Borrowed Souls (Soul Charmer #1)(39)

Bianca deflected. Her back-alley deal tone would have been more appropriate at The Fall than at a belly-dancing bar. “I just do your old-fashioned massage and aromatherapy. It’s great for allergies.”

“Oh, okay.” She didn’t need to have her sinuses tweaked. She needed a bonus soul, a whole lot less violent threats in her life, and … holy hell, her hands were stiff. She was able to open them, which was a modicum improvement from when they were frozen, but her skin was akin to a kindled log with blackened pieces curling at the edges and golden embers smoldering beneath. Oh, shit. Immolation was un-fucking-acceptable. Seeing her hands singe and blacken with heat was definitely new. What the hell was happening? The pain wasn’t there, but her hands felt impossibly full of dangerous energy, like they were so ablaze they’d inflict serious damage. If it were real, she’d be screaming right? Was she hallucinating? Was this another of the Charmer’s tricks? He’d said she wouldn’t be injured, but he was also probably a fucking liar.

“You’ve got some magic in you, don’t you?” Bianca’s tone might have sounded sultry to those within earshot, but Callie knew otherwise. The fire burning in her hands exploded as the woman edged closer.

Making poor decisions because of her fear was the old Callie. A few years ago, the fear of knowing what Bianca wanted from her would have been too much; she would have melted down. But that was the Old Callie.

“I’m not the only one,” she ground out, almost gritting her teeth. Anger and pain fused, pushing Callie into Alpha Cat mode. This fire wouldn’t take her. Her hands weren’t really scorched. They couldn’t be. Others in the restaurant had clearly noticed something was going on, but no one was charging toward them with a fire extinguisher. They had simply given the two women a wide berth. Even the bartender was nowhere to be seen. Which was good, because Callie didn’t need another drink. She needed some goddamn useful information. The sooner she had leverage, the sooner she could be done with the goddamn soul-detector fingers.

“Why did you come here?” Bianca asked.

“I heard Tess had something to do with why I keep running into people who set off my magic. Thought she might be able to give me some insight,” Callie imbued the words with confidence, but stifled a shudder at taking ownership of the magic the Charmer had forced into her.

Bianca sneered. “Tess didn’t make your hands like that. She’s not going to touch you.”

Callie reached her limit—of the pain, of the bullshit, of Bianca making her hands go firestorm. She clamped a hand against Bianca’s shoulder like they were old friends and she’d told a hilarious joke. Bianca’s yelp earned a few glances, but no one moved. Her dreams of quick fixes to her soul magic woes were dashed. Callie pressed her hand more firmly against Bianca and the heat leapt from her hands, an acrid scent of melting rayon filling the space between them as Bianca’s dress began to smoke under the heat. “Care to tell me why everyone who fails to return a soul to its rightful owner—” she couldn’t bring herself to say the Charmer’s name “—has your boss’s name on their lips?”

Bianca’s nostrils flared as Callie’s hand funneled more and more heat into her shoulder. “She’s doing this city a service. We will be purified,” she said through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, Derek yanked Callie’s hand away from Bianca. She hadn’t even heard him return. Great. This magic was screwing with her mind now, too. She shook her hands as if she could fling the magic away like droplets of water. It didn’t work. Derek examined her hands, which were blackened, but thankfully free of melted fabric. He nodded once, some finite decision made, and put his back to her.

“Back up,” he said to Bianca.

“You know her?” she spat at him, even as she complied. Callie’s brain had fried upon seeing her seared skin, and it was still rebooting. She did her damnedest to ignore her hands and tried to focus on their conversation.

Each step she took in the opposite direction eased the pain in Callie’s hands. Her skin slowly faded back to normal, the embers snuffed.

“Yeah, I do, and if you retaliate against her, there will be consequences.” Perhaps turning that broad back of his to her had been a way to protect her. Again. He had to be getting sick of saving Callie at this point.

Derek wasn’t all threats, though. He had the bartender dig out a first aid kit and told him to tend to Bianca’s burn. A fount of information about Tess, the source of his current work stress, was there for the taking, but he ignored the lure.

Callie’s ire was ebbing, which let fresh waves of panic and regret crash against her mind. Still better than looking at her hands. Derek didn’t avoid them, though. He lifted her hands near his face, inspecting them so closely it bordered on palm reading. She couldn’t see them past his bulky fingers. Her skin no longer tingled, and the fires had been snuffed. She’d seen them charred, though. Finally, he relinquished them with a heavy huff. All signs of burnt flesh were gone from her palms.

“Let’s go.” He pitched his voice low.

“H-h-how?” She held her unblemished hands in front of her face, rotating them for full inspection. Had it been a trick? Magic tricks were with cards or coins, not turning women’s hands into campfire logs.

“You’re okay. It can’t hurt you, remember?”