“What the fuck?” Nate’s grip loosened as the fire roared up Callie’s neck and engulfed his hands.
He pushed back. Sticky gobs of burning flesh clung to his palms. Whether it was hers or his wasn’t clear. The fire usually didn’t sting, but now agony roared in her bones. The drill bit grinding from the inside out now dipped in acid. She stared at his sternum with every bit the ownership Nate used when ogling her breasts. The souls she reached screamed and begged. One after another. How many souls had he inhaled? She couldn’t find his soul, but the five she found were not interested in helping the man holding them hostage. They were tainted and their keening cries pleaded for escape. She wrapped her mind around them, and kicked hard. Nate flew back from her. Black and grey ash clung to the outside of his white shirt, red pooled from beneath it.
Callie staggered to her feet. Orange and golden flames flickered in her vision. The fire was hers. It was these souls. It was everyone fucking done with Nate stealing their lives and their hope. It was power and pain and promises. It was hers.
Nate took another hit from the pipe, the fucking artifact of St. Petro. How many souls had he pushed into the glass for his personal use? He held the pipe tight in his left hand. Callie tried to grab the new soul, too, but her magic shuttered as he held the artifact out in front of him. “It’d be better if I was inside you, but I’ll take your soul as my own little pet. Dead or alive, you’re getting dirty, Callie girl.”
He thrust the pipe toward her, and began whispering words Callie couldn’t follow.
Two big hands slammed into Callie’s ribs. “Go,” Derek yelled.
She flew to the right, not needing the verbal encouragement when the physical took over. She spun to see him fall where she’d been standing. Another man thrust a knife where Callie’s heart had been moments earlier. Derek ducked beneath it, and blasted a rock-hard fist into the man’s solar plexus. The thug doubled over, and Derek landed another hard blow to his face. Callie didn’t need a medical degree to diagnose the shattered orbital socket. The attacker didn’t get back up.
Henry groaned loud enough to pull Callie’s attention.
“You get him. I’ve got Nate,” Derek shouted.
If anyone could, it’d be him. Callie rushed to Henry without hesitation. She plucked the knife from her pocket. Her skin was melting, but the bone hooked into the tiny hole without much fuss. She cut the bonds, and reached to help Henry up. He eschewed the offer. Horror coating his face that had nothing to do with his body being tenderized and everything to do with seeing Callie en fuego.
Derek was on his back. Nate stepped forward, and dropped a heavy foot onto her lover’s chest. Derek coughed and grappled for Nate’s leg. His grip slid. Blood coated the leg of Nate’s pants. Whose blood was it? Nate moved the pipe closer to Derek. The artifact’s vibration resonated in her ears.
No. Nate could take from her, but he could not take from Derek. She called the flames to her palm, and the magic pooled there. She threw the heat at Nate with the speed and stealth of a knuckleball.
A sharp scream.
A sickening pop.
Falling glass.
The pipe was gone, and Nate’s cry reached for Heaven. Only Hell could answer.
Power surged throughout the warehouse. The florescent bulbs overhead shattered. Flecks of glass and filament floated down. The walls bowed out. Boards flew away from the windows. Power ignited the air. It bit at Callie’s soul. Pushed and primed.
The soul magic sonic boom quieted quickly. Glass continued to fall. Nate sputtered like a two-year-old priming a tantrum. Derek posted his arm to the side and levered himself up from the concrete. Nate dodged toward Callie and his jacket.
From beneath the empty firearm and the coat Nate pulled a palm-sized revolver. Even in the shadows the barrel shone with intent. He cocked the hammer, and Derek stilled.
Callie was done with this man taking from her. She was done with his threats and done with being afraid.
He lifted the gun.
The pocket knife was still in her hand. Open and ready. She lunged forward and buried the blade deep in Nate’s armpit. The weapon and the arm dropped loosely to his side. Nate bellowed. Everything’s connected, fucker. Blood seeped onto her exposed muscle. Callie backed away and threw magic around herself again. Her skin began to rebuild. She hoped the flames could disinfect the asshole’s blood from her hand.
“Derek?” she asked.
Her boyfriend glowered. He bent over Nate’s body. The other man was squirming to grab the knife from his side.
“I’ll get that for you,” Derek ground out. He plucked the knife from Nate’s armpit. Blood oozed with Nate’s heartbeat.
Derek flipped the knife in his hand, and then plunged it into Nate’s carotid. He left the blade in long enough to meet Nate’s panicked gaze.
“I won’t let you hurt her again,” Derek said, and then yanked the knife back out.
Nate’s death was swifter than the deserved, but he would never find a way out of Hell if she had anything to say about it.
Callie pulled the rogue souls from the corners of the room, from the flimsy containers, and from the pallets, and pushed them all at Nate’s bleeding body. She shoved the dark ones in him. The tainted and corrupt. Every filthy soul he’d slapped in a tin can and planned to shill to unsuspecting citizens found a new home inside the mobster. His chest glowed a fierce red.
“Doll?” Derek ambled to her side.
She pushed more magic and more souls into Nate until his back bowed and his torso stretched. Callie released the magic she’d clung to for protection, too, and thrust it at Nate’s convulsing form. Blue flames ignited his clothing, his skin underneath puckered immediately. A moment later this
