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
