Beck stretched a hand over his shoulder and pressed his fingers against his traps. When he let his hand fall back to his side, he gave his head a subtle shake. “I don’t even know if you’re kidding anymore.”
Derek’s half-hearted shrug didn’t offer much, but it made Beck snort.
It had taken Derek time to get comfortable enough to jest with her. How long had he known Beck? The tension in the room was beginning pinch Callie’s nerves. Or maybe it was residual magic.
“You’ve been working here too long,” Beck said.
While Callie agreed, neither she nor Derek said as much.
She checked the time on her phone. The digits helped her for once. She needed an excuse out of this room, and time was a good one. “We should get going.”
“Right.” Beck turned toward the door.
“Do I look like I’m angling for a good time?” she said to Derek.
The storm clouds billowing in his gaze parted. “I hope not, since you’re leaving with him.”
She bumped her elbow against his ribs without any force. “For the pickup—”
“I know, doll.” He reached forward, and tugged the hair tie from her ponytail. His forearm brushed her jaw. She started to lean into the touch, but caught herself at Beck’s cough. Derek brought her hair forward over a shoulder. His fingers lingered in her tresses for a moment. “Hair down is better. Ponytail is your get shit done look.”
She huffed. “Ponytail is my fuck blow-dryers look.”
His deep, bourbon-drenched grumble would have made her stay, if this wasn’t so important. She took hold of his tee shirt, and tugged him forward with it. Their kiss was hard and far too short, but it was a promise and a threat. Come back or I’ll come for you met I’ll return for more of that and more of you.
“Thanks,” she whispered. He trusted her to do this alone. He wasn’t going to fight her battles for her, because sometimes she needed to be the one who handled shit. Sometimes she needed to protect him. Doing what it takes was in her DNA. Like called to like there. He lifted his chin toward the door, his masculine endorsement of the plan. That man was better at nonverbal communication than she was at words.
Beck pulled open the Soul Charmer’s door, and Callie stepped through first. This place had brought nothing but torture, murder, and depravity into her life, but it’d also brought her Derek. For the first time, she was eager to find a soul and return to the Soul Charmer’s shop in downtown Gem City.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The Railyard was one of the few areas in the city that tourists would frequent at night. The designated pick-up point from Anonymous Souls was in front of a pottery place in the bustling district. The sidewalk wasn’t packed, but a steady stream of people hurried past Callie.
Ruby’s Ceramics, though, was packed with people painting and laughing. The pottery shop was part gallery, part bring your own booze and make shit classrooms. This evening it looked to be heavily leaning on the latter. Almost every table had two bottles of wine on it. Callie hadn’t painted pottery before, but with a solid buzz she’d be willing to try. That is, if she ever got to have a normal night that didn’t involve clandestine meetings and missing people.
Callie and Beck stood outside of the small studio and waited for their dealer to arrive. Icicles stretched from the lower points of the street lamp, but the lamp’s steady golden flow wasn’t hindered by frost. The snow had stopped, but the temperature was steadily dropping. That’s how the desert worked, even in the winter. Getting colder was part of the package. Callie tugged her scarf higher to touch her chin. Derek had given her this one. It was thick, knitted wool the color of a cabernet wine in a dark corner. It wasn’t what she would have picked for herself, but it was perfect. It was cozy and vibrant and carried enough of Derek’s scent to remind her he’d have her back even if he weren’t here.
Beck cupped his hands over his mouth. Steam slipped from the edges. “Hope these people are punctual.”
“If they’re trying to steal business from the Charmer, you’d think they would be. If they’re too late, people will go to someone else.”
“Maybe. Some people aren’t the biggest fans of our boss.”
Understatement. “Some people? No one likes him, but there’s never a shortage at his place and he’s always there…” Callie’s mouth moved ahead of her brain, and the last words trickled out as she mentally twisted off the tap.
Beck knocked his shoulders back. His chest was broader; he was bigger. The hawk on Callie’s wrist probably did the same thing. That proud puffing could be a good deterrent to a fight. Not that she was trying to start one.
She quickly changed the subject. “Do we look like we’re planning to party later?”
Callie bounced on the balls of her feet, hoping it looked like she was keyed up—from excitement or coke, she didn’t care. Either way it diffused the jitters.
A puff of smoke carried his staccato laugh into the night air. “I’d buy you were ready to hit a bar and dance.”
“I wouldn’t mind a drink, if I’m honest.” Focusing on their conversation helped steady her nerves. Or maybe a swig or two from one of the bottles of wine inside the pottery joint.
Her magic was mingling with the crisp air, and she stretched it behind her. The men and women hurrying along the sidewalk steered clear of them as a result. The people were far enough from her to keep unnatural ice from coating her skin. She was at peak cold, and could really do without magical bullshit. However, she did catch snippets of sensation from the passing souls. Guess the Charmer had been right about hearing them. None were saying enough to grab her, but the subtle chatter was enough to remind her of the stakes here. If the Anonymous Soul team had stolen the Soul Charmer’s wares, any of these people could die. They could rent a soul to not feel guilty about cheating on their taxes or for having some no-strings-attached sexy times, and die as a result. As much as she found the whole celestial loophole a gross cheat, the penalty for use sure shouldn’t be death.
“It’s six,” Beck said.
A moment later a black van rolled up to the curb. The passenger side window rolled down.
A thirty-something woman leaned toward them from the driver’s seat, shadows hiding her face. “You order Anonymous?”
Callie put on her best imitation of the customers she hated the most. “That’s me! So glad you found it.”
“We set the spot.”
“Ha! Right! Well…” Lord help her if this woman wanted her to get inside that van.
“Hold on.” The woman’s three-pack-a-day rasp slid past the window before it rolled back up.
The engine cut, and soon the woman rounded the van. She had at least a head more height than Callie, even as she hunched forward to trudge through the hard-packed snow at the edge the street.
“You have the cash?” Callie wished she could fake that kind of bored disinterest, but the woman’s eyes were sharp. She tracked every movement Callie and Beck made.
“Of course. Three, right?”
“Yeah.” The woman keened her head to the right until her ear nearly grazed her shoulder. She made the move look graceful and disaffected. Her naturally curly hair offered the air of polish Callie didn’t have. Hell, maybe this lady was ready for a night out for real.
Beck proffered the money. Once the dealer had the cash in hand, she said, “You want me to check your chakras first?”
A punch to the nose wouldn’t have rocked Callie as much as that statement. She tried to maintain her excited affect, but this woman was too familiar, those words were too familiar. Tess had built her business on chakra massage, which had turned out to be her siphoning snippets of her patron’s souls. Classy shit. Gem City had its fair share of woo-woo shit, and aligning chakras wasn’t that weird. And yet those words, that affect, flicked against her collarbone. The rap-rap-rap of memory begging to be let in.
The dealer shoved a lock of hair away from her face in a blunt motion. Aquamarine flashed a hello from the woman’s wrist. The sp
eckled stone was familiar, too. Callie could forget plenty in the wake of stress and soul magic. But chakra massage and gaudy ass jewelry? The thwack of remembering hit home, shook her sternum, and fired the truth to the front of Callie’s mind.
This woman had worked at Cedar Retirement. She’d been one of the massage therapists who hit up the retirement home a couple times a month—back when Callie still had a reputable job, back before her apprenticeship killed that. Insurance didn’t cover chakra whatever, but this woman had stood by as another therapist sided with Tess. Whoever this Anonymous Souls driver was, she wasn’t new to the shady side of business. Massage therapy must not pay like it used to if she was hustling souls out of a van.
Had shit gotten bad enough for this lady that she wouldn’t remember Callie, too? The whole plan hinged on Callie being the mark, being the dumb girl who wanted some consequence-free sinning. If the driver recognized Callie, it would all fall apart, and Callie was really fucking over things falling apart.
“We just need the rental so she can have a good time this weekend,” Beck answered, diverting the chakra question and pulling the attention to himself. He said it like he was a bad influence and ready to give Callie a weekend of pure debauchery. Either he was an ace liar, or he’d given into the chaos party life at some point.
“Your loss.” The dealer didn’t double take at Callie, and didn’t hesitate to continue the transaction.
“Whatever, I’m ready to get the goods and get to the club.” Callie’s voice squeaked, and she hated herself a little bit more.
“Cool. I’ll give you the soul. Sunday morning you need to call the number on the back of this card,” she handed over one of the Anonymous Souls cards, and Callie took it. “Tell the guy that answers where you are, and we’ll come pick it up or we’ll agree to meet somewhere like this again.”
This soul rental company hadn’t been in business long, but this dealer’s indifference was concerning. She rattled this process off like she was a bus driver calling out the stops on a commuter line. How could this already be rote for her? How many souls were Anonymous Souls slinging?
“What if we don’t meet up?”
That got her attention. “Excuse me?”
“I mean like what if I’m hungover or whatever and oversleep.”
“She won’t oversleep,” Beck quickly interjected.
“If you don’t call in, we’ll come find you. We have tracking on all of our souls.”
Callie blanched, and it wasn’t an act. Tracking the souls was impossible. This woman was full of shit. Right?
“Purely a safety measure. Keeping rented souls too long can have some side effects.” While that was true, this lady didn’t know the half of it. It was another repeated phrase with no substance behind it.
“Oh, okay,” was all even fake-party-girl Callie could muster.
The dealer slid open the van’s side door, and returned with a small tin. Callie didn’t have to stretch her magical muscles to hear the soul within. The material wasn’t enough to fully contain the soul.
It was screaming.
Blood curdling caterwauls blasted Callie’s eardrums. Her chest began to shake, but she wasn’t hyperventilating. Her heart lurched. Her stomach heaved. Her magic hit.
Callie wouldn’t bother faking. Her hand was engulfed in bright blue flames. She took the tin from the other woman’s hand. The dealer yelped. Her skin puckered where Callie’s had touched hers. Good. Slinging tainted souls without a single care for the consequences? You get what you deserve. Callie certainly had to swallow her lumps.
Now the dealer was shrieking. Beck barreled forward and into her. He and the dealer collapsed through the open van door. Callie’s focus was the searing of her own skin and the source of the problem. The tendon in her thumb was quickly becoming visible as her skin and muscles succumbed to the soul fire. Callie used her good hand to pull the flask from her pocket. She popped the cap, and brought it close to the tiny tin in her ruined fingers. Go, she ordered. This wasn’t a soul she could be sweet to. Those screams were not pleas for help. They were not a request to escape the rental services. They were pure agony without context. Callie wasn’t sure how to even handle the soul, but she’d figure that part out later.
The raging soul leaped into the flask and Callie capped it inside. She watched her muscles and skin regrow. Once her magic was snapped back inside, she took a slow breath and ventured a glance over her shoulder. The ceramics class was still going, and the women and men inside were laughing and drinking and clearly hadn’t watched her burst into flames. Score one for the distractive powers of wine.
That boozy haze inside the pottery place would only extend so far. The soul dealer’s screams were muffled, but her block-heeled boots banged against the van.
“Little help here.” Beck huffed between each wrenched word.
Callie shoved the flask back into its snug pocket. “Sure,” was the automatic answer, but could she actually assist him? How many souls were in that van? How many were in poor containers ready to split? How many were vile, broken souls? How many would claw for escape? How many would scratch her?
Beck dropped a heavy forearm at the woman’s temple. She groaned, but her hands continued to dig at his side and the back of his arm, the open van door exposing the struggle to the sidewalk. “Any time now, Callie.” His raw words raked the air.
She’d stepped to the curb, but couldn’t make herself move closer. Snow seeped into her sneakers. The canvas shoes sinking into the packed snow enough to let the chilled moisture soak her socks. It wasn’t the potential souls holding her back. It was the woman at the door of the van. Kidnapping was depraved. Only she’d done it before. She’d taken Tess to the Charmer. Now here she was again with another “enemy.” Could she really be a party to another kidnapping? She wasn’t supposed to be this person. A couple men crossed the street to avoid the ruckus. Their privacy wouldn’t last long. Mobile phones in hands meant the police would be on their way soon.
They needed this lead. They needed this woman. They needed answers. They needed to protect Gem City from the tainted wares she was peddling. Callie needed to find another way to do this without allowing Beck to beat up on the dealer, though. If she could erect a barrier to block souls and she could shove souls to get space, could she do this a better way?
Callie focused on the snapping of magic beneath her skin. She grasped the radiating warmth in her chest and called it to the forefront. Magic pooled in her palms. The shimmering white nebulas were only for her. She lifted her gaze to the dealer. “Beck, let her go.” She sounded so far away.
Beck’s death glare was legit, but he staggered when he saw her. The sharp line of his jaw blurred, and the rosy red of his cheeks chilled. He didn’t look to her open hands; he couldn’t see the power in them.
“Move,” Callie reiterated.
He acted immediately.
The Anonymous Souls employee levered herself upright, muscles tight and ready to bolt.
Callie whispered so quietly the wind itself couldn’t hear her words. “Sleep. You’ll have to speak the truth soon, but now sleep.”
Swirling streaks of white stretched toward the dealer and slipped around her neck, up her nose, and into her mouth. The woman coughed twice, and then fell back against the van’s thin carpeted floor with a heavy thud.
Callie blinked, and the world slapped back against her mind. The street was too loud, her skin was too tight, and the nighthawk on her wrist vibrated in a steady hum. Beck’s eyes were still wide, and his lips were parted just enough to let her know whatever she’d done had scared him. Same here, dude.
“We need to get out of here.” Playing this off as normal was the only option. She could freak the fuck out later. Each day soul magic was becoming easier. While that was convenient in the moment, she wasn’t sure it was a good thing. Actually, she knew it wasn’t a good thing; any act that brought her in commonality to the Soul Charmer couldn’t be a good thing.
Beck’s hesitation bur
ned off quickly. He tucked the woman’s feet inside the van, and slid the door closed.
“How do you want to do this?” Where his eyes had offered challenge before, now only deference could be found.
Again she was in charge. She could picture her five-year-old self dressed up in Zara’s heels. Playing the part of an adult. Beck’s focus said he didn’t see that. Playing along was the only option. “I’m not sure I can go in the van,” she said truthfully. “Can you drive it over the Charmer’s? We can regroup there.” And I can ask Derek what the fuck we’re supposed to do now.
“Yep.” He tossed her the keys to his car. “You can drive a stick right?”
“I’m good.”
At those two words, Beck turned and hurried around to the driver’s side door. If he wasn’t going to wait for more instructions, she shouldn’t either. The wail of a siren in the distance had her pulling her feet from the snow bank and heading down the street. Beck pulled away, and she doubted he looked back.
Callie tucked her chin inside the lush scarf until the fabric grazed her nose. She focused on getting back to Derek and hurried down the street. She wouldn’t try to guess if those wails were a fire engine or Gem City PD. She didn’t need to be anywhere near them.
She tugged her phone from the front pocket of her jeans, and shot Derek a quick text of warning. If Beck arrived before her, she didn’t want to risk the two getting into another blow-up over this. Derek wouldn’t be bothered by the dealer being brought in for questioning, but Callie suspected Beck arriving alone was going to result in a broken bone. That was, if he got there first. Callie jumped into the muscle car, and didn’t even bother tinkering with the thermostat. She gunned the engine and set out to make record time back to downtown.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Callie’s phone drilled a steady plea in her pocket. She stopped for a red light. Beck’s car lurched. New brakes were touchy as hell. She checked the phone screen. There were a half dozen “Call me” texts in a row. Josh hated talking on the phone almost as much as she did.
Lost Souls (Soul Charmer Book 3) Page 17
