Book of Night(49)

“So tell me about this guy, Malhar,” Charlie said, to distract herself.

She shrugged. “I don’t know that much. He seemed nice over chat.”

“No offense, Posey, but there are a lot of graduate students in the Valley, and they’re just that, students. What makes you think this guy has that much more information than you do? I mean, you spend every night online doing research. You’ve probably read a million accounts of quickened shadows.”

Posey’s frown deepened. “I don’t do research, though. People can make up stories, or exaggerate for attention. Videos can be faked. I might know a lot, but so many things I’ve thought were real turned out not to work. Meanwhile, he’s authenticating the information he gets. He has proof.” Posey shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Possibly because the seats were, like everything else in the Corolla, kind of busted. “Speaking of which…”

“What?” Charlie said.

Posey made a face. “I might have exaggerated some things too—”

“For his attention.” Charlie looked out the window at the darkening sky. “I guess you got it.”

After that, Posey was silent all the way until they crossed the Calvin Coolidge Memorial Bridge.

The University of Massachusetts rose like a surprise city in the middle of nowhere, complete with a football stadium, tall buildings, traffic jams, and a miniature Stonehenge. If you took a wrong turn at a farmers market you got surrounded by a swarm of students, arriving every year like locusts, thirsty for beer and boba tea. Students were the lifeblood of the Valley, and if Charlie resented them, she knew she needed them as much as anyone if she wanted to keep slinging drinks.

And soon Posey would be one of them, and go on with them to a future full of possibilities. At least, that was the hope.

Charlie parked in an enormous lot, one that was marked with some letters that might or might not mean she was in the right place.

As they got out, Charlie once again regretted her leather coat’s lack of warmth. The sun slipped low and red in the distance. They could see the lightning farm over in Sunderland, harvesting energy with ominous crackles and strikes.

“You okay?” Charlie asked.

“I just can’t imagine coming here every day,” Posey said.

They stood there for a few seconds until Charlie reminded Posey that she was the one with the directions. She frowned at her phone for a while. “I think we’re supposed to go toward that pond.”

They got lost twice, wandering through the campus, passing clumps of students in UGGs and pajama pants. A Black woman with an on-point eyeliner game sat outside the student center, reading a feminist translation of Beowulf. A white boy tried to hand Charlie a flyer for an anime festival. Three guys in team sweats jogged by.

Vince had gone to a school like this, sitting in lectures, learning to fence. A more expensive university, one that was supposed to spit him out ready to rule over the less fortunate.

He’d had everything. Money. Privilege. Power.

For the first time, Charlie wondered what could have possibly made him run away.



* * *



Madurai Malhar Iyer was waiting for them in the lobby of the library. He was a tall guy, young, with brown skin, wearing wire-rimmed glasses and a flannel over a t-shirt, slender in a way that spoke of spending so much time studying that he forgot to eat.

“I’m Posey,” Posey said. “And this is my sister, Charlie.”

Malhar signed them in as his guests and led them into a study room in the back. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me so quickly,” he said as they walked through the stacks.

Posey nodded, obviously a little embarrassed. She wanted to impress him, Charlie realized.

Malhar swung his bag over his shoulder and set it down on the table, removing his laptop and a notebook. Several pens fell out, an apple rolling behind them. “Do you want anything? There’s a coffee machine, but it’s not very good. The hot chocolate is okay, but someone told me they got a boiled roach in their cup.”

Posey wrinkled her nose. “I’m going to pass.”

“I’ll take the roach coffee,” said Charlie. The buzz of Balthazar’s candy coffee was starting to wear off, and she needed something to keep going.

“I’ll grab you some,” he said, and then hesitated. “I’m sure it’s fine. I mean, lots of people drink it.”

He came back with three cups. Two coffees and a hot chocolate. She supposed he felt obligated to have one himself, like a host taking the first sip of wine to show they aren’t poisoning their guests.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat. “Posey, I’d like you to tell your story again, and I’d like to record it. Does that sound okay?”

Posey pushed back her shoulders. “It was my sister, really. I told you it happened to me, because she wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about it. But I convinced her that it was important.”

His gaze went to Charlie. She shrugged.

“So you’re the one with the quickened shadow?” Malhar looked flummoxed.

Charlie didn’t blame him. She turned to Posey. “The what?”

Posey looked sheepish. “It is. Or at least, it’s something. You know how weird it was acting last night.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Charlie said, standing. “Straight-up murder. No one would blame me. I can’t believe I let you drag me over here—”