Lost Souls

by Chelsea Mueller

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Everyone out here.” Callie didn’t recognize the dark baritone voice, but the volume suggested whoever it was knew there were people in the back of the Soul Charmer’s store. Damn it. She hadn’t left fast enough. The urge to book it out the back bit her jaw. The tang of tinfoil touched her tongue. She couldn’t taste Donna’s soul for shit, but apparently the air of authority could fill her mouth.

  Instead of running, however, Callie held steady in the back. No one was peeking past the curtains yet, and as long as her shoes stayed put on the tile floor she could remain fairly silent.

  “Calliope, join us.” The Soul Charmer sounded exhausted. At least they had that in common.

  She returned to the storefront. Derek was just inside the door. Arms locked tight across his chest. His chin was high enough to enforce his height on others and make every glance a dismissal downward. If he was in fuck-you-up stance, this was not going to be fun.

  Two Gem City police officers stood in the center of the room. “Anyone else back there?” the taller one asked. His badge read Grady and his lips flattened into a hard line when he saw Callie. She hadn’t done anything to warrant that scowl. Maybe she just had one of those faces. Pickpocket skills were not a recessive gene, and neither were her brown eyes.

  “No,” she said. She was going to keep it to single-word answers. It worked for Derek. Why not for her? Oh, except that she wasn’t six foot plus of badass muscle.

  Officer Grady settled his hands on his duty belt. It’d be casual if his fingers weren’t touching his firearm. Callie’s mother hadn’t imparted much wisdom when she was growing up; Don’t hit on seventeen did not count. She had, however, been firm about cops. Avoid them. If that doesn’t work, be polite. If they touch their gun, you best make yourself small and helpless. Zara milked that damsel-in-distress move to pick pockets and to garner favors and cash from tourist businessmen in bars. Callie wasn’t much for the act usually. Right now, though? Callie hoped she looked like an exhausted college kid and not a mid-twenties apprentice soul magician.

  “Ortega.” Grady pointed the other cop to the back office. When Officer Ortega didn’t move, he added, “Confirm we have everyone.”

  The other officer watched his feet as he walked toward the back. He didn’t see the Charmer’s finger flourish. The soft simmer of magic at her back vanished. Wards down. Odd. It was almost like the Charmer didn’t want the police to know how powerful he was. Her boss hadn’t been bashful about his skills before. This concealment was for Derek. The Charmer’s relationship with her boyfriend was complicated, but at least the magician wasn’t trying to put her man in the line of fire. Well, not with the cops anyway.

  The room was quiet while everyone waited for the policeman to return. Derek’s chest barely moved. The Charmer’s lips flattened into a hard line. Everyone waited in silence for the policeman to return, and it for once none of the attention was on her. Grady glowered at the Soul Charmer, and the reprieve allowed Callie to exhale.

  Officer Ortega popped his head through the velvet curtain, and confirmed, “It’s empty.” He skimmed his fingers over the curtain, and then ambled back into the room.

  The lead officer harrumphed with a heavy enough rumble to rival one of Derek’s grumbles. Callie did a double take. The officer didn’t notice. Grady wasn’t hot enough to pull off the gruff, sour thing.

  Grady narrowed his eyes at the Soul Charmer. “Do you know why we are here?” he asked, his voice loud enough to reach the rooftop..

  “I would guess you don’t wish to rent a soul.” A blasé Soul Charmer would have been a hilarious thing, if it weren’t for the cops. The man couldn’t help himself. “My patrons do not typically demand to see the back office.”

  The Charmer tucked his hands in his pockets. A warm static filled Callie’s sinuses, and she doubted it was a coincidence. What did he have in there?

  “No.” Officer Grady’s tone was hard.

  “I do offer a discount for law enforcement and military members.” Only the Soul Charmer would have the balls to taunt cops when he knew full well he’d been involved in crimes. Her boss’s needling tone was paired with a silver-toothed smile.

  Officer Ortega stood behind his partner, and was pointedly not looking at anyone. Callie thought she heard him snicker. Was he a renter? Callie didn’t recognize him, but the customers were already beginning to blur for her.

  Officer Grady scowled. “Are you aware of the attacks on the Ford family holdings?”

  “The slaughterhouse magnate?” The Charmer had gone monotone. All revelry disappeared from his voice, and the sharp shift snapped a belt of fear around Callie’s belly.

  Officer Grady’s heavy voice hardened. “The councilman, the largest landowner in Gem City, yes.”

  “He is not a customer.”

  “Is his son?”

  “His son?”

  It was Officer Grady’s turn to slather on the derision. It wasn’t funny when he did it. “Surely you’ve seen the news. The younger Ford was murdered in his home.”

  “I heard there was a rash of fires, but I must admit the news doesn’t captivate me the way it does others.” The Charmer tried to brush it off, to evoke the same casual tone again. He faltered, and the words came a half beat too quickly. “I’d much prefer to talk to clients and focus on aiding our community in the goal of rising to Heaven. Much more noble effort, don’t you think?”

  Callie sent Derek a what-the-fuck-is-happening look. His wide-eyed response told her he hadn’t seen the Soul Charmer this blatant or this rushed before. Sure, the man liked theatrics. He’d make the sign of the cross like what he was doing was holy, but his link with the Cortean Church was secret. He wasn’t actually ordained. Why was he risking being exposed? He’d branded her wrist as part of an oath to keep the secret of the soul well and its magic. She rubbed her thumb against the raised ridges in her skin, against her nighthawk mark.

  “Mister…” the older cop, Grady, let the opening resonate throughout the space. Heavy tapestries covered the walls in the front of the soul emporium. Hidden by shadow and tarnished by age, they held secrets, but even they refused to muffle the officer’s request.

  Callie began to edge closer to Derek, and the silent officer shot her a warning glance. She stopped. No one was laughing anymore.

  “Charmer will do,” Callie’s boss said.

  The police officers shared a look. Whatever they knew about the Soul Charmer, it wasn’t good. “Fine. Charmer. We need to know where you were last Saturday night.”

  The Soul Charmer raised his right hand and held it out to his side. “I am here for my customers when they need me.”

  The words were placid, but the sense of scraping steel skittered over Callie’s skin. The men in the room weren’t unnerved, but she fought the urge to rake her fingernails across her chest. The other hand. The Charmer still had a hand buried in his pocket. His knuckles were tenting the satin fabric of his robe with increasing speed. He couldn’t have a soul hidden in there. The fire of an unleashed one would have bit at her consciousness by now. Her cheeks burned with the sizzle of magic. Callie might be able to pull a soul from someone’s body, and she might be able push one inside, but she was miles from understanding the Soul Charmer’s power. He was barely moving, but invisible electricity snapped beneath the soggy carpet. Whatever he was up to, those cops should be running.

  Both officers held their place, but Officer Ortega shot a quick look the Charmer’s way. He returned his attention to an empty countertop before he said, “Sir, we need a firm answer. Are you saying you were in this building all day on Saturday?”

  The scraping sensation sharpened. Her skin was too tight. She needed to get out of this room, and fast. “He was,” Callie said. “That was a Saturday after a payday, and we’re always slammed hard then.”

  The muscle in Derek’s jaw ticked. Callie refocused her attention on the cops.

  “You were here, too?” Officer Grady asked.

  “She�
�s my apprentice.” The Charmer couldn’t keep the grin off his face. That reaction was earnest, which only made it worse. Would a punch to his liver shudder his smile?

  Grady produced a small notebook from his pocket, and flipped a few pages in. “What was your name again, miss?”

  She might vomit, and it had little to do with whatever magic the Charmer was cultivating in his pocket. She was not supposed to be on the police radar. She wasn’t supposed to be interacting with them at all. She should have been living a life free of crime and questions and ripping souls out of people’s bodies. Should have wasn’t getting her far, though.

  “Callie Delgado.” She didn’t bother keeping her voice low or avoiding eye contact. Criminals were uncomfortable around the cops. They were shifty. She could not allow herself to be memorable, to be seen. She had a lot to hide, and didn’t need them knowing so.

  The cop wrote down her name, and then asked a few basic identifying questions. Nothing concerning. Nothing about a break-in at the police substation, nothing about her use of magic, nothing about Nate.

  Officer Grady turned toward Derek, notebook still at the ready. The already grating sensation dug deeper into her chest. Derek had bombed those buildings. He’d done so at the Soul Charmer’s behest, but her worry for him wouldn’t wound her. She most certainly wouldn’t let her concern tip his hand to the police. Whatever their boss was wielding in his pocket was forcing the cop’s hesitation, and for once Callie was grateful to the Soul Charmer.

  Instead of asking Derek for his whereabouts, Officer Grady paused. He scrubbed his wrist across his forehead, and then stuttered an apology. “That’s it for now, but we do have potential witnesses. If we come back, it will be with a warrant.”

  The Charmer gestured to front door. “There’s nothing to hide here. I merely offer citizens a respite from the burden of sin. I don’t have a thing to do with the Ford family or their affairs.”

  It all sounded like bullshit. Even in the Charmer’s standard skeezy tone, but he wasn’t lying. The whole reason Ford fired shots in the Soul Charmer’s direction was because the Charmer wouldn’t rent him souls at a bulk rate. Her boss charged the drug cartel and mobsters more for his services. It didn’t have a thing to do with a moral quandary. Charmer gave two fucks about what you did with the soul. It was about volume and inventory. There were plenty of souls vying for a fresh home, but the act of retrieving them wasn’t a desirable one.

  The officers left, but Callie didn’t miss the dark sneer on Officer Grady’s face when he closed the door.

  “Pests,” The Charmer muttered. He turned toward the back room so quickly his robe fluttered behind him.

  Callie grabbed his elbow. It was thin and frail beneath her hand. He hissed, and she let go. “What was that?”

  Disgust warped his face. Tight lips, flaring nostrils, the whole predatory lizard look. “A threat.”

  “What? No, those were cops, which it probably isn’t safe to discuss. I meant that.” She pointed at his pocket.

  “You’re becoming quite observant.” It wasn’t clear if that was a compliment. After a brief pause, he continued, “I was merely keeping their attention away from him.”

  Derek.

  Sweat dappled his temples. “That’s a first,” Derek said on a reedy breath. Whatever the Charmer had done, it wasn’t only the cops affected.

  “We do not need anyone focused on you, especially not those with badges.” The Charmer shooed dismissively to where the police had stood moments earlier. “Your work was exemplary and they will not bother you.”

  Callie didn’t quite believe that. Yes, Derek was great at his job, but you don’t bomb the house and work places of a mobster without consequences. The cops may not actually miss Ford, and they may not have a lead, but the rest of Ford’s colleagues knew.

  Nate knew. Is that why he was missing?

  “Wait. How did you do that? Did you do something to those cops?” The moral grey area was Callie’s favorite, but some shit was too much even for her.

  “You’re a novice. You couldn’t handle it yet. I simply distracted their souls with a tug here and there.”

  There was an oversimplification if she ever heard one. He’d done something, and whatever it was had been big. The burn in her nose was gone, but an echo of pain lingered in her chest.

  She shouldn’t ask more, but she had to know. “Why did it hurt?”

  The Charmer watched her silently for a moment. His black pupils widened until they were deep pools demanding Callie’s attention. “The pull and claim of temporary ownership is not a natural process. Do not mention it to the priests.”

  She hadn’t intended to return to the soul well. She wasn’t hitting up confession. Why’d he have to bring the men of God into this?

  He turned and left the room. Great. More cryptic shit and an order to keep secrets from priests. What was one more bad act when you’d gotten your mother kidnapped?

  Derek didn’t ask if she was okay. He didn’t say anything. He opened his arms wide enough that his leather jacket parted, and Callie stepped forward. She pressed her cheek against his black tee shirt. He enveloped her in a protective hug. He didn’t need words. He had actions. The Charmer didn’t doubt his loyalty; he’d burned down buildings to protect him. To protect her. Callie didn’t doubt his love for her either. She didn’t understand it—she’d only been his girlfriend for a short time, but she’d already fucked up enough to get a boot out the door. Right now, though? She wasn’t going to question it. The subtle spring soap he used in the shower tangled with the clean comfort of her laundry detergent, and that made him smell like home. Like safety. Like hers.

  Too soon he pulled back. “You steady?”

  If she let loose how she close she was to total exhaustion, her resolve might evaporate, and she simply would not crumple on the Charmer’s crusty carpet, and so she simply nodded.

  Derek scowled toward the curtain doorway to the soul storage room, and then inclined his head toward the back exit. It was a question.

  “Blue’s probably still out front.” She didn’t want another go with the police.

  “We’ll move fast,” he said.

  He let her walk through the hallway first. The magic didn’t squeeze him the same way it did her. He’d told her it made him want to turn and run, but the magic coated Callie, thick and viscous. The Soul Charmer’s back was to them. Normally he’d jump on the chance to needle her again or demand more from Derek. Though he could sense the shift in the wards, he ignored their entrance. Callie didn’t linger, moving quickly to the exit. She went through the first door into the short, narrow hallway to the back alley, and stopped short. Derek bumped into her back, and she threw out a hand to brace herself on the wall. Her wrist hummed. Not a racing pulse. Not the thrum of fear or the sizzle of soul magic. Just like her flask. Callie slapped a hand to her pocket, and the container was still there. Hidden, empty, and ready to contain the repossessed souls. Magic was at work here. This wasn’t the heady buzz she typically got from the flask when it begged to be filled. This was new, different.

  “Doll?” Worry seeped into Derek’s standard stoic tone.

  Callie had been in this hallway more times than she cared to, because the back entrance meant dealing with less of the clientele. The wood-paneled walls didn’t match the rest of the interior, and picture frames were squeezed into all of the available space like she was inside the home of someone with the money to support a dozen kids. The glass inside each frame had always been foggy and discolored. The metal around each picture still bore the rust marks and gouges of a long life, but the interiors were no longer empty. Each frame now displayed faces and dates.

  Benton’s meth-pocked face cast a sidelong stare from an oval silver frame to her right. Were these mug shots? Today’s date was scrawled on the bottom of the image in lieu of a booking number. Callie reeled back from Benton’s image. If it bore today’s date, how did the Charmer get it up? These weren’t digital frames. The electricity in the buildi
ng was shoddy, the WiFi nonexistent, and, honestly, what would be the point. She turned to Derek. His eyes were wide, but completely fixed on her.

  “What’s wrong?” was all he said, but he’d stitched apprehension into the words.

  “You don’t see that?” She jutted a shaking finger to the right of his shoulder.

  Derek turned toward the wall. “The frames? Sure, doll.”

  “That—that—that Donna who we just jacked a soul from is here.” The squat woman who had pawned her soul not twenty minutes ago glared out from within the black frame.

  He looked around the hallway. It was tight with even the two of them in here. “Doll, it’s just us.”

  The gaunt faces watched her from the walls. A miniature funhouse mirror debacle tuned to her own frequency. Her lungs squeezed hard enough she gasped. Was the Soul Charmer collecting scraps of souls from the rented returns? Was she helping him stockpile parts of these people’s souls?

  Callie ran a thumb over the nighthawk on her wrist again. She didn’t think hawks could coo, but this one sure was pleased. The magic in this room wasn’t trying to bite or burn her, but it wanted something. Too bad she didn’t have anything else to give.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The vinyl booth seat in Dott’s diner didn’t warm beneath Callie. Sleet streaked past the window in shimmering chunks. It was cold and slushy outside, but even in her favorite restaurant Callie couldn’t get warm. It wasn’t her magic. She’d had surges of icy chills as they’d passed other booths, other people. No one was within a dozen feet of her now. If she focused, she could sense the draw of the ragged edges of the souls inside former clients. She closed her eyes for a moment, and willed her mind to ignore them.

  The more she learned about how this magic worked, the more it called her. The more it needed. She’d thought the apprentice gig would earn her control over the power raging beneath her skin. Now it was hers and she didn’t want to let it go. Maybe that was sleep deprivation talking.

  Callie scowled at the storm outside. Derek cleared his throat. Those grey eyes were watching her, seeing her, knowing too much.