Callie went back into the bedroom to grab her phone from the nightstand. She stared at the darkened screen in her hand. She couldn’t dial the numbers. What was she going to do if these people answered? Diving headlong into the Charmer’s bullshit without his request was unnecessary drama. She needed to save Zara, and that meant finding Nate. Someone else hawking souls was a second-tier problem. Nate was interested in soul magic, but his immediate cash had to be coming from a pile of pills and powder.
She brought her phone back with her into the kitchenette. In case Nate calls. Or Derek or Josh messages. Not because she was going to do anything desperate.
The room was stuffy. The storm outside had shifted from sleet to snow, so opening a window wasn’t an option. Callie adjusted the thermostat down. She rummaged in the top shelf of her entryway closet until she found an Autumn’s Glory candle. She lit it, and hoped the blend of cinnamon, nutmeg, fir, and fire would calm her nerves.
She opened Adam’s phone. It was nicer than hers. The screen wasn’t cracked, and it weighed less. A small bubble on the screen told her he had thirty-nine minutes remaining. There were around sixty numbers stored in the logs, but no names were attached to them in the Contacts. She skimmed the numbers. Most of them had the same area code, her area code. At least he was talking to people in Gem City. If one of these was Nate, that might help. Except she had thirty-nine minutes on the phone and more than sixty people she’d have to call.
She was about to flip to the messages section, when one of the numbers caught her attention. Callie rarely had a phone number memorized. Work number, her mom’s number, and her own number. That was about it. But this number ended in 1456. Her brother’s number was like that—he’d pushed her to memorize it when she was still in high school. She could only remember the last four digits even then. Callie flipped open the contacts on her phone and scrolled to Josh’s name.
Her chest was tight. Her heartbeat pushed hard against her ribs, expanding, growing, punching. She set the phones next to each other, and willed herself to see something different. She stepped away. Drank another glass of water. Splashed a little on her face. Came back. The numbers still matched.
Fuck that kid.
Josh knew Adam. He could have helped her. Instead here he was in contact with yet another dealer. This phone wasn’t old enough to have been from before Josh got sober, before Callie had paid his debts again, before he’d detoxed on her couch. She wasn’t sure what part she was most angry about, but the ire throttled through her veins fast enough to burn off the guilt. Angry wasn’t better than sorry, but at least it was useful.
Her hands were shaking. Callie tapped Josh’s number on the screen of her phone, and then the speakerphone button. The hollow ringtone filled her apartment. Her next-door neighbor had to be asleep, but she still thumbed the volume down a couple notches.
“You find her?” Josh’s voice was scratchy, but urgent.
“Not yet.” Callie stared hard at the drugs peeking from the edges of Adam’s coat. It helped her hold on to her anger.
“Damn, Sis. Do you know what time it is?”
No, she did not. She also didn’t care. “Late.”
“Or too early. Is it an emergency?”
Callie couldn’t do this small talk. She couldn’t let Josh act like she was the one who was out of line here. Like she was alone in being a fuckup. “How do you know Adam?”
She heard a mug slide against a wooden table. Probably Zara’s coffee table. “Adam who? What are you talking about?”
“Dealer down on El Paseo. Tall guy. How do you know him?”
Josh coughed twice into the phone. “Why do you care who I know?”
“For one, he’s a dealer, and you are supposed to be sober—”
“I am fucking clean. You just can’t let that shit go, can you? Miss Perfect. Like you’re the only one who can make mistakes and be redeemed. You work for the Soul Charmer. You got Mom taken. That’s on you. Doesn’t have a damn thing to do with me staying clean.”
Wow. It wasn’t like she wasn’t proud of him for staying sober. She was, but this also wasn’t the first time. Being the responsible one in her family was getting goddamn old. He was the one who slipped back into drug use over and over. He was the one who took and took from her. Her help didn’t mean shit, apparently. Life got hard, and now it was all on her. Again. The post-detox thank yous were gone, but the least he could give her was honesty. She’d earned it.
“I always have your back. I work for the Soul Charmer because I had to get you back from the mobsters who you owed money for drugs.” She let the words explode. “Sorry if discovering you’ve stayed in contact with drug dealers would worry me. It’s not like I let you crash on my couch or paid for your rehab. Nope. I’m completely the asshole here.”
Callie was leaning over her phone. She’d gripped the edge of the counter. She let go, and swiped her hands down her face. Her hands were cold, but without the bite of magic. Small fucking miracles.
“I didn’t say you were an asshole.” Even over the speakerphone Josh sounded smaller, younger. She could almost forget she was the little sister, he the big brother.
“You didn’t answer my question. How do you know Adam?” Her tone sharpened with the smack she wished she could deliver to the back of his head.
“From work.”
Panic bit her chest.
