Borrowed Souls (Soul Charmer #1)(61)
“Pantry closet.” Zara’s bored tone rankled Callie more than the dismissive gesture toward the door on her right.
Sure enough, there was the black stool shoved next to the extra laundry detergent on the floor of the closet. Callie’d taken a single step toward Zara when the ice hit her.
God, no. Her, too? Seriously? If their family already had a soul magic hook-up, Josh could have mentioned it. He could have told her what Zara was into. Callie’s gut grew heavier the more her brain battered the idea of her mom renting souls. Her fingers grew stiff against the miniature ladder she held. Thankfully, she’d sprung for the pricier wood version.
There were a lot of situations Callie could handle. She had somehow balanced her real job and her dubious night gig, up until earlier that morning. She’d been dealing with a mob boss and his magical counterpart, and was on the whole still in one piece. But accepting her mother used soul magic? Nope. That was one more what-the-fuck on the disaster cake, and Callie was not going to bite.
Frankie chose that moment to start meowing. Callie had no idea if cats could sense magic, but then she hadn’t exactly thought people could sense it either. Shit changed, and the fluffy guy knew it.
“Why are you just standing there? Josh doesn’t ever take this long. Get him down.” Zara’s rushed criticisms usually cut deeper. Maybe the numbing sensation crawling through Callie’s veins wasn’t such a bad addition to her visits to Mom.
She managed to keep walking past Zara and over to the far wall. Focusing on the cat kept Callie afloat, despite the rotting pit of disappointment in her gut. She kneaded her fingers as subtly as she could, and as she moved farther away from Zara, they eased enough she was able to put down the stool, which, while helpful for the task at hand, rather solidified the whole “Mom Uses Souls” front. Frankie was curled in the small cabinet above the refrigerator. Zara kept the door closed, but Frankie had batted it open, like he always did. He was a clever cat; Callie probably would have liked him more if she didn’t have to come over and “save him.” He didn’t scratch her when she pulled him out, but he did flee to Zara the instant his paws touched the floor. Either cats couldn’t sense soul magic, or Frankie put family first too. Just like the other Delgados.
“You need anything else while I’m here?” The ingrained need to give and give wouldn’t let Callie leave without offering. Not exactly a habit of a highly successful person. Why couldn’t Zara be the mom Callie remembered from when she was little? It was a pointless wish, but Callie longed for her mother to go legit. She mentally slapped herself. Josh had a chance to change. He’d already hit rock bottom. Zara still had too far to fall.
Her mom scooped Frankie into her arms, and as she lazily stroked the cat the natural nastiness she exuded softened. “I wouldn’t have called, but Josh hasn’t come by.”
Twinges of guilt overrode Callie’s jealousy and nerves. Mostly. Her mom was clearly worried. She wasn’t out to make the lady suffer, but telling her anything would only make everyone’s lives more complicated. “I’m sure he’ll be by as soon as he can.”
Zara’s gaze darted to her daughter. Her vision too sharp for her own good. “Why are you standing all the way over there? I don’t smell.”
“Patchouli counts as a smell, Mom.” Deflection was better than letting the edge of her mother’s words cut her. The distant look in her mother’s eyes couldn’t be a side effect of using magic. Right?
“Calliope.” Only Zara said her name like a curse.
“Yeah, Mom?” Fatigue sacked her. Years of dealing with family bullshit took its toll. Typically Callie could compartmentalize it into safe, easy to manage pains. She could hide the compacted balls of sorrow between her ribs like a squirrel planning for a guilt-filled winter. But now—after night after night of saving face in front of Ford and managing not to crumple in the same room as the Soul Charmer and slamming face-first into a world teeming with wicked magic—she didn’t have the energy to detach and manage her emotions.
“I know you know something about Josh. Sit down and we’ll talk.” Zara looked to the open seat on the other side of the kitchen table, and then back at her daughter.
Callie took a single step toward her mother before her frost began to overtake her fingers. “I can’t.”
Zara’s upper chest was exposed. No hash marks. At least no one was stealing souls from her mother. Whatever concern Callie had for Zara disappeared. “You don’t have anywhere to be that’s more important than talking about your brother.”
“Like you would know.” Even as her brain flashed warning lights, Callie couldn’t hold back the words. Or regret saying them.
“You know where Josh is. You’re just keeping it from me because you don’t want me to help him.” Zara folded her arms in front of her chest, locking Callie out.
“Yeah, that’s me. Never helping Josh.”
Sarcasm was lost on her mother. “You’re so busy with your schedule and work that you’ve forgotten about what really matters.”
Her willingness to save Josh yet again had demolished her schedule. What had Zara been doing while Callie had been putting crime first, in the name of family? Renting souls. And for what? To ease the guilt from screwing over her kids? She wasn’t showing junkie signs, so it wasn’t drugs. Had she picked up a married dude? Whatever it was, it sure hadn’t been making her or Josh a priority. Classy, Zara, as always.