Lost Souls

by Chelsea Mueller

  “Dougie’s just passing out weed, isn’t he?”

  “Maybe molly, too, but yeah. White-collar shit.”

  “You think Nate would be closer with Adam because he isn’t handling the more widely used drugs?”

  “It’s Gem City. Everything is widely used. But, yeah, Ford’s empire was built on selling expensive shit to people who were desperate. Potheads aren’t going to knock over a liquor store to pay for their habit, but meth addicts…” he trailed off.

  “It’s fine. Josh pawned Zara’s TV once. Stole the diamond earrings my Tia Cheri gave me for my fourteenth birthday.” She didn’t look away. She didn’t hold back the pain scraping her throat. She wouldn’t be ashamed, and he needed to know that. To know she could handle this. “You’re right. Methamphetamines make addicts do desperate shit.”

  He moved like he was going to hug her, and she tensed. He edged back into his seat. She’d loved his hands on her earlier, but the air was no longer laced with hope. Truth was stagnant in the car, and the only escape was to get out and score some answers. Fresh air and some progress could put Callie and Derek back at ease. At least she hoped so.

  “Let’s pull the car over around the corner on Juniper Street.” Derek pointed to the street behind Adam’s corner post.

  “Less likely to see us coming?” Callie asked.

  “And closer if we need to book it.”

  Callie took the long route around the plaza, and parked the car a block in the other direction. The streets were empty, and her car was the only one parked on this street, but she still took another darkened spot. She could see Adam from here, too. Lights were on in the cathedral across the street. Could the priests see these dealers outside their church every night? Did they not bother to minister to them? Maybe they had. Maybe that’s why Father Henry was checking on Callie. Could he know what Nate was up to? Callie shook off the thought. If Henry knew where Nate was, he’d tell his brother. He and Derek weren’t close, but she’d seen them together. Their animosity was cultivated from a profound love. You can’t ditch that easily. Family doesn’t forget what’s important, even if you don’t like their chosen path.

  She killed the engine, tapped her pocket to confirm she had the flask, tugged the zipper on her coat a little higher, and then stepped out of the car. Even in her warmest jacket, the icy wind cutting around the building slapped her hard. She fought the urge to hug herself for extra warmth, but she needed to keep her shoulders back and head high. Even running on fumes, one had to play the part. Derek fell into step beside her. His fingers skimmed hers. Now wasn’t the time for holding hands, but the light touch was enough to help her focus.

  “We don’t rent to Adam, but he’s got to be a soul user,” Derek said.

  She was already so cold, Callie wasn’t sure the warning was necessary. She thanked him anyway.

  “We going in straight?” she asked, realizing they should have talked about this in car where there was a heater.

  “No point in playing a game. Adam’s smart.”

  Callie raised an eyebrow.

  “For a guy who slings dope outside the church, he’s smart,” he amended. “Anyway, he’d know who we are. I think Ford put out the word before everything went…the way it did.”

  Even now, Derek couldn’t bring himself to talk about it. Sure, it wasn’t safe to speak the word bombing on the streets, but even when they were alone he couldn’t talk about what he’d done. Not in those terms. Was it shitty that she related to that feeling? Was it even more shitty that she liked they had it in common? Callie blinked a few times until the tears welling at her lids receded.

  Focus. One thing at a time. Find Nate. Get Mom. Get out of the soul magic business. Like it was that easy.

  Adam’s eyes widened when he caught sight of Callie and Derek across El Paseo, but he didn’t bolt. Hell, from this distance Callie couldn’t say the guy had even tensed. His shoulder was angled away from them, but his eyes tracked their movements when they crossed the street. Anxiety prickled beneath Callie’s sternum.

  “Didn’t figure the Soul Charmer’s crew needed to hit a corner,” Adam said as way of greeting. His eyes would have been a bright green if the ghastly film of frequent soul renting hadn’t already begun encroaching on his irises.

  Callie shoved her hands deeper into her pockets. She found the flask on the right, and squeezed it. The obsidian inlay pressed against her bared skin took the edge off the chill of Adam’s ragged soul. Didn’t do shit about the sleet pinging against her back, though.

  Derek edged closer to Adam. Her windbreak gone, more icy pellets came at her side, but he also was between her and the dealer. “Ain’t here to buy.”

  Adam shuffled a half step away, but turned to fully face them. “You sure? Your girl looks pretty uptight.”

  A laugh punched her gut. No one of the opposite sex had ever suggested she was a prude, but if she was, what the fuck business of it was his? Derek tried to grumble over the sound, but there wasn’t a need.

  “I don’t need your shitty ass molly, but thanks for the offer,” she said.

  Adam cast a quick glance toward Dougie’s corner. The other dealer was doing his damnedest not to look their way. Dougie didn’t want to get in trouble. So there must be something to get in trouble over. Score one for the stake out.

  “Then what do you need? I’m here to sell.”

  “Do I look like a cop? I’m not gonna scare off your business.” Derek’s words were casual, but with each word he edged a little closer to Adam.

  The dealer was almost as tall as Derek, but slender. Not the emaciated cut of a junkie, but more like a vegan kid or someone who opted for cigarettes and coffee over real food. He was a con man. The thick confidence Adam was pushing said more about his goals to move up the ranks in Ford-turned-Nate’s business. Someone didn’t plan to stay on the streets. Callie would have admired his determination if he weren’t working for the douchebag that cut off her mom’s fingers and delivered them like a holiday ham.

  She couldn’t side with Adam, but playing the part was manageable. “Having us here helps your business. No one is going to hide ones in their wad of twenties while we’re here. We just make people hold up their ends of bargains and return what’s owed.”

  He tugged his coat sleeve down. “I haven’t had trouble getting paid tonight.”

  “I don’t care,” Derek cut in. His words were far more frigid than the sleet speeding around them.

  Adam tucked his light brown hair up under a black beanie. “Then move on.” His earlier bravado now shook.

  “Not yet. We need to talk to your boss.”

  “Who says I have one?”

  Derek’s glare was molten menace. “You make that shit at home with a mail-order chemistry set?”

  “Distributors.”

  Derek hooked a hand around Adam’s upper arm. The pop could have been a settling of snow beneath their feet, but the dealer’s sharp inhale suggested otherwise. “Where is he?”

  Adam tried to pull away, but Derek was gargoyle still and strong and Adam was in his grasp. The dealer thrust a hand out toward Callie, and grasped at her. Derek nudged him back in time. Adam’s hand met air. Before Callie could even move, Derek had whirled his left elbow up and around to whap Adam. There was a light snap. When her boyfriend had pulled back again, Adam’s right eyebrow was split open. Blood sluiced down the side of his face, and drops clung to his eyelashes.

  It looked fucking wicked, but Callie’s ER stints gave her the comfort to know that facial wounds could bleed like a bitch. Nothing was broken, and worst case he’d need a couple stitches. Old Callie would have butterflied it for him, but she wasn’t that person anymore. That person avoided being a part of seedy conversations on grimy streets with shady people.

  Callie stepped forward, and spoke with all the anger churning at realizing she was no longer being the kind of person who would want to help this guy. “Want to try that again?”

  He knew she didn’t mean the grab. “Nate’s
off the radar.”

  Derek eased up on the dealer.

  “So Nate’s in charge now?” Callie needed the confirmation.

  Adam clapped his hand to his forehead. Blood seeped between his fingers, but he didn’t notice. “Yeah, but he’s lying low.”

  Callie met Derek’s asking glance. She didn’t need to tell him the guy was lying, but something about the trust in that look steadied her feet and let her ignore the ice tipping her fingers and the sleet poking her back.

  A roar rumbled through the square. The statues across the street practically rattled with the rev of a powerful engine. Huge halogen headlights bathed the corner in blue brightness and momentarily blinded Callie. By the time her eyes adjusted, a muscle car was rolling past them with the back door wide open. Instinct put Callie on the ground. She didn’t worry about Adam or the frozen concrete. She hit the deck and prayed she’d be safe. Derek’s black boots were nearby. He still stood. She reached for his leg and pulled. He didn’t budge. Adam sprinted past, and leaped into the car. Squealing tires blasted her already battered ears.

  She’d never wanted to be a part of this. To talk to men who worked for the mafia. How had she gotten to a point where she thought someone would shoot from a car at her? She’d gotten in so deep so fast.

  Derek bent down, and helped Callie up. He had Adam’s jacket wrapped around his fist. The tears she’d held earlier began to fall. He yanked her into his chest with more force than before. His arms were tight around her, and he turned them so the brunt of the storm beat against his back. She burrowed her face in her personal human shield, let the leather of his coat warm and soften against her skin, and wept.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Callie hadn’t slept in almost four days. She should have collapsed from sheer exhaustion, but adrenaline continued to spike her synapses. Could someone overdose on the body’s natural highs? Could she be felled by cortisol levels? The priest at the church she’d attended during elementary school would have told her the Lord was testing her. Father Henry might have told her the same.

  But this wasn’t a test. This was the universe fucking with her, and she was over it. Her one fresh lead had bolted into a noisy muscle car, leaving her with nothing but bruised knees and regret.

  She sat on the edge of her bed. She’d thrown the jeans in the hamper, but the scrape of concrete over the knees might need more than a good scrub. Callie rubbed lotion over the bruises. It wouldn’t heal any faster, but it comforted her like it could. Derek sauntered into the room. He moved with that casual swagger he saved for home. No flexing muscles, no tight shoulders, no grimace.

  “Take these,” he said, and handed her three brown pills and a glass of water.

  Callie accepted them, but hesitated. “You’re not trying to make me sleep, are you? If Nate finally calls back, I need to be here, to be coherent.”

  “You’re going to have to sleep eventually, doll, or being coherent won’t be an option. But, no, I’m never going to make you do shit. It’s Advil. You can see the name on the pills.”

  Callie tossed the tablets into her mouth, and took a generous drink of water. She pretended she hadn’t peeked at the tab for the name first. “Thanks.”

  The pleased rumble emanating from his chest has the silky warmth of aged bourbon. If only her body weren’t on high alert now, she’d drink him in and relax. Fortunately, they were on the same page there, because disappointing Derek was the last thing she wanted to do.

  “I’ve got a contact who can run the plates for me.” He was already wearing his jacket again.

  “You got the plates?” She’d been focused on the headlights and the tires and Adam leaving with information she needed.

  He tapped his index finger against his temple. “Like a fucking camera.”

  The urge to smile hit her, but even her face was too tired to comply. “Bet there are some great home movies in your head.”

  He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Lace is a predominant thread.”

  Okay, even her wrung-out body couldn’t resist reacting to that one. “I love you.”

  He kissed her again, this time on the lips. “Love you, too, doll.”

  Derek moved to leave, but stopped in the doorway. He turned back to face her. “I’ll be back soon. If you hear from Nate, you call me.”

  “Yeah. Of course.” Calling from the car still counted, right?

  “If you’re up for it, dig through the shit from Adam’s coat. Maybe we can still get decent intel out of him.”

  Callie nodded. Adam may have slipped Derek’s grasp, but his coat hadn’t.

  She gave herself a few moments alone. The pillows were calling her, but she wouldn’t be able to sleep. She’d tried two nights ago. The horror show behind her eyelids wasn’t going to abate until she set shit right, until she’d found Zara. It wasn’t even the gory gift Nate had left her that bubbled up first now. Now she could only relive her last conversation with Zara. The image of her mother’s face when Callie had slammed a beer bottle to her sternum and sucked out the rented soul. The betrayal. They were family. They were Delgados. They weren’t supposed to screw each other over like this. The guilt bubbled in her belly, and the fresh pills threatened to make an emergency exit.

  She could make it right, though. That’s also what family did. It didn’t matter if Zara had been neglectful. It didn’t matter that she’d rented souls. It didn’t matter that she’d demanded too much from her daughter. None of that mattered. Zara was family, and Callie would save her.

  Callie let out a long sigh. Her back hurt and her muscles ached. She was probably dehydrated. She drank the rest of the water Derek had brought her, and then headed to the living room.

  Adam’s coat lay across her kitchen counter. Its drab olive losing its richness against the off-white Formica. She and Derek had already turned out the pockets. The contents rested next to the jacket: Adam’s phone, a cocktail napkin with a street address somewhere on the northern edge of Gem City, four packets of heroin, two bags of meth, a tiny bag with a bundle of molly, and a business card.

  Callie had been about to flush the drugs, but Derek said they might be a bargaining chip to get information. She tugged the sleeve of her shirt down over her palm, and then pushed the packets to the side until they were almost beneath the jacket.

  She picked up the business card. It’d been packed in a pocket next to the meth, but looking now, it was not drug related.

  Fuck. The blunt swear blasted the base of her skull. The card was a problem. Her problem.

  The glossy, black card read “Be Anonymous with a New Soul” in golden script. She flipped it over, hoping to find a name. Someone she could point the Soul Charmer toward. That would have been easy, though, and nothing was fucking easy anymore. No name, no store, no address, but in blocky yellow was a phone number. It was local.

  Callie went back into the bedroom to grab her phone from the nightstand. She stared at the darkened screen in her hand. She couldn’t dial the numbers. What was she going to do if these people answered? Diving headlong into the Charmer’s bullshit without his request was unnecessary drama. She needed to save Zara, and that meant finding Nate. Someone else hawking souls was a second-tier problem. Nate was interested in soul magic, but his immediate cash had to be coming from a pile of pills and powder.

  She brought her phone back with her into the kitchenette. In case Nate calls. Or Derek or Josh messages. Not because she was going to do anything desperate.

  The room was stuffy. The storm outside had shifted from sleet to snow, so opening a window wasn’t an option. Callie adjusted the thermostat down. She rummaged in the top shelf of her entryway closet until she found an Autumn’s Glory candle. She lit it, and hoped the blend of cinnamon, nutmeg, fir, and fire would calm her nerves.

  She opened Adam’s phone. It was nicer than hers. The screen wasn’t cracked, and it weighed less. A small bubble on the screen told her he had thirty-nine minutes remaining. There were around sixty numbers stored in the logs, but no nam
es were attached to them in the Contacts. She skimmed the numbers. Most of them had the same area code, her area code. At least he was talking to people in Gem City. If one of these was Nate, that might help. Except she had thirty-nine minutes on the phone and more than sixty people she’d have to call.

  She was about to flip to the messages section, when one of the numbers caught her attention. Callie rarely had a phone number memorized. Work number, her mom’s number, and her own number. That was about it. But this number ended in 1456. Her brother’s number was like that—he’d pushed her to memorize it when she was still in high school. She could only remember the last four digits even then. Callie flipped open the contacts on her phone and scrolled to Josh’s name.

  Her chest was tight. Her heartbeat pushed hard against her ribs, expanding, growing, punching. She set the phones next to each other, and willed herself to see something different. She stepped away. Drank another glass of water. Splashed a little on her face. Came back. The numbers still matched.

  Fuck that kid.

  Josh knew Adam. He could have helped her. Instead here he was in contact with yet another dealer. This phone wasn’t old enough to have been from before Josh got sober, before Callie had paid his debts again, before he’d detoxed on her couch. She wasn’t sure what part she was most angry about, but the ire throttled through her veins fast enough to burn off the guilt. Angry wasn’t better than sorry, but at least it was useful.

  Her hands were shaking. Callie tapped Josh’s number on the screen of her phone, and then the speakerphone button. The hollow ringtone filled her apartment. Her next-door neighbor had to be asleep, but she still thumbed the volume down a couple notches.

  “You find her?” Josh’s voice was scratchy, but urgent.

  “Not yet.” Callie stared hard at the drugs peeking from the edges of Adam’s coat. It helped her hold on to her anger.

  “Damn, Sis. Do you know what time it is?”

  No, she did not. She also didn’t care. “Late.”