Book of Night(85)

“Ketamine?” Charlie’s friends were more a weed-and-oxy crowd.

“It makes you dissociative,” Liam said. “In lower doses, it confers feelings of euphoria. In higher doses, people enter a state not unlike a coma, except they’re partially conscious. Sometimes unable to speak, they can have hallucinations, and memory loss.”

Charlie wondered what had been in her drink, all that time ago.

“And that’s enough from me,” Liam said, moving to stand. “I don’t know where he is, and I don’t know where the book is either. Okay?”

“The book?” Charlie echoed.

Liam snorted. “You think you’re the first person to come around looking for it, or him? Two months after Remy showed up half naked, this young guy comes by, muttering to himself. Never taking his hands out of his pockets. Threatening me. There have been other visits since too. If I knew where Remy was, I would tell the police, not any of you.”

Charlie took out her phone and flipped to a photo of her with Vince. They were at the Loews in Hadley on Throwback Friday, waiting to see The Bride of Frankenstein. It wasn’t a great picture; he was a little blurry, but it was still obviously him. “I was his friend. See?”

Liam appeared visibly relieved. “I still don’t know anything. Remy’s gone.”

“He mailed me something.” Charlie reached into her pocket and took out a tiny key. It was actually to a music box their mother had given Posey, but it was small and silver and might have gone to anything. “And said that if anything happened to him, I’d know where to look. But I have no idea where to even start. He insisted it was important, that it had something important in it. I was hoping it would prove he was innocent. If you can’t help me find him, you can help me find that.”

It wasn’t the worst story Charlie had ever come up with.

Liam frowned, considering. “Back in college, Remy’s grandfather would yank him out for weeks at a time, on a whim. And when Remy came back, he’d be a mess.”

“What kind of mess?” Charlie asked.

“Angry,” Liam said. “But because he didn’t know when it was going to happen, he hid stuff, even back then. He used to talk about how there are places rich people will never see, even if they’re staring right at them. If he really hid something, he would hide it in a place like that.”

Charlie wondered if, when Liam was a surgeon, and rich, he would look past those places too. Wondered if that was the dream.

She reached across the table to put her hand on his arm, trying to radiate sincerity. “Thanks for talking with me, even though I pressured you into it. Remy always said you were a good guy.”

Liam gave her a sad smile. “I thought he was too.”



* * *



Out in the parking lot, the sun had sunk low and red behind the buildings. Charlie checked the time on her phone. One more night before she had to be back at Rapture. Four more days before Salt wanted his book.

Liam’s description of the person who’d been looking for Vince had matched the Hierophant. She knew he wanted the book and had apparently been wanting it for a while. But what she still couldn’t figure was, lies aside, what all these people actually wanted the thing for.

The sound of footsteps interrupted her thoughts. A man was behind her, his footfalls faster the closer he got.





25

BLACK CAT. TOAD. CROW.




There’s a moment of dissonance when people break the social contract. A moment when the civilized mind searches for some reason why a person might be running toward you that doesn’t mean they’re out to get you.

Luckily, Charlie’s mind wasn’t particularly civilized. She raced for her car.

He chased after, boots thudding dully on the asphalt.

She ran, full-out. Eight hours on her feet most nights meant her leg muscles were no joke.

But he was already too close and had momentum on his side. He caught her arm, spinning her around. She stumbled against her car and looked up into his face.

“Adam?” His eyes were bloodshot and his breath could peel paint, but it was him nonetheless.

He grabbed hold of her wig and tugged hard. It ripped loose, pulling pins and hair with it. “Charlie Hall. You miserable, monstrous bitch. Thought you were going to con me, and then rob me?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Charlie said evenly, meeting his gaze. No point in denying it.

He hit her, knuckles hard against her cheek. The back of her head hit the window of her car. She would have fallen except her fingers caught the handle of the door and she was able to hold on and stay mostly upright.

He punched her in the stomach.

All the air went out of her. She curled around the pain like a pill bug.

Charlie might talk tough, but she had never been in a real fistfight. Even with her sister, they’d mostly resorted to hair pulling and the occasional mean scratch.

Think, Charlie, she told herself, but shock and pain dulled her thoughts.

“Where’s the book?” he shouted. “Give it to me!”

“Gone,” she managed.

“I am going to break your face,” he told her. “Your ugly fucking face. I am so sick of hearing about you. Everyone thinks you were so great, but I’m better. You hear that? I was always the best.”