Rogue souls, p.13
Rogue Souls, page 13
part #2 of Soul Charmer Series
The Charmer grabbed Callie’s flask from the corner of the desk—she hadn’t even noticed it there. Derek must have brought it in for her, trying to spare her this. When the Soul Charmer’s knobby fingers touched Callie’s as he handed over the black and silver vessel, sparks flickered beneath her flesh, visible and golden. The stone inlay hummed in her hand.
“Pay attention to every person you talk to. You can feel them,” he said between barely parted lips. The words hidden from all ears but hers.
His cryptic double-speak usually got her to ask questions, but today wasn’t a day for questions. He was handing her a soul magic tool, so he probably meant souls. She was going to take it at face value, and get the job done. She could worry about subtext when people weren’t dying.
He pulled away, and then spoke to both her and Derek. “Go. Find the people who did this and bring them to me.”
Because he would want to be the law here, and the Soul Charmer was a far bigger threat than any police officer she’d encountered.
At least they had rules, ethics.
The Charmer had none.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
One of the downsides to taking Callie’s car in lieu of Derek’s motorcycle was it allowed for more conversation. It wasn’t that Callie didn’t like talking to Derek. Quite the opposite, but when they were traveling somewhere it was usually to do something intrinsically dangerous and it allowed for significant discussion of the lack of plan for said situation.
A Delgado family dinner definitely dropped into the dangerous column.
“The Charmer’s eyes would pop from his skull if he knew we were going to my mom’s house for dinner,” Callie said, trying a fresh angle to avoid this dinner. She’d already lamented fatigue and feigned illness.
Derek lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “He wouldn’t be happy about you seeing Zara. Sure.”
“No, he needs us finding the person targeting him.” I need to find the person who killed Cullen, she added to herself, as if catching a murderer would absolve her guilt. Being back working with the underhanded sent her self-worth plummeting and didn’t do a damn thing to help her almost-empty bank account.
“Maybe we’ll get a lead.” Derek didn’t even bother pretending this was a real argument. Wrinkles formed at the corners of his eyes as he tried to hold back a grin.
“Yeah, because Zara was so helpful last time. I think she threatened me instead of helping me. Or am I remembering that wrong?” She wasn’t.
Derek’s hands tightened on the steering wheel for a fraction of a second. When he loosened them, he said, “You need this.”
“What? Delgado drama is not what I need.” It was an inherited trait like her dark hair and her increased odds of alcoholism.
“If you’re worrying about Josh, you aren’t able to focus.” Derek’s requisite rumble softened and hewed until his words were more rasp than voice. “That’s not a bad thing. While I don’t think either of them deserves your time, you’re fucking loyal. If spending an hour at Zara’s place and eating a meal will ease that tickin’ brain of yours, we should do it.”
There he was, her Derek. More considerate than she deserved. She should probably thank him for the constant kindness. He was good about knowing what she needed and reminding her to take care of herself instead of everyone else first. She wasn’t raised that way. Family first, but Derek was starting to convince her that doing what was best for herself put him in a better place, which was kind of like putting family first if you squinted.
All she said was, “Fine,” but the undercurrent of “thank you” and “you’re right” were pronounced enough that he replied, “You’re welcome.”
A few minutes later when she knocked on her mother’s front door, Callie was almost excited. They hadn’t had an outsider at a family dinner in years. Josh had brought a girl home once. He didn’t do it again. Callie frowned, but then shook it off. If Derek could handle her brand of fucked up with fire and bad decisions and blood, then he could take Zara’s bullshit for an hour. He was made of steel and rebar. He could withstand Zara’s offensive guilt attack.
Callie shored up her own internal shield as the door opened.
Her mother was wearing bright summer colors and sheer fabric as though she was defying the November weather. She waved them in, silver rings clacking against the doorframe as she held it open for them. “You didn’t say you were bringing someone,” Zara said as way of greeting.
Instead of dwelling on the cutting way she referenced Derek, Callie focused on the simmering heat creeping into her fingertips as she stepped through the doorway. Great. Her mom was still using soul magic. Even with Tess gone, her mom had found a way to escape her guilt or get high or whatever by borrowing another’s soul. Guess she hadn’t paid attention the last time Callie warned her against it. Maybe that was her job in this family. Callie was the foreboding one. The mother hen. The one who warned them against the coming consequences. The protector. They all ignored her like she was the weatherman predicting rain on a Saturday.
“I didn’t tell you I was coming either, but you still expected me.” Callie said as she rushed into the living room, putting necessary space between her and Zara. Heat blazed brighter in her palms as she passed her mother. At least it was only a single bonus soul her mom was toting and not a pack of them. Damn it. She wasn’t trying to start this dinner being the bitch. She quickly added, “This is Derek.”
Derek stayed close behind her. She was grateful for his calming presence. Only that innate “I’ve got your back” warmth kept her from darting a panicked look backward.
“That guy is with her all the time, Mom. Practically lives with her.” Josh appeared in the adjoining kitchen a moment after his words. He was eating a candy bar. Callie wasn’t going to let Josh shame her, and, really, all she could think was ‘at least he’s eating again.’
Derek spared her the need to bicker. “What are we having?”
Zara closed the door and moved toward the kitchen. Callie took an involuntary step back, and Derek edged between her and her mother. Zara glared at them. “Quit being melodramatic. Today is about Josh,” Zara muttered to Callie.
Then she answered Derek, “Tamales.”
“Pork or beef?”
Zara paused, reassessing him. “Pork.”
Derek’s pleased grunt was genuine and translated well to everyone in the room.
They followed Zara into the kitchen, where she busied herself at the counter moving the husked deliciousness from a pan to a long silver plate. It was rounded, shiny, and a new acquisition. It was too big to be something her mom pocketed, so she must have fuzzed a tourist recently to have cash for it.
Callie didn’t call Zara out. There wasn’t a point, and somehow in this household the Delgado “family first” mantra had morphed from care and welfare tasks into keeping secrets, occasional abetting, and a fuckton of looking the other way.
Derek, though, didn’t know these rules. Hell, he probably didn’t know there was a story and a mark and a sad man going back broke to his wife in Pueblo behind that dish. “Is that one of those plates they make out of sand at that factory at the edge of town?”
Funny how the fancy shit was always crafted in industrial complexes next to body shops and junkyards. That’s how they made all the money, Callie guessed.
He was clearly trying to make conversation, but Zara shot Callie a glare that scorched more than her soul sensing hands had all day. “I think so. Found it at the outlet in Pojoaque,” her mother answered the question and made it almost believable because—as she so often preached—holding a good face can get you through anything. Callie’d rather look perpetually pissed and avoid the kind of confrontation Zara’s skills demanded.
Callie grabbed a couple beers from the refrigerator, popped the caps, and handed one to Derek. She took a drink from the other.
Conversation continued stilted and awkward as Zara put the finishing touches on the rice. Callie and Derek stood near the china cabinet. It held a mish mash of plates collected over the years. All antique, none of it ever used in this house. Zara liked the way it looked though. Josh cuddled Zara’s cat in his lap, and Frankie’s purring ruminated throughout the small kitchen and dining space. He sat at the table, which had been set for three, but had four chairs.
“You guys working on anything cool?” Josh asked as if he was in the loop on her gig with the Soul Charmer. All her brother knew was Callie reacted to people who had rented souls and that she worked with the Charmer at night. He didn’t know about capturing souls that were due back to the soul emporium.
His attempt to dig into what was happening with the Soul Charmer ground against her back teeth. “Nothing you need to get involved with,” she said with the protective tone that Derek had mentioned on more than one occasion should have come from the older sibling.
Josh slunk back into his chair. His gaze turned to the cat, who he was petting with more focus now. “You don’t have to be a—”
“Actually, maybe you can help us.” Derek cut him off with polite diversion. Why couldn’t she have considered redirecting the conversation? Oh, right, because family had a way of getting under your skin and regressing your brain back a decade.
“Whatcha need, boss?” That easy canter returned to Josh’s voice. The slick act was the same one that worked on their mother. Callie’s ears buzzed upon hearing it leveraged on her lover, but she kept her mouth shut.
A pan clattered against the cooktop across the room. Zara didn’t say anything, either, though.
“We’re looking for this guy, but one of our guys could only remember his name as Gee or Dee. Any ideas?” Derek’s normal gravel-spit tone had been replaced with the smooth, steady ride of fresh asphalt. The power in his inflection shifted to the mid tone. So much strength in such simple words.
The pilot light blazed within Callie’s center in seconds. Why would her brother know someone associated with Cullen’s death? Why should Derek even think Josh would know these kinds of people? Her brother wasn’t involved. That fire, though, never reached her lips. Maybe it was the even keel Derek applied to his words, or the light touch of his palm against her thigh—a private quell for the anger he’d known would flash through her.
Josh cocked his head. He wasn’t looking to where Callie and Derek connected. Hell, he wasn’t looking at his baby sister at all. He was doing that inward search thing that made his brows pinch and his lips twist. A moment later he said, “You mean Little D?”
“Well, that’s an unfortunate name.” Zara’s snickering was apparent from across the room.
“Mom!” Callie chided.
“Well, it is. Who would want to proclaim such a thing?” That was the real Zara. Not the one who shuffled to church twice a week. Or the one who worried about her son. The real Zara was the one who made dick jokes. In the midst of her children talking about maybe something criminal, but definitely something involving a man she had previously vowed her disdain for: The Soul Charmer of Gem City.
“Who’s Little D?” Derek asked as if he hadn’t heard the side exchange. The slight squeeze of her leg suggested otherwise.
Josh deliberately avoided looking at Callie. “He’s been around for a few months. Helps out whenever needed. Good dude.”
Helps out with drugs. Callie fought the urge to say so, because they were supposed to be here for a family dinner and calling out your newly sober brother for telling your boyfriend about his drug hookups was probably a party foul.
“Right.” Derek scratched at the stubble peaking at his chin. “He a lanky . . . guy?”
Should she bother telling Derek that her mom wasn’t going to care if he swore? Nah. He was doing his best to get info and pull off the meet-the-family thing. The less she corrected shit, the better.
“Yeah, yeah. He hangs out with Horan’s crew by that open parking lot near the plaza.” Josh returned to looking at the cat. Because that lot was the easiest place to find meth in the whole city. She’d never done it, but even without Josh, she would have known that was the place to score.
“Thanks, man,” Derek said. The double squeeze he gave her leg then suggested maybe this was actually useful. She was glad, because watching them talk stressed her the fuck out.
“So, I hear you have news, bro, what’s up?” Callie redirected the conversation to her brother, because she knew how to talk to him without getting drenched in guilt or having anger corkscrew through her.
He grinned wide. All teeth and dimples and wonder. “I got a job today.”
“That’s awesome,” Callie said automatically, though her brain stuttered. She wanted to be excited for him, but this dinner was requested damn early. He couldn’t have gotten a job before six in the morning. Maybe he had interviewed yesterday?
“What’s the job?” Derek asked with zero inflection. He used this voice on his first go at defaulting soul renters. So she wasn’t the only one thinking this sounded sketchy.
The beaming joy on Josh’s face didn’t falter. “Construction. It’ll be hard work, but it’ll be good for me. You know? Callie tell you I used to build stuff?”
“You built a spice rack once.” Her lips tugged at her, the desire to smile, to enjoy this beginning to fill her.
“It was a damn nice spice rack, though, right?” He laughed, because it had actually been a tiny spice rack.
“Do you still have it?” Derek asked Zara.
“What? No. What do I need a spice rack for? Fresh herbs only in this house,” Callie’s mother said.
“She means she never cooks unless I beg her,” Josh said, conspiratorially.
Zara snapped a kitchen towel at him, and Callie sucked in hard at the pang of jealousy flicking against her temples. They’d always been like this. Playful and smiling. She’d never had that with Zara. She’d never be the favorite. Hell, even the cat liked Josh more than her and she’d rescued the damn thing.
Derek’s palm found the hollow of Callie’s lower back. He didn’t move it at all, and the others couldn’t see it, but he pressed hard enough to remind her she was grounded. If Josh and Zara had roots together, he could still be here for her. She wasn’t alone. It didn’t stop the irritation of jealousy from snapping at her, but it nudged her away from fixating on what she didn’t have. Maybe that was enough.
“If your sister hadn’t been keeping you locked up, I would have had reason to cook sooner,” Zara said.
Callie bit her lip. Thanks, Mom.
“Are you two going to sit down or what?” Zara asked, and Callie had to admit it would have been rude in another situation. She just hadn’t planned how to actually sit at a table next to two soul magic users and be able to actually use utensils.
A tiny part of her prayed that if she sat equal distances between Zara and Josh that her bonus soul and his slightly shredded one would even out, but she’d been in enough public places to know it didn’t work that way. Her skin flared between to the two and it was worse.
“Remember me telling you I couldn’t get too close to people who rent souls?” Callie was trying to dance around their last encounter, which involved lots of screaming on Zara’s end and a door slammed to punctuate the whole ordeal.
Zara rolled her eyes. “You’ve been hanging out with your woo-woo cousin too much. You’re not magical.”
Zara waved her hands to exaggerate how “non-magical” she found Callie. Her mother then took a couple steps toward them, and stood next to Josh’s chair, before continuing, “No one here is renting souls.”
“I can feel it, Mom,” Callie said plainly. The mild heat in her palms wasn’t visible, though.
“Today is about Josh. Why are you ruining it by accusing your family of being tainted? And in front of a stranger. That’s not how you rise to Heaven.”
“He’s not a stranger. Just because you haven’t meant him doesn’t make him a stranger to everyone else.”
Callie’s mouth was open and ready to continue mounting that high horse, but her mother rushed forward until her nose could have brushed Callie’s chin. “You know better than that, Calliope. Delgados come first, and no matter what he isn’t one of us. You need to be focusing on your family instead of adding to the tally of sins you need to confess for. The number of sins that involved you with your pants off has to have reached the double digits at this point.”
Callie had never been a violent person. Even as a kid, she’d preferred to stay hidden than take consequences head-on, and in her neighborhood and her home that typically meant she avoided getting the shit kicked out of her.
She was different now, though. It wasn’t a good thing. Fuck, there was no question the boiling rage choking her now was a bad sign. The rope whipping flaming loops around her brain was far more painful than the simmering heat in her palms. Her mother had a single rented soul in her body, and, while uncomfortable, the heat in Callie’s palms was bearable. The urge to slap her mother across her face, though? That was another story.
Callie was above hitting her mother. Trying to shame her for sex was a cheap shot, but it worked in its way.
“I told you the extra soul in your body was a problem for me. Why are you in my face?” The ice-cold tone should have warned Zara that bad shit was about to go down. Deadpan Delgado always equaled pure rage or retribution on the horizon.
Callie took three swigs from her beer. The bottle was heated in her hand.
“And I told you that you were full of shit with that magic stuff. We don’t believe in magic in this house. You pray. You repent. You rise. You’ve always wanted to ruin everything for everyone else in this family. It isn’t about you.”
