Borrowed Souls (Soul Charmer #1)(86)

“Have I not proven myself trustworthy?” He slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “Fuck. How many times do I have to say I’ve got your back until you believe it?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. There are things about me you don’t know, and once you find them out, you won’t want to have risked your life on my account.”

His large, heavy hand landed on her knee. “Baggage is part of who we are. If I knew your secrets already I’d be some sneaky fuck. I’m not, but I’m also okay with you keeping some secrets until you’re comfortable.”

“Oh.”

“But I am not—seriously, Callie—not okay with being drugged.”

“Right. Won’t happen again.” She winced and let her words drip with sincerity. “How’d you come to so fast anyway?”

“Charmer’s healing stuff is still working. Burned it off fast.”

They were quiet for a moment. The matter wasn’t closed. He’d need to talk more. She needed to talk more. They weren’t dissolving just yet.

The bonus soul didn’t make her feel any better about her behavior. It didn’t mask her pain. Perhaps one had to want to accept its benefits for it to work. Its power depended on how much you believed in it. She’d let part of another person inside her, to forever taint her, to cover up her crime. To blur the evidence she’d left at the crime scene. She had to trust it had worked, because the other promises associated with soul renting, like feeling moral freedom, sure as shit weren’t legit.

Derek’s fingers thrummed on the steering wheel.

“Why doesn’t this—” she tapped her chest “—absolve my guilt?”

He pursed his lips. Was he locking away secrets she’d have to earn back access to, or contemplating the question? The muscle in his jaw ticked several times before he finally spoke with the gravelly timbre she was accustomed to. “No clue. I mean, I don’t know the metaphysical shit that goes on with the Charmer, but normally there’s—I don’t know—an added energy, I guess.”

“Like Bianca?” Life had practically shot from that woman’s pores.

“That was like soul energy on steroids, but yeah, kind of.”

“Oh.” The extra soul in Callie’s body wasn’t yielding any exuberance. Her attempts to look inward and channel her inner monk hadn’t resulted in new energy or life, or even a scrap of vitality, as far as she could tell.

“The other magic might override it.” Derek acted like it was a long shot, but he understood how quickly Callie’s life had gone from moderately to fully fucked. He was grasping at straws, just like she was.

“That guy saw me. He’s going to remember me.”

“He’s not going to talk.”

“How can you know that?”

“It’ll be handled. Besides, he’s going to remember the injury and not your face. They always do.”

So he had seen the burn she’d given the man. “My real fingerprints and DNA could be back at the police station.”

Derek’s eyes narrowed at her nonchalance. “No, the soul rental hasn’t failed before. It won’t fail now.”

“I don’t buy that, but nice try.” She wanted to be rid of this soul, the magic, and the information she stole for Ford. The sooner she cut ties to it all, the better.

“Press your thumb on the screen of your phone and see what it looks like.” He punctuated his instructions with a “just do it” look, as if to say that if Callie wanted to salvage things between them, arguing wasn’t going to help.

“People don’t memorize their fingerprints. How would I know if it’s different?”

“Indulge me.”

She picked up the phone, exaggerating the action, aware of her petulance but unable to help herself. After pressing her thumb against the glass, she tilted the screen to catch the light. “Okay, that’s fucking weird.”

“What?”

“Look.”

“I’m driving,” he growled. They were a block from her apartment.

“It’s all zigzags.”

He opened his mouth, and then closed it again. “No swirls?” he finally asked.

“No. It looks like what some kid would make up for an alien. Like Charlie Brown’s shirt as fingerprints.” It had actually worked. Falling down the magical well hadn’t been for nothing. She’d escaped without leaving fingerprint or DNA evidence. Now all she had to do was get her brother back, ditch the soul magic, and hope the douche from the police station couldn’t identify her. Callie let out a little laugh.

Derek didn’t miss the weird, maniacal tinge to her voice. “You going to be okay?”

He gave her hand a quick squeeze, and it helped to ground her.

“I have no idea how to answer that question.” At least she was being honest.

He nodded, but it was more like he was sussing out his own thoughts and finding them agreeable. “Fair enough,” he said.

The faint buzzing in her ears dulled and then disappeared as her panic level dropped to the safe-and-rational zone. “All the cameras were turned away,” she reminded herself.

The corded muscles lining Derek’s forearms eased. Her frenzied edge had cut him more than he was likely to admit. When all this shit was properly handled, she would do her best to make it all up to him. “I heard you called in a favor. I made sure the tapes are now gone, too.”