She’d had the same thought. Would saying so change anything?
“No,” she said. “This is on me. Stealing souls has consequences.”
Derek pulled her close. Her cheek nestled against his shirt. Soft, clean, and warm. Home.
Callie closed her eyes. “We need to quit blaming ourselves, and start blaming the Charmer.”
“Long game.” The finality, the earnestness in the words was what she needed. She and Derek agreed to get out from under the Soul Charmer. They were buying time. Once they could, they’d get away from soul magic.
Once she had control of her abilities.
Once they had a plan.
They’d ditch all this bullshit.
Adam’s phone buzzed. Callie startled at the harsh clunking of the vibration against her cheap-ass table. Derek’s one-armed hug steadied her. She picked up the phone. Its screen was bright with a green bubble at its center.
One new message. Unknown number.
Callie damn near choked on her heart.
“It has to be him,” she said with reverence reserved for the prayers of the faithful.
The message was scant. An address and a threat.
“‘We’re done for now.’ Are you fucking kidding me?” Callie’s incredulity rivaled her anger, and that was saying something.
Derek pulled up the address in his phone. “She’s up north. Looks like he left her in the middle of the Pojoaque rez.”
Callie blocked the taunting jab from Nate from her thoughts. Zara was waiting somewhere off the highway. “How fast can you get us there?”
Derek pulled off US-84 twenty minutes later, and the car grouched over the sandy dirt road. This spur from the main highway was sparse. No lights or pavement here, just dusty desert and nocturnal predators. They were on the reservation, but nowhere near any residences.
Being this close to Pojoaque and with Derek and a damn plan gone awry was too familiar. They were mere miles from the mystical shop Tess had worked out of. A shop where Derek had been stabbed. A place where Callie’s life had changed. She’d discovered how deep her ties to Derek went, she’d discovered what she was capable of, she’d made allegiances. Did Nate know that? Did he know about Tess? Did he know what had happened to her? Why she’d disappeared?
Callie bit the inside of her cheek and dislodged the thought. Nate wasn’t that fucking smart, she told herself.
Derek slowed the car. Snow shimmered in the headlights. “She should be here.”
Callie didn’t wait for more information. She hopped out her side of the car, and then yanked the zipper on her coat to her chin. “Mom?” she called loud enough a coyote should have called back.
The trunk slammed behind her. She spun, hoping to find her mother.
“Flashlight, doll.” Derek lifted the device and clicked it on. The rough, barren desert turned a ghastly grey in the artificial light.
Together they called for Zara. Five minutes stretched into five years. Callie’s pleas for her mother became more frantic. Her ribcage seemed to shrink with each passing second until Callie’s breaths were coming rapid-fire and her head was going light.
A shadow shifted to her right. “I need the flashlight over here.”
Derek was at her side, flashlight at the ready.
Zara.
Mom.
Callie skidded onto her knees next to her mother. Frost formed on Callie’s fingers, but she didn’t bother reaching for the flask for warmth. Zara was curled in the fetal position. Callie called her name, but her mother barely stirred. Ice shot up Callie’s arms, and her hands were now too stiff to articulate. None of that mattered. Her sinuses burned with the strain of holding back tears. She nudged Zara onto her side more fully and away from the lone juniper bush at her side. Dirt caked bloody streaks down Zara’s face. Derek stepped closer with the flashlight, and the deep gouge at the crown of Zara’s head was apparent. Blood continued to seep from it, though some of her hair was matted to staunch the flow.
“I’ve got some gauze in the trunk.” Derek sat the flashlight against the dirt, and ran back to the car. Thank God.
“Mom, we have to get you out of here.” Gauze clung to Callie’s icy fingers, but she pressed the clean side against the wound and hoped they weren’t too late. Zara’s eyelids fluttered, which was better than no reaction at all.
Derek hurried back, and dropped to his knees next to Callie. His breath was coming fast. His hulking shoulders shaking.
Callie hoped the cold from her hands might help slow the bleeding. Hazy purple bruises cut with raised red hash marks scored the right side of Zara’s face. What did they do to her? Zara’s hands were in black, knit mittens. How many fingers had she lost? How long could you go without them and still reattach? Callie had stored them just in case, but her memories of medical anything were blank right now.
Callie’s voice was soft. “I know we can’t take her to a hospital, but...”
“The fuck we can’t. I’m not taking her to our backup guy. Not your mom. We’ll figure out how to deal with it when we get to the hospital.” Derek pulled off his jacket. Goosebumps pebbled his skin the second the leather was free. The outline of his pecs was visible beneath his tee, even in the minimal light. He handed Callie the jacket, and then stooped to scoop Zara up into his arms. Callie was once again thankful of his strength because she didn’t know how to do any of this, including carrying a wounded and unconscious person without hurting them.
He eased Zara into the backseat. “You ride with her. I’ll get us to St. Vincent’s as fast as I can.”
It was the closest hospital, and Callie was thankful for that. It was even close to Zara’s house, which her mom would like too. Locals only.
Callie grabbed a few fresh squares of gauze, and climbed in next to Zara. Her mother was slumped over. A memory stabbed sharp between Callie’s lower ribs, as if trying to skewer her spleen. Tess, again. It’d been Callie’s car. The
