Borrowed Souls (Soul Charmer #1)(3)

“You need me for the soul.” He wasn’t wrong.

Before Callie knew what she was doing, she began haggling.

“Two weeks.” It was her final offer. This was it or she was out.

The Soul Charmer sighed, and gave Callie one last hard look. “Agreed. Two weeks of work for a one-day rental. You get it after your services are finished.”

Fourteen measly days. A fortnight. Hopefully Ford wasn’t going to do anything to Josh between now and then. And anyway, he was the one who’d ordered her to specifically use the Charmer’s services in the first place.

Making the deal felt like the aftermath of downing a shot of bottom-shelf vodka. “Two weeks, and then I get a soul.”

The edges of the Soul Charmer’s lips curled up slowly, lasciviously. Somehow, Callie managed to keep down her lunch. He gestured back to the store’s front door. A flash of gold on his hand drew her attention. How had he managed to get bulky gold rings over those knuckles? They looked like tree trunk knots.

“C’mon then…” he started, then trailed off. “I should probably know the name of my newest employee?”

“Callie,” she said, uneasy about him having even that much of her personal information.

She re-entered his store, but held back as he shuffled toward the worn black curtain he’d parted to enter the room through. He held the curtain open, but didn’t repeat his earlier request. The low ceiling, slathered with a cheap black lacquer, closed in as Callie met his gaze. Guess the job had already started.

The air thickened in the doorway. The step through was like wading in tar. She pushed herself forward, but suddenly her breath locked in her chest. She cleared the doorway, gasping, only to be blasted by a wall of pure heat. It was as though her coat had been incinerated and electricity danced on her bare skin. Callie all but fell into the next room, forcing her hands to stay tight to her side, avoiding the temptation to reach out and grab onto some unknown surface for balance. She finally found her footing, and staggered to a stop. What the hell was that?

The Soul Charmer looked back curiously, but a momentary brightness in his eyes was gone before Callie could be sure she’d even seen it.

“Don’t mind the door,” he said, making his way across the anteroom and opened another door—this one made of a honeyed wood. Warm light began to spill into the chamber.

“The door?” Callie’s voice was distant as she focused on the rows upon rows of picture frames hanging on the walls at her right and left. The glass panes were cloudy, but her gut told her she probably didn’t want to see the obscured faces anyway.

“Keeps other magic from my workspace,” he explained. “Come, come.” He waved his gnarled hand at her. She didn’t flinch this time.

Other magic? The only known magic was soul magic, she thought.

“The pictures do that?”

“Part of the pawn process. Those who choose to lend their souls for my services are recorded in there. They depart when their term is complete.” Eight lamps filled the two-hundred-square-foot space in the next room, their brightness doubled by the reflection from the pristine tile floor. Gone were the dark wood and aged tapestries pandering to the church. These walls were lined with shelves, obsidian jars stacked to the edges on each one. If she closed her eyes, the astringent in the air brought Callie back to the ICU. Memories welled against her lower eyelids, bringing up broken dreams she’d spent a long time trying to forget.

The Charmer settled behind an aged oak desk and began digging through a lower drawer. Callie shoved her hands in her pockets absentmindedly, and for a moment her coat stretched, showing off more of her figure that she ever wanted to reveal to him. She quickly removed them, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

“This—” he finally said, holding up a silver flask with a rich, black stone inlay, “—you will need to take with you.”

Callie reached for it, but he pulled it back at the last moment, out of her reach.

“Press the open mouth of the jar to the person’s sternum, nice and low.” He tapped two fingers against his own. “That will transfer the soul to the vessel. Then all you have to do is return it to me.”

“So where’s the ‘on’ button?” she asked sarcastically.

He ignored her.

“Fine, but does it have to be a flask?” She wasn’t averse to booze, but it was a little closer to alcoholic territory than she cared to venture.

“This one. Yes.”

“Why again do you need me to do this? I mean, I’m not reneging on the deal, but couldn’t your normal guy touch a flask to peoples’ stomachs just fine?”

“No.”

Callie waited for him to elaborate, but the Charmer clearly didn’t want to divulge more. She reached out her hand again. “Fine, then.”

This time he obliged. Her fingers slid over the obsidian inlay on the front of the container. The cool stone didn’t heat with her touch, but her fingertips tingled all the same.

The Charmer smiled, flashing silver. “Yes, you’ll do. Derek will meet you at your home tomorrow afternoon.”

“I’ll meet him here.”

The Charmer glared, but didn’t argue. “4 p.m. Don’t be late.”

Did she really have a choice?





—— CHAPTER TWO ——