Borrowed Souls (Soul Charmer #1)(78)

She needed to work on her poker face. “You can’t go with me anyway—”

“I can’t go inside. We talked about this. I’ll be there.”

“You need to heal.”

“His magic has fixed more than a slice of my flesh before. Trust me.”

God, she did, and it turned her stomach. What other injuries had Derek received while working for that man? How many times had he been revived by magic? He wouldn’t let another soul touch his, but there had to be consequences to this type of thing as well.

“Why work for him?” she whispered as the thoughts coalesced.

“It’s what I’m good at, and my loyalty is valued there.” The hardness in his voice was full of pain, but it had nothing to do with the stitched wound on his chest. It slammed the door on the conversation, but told her more than enough. He owed the Charmer. She sensed it wasn’t an indentured servitude like hers, but whatever it was, it was big. And he did not want to discuss it.

Letting it slide was the adult thing to do. Being an adult sucked. “Understood. You still want that pill?”

He gave her a weak smile. “Yeah.”

Once Derek was snoozing again, she returned to memorizing her heist plans. The petty crimes in her past hadn’t prepared Callie for a task of this magnitude. The closest to on-site police she’d gotten was a mall rent-a-cop, and it wasn’t exactly difficult to evade a man who was forty pounds overweight. Desk jockey police might not be in their prime, but they’d catch her or shoot her. Guns were a factor she hated having to contemplate.

What kind of favor would the Soul Charmer demand in exchange for healing a bullet wound? She’d be indebted for a year, at least. One would think the fear of being shot would be at the top of her terror list, but it’s what would happen after the bullet hit her that scared Callie the most.

If she designed a government building, she’d make it a maze. Gem City Police apparently didn’t agree, or maybe they didn’t expect bad guys to want to break into their facilities. Either way, the path to the server storage room was simple. She’d walk one hallway until it ended, take a left, and the door would be there. It was in the center of the building, but not exactly hard to access. Blueprints were deceptive, though. The printouts on their own wouldn’t show all the opportunities for things to go to shit.

Ford or one of his men, however, had been kind enough to outline those helpful notes onto the page. Locked doorways and keypads were marked, as was the main desk where she’d have to check in. They’d included a card in the envelope that would gain Callie access first to the building and then into the forensics storage room, but not a script for what to say to the cop at the entrance. There also weren’t instructions for a contingency plan. At least Ford was confident the access card would function. The server room required a six-digit code to enter. They changed it weekly, but supposedly the one on the sheet from the mafia king would work.

The numbers meant nothing to her, though, and her mind didn’t want to commit them to memory. They weren’t from a song and didn’t include any former addresses or lucky numbers. She swiped a hand across her forehead, displeased to discover she’d worked up a sweat like she was back in middle school studying for an American History test.

Memorizing every sequence of numbers in the world wasn’t going to guarantee the job would be a success. The soul part—which she strived to pretend was totally normal and not terrifying—would mask her DNA and fingerprints. Unless she became the first person ever to pull off inconspicuously wearing a black ski mask inside a police station, cameras were going to catch her face. Ford had been confident the soul was necessary. Hopefully her face would blur while she was doubled on souls. She hadn’t heard of that being a thing, but she was only an “insider” on this magic shit for a couple weeks. She had to cross her fingers that’d work, because the chance of spending the next decade in an orange jumpsuit wasn’t calming Callie’s nerves.

Derek didn’t need to know about her camera fears, because then he’d offer to help her. When Derek learned what she’d done to Tess, what it’d taken to get him out of the Charmer’s for the night, he wasn’t going to want to be in any deeper with her. He’d liked that she was morally good, and that couldn’t last when you seared the skin off another person. Best to make her own plans now and save him the additional hurt.

Callie jumped when her phone rang. Nothing said you were definitely, totally ready for a master break-in like being scared of your phone. She silenced the ringer, then answered. “Hello?”

“How’s it going, sis?”

She peeked in on Derek. Once she was confident he was still sleeping, she pulled the door shut and replied in a dark hiss, “Dangerous question, Josh.”

“You’re still going through with it, right?” Panic made him squeaky.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Yes, I’m still going through with it.” Did he think so little of her?

His sigh muffled all other sound on the line. “Good. I mean, thanks.”

“Are you being taken care of?” Concern began to twist in her chest.

“I’m still whole and they’re feeding me. No worries. As long as they get what they want, we’ll both be fine.”

Callie frowned. That didn’t sound like Josh at all. “Are you reading from a script?”