Rogue Souls by Chelsea Mueller

Author:Chelsea Mueller [Mueller, Chelsea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jill Grinberg Literary Management
Published: 2018-07-09T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Wielding a beer bottle as a weapon before the meal was even served was fucked up, even for Callie’s family. The immolation and magic that followed only served to further sear the event in everyone’s memories. At least Callie didn’t have to worry about accusations she was faking reactions from her mom anymore. The blotchy color on Zara’s cheeks made that one clear.

It’s difficult to sit down for tamales after a forceful soul extraction from your mother. The masa and pork would have smelled amazing, but Callie’s nostrils still held the echo of sulfur and singed skin. She cracked the window in her car, as Derek drove them away from Zara Delgado’s house. The crisp air couldn’t cut that olfactory memory.

A band of white had risen around Callie’s wrist. She hadn’t noticed it until they entered the car. It’d puckered and crusted like a barely toasted marshmallow, but it didn’t hurt. She ran her thumb over it and found the skin smooth. She tugged her sleeve down to cover it. Weird inch-wide rings on her wrists were more than she could handle right now.

“What now?” Derek had done a good job pretending Callie hadn’t lost her mind. He hadn’t flinched when he escorted her out of the house with a distracted wave toward her family. His arms had been steel bands holding her upright and steady. Her legs worked fine. Her skin was back to normal outside the stripe she was ignoring, but her heart was squeezed so tight it was certain to implode. The guilt poured over her with the thickness of shimmering oil. The spatter was in her mind, but it didn’t sting any less. She’d attacked her mother. She’d used soul magic. She’d brandished a fucking beer bottle like an asshole in some shit bar who had too much to drink and too little sense. She wasn’t supposed to be one of those people. She’d gotten out. She’d gone straight. She was honest and upright and a protector. What kind of person does that to family? Maybe there was a reason Zara liked her least. Josh had stolen her television in the past, but he’d never sucked a soul out of her body. On the scale of things to steal, elusive and surreal energy stored behind one’s sternum was probably more invasive than the device used to watch sitcoms. Though, they could cost about the same. So, there was that.

Derek’s arm rested heavy on her shoulders. Solid and real and a steady lifeline of body heat. No fire. No anger. Just consistent presence. His hand curled around her far shoulder, and he gave her a little tug toward him. Not enough to move her, but enough to make her feel wanted.

“You okay?” His voice was gentle, but he wasn’t good at hiding his worry from her right now.

She wasn’t, but he’d known that tonight would haunt her. He’d seen just enough of her scars to know she could wear guilt better than most. She nodded, though, to acknowledge she’d heard what he was actually saying.

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