Book of Night(66)

A smile pulled at the corners of Charlie’s mouth.

“You’ve got to go,” Kyle told her, then leaned forward and lowered his voice. “You probably shouldn’t come back for a while, either.”

“Been kicked out of better places.” Charlie got up and carefully put on her coat while Richie glared. She counted the cash for her tab and tip and placed it on the wet counter. Then she blew a kiss to the old man she’d danced with and was immensely gratified when he mimed catching it.

She only stumbled twice on her way out the door.



* * *



Charlie woke in the back seat of her car with a dry mouth and a pounding head that felt as though it were stuffed with insulation foam. Her limbs were stiff with cold. Rain pattered against the roof, and the sky outside was dark and heavy with the promise of more.

Moving to sit up, she caught sight of her reflection in the glass of the window. Her mascara had run and, although she didn’t remember crying, her cheeks were streaked with the tracks of tears. A familiar shame washed over her. She’d had so many nights like this, when she’d woken up with the knowledge that she’d done something for momentary satisfaction that would turn out to be in no way worth the cost.

But as she clambered down the hill into the stretch of woods to piss on some leaves, she was willing to embrace all her faults. She’d been lying to herself when she thought she could change.

She was the exact same Charlie Hall she’d always been. Messy. Impulsive. Alone.

Walking up to her car, Charlie saw that someone else was standing beside it. A man with white hair and a long black wool coat.

Her stomach churned.

“You must be Charlie Hall,” he said. “I’m Lionel Salt. I believe I have a job for you.”





20

TWO-PART POISON




The man leaned on a silver-tipped cane. Behind him was the matte black Rolls-Royce of legend. Even the windows of the car were tinted dark. A small elderly man stood beside him, holding an umbrella so that Lionel Salt would stay dry. Half the man’s coat was already dark with rain.

Just looking at him filled her with a feeling of horror so strong that it locked up her muscles. She knew she had to get to her car, but her body urged her to run deeper into the woods and hide.

“A job?” she called up to him, her voice surprisingly steady.

“I hired a man, Hermes Fortune, who is in the same line of work as you. Unfortunately, he’s gone missing. It seems I need a new thief. And I hear you’re quite good?”

Charlie made it up the hill and gave him a wide berth as she headed for her car. The sparkly dress she’d worn to the MGM burned bright in the late-morning light. In the reflection of the car window, her smeared makeup, marred by tear tracks, made her feel entirely too vulnerable. Maybe the rain would wash her face for her, although she suspected it would only make things worse. “I’m out of the game,” she said. “There’s a guy named Adam that does a bunch of my old gigs. Balthazar can put the two of you in touch.”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “Adam Lokken? I have him working on something else for me.”

Balthazar had told her that Adam failed to find the Liber Noctem. She didn’t think of Salt as someone who went back to people who’d disappointed him. Had Salt been the person on the other end of the phone call she’d overheard?

“That’s too bad,” Charlie said. “I still can’t help you.”

“I spoke to an old acquaintance of mine, Odette Fevre. It seems you might have been the last person to see Hermes alive. Such a coincidence, don’t you think? She called you Charlie Hall. Is that your real name? I’ve only ever heard you called the Charlatan.”

It just figured that Odette knew him. She had enough wealthy clients to have had to cross paths with local billionaire Lionel Salt. And Odette had implied to Charlie that she’d talked to someone about Hermes. Charlie ought to have immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusion.

At least Salt hadn’t recognized her. Of course, she’d been fifteen, just a kid. And it wasn’t like there’d have been anything special about that night for him. He’d probably killed lots of people before and since.

But if he thought blackmailing Charlie by holding the disappearance of Hermes over her head would work, he was far off the mark. After Rand, Charlie had learned that blackmail only gets worse with time. Also, she didn’t think Odette gave a shit if Charlie was a stone-cold killer, so long as she showed up for her shifts on time and kept the till balanced.

After the silence stretched long enough that he realized she wasn’t going to answer, he spoke again. “Speaking of coincidences, what are the chances that a well-known pilferer of magical books would find herself involved with a man who ran away with one of mine?”

“I do appreciate you calling me well-known,” Charlie said.

“My grandson certainly knew you, didn’t he?” Salt’s voice stayed level, but he clearly didn’t like her attitude. Probably he thought someone who’d peed in the woods, and who looked as though they’d had the kind of night people promise not to talk about outside of Vegas would have the grace to act ashamed.

“The late Edmund Carver,” she said. “My condolences.”

His eyes narrowed. “I believe you call him by his middle name. Odette described him in unmistakable detail, so let’s drop the charade.”