Rogue Souls Read online

  ROGUE SOULS

  CHELSEA MUELLER

  Copyright © 2018 by Chelsea Mueller

  In memory of Loki,

  who was at my side for every word on the page.

  PRAISE FOR CHELSEA MUELLER

  “Rogue Souls is fantastic! . . . I was really reminded of the early Kate Daniels books by Ilona Andrews – central mystery, while parceling out the perfect amount of juicy information about the main characters, the social structures around them and their setting to hook the reader.”

  —Red Hot Books

  “I’ll be once again counting down the days to the release of book three to see what comes next.”

  —Fiction Vixen

  “Do not miss, fantastic urban fantasy.”

  —Lauren Dane, New York Times &

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  “A fun, witty, fast-paced ride.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “Mueller is definitely an author to watch.”

  —Scandalicious Book Reviews

  “Mueller explores an intriguing concept in a seedy, visceral setting that pops to life on the page.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Snappy, snarky, and oh-so-sexy, Borrowed Souls is one for the keeper shelf! It's the stellar writing and sharp storytelling that makes this book a standout hit. Trust me, one-click the heck outta this s*t!”

  —New York Times bestselling author Darynda Jones

  “Borrowed Souls combines classic and modern fantasy elements in a fresh take on the genre; readers who like dark worlds and compelling heroines will enjoy this smooth read.”

  —Booklist, reviewed by Nicole Foti

  “Fun, heartfelt, and wildly creative, Borrowed Souls packs a new brand of punch in a debut urban fantasy with a soulful twist on magic. Chelsea Mueller brings a new and exciting voice to the UF genre.”

  —Kelly Meding, author of the Dreg City series

  “Dark, fun, and edgy, Borrowed Souls sucked me in from the very first page and didn't let go.”

  —J. C. Daniels, author of the Colbana Files

  “A terrific world with an unlikely heroine, quiet and determined, with a pure heart and fiery will to protect her family. The hero, Derek, is big, tough, morally ambiguous and utterly delicious. I think this is the start to a fabulous new series. Definitely recommend!”

  —Jeffe Kennedy, author of The Twelve Kingdoms

  and The Uncharted Realms

  “Gritty realism, pitch perfect characters and a heavy dose of red hot sex. What more could you ask for?”

  —Shannon Mayer, author of the bestselling

  Rylee Adamson series

  “Fast paced with tons of great action, snarky dialogue, and just enough steamy romance. If you're a fan of the Alex Craft series by Kalayna Price or the Mercy Thompson series by Patricia Briggs, you'll love Borrowed Souls!”

  —Kate Baxter, author of the Last True Vampire series

  “The perfect urban fantasy cocktail. Spectacular world-building and a badass heroine.”

  —Shawntelle Madison, author of Coveted

  “Distinguished itself with its inventive premise and well-built characters . . . I will DEFINITELY be snatching up the next installment. Theories aside, the plot was provocative, and I was happy with the direction that things seem to be taking. . . . You should spend your hard-earned money on Borrowed Souls this week!”

  —RabidReads, reviewed by Carmel

  “I loved [Rogue Souls]! I will be getting it in paper when it comes out to go on the shelf with the first book. If you like an adult urban paranormal book you will like this novel!”

  —The. Stars. That. Listen,

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER ONE

  Callie Delgado was familiar with poor choices. She’d made plenty.

  She’d eaten only Hostess products for a solid month when she was twelve. She’d cold-cocked one of her mom’s boyfriends when she’d caught him raiding the pantry. She hadn’t turned her brother in when he’d stolen drugs from a hospital where she’d worked. She lost her job and career path because she chose family first. Always. She didn’t regret those decisions. Not really. Not in the keep-you-up-at-night way. Not in the wonder-who-you’ve-become way.

  But this?

  Tiny beetles burrowed beneath her skin. Instead of grinding a palm down her arm to still the sensation, she had to “embrace the magic.” Whatever the hell that meant. The black stone flask was buzzing hard enough to make her question if her fingers had gone numb. She squeezed the flask, and the heated thrum of the container now pulsed beneath her palm. The flask was ready, even if Callie wasn’t.

  The woman standing before Callie stomped her foot. “Can we get this over with? My husband will be home soon, and we are attending the seven o’clock services.”

  Services. Callie was about to pull a soul out of this woman’s body, and she wanted to pretend that faith was a priority. Fucking Gem City. “You could have come to the shop if you wanted an appointment.”

  The woman reeled back like Callie had swiped at her gaudy pearls. “The children . . . need me.”

  Three kiddos ran around in the next room oblivious to the fact mommy was doubled up on souls so she could sin without feeling dirty. “What’d you need the soul for anyway?” Callie asked. She popped the cap of the flask, and then keened her head to the right until her neck cracked. Like she needed to be limber for this shit.

  “With this?” She gestured to the three kids, all too young for school. “I need a little thrill. So, I pick up a thing or two I don’t pay for, and thanks to your boss the Church doesn’t need to worry about it.”

  This lady had no shame. Maybe that’s what renting souls did for you. It took away your shame. Your guilt. Your honor. Callie wasn’t certain. She’d only had an extra soul in her once and it didn’t make her feel protected or powerful or prideful. It’d squicked her out, and mostly she just appreciated that it’d concealed her fingerprints, because she’d also done some illegal shit while using a borrowed soul. Unlike this woman, though, Callie had zero desire for a repeat.

  This conversation was pointless. Callie extended her arm until the metal mouth of the flask pressed against the woman’s sternum, beneath the trio of druzy pendants that cost more than Callie’s rent. Heat blossomed and wilted beneath her palm. She capped the flask and tucked in her back jean pocket. Her hoodie was already zipped, but Callie tugged the tab upward until it was fully sealed.

  Her shoulder grazed the other woman’s as she strode to the door.

  “Am I square with him?” the renter asked.

  In the last several weeks of repossessing rented souls for the Soul Charmer of Gem City, Callie had heard this question a dozen different ways. Most were variants of fear. They didn’t want to have a man
who could steal your soul mad at them. They didn’t want him to send the muscle out to beat them black and blue. They weren’t all too scared of Callie, but then they didn’t know what she could do. Neither did she. That was the problem. This woman, though, that lilt and pleading tone in her voice? She wanted to make sure he’d be ready to rent to her again. Callie ran the pad of her thumb across her fingernails and the thin layer of ice coating them. Yes, this woman was square with the Charmer, but did she understand what she’d given up? The ice on Callie’s nails proved this woman was broken, missing pieces now, and she ready for more.

  Callie could almost relate. “Yeah. Your account is settled.” It was the most comfort Callie could give her. If only the Soul Charmer would settle with Callie. His magic snapped and roiled within her body, demanding release. Callie wished she could oblige, but despite yanking souls out of delinquent renters, she didn’t know enough to control it. Not owning her own body, not controlling the power within it, was more painful than she cared to admit. At least she wasn’t innocent. None of them were.

  Callie ignored the chill beginning to lock her fingers in place. She was getting good at it, and that worried her. She tucked her hands into her pockets and hurried out the front door. Gravel from the yard peppered the sidewalk. She sidestepped the small rocks and kept her eyes on the motorcycle idling at the curb.

  Derek held out a helmet to her. The bike was massive, but he looked natural atop it. Broad shoulders wrapped in a well-worn leather jacket and just the right amount of scruff on his chin presented every bit the image of badass. He’d cultivated the look, but Callie softened as his gaze met hers. She took the helmet from him, but didn’t immediately put it on.

  “Remind me why I had to do that,” Callie said, voice low.

  Stretching her fingers didn’t erase the echo of ice. The chill lingered in her mind, even if her hands were no longer supernaturally cold. Streaks of ruby and gold slithered behind the snowcapped Taos Mountains in the distance. The roads weren’t icy in Gem City yet, but winter in the high desert might be enough to make her perpetually cold. At least then she wouldn’t have to acknowledge every soul renter she passed at the 7-Eleven.

  “Because he pays you to.”

  “He doesn’t pay me, actually.” Callie’s grumble punched past the wind whipping against her back.

  Derek’s response was a deep rumble of a sigh. He climbed off the motorcycle. Callie took a half step backward, so she wouldn’t have to incline her head to meet his gaze. He brushed a few loose strands of her dark hair behind her ear. The wind must fear the powers of the Soul Charmer’s muscle, because her locks didn’t budge. “I don’t want to argue over your apprenticeship.”

  Spitting the term suggested otherwise, but Callie didn’t correct him. “I meant why you didn’t come inside with me to collect the soul.”

  They were a team. Since the beginning, which didn’t feel like the mere weeks it’d been. She was just the one with the magic in her bones to get the flask to pull the souls out of people. She needed someone to scare them into compliance. She was short, did not know how to wrestle, and the heaviest thing she lifted on a regular basis was a 25 lb. bag of flour. She needed Derek’s muscle and menace. The bonus of having someone she trusted at her back? Also very important.

  “You got it done without me.” He grazed his scarred knuckles along her jaw. Callie leaned in to the touch.

  “It would have been easier . . .”

  When they were alone he laughed with his whole body. People were peeking through blinds at them now, and Derek’s chuckle barely passed his lips. “Not every job requires me.”

  Callie took his hand in hers and squeezed. “Disagree.”

  “The boss thinks otherwise. He wants you to try doing the easy retrievals solo.”

  “He hasn’t taught me shit. He can’t just go shoving me out of the nest like a demented mama bird.”

  “Please never call him a mama ever again.”

  Callie laughed loudly imagining her de facto boss covered in feathers. She let her voice carry around the cul-de-sac. Let them listen. They were the ones pretending to be better than who they truly were. At least she was upfront about her shit.

  The woman Callie had retrieved the soul from opened her front door to shush them. Callie flipped her the bird, and then tugged on her helmet.

  Quality time with deadbeat soul renters in upscale housing who set her teeth on edge and forced ice into her palms was not exactly making her feel like a magician. If she was going to be able to pull souls from people’s bodies she should at least feel like a goddamn magician.

  “Fine, let’s go talk to the old man.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  November carried that ominous threat of real winter. It was too cold to be riding a motorcycle. Callie hadn’t said anything, because a piece of her enjoyed the cold wind crushing against her. Derek dodged the potholes and puddles littering the road as they eased into downtown. It was still early enough that the shops throughout the Plaza were open. When the streetlights popped on, everyone would be gone though.

  Not the Soul Charmer, though. His business boomed when the others fled for the suburbs. Restaurants and bars stayed open nearby. Socialization with access to booze led to bad ideas in Callie’s experience. Based on the number of stumbling men and giggling couples falling in the door of the soul renter’s emporium, she was right.

  The sun stretched toward them between the squat, adobe buildings. Derek parked the bike down the alley from the back entrance of the Soul Charmer’s shop. The store’s front didn’t offer much more appeal, but at least you knew what you were getting into. If you had to enter a store by walking past broken beer bottles and Dumpsters, either it was selling some shady shit, or it didn’t want your money. The Charmer was willing to barter—as Callie knew all too well—but he generally liked taking people’s money and fucking with them at the same time.

  No wonder Callie hesitated after Derek had stowed their helmets.

  Derek extended a hand to her. “C’mon, doll.”

  She took his hand. It was warm and calloused and familiar. No matter how many times she’d walked in the unmarked employee entrance, it set her teeth on edge like it was the first time. She squeezed Derek’s hand, and focused on the warm pulse of the full flask in her back pocket.

  “Right. Let’s go refocus the old guy.”

  Turns out the Charmer was plenty focused already.

  They pushed their way into the back office, and the Soul Charmer already had his hand out for the flask.

  “Did she give you any trouble?” he asked. Somehow the white stubble on his chin only sharpened the grizzled old man.

  Callie shrugged. “She whined about it.”

  He took the flask from her and whirled to face his desk. The oak behemoth was odd in the tile-and-glass laboratory chic of the room. The Charmer popped the cap with gnarled, knobby fingers. Callie’s stomach hollowed out. The soul was so close, and she didn’t want to feel it. His gold rings clinked against the container, but Callie’s heartbeat rang far louder in her ears. The soul leaped from the flask and into the opaque black jar her blackmailer-turned-boss held. He had yet to explain how he controlled the transfer of the souls from one object to another.

  Rented souls weren’t obedient. The Charmer would tell his customers his soul magic was safe, and it was easy to extract them. He told Callie the magic he’d infused in her wouldn’t harm her. He’d lied to her and he was certainly lying to them.

  Sure, Callie’s body was still intact despite the magic pumping through her veins, but in the quest to crush his rivals the Soul Charmer had turned her into the human equivalent of a metal detector dialed to a “soul” setting. Her body reacted to soul magic levels in others. The ice layer on her fingertips earlier was, unfortunately, not new enough to shock her. It was still far better than what happened when extra souls were present around her. Callie suppressed a shudder at the memory or the last time she’d stood near a person with multiple souls in their body.
The sensory skills were good when you were tracking down those reneging on their soul rental agreements, but a shitty one when you were trying to buy groceries and your hands froze to the cart. What was worse, though, was the power bound her to the jerk.

  She’d agreed to work for the Soul Charmer a month ago to save her brother from a mobster. Nothing like having a murdering drug dealer shunt you off to the guy who dealt in souls, right? It was supposed to be a quick job. In and out. Her brother was safe at her apartment now. So why was Callie still in this back-alley shop, still toting a flask for the guy? Because the Charmer had refused to remove the magic, which meant Callie had to push back. Keep your enemy close or some shit. She demanded the Charmer teach her how to wield soul magic.

  She already regretted that decision.

  Standing near the Charmer as he poured the freshly collected soul into a jar crafted of the same onyx as the flask she carried? Definitely a regret. Heat began to pool in her palms. The sensation didn’t bring pain, but it overwhelmed her. The florescent lights overhead focused to a spotlight on the jar, the sharp tang of astringent clogged her nostrils, and the fire filled her. The dozens of times she’d watched the Charmer complete this transfer, he’d close the lid on the jar quickly. He didn’t this time, but the soul stayed inside.

  Callie hadn’t ever put much thought into what a soul would look like. It was supposed to be intangible . . . at least until the Charmer brought the ability to rent a soul to Gem City a decade ago. Even as she slapped the opened flask to people’s chests to collect the borrowed souls, the pass from body to container was invisible. Now, though, she could see an opaline white swirl in the jar. Gossamer threads moved like a jellyfish in the container smaller than a jam jar.

  She would have been mesmerized if sparks weren’t igniting along her fingers. “Enough,” she muttered, not sure if she was making the request of the Charmer, her fingers, or the soul.

  “Rein your magic in, and it won’t be an issue.” The Soul Charmer gestured widely with his right arm, and the billowing sleeve of his purple pajama top flapped and snapped. She would have been impressed at the seventy something’s dexterity, but she was busy trying to stop the magic from roasting her.