Page 69 of Soul of Shadow
Her mom handed it over with a knowing smile. “Wasn’t going to.”
Back in the safety of her bedroom, the vätte ran little circles around her legs as she set the box down on her bed. Tentatively, she lifted its lid, half-certain that a pair of goblins would leap out—Elias’s idea of a hilarious prank. But when she got the lid all the way off, what she found was not a living creature.
It was a dress.
At first, she thought she had seen it before, perhaps in the local boutique or online. Its design was intensely familiar: airy black chiffon embroidered with silver beads. She slid her fingers under the fabric, soft and flowing like the waves of Lake Michigan, and lifted it from the box. It fluttered open. The hem fell to about her thigh, with some fringe at the bottom. The straps were an inch or two wide, with the neckline dipping low and deep. To the untrained eye, it probably looked indistinguishable from the flapper dresses of the 1920s. But as Charlie ran her hands down its sides, she felt the one thing that set it apart: pockets.Pockets at the waist. Pockets beneath the armpits. Pockets just above the backside. Hidden pockets, the seams too subtle to spot with the naked eye.
This was no simple flapper dress; it was the dress of a magician.
Charlie knew then why she thought she had seen it before. It reminded her of the old videos she’d watched of Dorothy Dietrich, resplendent in her sparkling gowns, holding captive the attention of the audience. The first woman to perform the bullet catch. The first person to re-create Houdini’s legendary burning-rope straitjacket escape.
Charlie brushed her fingers over the beading.
She loved it.
“Damn you, Elias,” she muttered, draping the dress over her shoulder and walking to the closet to pick out a pair of shoes to match.
“Thank God Colin came through with an after-party,” Lou said, blinking slowly onto her mascara brush. “Apparently, his dad is just going to look the other way when the vodka comes out.”
“Sounds like great parenting,” Abigail grumbled, fishing around for something in her pink makeup bag.
They were spread out on Charlie’s bedroom floor—makeup bags, brushes, palettes, mascara, lipstick, and the tiny round mirrors that Charlie kept in her closet for exactly this purpose. It was just the three of them, as usual, wearing tank tops and shorts, yet to put on their dresses. They were scheduled to meet their dates out on the front lawn in fifteen minutes for pictures before they left for the dance.
“Itisgood parenting,” Lou said. “Better for your kids todrink under the safety of your roof than in some parking lot somewhere.”
“Aparking lot?” Abigail asked, aghast. “Was that seriously in the running?”
Before Lou could answer, the door to Charlie’s bedroom swung open. In walked Mason, shirt unbuttoned, no tie, blue Gatorade bottle dangling from one hand.
“Evening, ladies,” he said, swishing his hips as he swaggered into the room. “What are we talking about?”
“A small town in Kentucky called Nunya,” Lou said.
Mason flopped down onto Charlie’s bed, his socked feet dangling off the edge. His brow crinkled. “Nunya?”
“Yeah,” said Abigail without missing a beat. “Nunya business, asshole.”
“Oof.” Mason pressed a hand to his chest. “You wound me. Especially when I so considerately brought you ladies electrolytes to help you stock up for the drinkathon tonight.” He held up the Gatorade bottle, shaking it suggestively.
“Abigail!” called Charlie and Mason’s mom from downstairs. “Your date is here!”
“Ope.” Abigail jammed a lip gloss tube back into her makeup bag. “Better get my dress on. See you in a minute.” She picked up her lavender gown and disappeared into the bathroom.
“So.” Mason rolled over onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. “What did my gorgeous date choose to wear tonight?”
“Like you care,” said Lou without even looking up from the mirror on the floor.
“Of course I care,” said Mason, feigning offense. “I need to know which of my three ties to wear.”
Lou pursed her lips to apply color. “You can wear whatever you want as long as that hideous flamingo tie doesn’t make an appearance.”
“Aw.” Mason laid a hand over his heart. “You have my wardrobe memorized?”
Quick as a blink, Lou spun around and lobbed her makeup bag at Mason’s head. He ducked, barely avoiding the slew of brushes and powders that exploded outward, falling all over the bed and floor.
As Mason and Lou continued to argue about nothing, Charlie wandered over to look out her bedroom window. She leaned against the wall, setting her head on the window frame, and stared at the empty spot on the roof where, just last night, her sister had landed.
It still didn’t feel real. Too many things had happened too quickly in the last week, barely leaving Charlie enough time to process them. She had spent two years mourning a sister that never died. What was she supposed to do with all of that grief? Tuck it away? Destroy it? Pretend it never happened? That would be impossible. What’s more, she didn’treallyhave her sister back. She merely had the knowledge that her sister was alive and working on behalf of a god. It was a comfort, to be certain, but it left her with just as much confusion as relief.
