Book of Night(112)

But she had at least one answer she hadn’t before. If Red wasn’t the Blight that Salt had been using to do his dirty work, she knew who had been in his employ.

Opening a multipaned glass door halfway, she slipped through into the cold night air.

Posey met her on the side of the house, breathing hard.

“I made it.” She looked wide-eyed with panic.

“You’re still sure?” Charlie asked her sister.

“You’re the one who has to be sure,” Posey told her, although she was obviously nervous, and not just about getting caught. “We can still walk away.”

Walk away. Wasn’t that what she’d tried to do for years? Walked away from the death of Rand, pretended it hadn’t scarred her. Pretended she didn’t remember. That she didn’t blame herself for surviving.

Walked away from being a thief and told herself it was because of the bullet in her side, that she’d lost her nerve, rather than admit she’d scared herself with how easily and brutally she’d turned the betrayal back on Mark. She’d never been all that afraid of getting hurt, or dying. It had always been her own abilities, her capacity for solving a puzzle, for getting a job done at any cost. She was terrified of what she could do if she tried.

From the time she’d pretended to channel Alonso and it had actually gotten rid of Travis, she’d been afraid of herself.

Somebody needed to keep her in check, and so that person became Charlie herself. Making sure she got knocked down every time things were going too well, picking the wrong people to love, getting fired from jobs, screwing up.

Charlie had been walking away from herself her whole life.

She sat down on the grass.

Posey sat down opposite her, their feet touching. Charlie took the onyx dagger from its sheath.

“Ready?” she asked.

Posey nodded.

Charlie wasn’t sure what she expected, but the first cut didn’t feel like anything. The real challenges were spotty moonlight and inexperience, and she was relieved when her part was done and Posey took over.

Inside the house, she watched Salt move to the front of the great room. He had a champagne flute in one hand. This must be the part where he thanked them all for coming and the Cabal for accepting him as a member.

Charlie staggered to her feet, not quite sure how she felt. Not lighter. Not less herself. But changed.

Maybe there really was such a thing as fate. Maybe people really did have destinies that could be deciphered through cards. Maybe Charlie needed to stop fighting hers.

With a last look back at Posey, she opened one of the glass doors to the great room. A great gust of cold wind whipped through the room behind her, filling the long white curtains like sails. Conversations went out like candles as the gloamists turned toward her.

She hadn’t expected to make quite so dramatic an entrance.

Charlie stuck close to the doors, making sure the light was coming toward her.

“Hello,” she said, her voice carrying in the high-ceilinged room and remaining steady, despite all the eyes on her. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Charlie Hall,” Lionel Salt said, furious at the interruption and doing a bad job of hiding it. “I didn’t expect you’d make it.”

Tension straightened her spine, drawing back her shoulders. She was certain he’d been counting on her not showing up. After all, he’d given her a terrifying threat and then set her a task at which she’d been guaranteed to fail. The last place she ought to be was at his party. The smart thing to do would be to leave town for a couple of weeks, until things cooled off. Maybe not come back.

But of course, whatever kind of smart Charlie was, it wasn’t that kind. “You told me what would happen if I didn’t.”

A few hushed conversations became less hushed after that. Gossip was the lifeblood of any party.

A musician—the one in the owl mask—made for the exit, instrument in hand. A waiter whispered to José. The waiter pointed. José took a canapé off a silver tray and ate it. This was definitely not going to help her reputation back home.

Across the room, the Hierophant left where he’d been standing and began to move toward her. His eyes were more sunken than ever. His lips had a faintly blue cast.

“I would think that this was a piece of performance art for our entertainment, except that Lionel seems absolutely flummoxed,” said Vicereine. The head of the alterationists was in a tuxedo, her shadow taking on the appearance of a large hunting cat pawing the ground beside her. “Maybe you missed your cue?”

Salt cleared his throat. “I hired her to steal back a book that I lost, the Liber Noctem. It is a jewel in my collection, and I had hoped to have it on display tonight. So, Ms. Hall, do you have my book?”

“I do,” she said.

He smiled at that, with all the satisfaction of someone checkmating a rogue king. “Well then, come and give it to me.”

He had, after all, arranged a situation where all her choices were bad. The only book she had was the one that had belonged to Knight Singh. She could bluff and give him that. He’d probably appreciate having it, since the cover was stuffed with pages full of heinous shit he’d done. But no matter if she gave him something valuable, he’d still accuse her of foul play. Of trying to pass off that book as his lost one.

Charlie took a deep breath, letting Salt really enjoy the moment. Then she reached into her backpack and took out what she’d brought from the safe in the library, where it had been locked up tight the whole time. The famed Book of Night. The genuine Liber Noctem. Light streaming through the crystals of the chandelier reflected off the polished metal cover, sending rainbows along the wall.