“You don’t see that?” She jutted a shaking finger to the right of his shoulder.
Derek turned toward the wall. “The frames? Sure, doll.”
“That—that—that Donna who we just jacked a soul from is here.” The squat woman who had pawned her soul not twenty minutes ago glared out from within the black frame.
He looked around the hallway. It was tight with even the two of them in here. “Doll, it’s just us.”
The gaunt faces watched her from the walls. A miniature funhouse mirror debacle tuned to her own frequency. Her lungs squeezed hard enough she gasped. Was the Soul Charmer collecting scraps of souls from the rented returns? Was she helping him stockpile parts of these people’s souls?
Callie ran a thumb over the nighthawk on her wrist again. She didn’t think hawks could coo, but this one sure was pleased. The magic in this room wasn’t trying to bite or burn her, but it wanted something. Too bad she didn’t have anything else to give.
CHAPTER FOUR
The vinyl booth seat in Dott’s diner didn’t warm beneath Callie. Sleet streaked past the window in shimmering chunks. It was cold and slushy outside, but even in her favorite restaurant Callie couldn’t get warm. It wasn’t her magic. She’d had surges of icy chills as they’d passed other booths, other people. No one was within a dozen feet of her now. If she focused, she could sense the draw of the ragged edges of the souls inside former clients. She closed her eyes for a moment, and willed her mind to ignore them.
The more she learned about how this magic worked, the more it called her. The more it needed. She’d thought the apprentice gig would earn her control over the power raging beneath her skin. Now it was hers and she didn’t want to let it go. Maybe that was sleep deprivation talking.
Callie scowled at the storm outside. Derek cleared his throat. Those grey eyes were watching her, seeing her, knowing too much.
“Sorry,” she muttered. She meant it, but also too many problems were vying for attention in her mind that she couldn’t promise not to drift again.
His short, low grunt was his acceptance of her apology. She almost smiled. At least she could count on him to get her.
“We need to find Nate,” she said.
Before she could even tense a muscle to move out of the booth, he said, “We do, but you need to eat first.”
“I’m good,” she lied.
He glared at her. His hair was the longest she’d seen it, and had started to curl at the ends.
“Fine. I’ll have something.” A solid drink would be good.
“Beer doesn’t count.” Fucking mind reader.
“I’ll get soup.” It was about all she could keep down. Worry had her gut churning, and much more than liquid was going to get evicted.
The sharp creases at the corners of his eyes smoothed, though the dark marks below them lingered. She wasn’t the only one foregoing sleep.
“Do you want to tell me what you saw in that hallway?” The question sounded like it was asked for her benefit. Maybe it was. Maybe he wanted her to unburden. She’d had too many demands this week to take it as such, though.
“Do you want to tell me why you didn’t tell me the cops were looking for you?”
He pulled away for a moment, but eased back toward her just as quickly.
Callie cupped her hand over her mouth until she’d locked down her frustration, and then she spoke. “I’m being the asshole again. Sorry. I need to get her back, Derek.”
“I know,” the words were soft brush against her cheek.
“You saw the fingers.” The hum of the nearby heater almost erased her shaky words.
The fucking fingers. Her mom’s fingers. Delivered on a platter—a literal platter—next to Nate’s little serial killer handwritten note. He wanted his soul back. He’d taken her mom. Leverage like that fucking worked. Callie was goddamn eager to return his shitty soul. She knew where it was and would have forked it over in seconds if she could find the bastard.
Derek stretched his hand out to her, and she took it. His palm was the warm comfort of cocoa and blankets. She siphoned the softness for a long moment.
“We will get her back.” His confidence rang with a steel core of sincerity. Callie couldn’t even fake that, but that was the point. Derek didn’t falter when it came to her. Thank God.
“If we can go find the corner guy on El Paseo, we can find him.” Even to her ears, she sounded convinced.
“Where on El Paseo?”
“Near the Cathedral.”
Derek stared at their joined hands, but he didn’t react when she squeezed his fingers.
“I don’t like it,” he said.
Callie let go. “None of this is particularly likeable. It’s where Benton said the guy was.”
“Okay. Benton’s probably reliable.”
Callie lifted her chin, but managed not to throw out a See?!
“He also doesn’t know which guy it is. We’re talking third-hand gossip at best. Could be Dougie or Fiona or Adam.”
Callie leaned in, surprised how much she needed this plan. “He said corner guy. So not Fiona.”
Derek nodded.
Their waitress stopped at the table to take their orders. Callie followed through on her tortilla soup promise, but also requested a cold beer in a longneck bottle. Derek slid out of the booth for a quick run to the restroom. Though it was only 10:30 p.m. and Dott’s was far from empty, Callie was alone. The temptation to run and continue searching for Nate wasn’t as strong as before, but it wriggled in the back of her mind.
She’d been so close to safety. She’d gotten Josh back. He was sober. Derek was willing to skip town with her. Running wouldn’t solve her problems any more than drinking cured a sour stomach. She still had her boyfriend, but keeping her big brother on the straight-and-narrow and dealing with this mess with their mom and Nate was tricky.
She pulled her phone from her pocket, and texted Josh. She simply asked, “Any word?” because like her
