Borrowed Souls (Soul Charmer #1)(74)

She was about to tell him what he could do with his propositions when the Charmer caught sight of Derek. “What happened to him?” he asked in a rush, concern snapping to his face in a flash.

“Knife wound. You any good at stitches?”

The Charmer lifted a stool from behind the counter and brought it toward them. He sat it next to a wall, and Derek dropped onto the wooden seat immediately. The Charmer investigated the injury, holding up Callie’s wadded shirt in question. She shrugged and he gave Derek’s wound a closer look. “I can heal him,” he said finally.

“He’s going to be okay?” Her throat was tight and raw, but the Charmer didn’t pounce on the vulnerability. Maybe he cared about Derek, too. Huh.

“Of course. A little blood loss.”

“Tess is out in the car,” Callie blurted.

The Charmer’s lips pulled back. Too bad a smile and a snarl looked identical on his face. His eyes hardened, and that wicked glint appeared a moment later. “Stay with him.”

“Where are you going?”

He narrowed his eyes, but Callie was beyond caring about how the Soul Charmer felt. “To get tools for him, and to send someone out to retrieve my prize. Where is your car?”

“Right outside the front door.”

He huffed, but scuttled to the back without any further comment.

She squatted next to Derek, her shoes sinking into the carpet as her weight shifted toward her toes. His eyes were barely open. Blood loss could act a whole lot like a concussion. Callie would rather compare it to a normal injury than the real memory his dazed demeanor pulled: Josh, on his back in the middle of their mother’s living room. He’d been so high he hadn’t bothered to close the front door, much less lock it. Zara’s jewelry, what little there had been, and her TV had been stolen along with Josh’s shoes. Callie’d taken Josh to the emergency room for the first time that night. It was the same night she’d discovered her big brother wasn’t simply dabbling in the occasional pharmaceutical, but had developed a sincere love affair with methamphetamines.

Derek’s skin was feverish when she pressed her hand against his cheek. He wasn’t her brother. He wasn’t an addict. That fact only got her so far. The gouges in Callie’s heart were more than deep ravines; they were black holes. Opening up to people was hard enough. Her emotional scars tainted every new memory, every sight. Derek hadn’t been injured for her. This wasn’t some heroic wound. What happened in that back room was a mystery, but odds were it wouldn’t have made her proud. But Derek’s allegiance to the Charmer could be just as much a motivation as getting Callie out of Tess’s sights.

Guilt shook her hard enough she rested a hand on Derek’s knee for stability. He hadn’t done anything to earn those thoughts, so Callie crammed that thought down with all the other uncomfortable pellets.

“You still with me, big guy?” He needed her and she’d gone asshole in her mind. This was why she didn’t do relationships.

“Mhm.”

“The Charmer will be back in a second. He can fix you up.” She almost believed it herself.

“I’m already here,” the Charmer said from behind her. He shooed her out of the way with a frigid hand.

Expecting a first aid kit was a newbie mistake. The tray the Soul Charmer carried had a few normal medical supplies, like a needle and thread and gauze. The black, pulpy concoction with flecks of red filling a small dish at the center, however, gave Callie pause. “What’s that for?”

The Charmer kept his focus on his patient. Probably a good idea. He prodded Derek’s cut, drawing hisses and groans in equal measure. “Someone cut you deep.”

The words were meant for Derek, but they hit way closer to home then Callie would have liked.

The Charmer scooped the pulp into his palm and pressed it to Derek’s chest. Again Callie asked what it was for.

“I liked you better when you were quiet,” he hissed. After a moment, though, he told her. “It will stop the bleeding.”

The pressure from his scrawny arm had Derek’s swaying. Words that held no meaning for Callie flowed out of the Charmer’s lips and filled the room. Her fingers began to warm, but the magic never ignited a spark.

“Aren’t you going to clean the wound, at least?” Why was she letting this man care for Derek? She had the medical training, not him.

The Charmer ignored her again and wiped his hand on his pant leg before picking up the needle and thread. Biting back the offer to help squeezed Callie’s throat. Emotions were dangerous, especially for people with too much pride.

People like Callie.

The Soul Charmer busied himself behind the counter after stitching the gash in Derek’s chest, tinkering with jars and boxes like she’d seen the men at the retirement home do.

Derek had slipped out of consciousness, but remained upright against the wall. The Charmer didn’t cast him or Callie as much as a glance for more than twenty minutes.

“How much longer until I can move him?” she finally asked.

“Who said you’re going to?”

Callie walked to the counter, a woman with purpose. “I did.”

The Charmer’s guffaw rattled into a cough, but before she could press the matter, another man entered from the back of the store. He was Callie’s height, maybe thirty, with slicked back hair.