Borrowed Souls (Soul Charmer #1)(2)

“Fine. I need an average soul for a couple of days.” Average soul. She shook herself. What did that even mean?

“That’s understandable. If I were you, I wouldn’t want someone too tainted curling up in that little body of yours either.”

“Are we going to do this or not?” she almost spat at him. Was this how he treated all of his customers? Callie’s irritation was boiling up inside her, but as disgusting as the Soul Charmer was, she couldn’t afford for him to say no. She had to bite her tongue. She looked around the dank room, avoiding his gaze.

“I don’t see a rate menu,” she finally said, gesturing toward the counter between them, careful not to touch it.

“How much do you have?”

Great. Renting a soul was just like buying pot for the first time. Now, though, wasn’t the time to negotiate; she couldn’t risk not getting the goods. Her savings were minimal, but she could only hope the offer would be fair. “$200.”

He shook his head. “Not enough. What else you got?”

What did she have? A car with a hole in the muffler, an apartment with an inconsistent heater, and a brother who fucked up so royally his baby sister had to do a job for some hustler in order to keep his stupid ass alive. A job that required this soul. A soul that wouldn’t raise questions, one that could cover her crimes, and one that could withstand the taint of the filthy things she’d have to do to save Josh.

She shrugged. “Not much.”

“You could pawn that pretty soul—”

“We already covered that.” Irritation, and her need to get the fuck out of his shop as soon as possible, steeled her spine.

“No need to get testy.” His tongue darted to wet his lips, and in that moment Callie swore his green pajamas sprouted scales. Nothing like doing business with the cold blooded.

“Unless you’ve got layaway, I’ve got $200.”

“You can work off the extra.”

The list of things she wouldn’t do to help her brother was short, but renting a soul was already on the outer limits of her comfort zone. She aimed for Zen breathing, and waited for him to take the offer back, shooting him a death glare.

He rolled his eyes. “Not like that. I can see your soul, remember?”

He was bored. Too bad. She was roiling with fear, guilt, and an extreme need for a shower, but she wasn’t getting all preachy about it.

“Then what?”

“A collector.”

“Like I’m supposed to know what that is.”

“Not everyone is good about returning the souls they barter for in this shop. I employ people to retrieve them for me.”

“Employ? You mean like a job.”

“Yes. It’s a common term.”

She didn’t need a job; she needed a soul. “Either you want my money or you don’t.”

“You don’t have money.”

If only that weren’t true. Defeated, Callie turned and strode toward the door, realizing as she left that she was about to fail Josh. She’d do almost anything for him, but this? Working for the Charmer was too much—too terrifying, if she were being honest—and too close to hitting rock bottom.

The Charmer called after her but she was already out the door, into the alleyway. The wind whirled around her, cold and unforgiving. Her hair whipped her face. Lashes she’d earned. Five minutes earlier, she’d expected to leave the shop loaded down from the guilt of having rented a soul. The weight of not renting one was turning out to be worse.

“Okay, I’ll give you a partner,” the Charmer’s voice called out behind her, his tone hardened, like it really was his final offer.

Sometimes people say something so idiotic it nearly stops your heart, and all you can do is wait for your brain to recover and jumpstart the whole operation. That was Callie: a statue in denim. She stopped walking, and turned slowly to face him. “Do I look like the enforcer type?”

“I didn’t say anything about collecting funds. Or injuring anyone.”

“Yes, because I’m sure a polite ‘Please return that soul’ is all it will take.”

“You’re lucky I can see your soul,” he muttered loud enough to avoid losing the words to the wind.

“Not interested.” She shuffled forward again. She’d find another way to save Josh, she told herself. There had to be another way than this, right?

“I’ll give you a partner who can handle the—ahem—heavy lifting. Your soul intrigues me. I think you might have a knack for this work.”

“I don’t want a ‘knack’ for this.”

“It’s an easy job. You can keep your $200, and you’ll get your soul.”

Follow around some collections guy and she’d get the soul she needed to save Josh? The Charmer eyed her—and her soul, Callie suspected—with too much leering interest, but he wasn’t the first creep she’d met. She’d had worse offers before, and besides, deep down she knew she had fuckall in the way of options.

“How long?” she asked, like it mattered.

“You collect with the partner of my choosing for six weeks, and I’ll let you rent a soul for one day.”

“Six weeks? No.” She could probably earn the money in a legit way in six weeks. Plus, Josh didn’t have that kind of time.