Book of Night(51)

She thought of hearing Vince’s voice when she woke. The softness in it when he’d spoken to Hermes. The softness in his voice when he spoke to her on the steps. I wish he was alive so I could kill him again.

“Just some clarifications,” Malhar said. “Can you tell me how far the shadow was able to move from the person’s body?”

“Probably about twenty-five feet,” Charlie told him, glad to focus on the technical details instead of how she’d felt. “But usually less than ten.”

He went through a series of questions like that. How often had it become solid, how solid had it become. Had it seemed connected to the gloamist. Had the gloamist seemed strained in any way or stopped to provide it blood. Had Charlie bled, and if she had, did the shadow seem distracted or interested in the blood.

He made a note. “And did the shadow speak at any time?”

Charlie shook her head, surprised by the question. Blights spoke, or at least some of them did. The very powerful ones, like Rowdy Joss, who’d been responsible for the Boxford Massacre, or Xiang Zheng, who dictated many observations about the world to scholars around 220 A.D. and had been thought of as a ghost. Most Blights were less clever than animals—a little low cunning borrowed from their human memories, mixed with the madness that afflicted most of them.

But shadows were still tethered. They couldn’t speak, at least not on their own. Well, she’d thought they couldn’t.

Posey must have been wondering the same thing. “They can talk?”

Malhar hesitated, not like he was trying to decide to answer, but like he was trying to decide how to put what he was about to say. “I don’t know what you know about the mechanics of energy exchange that exists between gloamist and shadow.”

Posey frowned. She didn’t like to admit what she didn’t know, but Charlie figured this was one of the things she’d want some definitive answers about.

“Tell us,” Charlie said.

“The average human, at rest, produces enough energy to power a lightbulb. To charge a phone. And if we run, we produce enough to power an electric stove.” He shook his head. “I am being inexact. According to the first law of thermodynamics, energy can neither be created nor destroyed. So we don’t make the energy. We convert it from food and water.”

Posey nodded along with his explanation.

“That’s the energy that’s passed along to shadows. They’re a little like a parasite. The body produces excess energy anyway, and the magical parasite drains it off. The more energy it stores, the more powerful it becomes.”

“And that’s how you make it do things,” Posey said.

“I noticed that you had your tongue split,” Malhar said, “so I’m sure you’ve heard of the bifurcated consciousness. Gloamists train their brains to be able to control their shadows simultaneously with controlling their own bodies. Ambidextrous people have an advantage. If you see a gloamist without a split tongue, odds are that they’re ambidextrous.”

“Sure,” Posey said impatiently. To her, this was basic stuff.

“The problem is that a quickened shadow, on its own, doesn’t store much energy. So, say a gloamist wants to do something that requires more energy than their shadow has—they can open a tap to their shadow, letting it pull energy from the gloamist. But leave the tap open too long and the gloamist will die. That’s where the bifurcated soul comes in.

“If a gloamist puts some of themselves into their shadow, they can create a separate entity which holds energy. The shadow becomes a mirror self, reflected self, second self, upside-down self. But the more powerful your shadow grows, the more it controls you.”

“Blights,” Charlie said.

Malhar nodded. “When the gloamist dies, yes. But I believe they are conscious long before that.”

It occurred to Charlie that Malhar said he was studying the ethnography of shadows, and suddenly understood why his advisors might have thought he was in too deep. Was he hoping to interview one? Had he interviewed one?

“Uh, well, we should get to the testing part,” he said, perhaps seeing the expression on her face. “There are three things I’d like to try, but I am going to have to set up something first.”

“You’re filming video?” Charlie asked.

“It’s part of the test,” he said warily.

Charlie frowned as he got out a stand and plugged a cord from his laptop into his phone. “Don’t even think about showing our faces.”

He nodded distractedly as he got out the ring lights. Then he took out a finger-stick lancet in plastic packaging.

“Charlie, do you mind standing?” he asked, after he’d gotten his equipment where he wanted it to be.

She got up.

“Now, can either of you tell me what you observed that made you believe your shadow might have been affected by the experience?”

“It moved weirdly,” Posey said. “Not like she was controlling it or anything, but weird.”

He turned to Charlie. “Did you feed it blood?”

“I was cut up that night,” she said. “And then, in the bathroom today I picked off a scab. So I don’t know. Maybe.”

Posey looked betrayed to be hearing this for the first time, but considering that none of this would be happening if she hadn’t betrayed Charlie’s confidence, Charlie refused to feel bad about it.