Book of Night(68)

“And fresh clothes,” Adeline said, wrinkling her nose, then smiled at Charlie. “No offense. I’ve woken up plenty of mornings in last night’s party rags.”

Party rags? It wasn’t that she couldn’t picture Vince spending time with her, because he had a deep well of patience. What she couldn’t picture was Vince being like her.

The car pulled out onto the road, swinging away from the bar, Charlie’s Corolla, and any hope of an easy escape.

A few minutes later the car stopped in front of The Roost, a coffeeshop at the edge of Northampton’s downtown. An employee came out with a tray of coffees and a bag that the driver accepted through the front window.

Charlie wondered if there was a sign she could give that she was being kidnapped, like those clever women who manage to signal that they’re in trouble during pizza deliveries.

If there was something, though, Charlie’s hangover prevented her from thinking of it. The car pulled away from the curb, in the direction of I-91. The wipers swept across the windshield like a metronome.

She took a nervous sip of the coffee. Adeline had gotten some matcha concoction, which left a trace of green foam on her upper lip.

“I am a person who is used to getting what I want,” Salt began, an understatement if ever she’d heard one. “And what I want is a book returned to me. Liber Noctem, The Book of Night. Look for a book that Edmund is keeping under lock and key, with a metal cover, and that will be it. There are no words on the cover. It may appear like a journal.”

Charlie nodded, unwilling to agree to get it for him, and took another sip of coffee. She waited. Sometimes silence kept people talking. Sometimes if they talked enough, they wouldn’t notice when you didn’t.

In this case, it worked. Salt went on. “My grandson can be charming, but selfish. It’s not his fault that he uses people; he grew up with an addict for a mother. She put him into situations and left him among people with whom no child should associate. They lived on the street, even slept in cars. From a young age, he had to learn to survive, and to shape-shift into whatever pleased the people he was around. By the time I got hold of him, he was thirteen and practically ruined.”

Charlie cut a glance in Adeline’s direction. The woman was frowning at her hands, as though she didn’t like what her father was saying but was unwilling to openly disagree.

Although Charlie was loath to believe Salt about anything, a history like that would explain how Vince was able to behave like a normal person, even after more than a decade of being steeped in extreme wealth. A child who’d lived in poverty for thirteen years, one who’d been the responsible person in a household, might well know how to clean gutters. Might have learned how to make tacos and do laundry and all the stuff that would have come less easily to a rich layabout.

And as for using people, well, he’d used Charlie, hadn’t he?

Salt went on. “When most people look up at the stars, they are frightened by the vastness of the universe, and their own lack of significance.”

She heard the echo of Vince’s voice: Do you think that stars have shadows?

“But I have always been comforted,” he said. “And do you know why?”

Charlie shook her head, since that seemed like what she was supposed to do.

“Because they signified possibility. In all that vastness, it was impossible that the universe didn’t have secrets left to be ferreted out. And when I took in my grandson, I saw that I was right. Because for all that was broken in him, he had one incredible talent.”

“Magic,” Charlie guessed.

Salt nodded. “When I saw him command it—which he did without a split tongue, having had no formal education with any gloamist—I felt as though I had found what I’d been looking for my whole life. A true secret of the universe, and a path to greater mysteries. But for Edmund, it was merely a crude little trick. He played with the thing like it was some imaginary friend and sent it off to steal candy and cigarettes.”

The car pulled into a long drive marked with a carved and painted sign proclaiming they were entering the grounds of the Grand Berkshire Private Club. It seemed as though Salt intended to keep his word about taking her to lunch, in public.

“I will send you two girls to the spa. There are showers with which to refresh yourself, Ms. Hall. The staff can bring you clothing. We’ll meet for lunch in a half hour. And then we can finish our business. Now, see, isn’t that civilized?”

It was, except for the gun in his pocket.

The driver came around again and opened the door. Adeline allowed him to take her hand as though she were departing a carriage. Charlie followed, scooting out inelegantly, trying not to flash her panties.

The rain had turned into a light drizzle. She looked around, taking in the rolling green grounds, most of them golf course. The grass looked impossibly bright for this late in the fall. There was a large building in the distance that seemed to be the common space of the country club. The spa building was smaller, its wooden shingles painted the charmingly cottagecore color of a fern.

A sign set to one side of the door proclaimed that this was the relaxation and wellness center.

Inside, the air was warm, humid, and scented heavily with eucalyptus. A woman behind a desk took two towels from the shelves behind her and placed them on the counter. She smiled at them as though it was utterly normal to have a hungover client in a spangly dress with makeup all over her face. The steadiness of her gaze didn’t so much as flicker.