Borrowed Souls (Soul Charmer #1)(47)



He stiffened as they slowed near a duplex with a manicured lawn on the north side of Gem City. Gone were the tile accents on adobe buildings and the fractured brickwork of downtown. The streets were brighter here, well-lit enough that she could spot the in-ground sprinkler systems spitting water on grass that shouldn’t grow in the desert. Derek had always parked at least a half block away from their target. Not this time. He was making his presence as obvious as possible from the outside. Joey would not only want them done talking by the time his wife returned, Derek pointed out, he’d want that hulking black bike off the street as well.

Derek’s look—the leather, the motorcycle, the muscles—was inherently threatening, and to a degree it was posturing, but he could back it up. Lord, had he proved that. However, Callie knew he’d rather not if given the out. A softer side was buried beneath all that mean. She was attracted to more than the man’s broad shoulders and scarred knuckles, more than the soft way he touched her with roughened fingers. His street smarts were a damn big part of the reason she was locked on him. Callie nodded to the unbidden thought.

If the knock Derek used at her place was thunderous, the bang of his fist against Joey’s door was positively booming. She glanced at the eaves, half expecting the house to shake. His knock must have been equally recognizable within the house, as the door flashed open seconds later.

Joey waved them in quickly. He peeked out the door after they stepped inside, as if he couldn’t do anything if neighbors were watching. He’d foregone standard Southwestern tile for plush carpeting in the dare-to-drink-wine shade of white. Family pictures covered one wall. Callie ignored the faces in the frames, more focused on the fact her fingers had heated and stiffened as she passed Joey.

He had the air of the type of guy people looked forward to seeing at the high school reunion. His square jaw and overall build made Callie think he’d played football, but if he had, the years away from daily practice had made him a bit doughy around the middle. His time escaping his problems with another person’s soul shoved behind his sternum had left its marks, too. The ashen tinge of his skin and the hollow look of his eyes were hard to miss now that Callie knew the signs of soul rental.

“Have a seat,” Joey said, extending his arm toward the couch right next to the front door.

Derek ignored him. If their host wanted to be comfortable, he’d have to start talking. Derek wasn’t about to let him have the edge. Callie followed his lead, and they walked toward a dining area. An Algebra II textbook rested at one end of the table. That explained the Toros pullover Joey wore. He had a kid at Gem City North High. Callie’d gone to South. They hadn’t been allowed to bring their textbooks home. Not that she was jealous. She had much bigger fish to fry than memories of poor school funding.

“You forget something?” Derek asked, without looking at Joey. He ran a finger along the spines of the books on a shelf. The power shift was heady. He was doing it to affect Joey, not her. She needed to remember she was one of the badasses here, too.

“I’ve been slammed at work. I meant to get down there—”

“You don’t look particularly busy right now.”

“Sarah’s going to be back soon,” he pleaded. He was a junkie, only his addiction was to filling his chest with another’s soul. Pathetic.

“Give it up, then.”

“I don’t have time to go now. Tomorrow morning.”

“No need. She can take it now.”

Callie pulled her shoulders back as pride soared through her. She was essential right now. No one had ever looked at her like she was vital to the job. Louisa appreciated the help in the kitchen, but Callie wasn’t the only person who could dice onions. Joey had mostly ignored her presence until then. Just like a rich guy. He hadn’t yet realized she had the ability to wield a device that could take his soul. She didn’t like the magic coursing through her veins, but she ignored the twin pangs of disgust and fear and pulled the flask from her pocket.

Again her body lit. The slowly rotating ceiling fan pushed enough air at her to tickle the back of her neck. Her fingers warmed against the stone. It was a new sensation, but a welcome one. The raging fire from last night was now more like wrapping her hands around a mug of hot cocoa. She’d prefer to swap soul storage of chocolatey goodness, but was just happy her hands weren’t on fire. She didn’t know—or care—whether the flask was dulling or channeling the pain. Now wasn’t the time to ponder her new magical nature. This was a rare moment of power. She was the woman to be frightened of. She was the one who you wouldn’t touch.

Callie strode toward Joey, head held high, and slammed the container’s opening against his sternum with more force than she would have thought possible with her slender arms. The muscles in his neck flexed until they were taut bolts that shoved his head backward. His nostrils flared while he stared at the ceiling, but Callie kept the pressure on. When the rush of magic abated, she stepped back and capped the flask. Her motions were quick, if imprecise. The need to get the flask returned to her pocket before it could flip her magic on again, and make her vulnerable, overrode all other thought. Derek watched her, but didn’t speak until she’d secured it and exhaled a steady breath.

Joey also regained his composure, though his face was noticeably three shades whiter. Derek wasn’t done with him, though. “Anyone else ask about that soul?” He inclined his head toward Callie, now the keeper of souls, apparently.

Chelsea Mueller's Books