Borrowed Souls (Soul Charmer #1)(30)

After some not-so-gentle prodding from Derek.

Working magic was exhausting. She didn’t have to control the energy within the flask, but Callie’s muscles had ached by the time Derek dropped her off at home. She didn’t let him walk her to the door—it hadn’t been a date—but he stayed on his bike out front until she waved to him from the front window nevertheless.

A scalding shower hadn’t been able to singe the phantom tingle of magic skittering beneath her skin, but it had relaxed her enough to sleep. Calling her mother would have undone all the work from the steam. So she’d left it for the morning.

To say Zara was mad as a bull the next day would only disparage bovines.

She’d started with the next round of messages around 6:30 a.m. When Callie finally admitted to herself that she wouldn’t be sleeping in, it was 7:15, and the messages hadn’t said anything new. Zara worried over Josh and stockpiled all her anger for Callie. It’d only been in the last year Callie understood that was weird. She was the youngest, the little sister. Why was she deigned her brother’s keeper? In the last couple years, she’d certainly taken care of him, but their mother had been the one to put them in those roles so long ago. Callie’d been fifteen when Josh had moved out. From that point on, Zara had expected her to know where he was and keep his room ready in case he came back.

“It’s not like he’s shipped off with the navy,” Callie had told her mom.

Her cheek had stung at the fast crack of her mom’s hand against it. “Don’t you say things like that. You’ll jinx him.”

Callie had known better than to roll her eyes, but the idea Josh would enlist was asinine to the extreme. She’d mumbled an apology and hid in her room for the rest of the night. She’d eaten three Little Debbie’s snacks from the stash behind her bed in lieu of dinner with her mom that night.

At 7:40 a.m., Callie stopped avoiding Zara. More than an hour of buzzing texts and missed calls—no voicemails—had worn her resolve. This was where Josh got his tenacity. It might also explain why she’d agreed to work for the Charmer. Dealing with the mafia and magic were easier than enduring familial responsibilities.

“Hi, Mom,” Callie answered the phone. She settled at the end of the couch, pulling her knees against her chest. Fetal position couldn’t save her from the spackle of guilt Zara was about to apply, but it was better than nothing.

“I was about to call the police.” Zara gasped and wheezed, but Callie wasn’t about to let it worry her. Not her first rodeo.

“Why would you call the cops?” Drama queen.

“I’ve been leaving you messages since yesterday. You could have been dead.”

“I’m not dead.”

“I didn’t know that.” Pots clanged in the background.

“Yes, you did.”

“With an attitude like that you’re never going to be light enough to rise to heaven. How a child of mine gets such pleasure out of worrying her mother—”

“I don’t get pleasure from you worrying, but you weren’t worrying about me.”

The muffled kitchen sounds on the other end of the line quelled. “Of course I was. Now I’m a liar?”

Callie swore. This was going downhill fast. “What are you making, Mom?”

“Making?” she asked, a little dazed. Zara’s voice flitted to the soft, curious tone she used with everyone except Callie. She continued, no longer out of breath, “Oh, blondies for the new girl in 4A. She brings me my paper now.”

Zara hadn’t baked anything for Callie since she was eight. Those double-chocolate cupcakes with a creamy ganache icing were phenomenal. She’d hated sharing them. She didn’t bring Zara the paper, though. There was the inherent dig. It didn’t matter what Callie did, it wasn’t ever going to be seen as selfless. She could only hear, “This doesn’t change things,” and “You’re doing that for Josh, not me,” so many times before she’d quit wishing for simple thanks.

It was too damn early for a jog to those emotional scars. Callie smoothed a palm across her face. “What did you need, Mom?”

“Can’t I want to check on my daughter?”

“Your messages weren’t about me,” Callie muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“You sound tired.”

“It’s early,” Callie drew out the word, hoping if she said it slow enough her mom would get it.

She didn’t. “Have you seen Josh?”

He wasn’t being sent to her in tiny bits, so no. Callie drew in a long breath. Patience was key. “Not recently, but I talked to him on the phone earlier this week. He’s fine.”

“Fine? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means fine. As in you don’t need to worry.”

“Not worry? The two of you are trying to kill me.”

Tempting, but no. The less Zara knew, the safer everyone would be. Callie changed the subject. “How’s Frankie?”

“He’s the happiest cat. That catnip Josh got me for my birthday is Frankie’s favorite.”

Callie had bought the catnip. She’d bought all the gifts for her mom’s birthday, and the cards. Josh couldn’t remember the favored feline’s name. Whatever. It no longer mattered. She could have handed the present to her mom directly and she’d still give Josh the credit. Callie’s boss Louisa told her she didn’t have a favorite of her kids, but it’d only made her feel worse. Not everyone suffered from being the least favorite. If such things built character, then she should be the goddamn paragon of character. Erect temples in her name. After twenty-two years of being the lesser child, Callie was fucking done.