Book of Night(33)

Her ex-boyfriend’s brother—the one who eventually shot her—had been in prison for knocking over a liquor store. He’d told her about how after their first kill, people’s minds don’t work right. They go full-tilt boogie, bubble-brained. That’s why, even if they’re normally meticulous, even if they planned the whole thing, they start screwing up. They do stuff that doesn’t make sense, like calmly letting in the police when their whole bedroom is covered in blood. Or renting a getaway car under their own name.

Vince wasn’t acting like that. He’d done this before.

And a history with murder wasn’t the only secret he’d been keeping, given the way he’d spoken about that gloamist’s shadow. He knew much more about that world than he’d ever let on. As much as she’d been keeping from him, he’d been keeping a lot more from her.

She looked down at the stupid bike shorts she was wearing, at her stretchy dress, soaked with spilled booze. Beads of blood were blooming along her calves where shards of glass struck her, and when she looked at the backs of her hands, she was surprised to find they were bleeding too.

It was hard to fault Vince, though. Whatever his secrets were, she could still count on him. He was currently getting rid of a dead body for her. You couldn’t get more dependable than that.

A little laugh escaped her mouth, a weird giggle.

Her gaze fell on the floorboards and her own shadow. She blinked at it twice, waiting for her vision to clear. It seemed to ripple. Had Hermes done something to it?

Puzzled, she leaned down and touched her hand to its shadow on the floor. It met her, as usual. When she pulled back, she left a small smear of blood from the cuts on her fingers behind.

Just then the landline behind the bar began to ring, making her jump.

Charlie staggered back to the bar. “Yes?”

“Darling,” said Odette, sounding for all the world like a starlet from the past. “I heard a terrible crash and then everything went quiet.”

“Are you still in your office?” Charlie asked, ashamed of the way her voice didn’t come out as evenly as she’d intended. “He’s gone, but he left a real mess. You shouldn’t have stayed.”

The line disconnected. A moment later, she heard the turning of tumblers. Odette sauntered back into the room just as Vince came through the double doors.

“Did the police finally come? I called them ages ago.” She regarded them and the room, taking in the destruction of her club and the presence of Vincent with a somewhat stunned expression.

“No one here but us.” Charlie realized abruptly that she wasn’t okay after all. Her hands were shaking. She thought she might have to sit down. She thought she might not make it to a chair before she did.

Odette was talking. “Did you know that man? I tried to get the gun out of the safe in the back, but I couldn’t remember the combination.”

Charlie knelt down on the floor, forcing herself to take a few deep, even breaths. That was what she did when she was having a panic attack. And she suspected this was going to be a monster of a panic attack. “What?”

“That man.” Odette frowned at her. “He seemed to think he knew you. And perhaps you should move off the floor. A chair would probably be more comfortable. Cleaner, I’m sure.”

“He thought I knew someone else, but I don’t. I didn’t.” Maybe Charlie was the one whose mind had gone full-tilt boogie. “I’m good right here.”

Odette sat down on a barstool. She looked at the smashed wall of liquor and gave a long sigh. “I don’t understand the world anymore. I think I’m getting old.”

Charlie shook her head. “Never.”

“Did you see what that man did? With his…” Odette looked toward the double doors, the way she’d been looking when the magic rolled toward her. “With Balthazar’s shadow parlor, I saw the wondrous part of gloaming, but not the awful side.”

“Yeah,” Charlie said quietly.

“It was horrible.” Odette glanced toward Vince, then back at Charlie. “Do you think this has something to do with Balthazar?”

“The man was looking for a guy they tossed out the other night,” she said after a moment.

“But why ask you?” Odette said, which was an entirely reasonable point.

Charlie opened her mouth, trying to find some explanation that could make sense when Vince interrupted her. “Is there a first aid kit somewhere? She’s bleeding.”

“Oh, of course. In my office,” Odette said, rising from her barstool.

“Just tell me where—” Charlie began, but Odette cut her off.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Stay.” She headed into the back again.

Charlie sighed, and deliberately did not look at her shadow, which might or might not be moving. Which might or might not mean something. “I’m fine.”

“I know.” Vince squatted down next to her and ran his hands lightly over her arms, checking for cuts. His fingers were careful. Careful, like how he kissed. Not the rough, blunt pressure against a jaw.

“Vince?” she said.

He took her hand and smiled like any kindly boyfriend, one who didn’t believe he’d been overheard talking about magic. Who hoped she didn’t know, or wouldn’t mind too much about him being a murderer.