Derek rolled his eyes as he lifted himself up from the floor. “She’s out for herself, McCabe. Like everyone else.”
Then he turned and held out a hand to Callie. “Ready to leave, doll?”
Confusion clouded her mind and it was as though stomach acid had torn through most of her stomach lining.
McCabe sputtered, “We good?” but Derek ignored him. Callie did, too.
She’d hit her emotional stress limit for the day, and answered Derek definitively: “Hell yes.”
—— CHAPTER FIVE ——
Callie’s brain buzzed with the burgeoning pain of a low-level headache. The rumbling of the motorcycle didn’t help. Questions that had been shell-shocked into submission at McCabe’s house finally flitted to the front of her mind.
This was only her first day working for the Soul Charmer, and it was darker than she imagined. Would the next thirteen days bring the same darkness, the same violence? Would she sink deeper and deeper into the dives she’d told herself she’d never stoop to? Were fourteen days enough to desensitize her to crime? Her throat tightened. She’d seen her share of street fights and back-alley brawls. This was different. Being a part of this was going to change her.
Her arms tightened around Derek. He grunted in response, but remained focused on the road. She clasped her hands together, nestling them next to his stomach. It was nice to hug someone without a cost. He wasn’t seeking money from her. He didn’t know her well enough to manipulate her like her mom did. He just let her press her face against his back and siphon his strength.
The hug couldn’t last, though. Fifteen minutes later, he eased the motorcycle into a parking space behind her car. It wasn’t a full day’s work. Could they already be done? She held her tongue as she climbed off the bike, hoping he would speak first, not wanting it to come off the wrong way.
But he stowed their helmets without a word. Was he angry with her for how things had gone down with McCabe? Maybe she’d imagined the rapport back at the apartment.
“Half day on day one? I like it.” She exhaled the light words on shaky breaths.
The corner of his mouth began to pull up. He shuttered the smile before it fully formed, though. “I wish. We need to talk to the boss.”
She couldn’t give the Soul Charmer the chance to renege on their deal. “Why would he want to talk to me?”
“He will.”
She glared at him. Ignoring her question stoked her anger, but at least anger was better than fear. “I don’t know what happened back there. I’m along for the ride, remember?”
“You’re along to retrieve souls.”
“I hold a flask, Derek. That’s what I do.” Or what she was supposed to do. They hadn’t explained her role too clearly, but she had to grip on to anything she could if it meant staying out of the Charmer’s shop.
“That’s a big part.”
She choked on her instinctive laugh when she realized he was serious. “Did I screw up?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
“Tonight’s screwed, but no, it isn’t on you.” He rasped a hand down his stubbled cheek. Then, with a painful scowl, he continued, “The boss just likes his information direct. It won’t be bad.”
Easy for him to say. While Derek had had her back tonight, that same protectiveness might not carry over inside that dank, mystical store. As he edged toward her with a hand out, she knew he wasn’t going to let her run. She couldn’t have anyway. No matter how much she was squicked by all of this, no matter how much she wanted to just get away as quickly as possible, she still needed a soul to rescue Josh. Meeting with the Soul Charmer was required.
She was going to kick her brother’s ass so hard after this was all over.
They bypassed the shop’s front door, and walked around to the far side of the building. Derek slid a key into a pale grey door marked with generic black vinyl numbers—731. The simplistic look couldn’t hide the sinister sensation that coated the entrance, though. Callie’s skin was crawling before she’d stepped past the threshold.
Things didn’t improve from there.
The hallway they entered was a narrower version of the one she’d passed through the day before. Murky pictures of dead-eyed portraits hung in neat rows that covered the burgundy walls. Callie quickened her pace, unsettled, and caught Derek’s heel with the toe of her shoe.
“Sorry,” she muttered.
His bulky shoulders shrugged, but he didn’t further acknowledge her fumbling.
He opened the next door to reveal the Soul Charmer’s pristine workshop. She stepped into the doorway of the room, and every muscle in Callie’s lean body suddenly yanked tight. The heaviness of the magic inside choked her. Derek saw her stop short and wrapped a massive hand around her wrist, pulling her the rest of the way in.
“It gets better,” he whispered in her ear, and then strode across the room to knock on a heavy wooden door. Based on the room’s orientation, it had to be the one that led to the main shop.
The weight pressing on her body eased a little, but she couldn’t completely calm herself in this room. Four walls and a ceiling shouldn’t have shaken her like this, but the pressure of being watched dug into the back of her neck. The coat of ick slopped on her when she entered felt like she imagined the Charmer’s magic would. Heavy, thick, crude. She tried to focus on reading the labels on the dark black jars lining the Soul Charmer’s shelves. They didn’t tell her much. Each mentioned a gender, and presumably an age, but there was another number on each. The fraction at the bottom of the label was always out of 2000, and that meant nothing to her. She doubted the Soul Charmer cared about the average daily caloric intake of those providing his wares. Imagine if you could opt out of the soul rental business by downing a double cheeseburger. Gluttony was a sin, after all. Her lips curled up into a hint of a smile at the thought. It almost made her hungry.
“What do the numbers mean?” she asked. The hard surfaces throughout the room amplified her quiet question.
“Purity.” A single word rumbled past a mouth full of marbles. Perhaps now was not the time for questions.
The Soul Charmer entered the room, and her stomach tried to cave in on itself. So much for snacks. The elderly man with the gnarled fingers moved more quickly this time. He still wore pajamas, but this time she was doubly wary of him. Even dictators could look like genial grandpas in the right wardrobe.
His bare feet squeaked against the tile floor as he scuttled to the second bookcase filled with jars. A middle-aged woman in a beige pantsuit followed behind him. Her heels tapped out an uneasy click, clack-clack. She and Callie avoided meeting each other’s gaze.
The Charmer selected one of the jars. Its label read F37 780/2000. “This one is sure to be the right fit for you, Ms.—”
“No names,” the woman snapped nervously, risking a quick glimpse at Derek and Callie. The Charmer curled his wrist toward his chest and turned back toward the customer, pressing the prized jar against his robe.
Two seconds under his cutting glare broke the woman. Callie didn’t blame her. “Sorry. I just—” she cut a glance to Derek before turning her gaze to the container the Charmer held “—don’t want to wait any longer. I’m ready to do this.”
“I hold no ill will. You’ll be eased by this.” He held out his empty left hand. “Payment?”
She reached anxiously to tuck her hair behind her ear, but it was already coiled neatly in a bun. Her hand fluttered as she reached into her pocket and passed the Soul Charmer two folded hundred dollar bills. Callie glared at the paper money. Was that all it took to rent a soul? She’d offered that much. Was the Soul Charmer screwing with her?
He caught her look and flashed his gold teeth. “Sliding scale for frequent customers.”
The Soul Charmer was every bit as bad as a corner dealer. A fact worth remembering.
He stashed the cash in a pocket and beckoned the woman closer. “Deep breath. You’ll be able to relax in a moment.”
The Charmer rubbed his gnarled
fingers across the jar’s lid four times before opening it. He cupped his palm over the opening and stretched forward. “Deep breath, and hold it,” he instructed.
He jabbed the container squarely between her breasts. Her shoulders shook, but instead of revulsion at the cretin grazing her chest, the woman’s jaw went slack. A soft light began to emanate from inside the jar, and within seconds the glow had lit the skin of her arms, neck, and, finally, her face, as well. Soul magic had given the woman the kind of healthy glow earned from all-night sex. Her posture was relaxed, a peaceful countenance had replaced her earlier scowl, and her skin was now positively radiant. It wouldn’t last—no high ever did—but at this rate Charmer’s store could be reclassified a spa.
The Charmer set the presumably now-empty jar on his table, and pressed his thumb against the woman’s forehead. “Breath out.”
As she did, he blessed her with the Holy Trinity. Callie’s stomach flipped. A wink and a nudge from the church was one thing, but did they know he was acting as clergy? One more reason to limit her involvement.
If only it were so simple.
“Euphoria,” the woman muttered, before catching herself and following with a more standard, “Blessed be.” The Charmer sure was selling elation … that much was clear.
The second the woman was out the door, the Soul Charmer squeaked his way across the room to Callie. He held a hand out, palm up. He better not expect her to hold his hand. He had not even earned a handshake, and even if he’d successfully tricked people into thinking that soul-renting was the same as a spa retreat, she would much rather use a mud mask than get a facial via Charmer. He stopped in front of her, arm stretched outward, his knuckles almost grazing her navel. She stared at his hand. Studying the patchwork of lines and fading scars was preferable to meeting his gaze. Callie had just watched him perform magic. Real. Legit. Magic. And it was goddamn unnerving. He opened and closed his hand a couple times, like a small child begging for a treat on the countertop just out of his reach.
“The flask,” he spat. What was she, his secretary? His irritation did nothing but stoke her own frustration.
She thrust a hand into her pocket and yanked the metal and stone container out, slowly placing it in his palm. There was no reason for her to be afraid of touching his skin, but the same part of her that locked her car doors as soon as she got in her vehicle told Callie that flesh-on-flesh with the Soul Charmer was not in her best interest.
Once he had the flask, she buried her hands back in her pockets, grabbing at the cotton fabric as though it could cleanse her skin. The flask didn’t taint her—as far as she knew—but being in the shop, so close to an angry mystical man, made her skin pinch and writhe. She was going to exhaust the water heater’s stores when she got home. The longest, hottest shower would purify her. It had to.
“It’s empty.” The accusatory tone of the Soul Charmer’s statement punched her in the chest. Forget showers. She needed an ice pack and a bottle of whiskey.
Callie steeled her nerves, and lifted her gaze, expecting those beady eyes to bore into her. They didn’t, because all of the Charmer’s ire was directed at Derek. Callie’s quasi-partner towered over the geriatric man. If he fell atop the Soul Charmer, the man’s brittle bones would probably turn to dust before he suffocated him with the mass of his torso. Their size disparity didn’t matter; the Soul Charmer was more than human. Father Gonzales suggested magic workers were prophets. The details were a mystery, but in this room where magic had been performed, the air vibrated with supernatural menace. The Charmer was no man of God, that much Callie knew instinctually. Her insides squeezed in discomfort. Derek had to have been in pain as well, but if he was he didn’t show it; he simply locked his jaw and returned the old man’s stare.
“There were complications.”
“Her, you mean?” The Soul Charmer sneered in Callie’s direction. He really might be part reptile, she thought.
“No,” Derek answered quickly. “She did fine. I mean, the soul wasn’t there for us to retrieve.”
The Soul Charmer hissed.
“The POS said—” he added, and glanced at Callie, though she had no idea why he thought she might be able to help him. “He said the ‘chakra massage’ lady took it.”
“Unacceptable.” The Soul Charmer suddenly huffed, and shuffled away toward his worktable, the air in the room immediately losing its malicious edge.
Callie sucked in a deep breath, surprised to find herself a touch lightheaded. Derek gave her a slight, quick bob of the head. Nods must be like grunts to him. Eventually she might be able to decipher their meanings. For now, she simply nodded back and hoped it was the right answer.
“Well, this worked out well for you, didn’t it?” It took Callie a moment to register the Soul Charmer was talking to her. His hands were busy beneath the table, doing God knew what.
“Not exactly.” She glanced to Derek, but he didn’t offer anything but a chiseled jawline.
“You didn’t have to capture a soul yet.”
“True,” she said slowly, unsure of his angle.
“Have you ever seen a soul?”
Why was Derek backing away from the table? Her mind was racing. The Charmer turned his harsh gaze on her when she didn’t answer quickly. “Well?”
“No.” Funny how under the right circumstances, a simple question could take her rightfully earned anger and beat it down until it was obsequious fear. It made her sick the way her emotions wanted her to placate him. “I mean, I watched you with that woman a few minutes ago, but I didn’t see the soul.”
“Hmph. You aren’t lying. That’s something.” He sat one of those black canisters on the table. “Come over here, please.”
It wasn’t a request, despite the pleasantry tacked on the end. She strode to the table with all the confidence she could fake. Up close, she could tell the jar was actually made of a smooth black glass. It was a modicum less opaque than the inlay on her flask. Scratch that. His flask. She wasn’t about to start laying claim to the thing. She was working here for two weeks. Thirteen more days of terrifying shit, and then she’d rescue Josh and forget any of this ever happened.
“Where did those souls come from?” The eddying fear and anxiety in Callie’s sternum couldn’t prevent her many questions from bubbling to the surface.
“You haven’t earned that knowledge. Now come here.”
A jar couldn’t stare at you, and yet Callie was acutely aware of the container’s presence. Knowing soul magic existed, and being shoehorned into seeing it, were oceans apart. She’d already surmised the walls of the Charmer’s spotless back office were lined with souls, but now it was out in the open. Her insides squeezed as though her organs were making a mad dash away from her flesh. Like they could hide from this dirty magic business if they managed to squish themselves against her vertebrae. She inhaled a shaky breath, and ignored the warm essence on the oak table. Derek was far away, across the room. She was alone now. She might be in this room for her brother, but even that allegiance faded as the Soul Charmer speared her with his dark, cutting gaze.
“Do you feel it?” There was far too much pleasure in the Charmer’s voice.
“What am I supposed to be feeling?” Encasing herself in a wall of sass worked last time.
He grabbed her wrist with a deceptively quick motion, and pulled her palm close to the jar. When it was just a scant inch away, an orange flame surrounding the container flared, fire touching her fingers. Callie gasped, trying to pull away, but the old man’s grip was unnervingly strong. She panicked. The smell of burning flesh should have been tingeing the air, but her tight breaths only caught clove and the muted Nag Champa from the front room. Her fingers began to tingle. The tips turned a bright white, glowing. The sensation of her hands being on fire burrowed in her gut, but no matter how warm it was, the flame didn’t actually hurt and her skin didn’t react. She couldn’t tell which was more of a mindfuck: her fingers going bonfire bright or the fact that it didn’t make her scream in
agony when it absolutely should have.
“What the ever-loving fuck?” That wasn’t her front of false confidence coming through. She hadn’t even realized she’d spoken. Her jaw locked and her eyes widened.
His lips pulled tight before curling into a delighted smile. That didn’t ease any of the tension in Callie’s body. She didn’t want the old man mad at her, but she also didn’t need him excited or making her damn hands glow like a raver’s party favor.
“Splendid things,” he said. The brightness of her incendiary fingertips reflected and shimmered in the Charmer’s eyes. He was a magpie spotting diamonds for the first time.
Like she could let him leave it at that. She pulled hard against his grip again. This time he released her. She stumbled backward, cradling her hand to her chest like it was now a mutilated appendage. Maybe it was. Her fingers continued to emit a soft light, which gave her charcoal sweater a heather tone. One. Two. Three. Four. Callie counted the seconds as the light faded. Sixteen seconds. Her hand had been lit up for sixteen seconds. “Didn’t feel splendid,” she snarled even though her hand didn’t hurt and her skin wasn’t mangled in the least.
The motherfucker just rolled his eyes. “I have no patience for dramatics. My magic protected you from pain. You aren’t injured. Quite the opposite.”
“What did you do to me?”
“Seeing as how you weren’t able to retrieve the soul today, I wanted to ensure you’d be able to detect them from now on.”
“Everyone’s got a soul. It shouldn’t be rocket science. Ever think that it might not be my fault?” Her bravado was returning in waves, obscuring the panic making her lungs and heart quiver.
“Oh, if only it were so simple. Most people have souls, yes.” The way he emphasized most made Callie shudder. “Don’t forget I can take the soul out of anyone, and one can live with a scrap of soul for years.”
She couldn’t keep up the front. The pressure of his gaze, the nonchalance of using magic on her without her consent, it was all too much. “Did you do something to my soul, just now?” she blurted out.
Borrowed Souls: A Soul Charmer Novel Page 5
