing stature was part of what made him so terrifying. He stood a few inches taller than Callie, and carried a bit of muscle.
The ones who didn’t ring alarms were the most dangerous. Serial killers slipped under the radar the same way Ford did. His vicious side made him unforgettable. Once you associated that slightly upturned nose and dimples with a man who collected severed body parts as keepsakes from those who crossed him, he lost any adorable, best-friend shield one might have mistakenly given him.
Callie’s neighbors might not think an early thirties man in a button-down shirt loitering in the parking lot outside was much cause for concern, but Callie had to fight the instinct to scream when she spotted Ford leaning against her car in the morning.
Derek had brought Callie home late the night before. Agreeing to postpone making game plans until the next day had placated Callie’s overwhelmed emotions at the time, but in the hazy morning it looked more like a misstep, a rookie move. She’d burned a person last night. With magic. She didn’t know if she’d see the Soul Charmer about the fuck up today or if Derek could keep it a secret for her. Her gut sank. Unlikely. Now, in addition to dreading quality time with the Charmer, she was going to have to talk to the man holding her brother.
And with only a single cup of coffee under her belt.
Faking forgetting her wallet inside the house wasn’t going to fool Ford. She’d taken the last two antacids in her apartment already, but this anxiety lit her stomach anew. She locked her front door and jogged down the stairs without meeting Ford’s gaze once. His appraisal scrubbed against her regardless. She managed not to squirm.
“Think this is the first time I’ve seen you in normal clothes,” he said as way of greeting. She’d prefer he ignored her attire altogether, especially after the insinuations from Nate last night.
Despite her aversion to small talk, she’d do it for Ford. Pleasantries had to be better than the alternatives when speaking with the man who threatened to butcher your lone sibling. “Scrubs are only for work. It’s my day off.”
“Ah. So you’ve got time to talk with me then.” He didn’t bother making it a question. She wasn’t going anywhere until he let her, and they both knew that.
“I have errands to run before my other gig starts,” she said as a subtle reminder she was working toward helping him. “What do you need?”
“Heard you had a run in with one of my guys last night.”
“I saw him, but I wouldn’t really classify it as more than that.” Mentioning the sexual innuendo and suggestions she should make money on her back to Ford wouldn’t help her, but she still wished he’d rein Nate in. She’d pick the weird woman spying on her over a Nate encounter any day.
“Nate would.”
She balked.
“You’re surprised?” He shrugged. “He said you were on a date.”
“I told him I wasn’t on a date.”
“Said instead of thinking about your poor brother—who, for the moment, I am keeping safe and whole—you were drinking and getting awfully cozy with some guy.”
The threat punched her in the throat. Her inhale squeaked to a halt. Would Ford start giving her bits of Josh if he thought she wasn’t sticking to their agreement? Would he kill her? Her mind scrambled for the right response, while her lungs pulled several quick breaths to get her breathing back on track. Zeroing in on Nate’s fault, Callie asked, “Did Nate tell you who I was with?”
The mob leader arched a brow, but stayed planted against her driver’s side door. “Does it matter?”
“It sure mattered to him last night. I was with Derek, the big guy who works for the Soul Charmer.”
Acid continued to eat away at her stomach lining, but Callie’s confidence grew when Ford let out a short string of curses.
“I was there on business for the Charmer. He’s not giving me a soul until I finish out this bit.”
“Yeah. I know.” Ford had probably talked to the Charmer himself. He was the type of guy who would be chatty with the local soul dealer.
“So Josh is okay?” She couldn’t hide her fear anymore. Her mind had never been as abused as it had been in recent weeks. Ford checking up on her was the pathetic icing on the stale gingerbread house.
“He’s fine. As long as you’re holding up your part of the deal, your brother stays whole.”
His choice of words didn’t exactly reassure Callie. One could be black and blue from head to toe and still be considered whole. Saying so wasn’t going to make Josh any safer, though. “Okay. Thanks. Is—”
“No more questions about Josh. He’s useful, and as long as you’re useful, he gets to keep breathing.” Ford cocked his head to the right and let out a sigh before continuing. “Have you looked at that police substation yet?”
Thinking about the next part of her parlay with Ford had been low on her to-do list. Stealing when she was younger had meant food and safety for her and Josh. This protected them, too, but there was a big difference between filching perishables from the grocery store or cash from unattended purses at movie theaters, and stealing crime scene investigator files, and she wasn’t ready to be a criminal again. “No, I thought you were going to provide instructions. I’m sure there is someone better for this job … ”
He scrunched his face and sucked his front teeth. “Don’t try me. You’re doing it. I’ll make sure you get the building plans, and we’ll let you know where the DNA files are kept.”
“What if these files don’t show you what you want?”
“You worry about getting us the files. Your face doesn’t show on police handouts. That’s your skill here. My guys can handle the rest.”
Callie didn’t normally stand on the moral high ground, which apparently made her prime Soul Charmer bait, but even from her stance of “don’t be a dick,” what Ford tasked her with was wicked. Helping his crew understand how police were investigating crimes where evidence and DNA had been obscured by soul magic was a cliff dive from her moral middle ground. She and Josh would be cozy together at rock bottom.
Ford hadn’t budged from his lazy spot against her car. If she owned a classic car, Ford might have pulled off the signature tough-guy stance against it. Instead she was a little worried his right foot was going to knock off the rubber detailing on her door. It wasn’t essential, but there were few parts of her car that held together. She’d like to keep it as intact as possible.
“You seemed stressed,” Ford said with sincerity that would have fooled her mom. It didn’t fool Callie.
Was he trying to get under her skin? She was almost fed up enough to list off all the sources of her stress, with his threats at the very top, but self-preservation won out. “It’s my constant state of being.” She wished it weren’t true.
“I can hook you up with a little oblivion, to take the edge off.” He pulled a small plastic bag from his pocket. She wanted to vomit at the sight of the crystalline white inside it.
“My edges are better sharp.” Understatement of the year. If she was going to continue mingling with the likes of him and the Soul Charmer, she needed to be a goddamn honed human dagger.
He laughed and slid the drug back in his pocket. “Maybe they are.” The metal groaned as he pushed off Callie’s car, but thankfully it remained in one piece. “You change your mind, call me. Otherwise, I’ll be in touch once you’ve gotten that soul.”
Sure. As creepy as the Soul Charmer was, he was better to work for than Ford. The Charmer had turned her into a magic tool without her consent. Shitty, yes. But Ford was blackmailing her into using soul magic to break into a police lab. He wouldn’t shell out the cash she needed to rent the soul, but he had no problem giving her free narcotics. At least with the Charmer, he didn’t hide the fact that he was a scary, shady fuck. Ford, flitting from friend to fiend, cut deeper, and he did it harder and faster. He’d bleed you before you even noticed the bloodied knife in his hand.
Callie hadn’t gone into work on her day off since her hospital days. She’d learned quickly that a medical assistant dropping a book off to a friend could get volunteered for an extra shift pretty easily. Her current job was less likely to be short-staffed, but the risk of extra hours without extra pay was still real. However, her morning chat with Ford scared her into the employee entrance of Cedar Retirement Home.
The sooner she completed his task, the better. The masseuse she met the other day did chakra balancing. That had to be close enough to Tess’s siphoning of souls—sucking chi, Derek had called it—for her to know the other woman. Tracking down Tess was now her best option. Either she’d snag a soul from her and knock Ford’s task out early, or she’d turn Tess over to the Soul Charmer in exchange for expediting her soul rental. Both were nasty options, but another run-in with Ford or one of his goons was much nastier.
“Callie? What are you doing here? Did I goof the schedule?” Louisa’s eyes widened as she entered the kitchen, but she didn’t miss a beat chopping cilantro and swiping it into a large pot on the stove.
“No, I’m not working today.” Her smile was wan, but Louisa pretended not to notice.
“That’s good, because I don’t think my scrubs would fit you.” She pulled a tray out from the oven. The lemon and basil notes of her marinade wafted across the room. Callie’s stomach rumbled.
“You know if any of the massage girls are here today?”
“A few of them.” She glanced at the clock. “Should still be down at the reception station. Most start work at nine.”
“Thanks, Lou.”
“You need me to pray for you?” The laughter in her words was false. Louisa would pray for her regardless.
“Couldn’t hurt.”
Prayers were necessary by the time Callie reached the reception desk. Two of the masseuses were there. Their faces were familiar, but neither were the woman she’d talked to outside the ward. If only asking favors came as naturally to her as it did to Josh. She opened with a “Hey,” and it went downhill from there. Her palms grew warmer with each step she took toward them, for starters.
The women replied with rote greetings and returned to their own conversation. Their chatter dimmed when they realized Callie hadn’t moved along, but at least Callie’s hands hadn’t gone inferno again.
“I’m trying to find a woman who specializes in chakra balancing,” she interjected. It was as close to the truth as she dared.
One of the women, petite with dirty blonde hair tucked into a loose ponytail, shrugged and said, “I can do that.”
“Thanks, but I’m actually looking for a specific woman. She was here the other day, but I didn’t catch her name.” After enduring a pair of blank stares, she added, “She offered to help me.”
The taller massage therapist scoffed. Her thick eyebrows were two shades darker than her brown locks. “That was then. We heard what you did to Bianca.”
“B-B-Bianca?” What. The. Hell.
“Small world. You burned our friend.”
They knew. People miles away knew what she’d done. Her hands didn’t burn now, but the memory scalded her. “I don’t know what—”
“Yes you do.”
The fight-or-flight instinct reared inside her, but instead of incinerating shirts and skin, Callie ran her mouth. “In that case, I need to talk to Tess. Do you know her?”
The short one piped up again. “Sure. You apparently don’t though. She’s the chakra balancer you said you knew.”
Those simple words packed quite a punch. Callie’s solar plexus vibrated as the wind rushed from her. Not only had she already met Tess, but the same woman who was stealing from the Soul Charmer of Gem City also knew Ford. All the bad guys wanted a piece of Callie, it seemed. Couldn’t they put their battles aside until after she rescued her brother?
“Can you put me in touch with her?” she asked, ignoring the women’s scathing tones.
“If she wanted to talk with you, she’d find you. Right now she’s busy taking care of Bianca,” the short one said.
“I’d worry about yourself for now,” the other tacked on.
If only it were so easy. Returning to Plan A was a whole lot harder after you’d pissed off someone who controlled souls. Tess might not be as powerful as the Charmer, but magic was scary. So was the unknown. Tess was both, and Callie and Derek needed to find her fast before the situation went from awful to unbearable.
Callie had agreed to let Derek meet her at her apartment. Each day she spent with him, the more she understood him. He took his job seriously, and that meant protecting her was paramount. He had no idea how much she needed his protection now.
When he’d dropped her off the night before, he’d referred to her aging vehicle as an eyesore and not-so-politely suggested it didn’t fit into the stealthy logistics required for this job. She thought it had less to do with sneaking around—they rumbled up everywhere on a noisy motorcycle—and more to do with control. They’d spent plenty of time talking about that, but hadn’t talked about the kiss, even though when she’d wrapped her legs on either side of him to ride home she swore she heard him groan.
The morning visit from Ford and subsequent Tess revelation had stopped her from obsessing over Derek and her flamethrower hands for the better part of the day. Nothing like an in-person chat with the murderous king of local criminals to send you into a panicky spiral of self-doubt and shame. Family woes plus mob bosses equaled stomachaches. She splurged on two bottles of Tums at the store. The extra cash she had to spend was worth it to keep her insides intact.
Derek’s thunderous knock at the door was a relief. There wouldn’t be dancing and homemade enchiladas that night, but Callie would be one day closer to saving Josh.
“You look nice,” he said when she opened the door.
She hadn’t fancied up for a night of hunting delinquent soul renters, but she did succumb to the need to put on some mascara and swapped out her standard simple studs for red and white polka dot button earrings. Ford had offered her oblivion by way of powder today. She’d rather reach peak distraction through a different, more natural kind of bliss. The heat of her kiss with Derek might have been one sided for all she knew, but she put a little effort into tonight’s look, just in case she was wrong. A few strands had escaped her ponytail, though, and she smoothed them behind her ear. “Thanks.”
Derek sat at the far end of the couch, and immediately sprawled across a cushion and a half. It was her favorite place to read books. She didn’t ask him to move, though. “I asked a couple of the other guys at the Charmer’s about people reneging on their rentals, and then not having souls to retrieve when we get there to collect.”
“It’s happening to everyone?” Callie sank onto the other end of the couch, pulling one leg up and wrapping her arms around her knee. Hugging yourself was underrated.
“Thank God,” he muttered. Derek continued, louder. “Yeah, it’s not just us. Weird thing is, they’ve all been people who have rented from us for a long time.”
“And they have to be tracked down?”
“Most of the time,” he let a little chagrin coat his words. “Some are junkies, others get caught up in the thrill of whatever it is they do while doubling up. A few are just asshole crooks.”
“Couldn’t you just let them keep the souls a little longer and bill them for another round?”
“It’s a cash business, but that kind of a system wouldn’t work for long, regardless. Plus, they get a better fix if we freshen the goods. Rented souls aren’t meant to be permanently bound to another’s body. Fucked up shit can happen.”
Callie wasn’t ready to know what those consequences entailed. “So it’s a safety thing.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. It’s a maintenance thing.” He shrugged, and then continued. “Usually they don’t put up a fight about giving it back. We just have to come to them.”
“You make it sound like you don’t mind.” The familiar way he spoke about them reminded her of the way she talked about Josh. A hassle, but one you loved despite the drama.
“They’re a big part of my job, and I’m not all blood and broken bones, you know.”
“I know,” she whispered, as if the non-violent side of him was their secret.
“Not sure why the ones who come to us the most are the ones bailing.”
His confiding tone made Callie move closer to him on the couch. She rested her hand on his knee, and he sighed.
“We should find out what Tess offers them,” she suggested. Oblivion? It had to be more than her kind demeanor.
“Well, she’s making it a lot harder to make them pay their back rent the next time they come in.” Derek’s sour tone suggested maybe there was lost commission, too. At least the length of her indentured servitude wasn’t predicated on dollars earned.
“Sure, but what are they going to do when they need another soul? You said these people are renting all the time from the Charmer.” The more Callie invested in Derek, the more she was bound to the Charmer. Danger was becoming normal.
“Tess is already stealing from us. It won’t surprise me if she starts selling, too.” Defeatism didn’t suit Derek.
“Bianca didn’t mention selling anything.”
His wry smile should have worried her more, but Callie liked seeing him conniving. “Oh, so you’re ready to talk about your friendly chat with Bianca?” he asked.
Callie sidestepped the opportunity to talk about her burning Tess’s subordinate. “She said the goal is to ‘purify’ everyone in Gem City. Is that woo-woo speak or does it make sense to you?”
“Little of both. We need more information.”
“Then let’s go get some.” She could help her protector. Did that make her strong? Or at least stronger? Pummeling the bad guys wasn’t in her repertoire—as long as some seared skin didn’t count—but she could help fix this problem.
“You’re damn chipper tonight.” Bemused Derek was more fun than the sullen one.
“I’m ninety percent sure Tess selling souls would equate to some sort of magical war. I don’t want to know if such things exist. So, yeah, I’m here to help.”
He could throw some mean side eye. “Just to avoid seeing more magic?”
And maybe to hang out with him, too. “I’m a shitty soldier.”
His belly laugh shook the couch. Callie smiled and squeezed his thigh. “You underestimate yourself, doll. You did light that girl up last night.”
She winced, but he smiled and continued. “That’s not a jab at you. We do what we have to around here. Keeping her at a distance was the right thing.”
Scarring a person wasn’t ever going to be right, but she didn’t roll her eyes at his sincere attempt to comfort her. Callie’s morals might have slid down the bell curve a bit, but she hadn’t completely lost her grip on them, no matter what the Soul Charmer suggested. Still, Derek’s approval ebbed her guilt. Just a smidge. “Thanks.”
“I’m not up for a turf war, either, so we should get going.” He checked his watch, and added, “Joey should be getting home in about twenty. His wife usually shows up about an hour from now.”
“This is good?”
Derek made the move of raising and lowering his broad shoulders look so simple. She’d had her hands on them. They were much more stone-like than his nonchalant shrug projected. “He’s a real pious type. Uses souls to pretend it’s not really him tapping hookers.”
“I’ve got a cousin like that.”
“We all do. Joey will talk because he doesn’t want his wife catching any hint he’s been using souls, let alone what they’re being used to do.”
Derek laid his hand atop Callie’s. It still rested on his thigh, and the contact sent her heartbeat into overdrive, the sound pounding in her ears. He gave it a quick squeeze—not the tug to pull her closer she’d been hoping for—and then let go.
Once he stood, he reached into his back pocket. The flask’s black stone glinted even in the dim light from her single, 40-watt lamp. She accepted it without a word. When her thumb brushed across the onyx, all her pores expanded at once as a rush of adrenaline coursed through her. Derek helped her with her coat. Its satiny interior was heaven. She wriggled more than necessary as her arms delighted in the sensation. At least, until Derek’s fingers brushed the side of her neck. She’d been wrong about heaven. This was more than turning flush—her skin positively danced with energy and heat.
The change in her was obvious, and uncontrollable. Magic was a demanding mistress, and Callie didn’t yet know the rules. She rolled her head from side to side, as though she could cool her desire. She needed power over this. Derek loomed from behind. He no longer touched her, but she sensed him regardless. His breath fluttered past her ear in slow, even bursts.
Space from him might allow her to rein this in. She edged a little closer to the door, but not the full step that might suggest an invitation to be pressed up against the cheap wood. Letting go of the flask in her pocket to wipe the fine mist of sweat on her brow was eerily difficult, but once her thumb left the smooth stone, the intense rush left her. Being sandwiched between Derek and the door still held great appeal, but she was no longer on the sexual razor’s edge. She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead, and then grabbed the doorknob. Cold wind rushed into her apartment. The crisp air gave her a little more control, the ability to hide her almost-unhealthy attraction to Derek.
He held her scarf out. “You’re going to need this tonight.” Was his throat raw, or was she imagining things?
He didn’t make any extra efforts to touch her as they walked to the bike. He had to have been aware of how close she’d been to making a move. If only he would give her a sign that he wanted her to, it would alleviate some of her stress.
Ford might have assumed her harried appearance earlier was the result of worrying about her brother, and having to deal with his kind of people. Earlier that day was the first time she’d wondered if this attraction to Derek wasn’t also playing a big part. She pursed her lips as she strapped on her helmet. Her desire for him was real. This wasn’t a trick of the Soul Charmer. That didn’t make it a good idea, and it didn’t mean the magical world around them wasn’t complicating the matter.
Their relationship—whatever it was—was ideal while they rode his motorcycle. They didn’t have to talk, for one. As much as Callie appreciated solid boundaries and knowing where she stood, she was terrified of those conversations, of rejection. Derek couldn’t reject her over the sound of the motor and the wind whipping around them. They could both take comfort in one another’s touch without it getting weird. They didn’t need to talk about why her hands were wrapped around his waist, fingers just above his belt buckle. It was for safety. He’d told her to press against him to avoid the bulk of the wind. Maybe it was bullshit, but it didn’t matter. His warmth assuaged her fears, and the mix of leather and clean soap was so perfectly Derek it urged her to squeeze her legs a little tighter against his. The vibrations from the bike put them on the same frequency while they embraced. It was a simple joy, and Callie decided on the ride to quit thinking about it and simply enjoy the way his body was melting to hers.
He stiffened as they slowed near a duplex with a manicured lawn on the north side of Gem City. Gone were the tile accents on adobe buildings and the fractured brickwork of downtown. The streets were brighter here, well-lit enough that she could spot the in-ground sprinkler systems spitting water on grass that shouldn’t grow in the desert. Derek had always parked at least a half block away from their target. Not this time. He was making his presence as obvious as possible from the outside. Joey would not only want them done talking by the time his wife returned, Derek pointed out, he’d want that hulking black bike off the street as well.
Derek’s look—the leather, the motorcycle, the muscles—was inherently threatening, and to a degree it was posturing, but he could back it up. Lord, had he proved that. However, Callie knew he’d rather not if given the out. A softer side was buried beneath all that mean. She was attracted to more than the man’s broad shoulders and scarred knuckles, more than the soft way he touched her with roughened fingers. His street smarts were a damn big part of the reason she was locked on him. Callie nodded to the unbidden thought.
If the knock Derek used at her place was thunderous, the bang of his fist against Joey’s door was positively booming. She glanced at the eaves, half expecting the house to shake. His knock must have been equally recognizable within the house, as the door flashed open seconds later.
Joey waved them in quickly. He peeked out the door after they stepped inside, as if he couldn’t do anything if neighbors were watching. He’d foregone standard Southwestern tile for plush carpeting in the dare-to-drink-wine shade of white. Family pictures covered one wall. Callie ignored the faces in the frames, more focused on the fact her fingers had heated and stiffened as she passed Joey.
He had the air of the type of guy people looked forward to seeing at the high school reunion. His square jaw and overall build made Callie think he’d played football, but if he had, the years away from daily practice had made him a bit doughy around the middle. His time escaping his problems with another person’s soul shoved behind his sternum had left its marks, too. The ashen tinge of his skin and the hollow look of his eyes were hard to miss now that Callie knew the signs of soul rental.
“Have a seat,” Joey said, extending his arm toward the couch right next to the front door.
Derek ignored him. If their host wanted to be comfortable, he’d have to start talking. Derek wasn’t about to let him have the edge. Callie followed his lead, and they walked toward a dining area. An Algebra II textbook rested at one end of the table. That explained the Toros pullover Joey wore. He had a kid at Gem City North High. Callie’d gone to South. They hadn’t been allowed to bring their textbooks home. Not that she was jealous. She had much bigger fish to fry than memories of poor school funding.
“You forget something?” Derek asked, without looking at Joey. He ran a finger along the spines of the books on a shelf. The power shift was heady. He was doing it to affect Joey, not her. She needed to remember she was one of the badasses here, too.
“I’ve been slammed at work. I meant to get down there—”
“You don’t look particularly busy right now.”
“Sarah’s going to be back soon,” he pleaded. He was a junkie, only his addiction was to filling his chest with another’s soul. Pathetic.
“Give it up, then.”
“I don’t have time to go now. Tomorrow morning.”
“No need. She can take it now.”
Callie pulled her shoulders back as pride soared through her. She was essential right now. No one had ever looked at her like she was vital to the job. Louisa appreciated the help in the kitchen, but Callie wasn’t the only person who could dice onions. Joey had mostly ignored her presence until then. Just like a rich guy. He hadn’t yet realized she had the ability to wield a device that could take his soul. She didn’t like the magic coursing through her veins, but she ignored the twin pangs of disgust and fear and pulled the flask from her pocket.
Again her body lit. The slowly rotating ceiling fan pushed enough air at her to tickle the back of her neck. Her fingers warmed against the stone. It was a new sensation, but a welcome one. The raging fire from last night was now more like wrapping her hands around a mug of hot cocoa. She’d prefer to swap soul storage of chocolatey goodness, but was just happy her hands weren’t on fire. She didn’t know—or care—whether the flask was dulling or channeling the pain. Now wasn’t the time to ponder her new magical nature. This was a rare moment of power. She was the woman to be frightened of. She was the one who you wouldn’t touch.
Callie strode toward Joey, head held high, and slammed the container’s opening against his sternum with more force than she would have thought possible with her slender arms. The muscles in his neck flexed until they were taut bolts that shoved his head backward. His nostrils flared while he stared at the ceiling, but Callie kept the pressure on. When the rush of magic abated, she stepped back and capped the flask. Her motions were quick, if imprecise. The need to get the flask returned to her pocket before it could flip her magic on again, and make her vulnerable, overrode all other thought. Derek watched her, but didn’t speak until she’d secured it and exhaled a steady breath.
Joey also regained his composure, though his face was noticeably three shades whiter. Derek wasn’t done with him, though. “Anyone else ask about that soul?” He inclined his head toward Callie, now the keeper of souls, apparently.
“You know I’d never—” Was blathering a side effect of soul extraction?
Derek cut him off. “Yeah, yeah, you’re an upright citizen. Just tell me if anyone else asked about taking that soul.”
Joey looked around his tidy home, as though spies might pop up from behind the credenza. “Some lady offered to take it. Said she’d fix me.”
“Fix you?” Derek asked, nonplussed.
“She didn’t seem all too lucid to me. The Charmer is creepy—” he paused, as though wondering if the criticism would earn him a smack. When it didn’t, he continued “—but at least he’s got all his marbles together. That woman definitely did not.”
“What exactly did she say?” Callie asked.
“She offered to purify me. Said she could tell I was masking myself and could make me the true person I was meant to be. I told her unless she was offering a billion dollars, she couldn’t improve my life that much.” Hear, hear for skeptics.
“Did she mention her name?” Derek was on edge, his jaw tightening.
“She gave me a card for when I changed my mind. Not that I’m going to, man.” He’d tacked on the last part. The Soul Charmer had cultivated a sincere amount of fear in him. Callie could relate. Joey pulled his wallet from his back pocket and produced the card.
“You kept her card?” Derek was at peak malevolence.
“So, I, um, could give it to you.”
Derek rolled his eyes at that bullshit, but accepted the card. It was for the chakra massage storefront. Lovely. “She short or tall, this crazy woman?”
“Tall.”
Callie’s mind raced. That meant the woman who offered to purify Joey hadn’t been Bianca. No one would mistake her for tall. Derek’s eyes narrowed. She knew he was thinking the same thing he was: Tess had long legs and the height to prove it.
Two of the three other retrieval jobs they did that night had also had run-ins with Tess, though not a one knew her name. Anonymous benefactors were real, but could Tess be classified as such? They were leaving the final stop, Callie’s flask a hot stone against her thigh, filled with another soul. While she’d expected the inherent grimy sensation of being good at something foul, she was surprised how much Tess and Bianca had gotten under her skin. Understanding others is how you avoid getting hurt, and she just didn’t get them. That made them the scary unknown.
Bianca had alluded to some masterful plan to cleanse the city. If she were donating millions to city renovation, avoiding credit could make sense. Not everyone said yes to her little proposal—it’d been a fifty-fifty split, half too fearful of the Soul Charmer (and probably Derek as well) to accept whatever she offered. Why not give a name? She didn’t hide where she worked. Though, maybe that was just a front. Leave your name and we’ll mystically pop up at your house later.
Derek swore under his breath while reading messages on his phone. “We’ve got another stop to make.”
“How many souls can this thing hold?” Callie wondered aloud.
“The most I’ve heard of is seventeen. So you’re good for at least one more, doll.”
She’d climbed on his bike expecting a drive to an apartment building. But when Derek pulled into the parking lot of St. Catherine’s Memorial Hospital, her stomach dropped to her toes. Only the pegs below her feet kept her insides from dripping to the pavement.
“Why are we here?” Her voice had gone reedy, but Derek had already killed the engine.
He avoided her gaze as he stowed their helmets. “Need to snag a soul real quick.”
“From here?” She bit back the urge to tell him she couldn’t.
Hospitals didn’t scare her. She used to find the astringent-laced hallways comforting. Before she’d been sacked from her gig there because of a brother with sticky fingers. From the hiss of the automatic doors opening as they entered, to the muted commotion of heart rate monitors and EKG they passed, to the hearty clacking on keyboards from the nurses’ station, every sound inside the building reminded her of what she’d lost. Her plan to become a nurse, her better-than-average pay gig, her escape from being like her mom. She’d lost it all when she’d lost her job at the hospital. Derek couldn’t know how much pain walking down these hallways was causing her, but he must have guessed at least part of it, because his silence had grown tenfold.
He paused outside a closed patient room. The nurses had averted their eyes as Callie and Derek passed. He was known here, too. Great.
“This is going to be different.” He winced as though waiting for the wallop the words could deliver.
Callie narrowed her eyes. “How?” No point in avoiding bitterness now.
Derek pushed open the door, and Callie’s fingers pricked with simmering heat.
He walked in. Curiosity made her follow.
He inclined his head toward the patient’s bed. “He’s not exactly conscious.”
Kapow! There was the punch. Only it smacked Callie square in the stomach. Traction held the man in the bed’s right leg and arm aloft, a brace cradled his neck, and an arc of nasty staples left a red semi-circle above his temple. He didn’t move when they entered the room. When Callie checked the IV bag, she knew why. Derek reached to rest a hand on her shoulder, but she pulled away. “No,” she said, filling those two letters with undiluted determination. “I won’t steal souls for him. I don’t build his fucking collection. There’s a line, Derek, a goddamn line, and this is way over it.”
“Oh, man, no. It’s not that.”
The tingle of heat in Callie’s fingertips fell to the back of her mind as her disgust rushed to the forefront. She planted her hands on her hips and waited for an explanation that wouldn’t make her vomit.
“He—Jerry, this guy—had a bad reaction to the soul he rented. We need to get it out of him.” Derek fumbled his words, and while seeing him off-kilter eased Callie’s ire, she wasn’t about to help him out of the hole he’d dug. “You’ll be able to feel the soul magic when you get closer. No stealing.”
Callie pursed her lips. It didn’t sound like a lie. “What do you mean by a bad reaction?”
“Souls aren’t always a perfect fit.” He scrubbed a hand against the back of his neck.
“And?”
“When quality isn’t an issue for the user, there’s always a chance of bad consequences. The rented soul might not be cooperative. Jerry’s borrowed soul fought his own and the mish-mash of all of it had him mentally off.”
“You’re avoiding details, Derek. Tell me the whole story.”
He sucked in a quick breath. Busted. “He drove his car into the side of a train car. His kids were in the backseat.”
Bile churned in Callie’s stomach. The urge to heave at the horror was there, but important questions had to be asked. “His kids?”
“They’re okay. The train was parked. Jerry, though, is in a medically induced coma, and if we don’t get that soul out of him he’s not going to have a chance at recovery. That borrowed soul wants to die.”
Callie hadn’t considered the possibility the soul she’d rent wouldn’t want to be a part of her. Did unattached souls have wants and needs? “Is the Charmer keeping people’s souls from moving on to an afterlife?”
“Above my pay grade, doll. I’ve got no clue if there is a heaven or a hell. What I do know is the Charmer never keeps a soul for rental for more than six months. He jokes and calls it freshness purgatory. Take it however you want.”
She’d prefer not to take it at all. Celestial progression had never been a top priority for Callie, but if her rented soul wanted to move on, she sure hoped it could hold out until after it was free of her body. “Any promises this won’t happen to me?”
“You’re not going for bottom of the barrel goods, doll. The Charmer will make it a good match for you. I promise.”
Could Derek even promise that? She didn’t know, but it eased her fear regardless. Callie performed her first soul extraction on an unconscious man. The magic was there, the extra soul ready to move, but the act twinged her muddied morals anyway.
They didn’t speak again until they were outside the hospital.
Callie and Derek sidled to his bike. “You mind taking the flask to the Charmer?” She held it toward him, careful to keep her fingers on the silver parts.
He laughed, but it was paired with a grimace. “No can do.”
The less time she spent with the Soul Charmer, the better. He didn’t only climb under her skin like the unknown—though that was a huge factor—it was as though he tried to take up residence in her body. He’d already coerced her into collecting souls on his behalf (which she had to admit gave her a heady rush) and infused her fingers with magic. Every time she encountered the man, he changed her. She wasn’t ready for more.
“I don’t know if I can,” she said as though she had conflicting plans in her datebook, and not a bone-deep fear.
Derek accepted the flask from her, and she sagged with relief. The feeling was temporary. He stepped close enough for the energy between them to percolate against her skin, and then he slipped the soul holding cell into her coat pocket. “I’d help you on this if I could, but you’ve become pretty key to this Tess business.”
The silver and stone didn’t tug on the wool fabric or cause it to sag on one side. It didn’t need to. The tremendous weight on her chest more than accomplished that. Derek climbed on to his bike. He sat there, leather clad, with the idling engine emitting enough of a rumble to tickle her sternum, and waited. Would the back tire bottom out when she climbed on? Those two souls, the enormity of what she’d been roped in to, and the mountain of teeming fear settled inside her core had to be more than mere steel and rubber could manage.
She was bigger than her fear, though. Or at least she pretended to be. What was she going to do? Walk home? It was fifteen miles and she was wearing a ratty pair of Chucks.
Not fucking likely.