“Is his son?”
“His son?”
It was Officer Grady’s turn to slather on the derision. It wasn’t funny when he did it. “Surely you’ve seen the news. The younger Ford was murdered in his home.”
“I heard there was a rash of fires, but I must admit the news doesn’t captivate me the way it does others.” The Charmer tried to brush it off, to evoke the same casual tone again. He faltered, and the words came a half beat too quickly. “I’d much prefer to talk to clients and focus on aiding our community in the goal of rising to Heaven. Much more noble effort, don’t you think?”
Callie sent Derek a what-the-fuck-is-happening look. His wide-eyed response told her he hadn’t seen the Soul Charmer this blatant or this rushed before. Sure, the man liked theatrics. He’d make the sign of the cross like what he was doing was holy, but his link with the Cortean Church was secret. He wasn’t actually ordained. Why was he risking being exposed? He’d branded her wrist as part of an oath to keep the secret of the soul well and its magic. She rubbed her thumb against the raised ridges in her skin, against her nighthawk mark.
“Mister…” the older cop, Grady, let the opening resonate throughout the space. Heavy tapestries covered the walls in the front of the soul emporium. Hidden by shadow and tarnished by age, they held secrets, but even they refused to muffle the officer’s request.
Callie began to edge closer to Derek, and the silent officer shot her a warning glance. She stopped. No one was laughing anymore.
“Charmer will do,” Callie’s boss said.
The police officers shared a look. Whatever they knew about the Soul Charmer, it wasn’t good. “Fine. Charmer. We need to know where you were last Saturday night.”
The Soul Charmer raised his right hand and held it out to his side. “I am here for my customers when they need me.”
The words were placid, but the sense of scraping steel skittered over Callie’s skin. The men in the room weren’t unnerved, but she fought the urge to rake her fingernails across her chest. The other hand. The Charmer still had a hand buried in his pocket. His knuckles were tenting the satin fabric of his robe with increasing speed. He couldn’t have a soul hidden in there. The fire of an unleashed one would have bit at her consciousness by now. Her cheeks burned with the sizzle of magic. Callie might be able to pull a soul from someone’s body, and she might be able push one inside, but she was miles from understanding the Soul Charmer’s power. He was barely moving, but invisible electricity snapped beneath the soggy carpet. Whatever he was up to, those cops should be running.
Both officers held their place, but Officer Ortega shot a quick look the Charmer’s way. He returned his attention to an empty countertop before he said, “Sir, we need a firm answer. Are you saying you were in this building all day on Saturday?”
The scraping sensation sharpened. Her skin was too tight. She needed to get out of this room, and fast. “He was,” Callie said. “That was a Saturday after a payday, and we’re always slammed hard then.”
The muscle in Derek’s jaw ticked. Callie refocused her attention on the cops.
“You were here, too?” Officer Grady asked.
“She’s my apprentice.” The Charmer couldn’t keep the grin off his face. That reaction was earnest, which only made it worse. Would a punch to his liver shudder his smile?
Grady produced a small notebook from his pocket, and flipped a few pages in. “What was your name again, miss?”
She might vomit, and it had little to do with whatever magic the Charmer was cultivating in his pocket. She was not supposed to be on the police radar. She wasn’t supposed to be interacting with them at all. She should have been living a life free of crime and questions and ripping souls out of people’s bodies. Should have wasn’t getting her far, though.
“Callie Delgado.” She didn’t bother keeping her voice low or avoiding eye contact. Criminals were uncomfortable around the cops. They were shifty. She could not allow herself to be memorable, to be seen. She had a lot to hide, and didn’t need them knowing so.
The cop wrote down her name, and then asked a few basic identifying questions. Nothing concerning. Nothing about a break-in at the police substation, nothing about her use of magic, nothing about Nate.
Officer Grady turned toward Derek, notebook still at the ready. The already grating sensation dug deeper into her chest. Derek had bombed those buildings. He’d done so at the Soul Charmer’s behest, but her worry for him wouldn’t wound her. She most certainly wouldn’t let her concern tip his hand to the police. Whatever their boss was wielding in his pocket was forcing the cop’s hesitation, and for once Callie was grateful to the Soul Charmer.
Instead of asking Derek for his whereabouts, Officer Grady paused. He scrubbed his wrist across his forehead, and then stuttered an apology. “That’s it for now, but we do have potential witnesses. If we come back, it will be with a warrant.”
The Charmer gestured to front door. “There’s nothing to hide here. I merely offer citizens a respite from the burden of sin. I don’t have a thing to do with the Ford family or their affairs.”
It all sounded like bullshit. Even in the Charmer’s standard skeezy tone, but he wasn’t lying. The whole reason Ford fired shots in the Soul Charmer’s direction was because the Charmer wouldn’t rent him souls at a bulk rate. Her boss charged the drug cartel and mobsters more for his services. It didn’t have a thing to do with a moral quandary. Charmer gave two fucks about what you did with the soul. It was about volume and inventory. There were plenty of souls vying for a fresh home, but the act of retrieving them wasn’t a desirable one.
The officers left, but Callie didn’t miss
