Lost Souls (Soul Charmer Book 3)

by Chelsea Mueller

  So much for a distraction. Callie refocused on the hospital, on finding Zara.

  Double doors were down to her left. The red glow of the card reader told her it was the ICU before any signage did. The nurse’s station was also on the left. Callie checked her phone. No new messages. Josh hadn’t given her the room number.

  Three nurses were behind the desk. Two were busy with charts, but the one seated at the desk offered a wan smile. Callie didn’t recognize any of them, and the brick of shame she’d been carrying crumbled. None of these people knew her past. Today she could be normal—a woman who was worried about her mom.

  She stepped up to the desk. A brushing chill hit her, but the subtle stiffness of her knuckles was nothing after the elevator event.

  Callie offered her own tired attempt at a hello. “I’m looking for Zara Delgado.”

  His smile faded. “Are you family?”

  Either they were suspicious of her mother’s circumstances or the family parade was in town. Knowing her crew, it really could be either. “She’s my mother. My brother Josh was here earlier. He called me.” Was she talking too much? Did this nurse suspect she’d seen her mom before the hospital?

  Maybe the nurse’s stare was the result of hour eleven of a twelve-hour shift.

  “Is she okay?” Callie added, and shot a pointed look at the doors to the ICU.

  The nurse nodded. “She’s stable. They’ve got her down in 443.”

  He pointed to Callie’s right.

  “Thanks so much.” She hurried away from the desk before he could ask more questions. She was running on limited time, and she needed to see Zara was recovering for herself.

  “Visiting hours run until four,” he called after her.

  She couldn’t stay here that late anyway. Callie turned left twice more before she found room No. 443. The door was slightly ajar, but Callie rapped a quick double tap on the wood as she passed. Old habits and such.

  Zara was never a full make-up kind of person. Sure, she’d slather the shit on when necessary for a con—especially one at a casino—but when not hustling someone it was solely mascara and moisturizer. Her hair, though, was another matter. Every fly-away was perfectly tamed, each end even and uniform. The woman lying in the bed didn’t look like either the larger-than-life hustler or the space-y hippie. This woman was frail. Her skin was too tight over her cheekbones. Rings of red, purple, and black rippled over the rest of the cheek. Her hair was slick and flat. Her forehead glistened around the edges of white gauze.

  “Did you dunk me in bleach? This place smells horrible.” Zara’s eyes were closed.

  “Not really up to me.” Callie strived for a light tone, but seeing one’s mother like this sliced a sliver of your heart away.

  “Callie?” Zara still didn’t look at her, but the lilt in her voice was enough welcome.

  “Yeah, Mom.”

  Silence stretched. Police officers hadn’t been stationed at the door, but that meant nothing. The divide, though, wasn’t just out of self-preservation. It wasn’t about lying low. The chasm cutting through the hospital room was one of mothers and daughters. It was one of family and disappointment. Callie needed to apologize for the things she’d said, for what she’d done. The last time they were together, she’d slammed a beer bottle against her mother’s sternum and sucked out the rented soul.

  “I was worried about you,” didn’t cover it, but it’s all her heart could afford.

  Zara opened her eyes. They were bloodshot. “Clearly I’m surviving.”

  Surviving. In another time, she might have spat the word back. Callie had warned her how dangerous it was to dabble in soul magic outside of the Charmer. She’d told her Josh had gotten in bad people, and that Ford’s goons were never done with potential revenue streams. “Heard you had to get stitches.”

  Her mother began to nod, but a wince stopped her. The steady blip of the heart rate monitor jumped. “Stitches aren’t a problem.”

  The accusation that she was the problem was a standard Zara move. This woman might have a dozen wires slipping away from her body, but there was no question this was her mother. Because she was her daughter, though, Callie couldn’t help herself. “What is the problem?”

  The electrocardiogram needles twitched. “This is a bit of a fucking problem.” Zara lifted her left hand. The skin was hidden behind a mount of gauze, but the shape was too short.

  Callie had been ready to fill the gulf between them with all her anger. It would have made it easier to pretend this wasn’t her fault. Tears glimmered, unshed, in Zara’s eyes. That did it. Fuck the sea of issues between them. Callie would just leap over the water.

  She took her mother in her arms. The machines whizzed nearby, but nothing that would send a nurse to check on them. “Mom. Mom. Mom. I’m so sorry this happened to you. You didn’t deserve this.”

  And that was the truth of it. Zara was a shitty mom, and probably a shitty person. She was still family, and Callie couldn’t stop loving her. She’d tried. Even with all that, Zara didn’t deserve to be tortured for Nate’s leverage.

  Zara’s good hand wrapped around Callie and pulled her close. Warm tears fell on Callie’s shoulders, and it was enough to let loose her own tears. The two women cried in close comfort. The last time Zara had held her like this, Callie had to have been six or seven. The realization had her tightening her hold on her mom.

  “You magic people aren’t normal,” Zara said between shaky breaths. “Josh will get us revenge, though.”

  Of all the idiotic ways to see this. Callie released her mom, and then let loose her frustration, too. “Those weren’t magic people, they were drug people, Mom. Which of your kids would know them?”

  “Those men made it clear why they were taking each finger, and your brother’s name sure as shit didn’t come up.”

  Callie opened her mouth to dive into a real argument. Her emotions were too close to the surface. She’d let her wall crack, and Zara had wedged a spear right where it counted. The cloying cleansers in the air caught Callie’s attention. Centered her. She looked at her mom again. Saw the other woman. Saw the Demerol drip. Saw the other bruises. Zara was a victim here, and she wasn’t in a place to be having big conversations. Much less ones that could implicate her children in crimes. “Let’s…not. I’m sorry I brought it up. For now let’s focus on getting you better.”

  “The hospital staff are for that.”

  “Low blow, Mom.”

  Her mother’s defiant shrug had to have tweaked the busted ribs, but Zara didn’t flinch.

  “I just wanted to know you were okay. I’ll let the hospital staff take care of you.” She wanted to end it there. Storm out. Pretend she gave zero fucks. She couldn’t. “Aunt Lily will be here tonight. You don’t want me here, and that’s fine, but Josh and I will make sure family is here for you.”

  Zara had closed her eyes again. “Family first. At least you remember the words.”

  Callie turned to leave. A large bouquet of bright lilies, mums, and roses was tucked in the corner of the room. “Who sent those?”

  The Delgados could be counted on for bail money, but not so much for floral arrangements.

  “A nice guy named Adam brought them by. He’s a friend of Josh’s. Nice ass, too.”

  Callie tried not to choke on her own saliva. Adam had been here. He name-dropped Josh. Nate was behind this. Even after she’d delivered him his soul and then some. He wasn’t done with her? Fine. Once she got through this shit with the Soul Charmer, she’d exact vengeance.

  But first she had to make sure family was scheduled to monitor Zara around the clock until this bullshit was under control—or buried beneath the ground.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Callie was out of breath when she reached her car. She’d taken the stairs down—four goddamn flights. Being felt up by a soul might have turned her off elevators for life. Even with the heater on full-blast, it took her car several minutes to get warm. Callie waited. She told herself it was to fight the
cold, but it was bullshit. The hospital visit had rattled her. She’d expected the eerie envy of the men and women in scrubs. A life she’d lost. She was almost getting used to existing on the darker edges of society. The realization her magic had protected her from the men in the elevator was heady. If she hadn’t heard his soul, would she have been scared? Absolutely. She didn’t need to hear the perverse language to know Creep-O wasn’t familiar with the word consent. His companion wouldn’t have helped her. If she hadn’t been able to erect the wall to shield herself, those extended minutes in a tiny box could have marked her for eternity.

  Callie nudged open her car door, and vomited. Even energy shots and water couldn’t settle against that fucking truth. A couple people bustled past her parked car, but none gave her a second glance. Locals didn’t gawk. Thank God. She closed the door again, and swiped her sleeve across her mouth. Was that why she’d been so volatile with Zara? After what her mother went though, how could Callie have let anger override her common decency? She could have taught a master class in taking care of belligerent mothers, but you wouldn’t have known it by today’s behavior. She flipped open the center console and rummaged past cables and an inch-thick stack of fast food napkins until she found a small bottle of the energy drink. She knocked it back. Her stomach punched back up, but not hard enough to expel the liquid.

  She put the car into drive, and headed back toward the Charmer’s shop. She hadn’t been thrilled about backup for meeting the Anonymous Souls dealer, but after today’s encounter it no longer rankled to have Beck tag along. She glanced at the clock—it was almost five already. She toed the accelerator a little lower. The sidewalk traffic increased the closer she got to downtown, but thankfully the streets were fairly clear. Dirty snow was clumped on either side of the road. Callie turned onto a side street, and the steering column whined. Derek would want to fix that, too. She bumped along the hodgepodge road of brick and concrete. She was only blocks from the Soul Charmer’s store when she had to slam both feet onto the brake.

  A man in a grey parka staggered into the street, his back to her. It was twice as wide as she was. At least he was hard to miss. He lifted a bulky, black camera and angled it toward one of the low lampposts. It had to be something fancy and expensive to have the long lens and the bright flash. If he could afford that, you’d think he could afford some basic life skills like ‘don’t step out into oncoming traffic.’ Callie slammed the heel of her palm against the horn. He startled, and then spun toward her. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he had the sense to look abashed. Callie wouldn’t try to guess where the tourist was from. She simply hoped he didn’t find his way to the Soul Charmer’s. Idiot tourists were a pain in her ass before she had to worry about getting back the rented goods before they left the state.

  Callie parked near the back of the shop, but walked around to the front door rather than taking her usual route inside. Even if Derek had the blood and glass gone, she wasn’t ready to test the lingering magic there. Her nerves were fried and whatever the Charmer left for her was not going to help the situation.

  The anteroom was empty. The gentle hum of the furnace welcomed her. She waved at the conquistador woven into the tapestry on the north wall. He did not wave back, which given this day was a good sign. The slick surface of the countertop had smudges of black ash at the edges. She swiped a finger through one pass. The soot was smooth against her skin, but a half second later the material began to bubble and fizz until it was gone. It didn’t evaporate as much as slip into her pores. Scrubbing her hand against her pant’s leg did not quell the lingering tingle in her fingertip. It also didn’t leave dark smudges on her jeans.

  “Is anything in this place real?” she muttered to herself.

  “Yo.”

  Callie shot a look over her shoulder to see Beck stepping into the shop. A wicked wind gust blasted in behind him and had the conquistador art shivering, too. Beck waved at her with two fingers.

  Maybe he hadn’t heard her talking to herself. “Hey.”

  “You ready to see how the other side lives?” He tugged off his gloves.

  “Ready to be done with this and have the Charmer back here.”

  Beck didn’t bother hiding his grin. His smiles were all teeth and all light. Must be nice. “Bet you didn’t think you’d say that.”

  He had her there. “True enough.”

  “If it makes you feel better, I was surprised to miss the fucker, too.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” Her playful tone masked the unvarnished truth.

  Derek emerged from the curtain. The white cloth in his hands was stained with dark reds. “Where are we going?”

  “To rent a soul, of course.” Beck sang the words like he was about to hop on the Yellow Brick Road.

  Callie could play along. “I tried renting before and didn’t get the hype.”

  Beck laughed. Derek’s brows lowered. He wiped his hands on the cloth. If menace had a signature look, this was it. “Not a time for joking.” He wasn’t talking to Callie.

  “Doom and gloom doesn’t make this shit any easier. You of all people should know that.” Beck shoved his hands into his coat pockets, and the fabric puckered at his shoulders.

  Derek dropped the rag on the counter, and then took two mammoth steps toward the other soul collector. “This isn’t a joke. Protecting her isn’t a game.”

  “Got it, man, but I can’t go into this with us looking terrified. She’s supposed to be some party tourist idiot wanting an escape for a weekend high. If she shows up with me all broody badass with her, it ain’t going to work. Fuck, that’s one of the reasons you’re staying here. You’re good at scaring the shit out of people. We need that here, remember.”

  “Hold up.” Callie had to shout to be heard. “He’s here because he’s the one who can handle this shop, but know if the Charmer were here, Derek would be with me and it wouldn’t be an issue. Do not doubt his ability to do whatever needs to be done.” She would not ask about that rag.

  “Whoa.” Beck’s shoulders lowered. “Guess I know why you two are together. Fucking A. Yeah. Fine. Derek’s a ninja and you believe in the power of love or whatever. Can we just get this done?”

  Derek ambled to Callie’s side, and the testosterone in the air began to dissipate.

  “You’re right. We need to focus.” Callie hadn’t consumed enough calories to multitask for long anyway.

  “Agreed.” The heavy boulder Derek loaded on the word shook it until everyone felt the weight.

  Callie cast him a side-glance, and hoped he could see the question in it. Was there more? Was it something that could be shared in this company?

  “Still no sign of the boss?” Beck asked. His gaze skittered from them to the wall and back. It was almost as if they were making out hardcore in front of him, and he didn’t want to be the perv who watched. Which was great except no clothes were being shoved to the side.

  Derek shook his head, and then added, “He didn’t show, but the cops did.”

  “What?” Callie’s stomach hollowed out, readying for a second blow. The Soul Charmer had shielded Derek last time, but no one was here to offer magical protection earlier. If she hadn’t spent quality time with her mom, she would have been here. Not that she knew how to hide her boyfriend in plain sight, but she could have distracted someone. He was still here, though. No police had been stationed at the door when she returned. Callie hissed on an exhale. “I mean, what happened?”

  “And what about the storage room?” Beck added.

  Shit. She hadn’t even through about the hell scape that was broken glass and sticky blood covering the room behind the curtain. It didn’t matter how persuasive you were, or how crooked a cop was, ignoring a room covered in blood was a hard sell.

  “I dealt with it.” Derek’s hard tone might have made Beck bristle, but Callie wasn’t scared. The more she thought about the intrusion and the danger, the more outraged she became.

  “What happened? What did they ask? Are
they coming back?” Her rapid-fire questioning didn’t give him a breath to butt in.

  “They showed up and wanted to talk to me.” If he gave her that ‘no big deal’ shrug again, she was going to slug him.

  “Talk to you about what?” Beck asked. “Are they looking for the Soul Charmer? Do they know?”

  Derek rested a heavy hand on Callie’s hip, but he spoke to Beck. “They’re always looking for the Charmer, but they didn’t know he was missing. I didn’t clue them in either.”

  Did Beck know that the Charmer was behind the bombings? That Derek was involved? She had to play it safe. The fewer people who knew what Derek had done, the safer he’d be. “What did they want to ask him? More of the same?”

  “They had questions about how he sources souls. Made some threat about how our business was going to be illegal in a few months, and how I should look for another income stream.”

  “The news had something about an idiot calling for people who pawn their souls to be held liable for the actions of whoever rented it, but it wasn’t a politician.” Didn’t that shit take time? She’d been more interested in biology than political science in high school, but she was pretty sure legal shit took forever. Debates and lobbying and other bullshit meant to rack up billable hours.

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Derek’s tone was gentle for her. “They wanted an excuse to rattle him. Rattle us.”

  “And that’s all they wanted?” She needed the assurance.

  He gave her a subtle squeeze with the arm wrapped around her waist. The hint of bleach hit her over the stale Nag Champa in the air.

  “That’s all these cops asked about.” Different cops then. Just what they needed: more cops stopping by for little chats.

  Beck watched the volleys between Derek and Callie with too much interest. You didn’t get to be trusted by the Soul Charmer by being an idiot. Callie needed to remember that.

  “Any trouble with the back?” Beck asked.

  “They didn’t want to search the place, but the back is clean. Downstairs is still a fucking shit storm, but I figured you broke it, you’d clean it.”