Page 117 of Thief of Night
“I trust you,” she said.
All cons are based on desire. Money, sure, but other stuff too—sex, power, status, validation. Mark hated her, but that made him believe he wouldn’t fall for her tricks.
He made a final cut with the razor, then made a signal. The shadows crowded in.
Misty tongues, dry and barely there, lapped at her skin. The suggestion of solidity, without being at all solid. She knew it wasn’t just blood they were drawing out of her—with each lick they took something more.
Her concentration blurred and a dragging weight pulled her limbs.
“This is why I wanted you to call before,” Mark muttered, kicking his foot into a shadow. Archer. That one was Archer. “Now you’re going to be useless.”
Her eyes had fluttered closed. Nothing he was saying seemed important enough to make her open them. Nothing seemed important enough to argue.
“Off her!” Mark shouted. “Get away.”
Charlie heard their sad moans and hisses of complaint. And despite her horror at those sounds, her exhaustion was too great to stop her from sliding into unconsciousness.
When she woke, her hands were unbound and she was lying on her side on the couch, head propped up by a pillow. She still felt fuzzy-headed. The scent of cigarettes and boiled ramen filled the air.
Rose’s shadow stared down. The dog shadow, Archer, sat beside her.
“He lets us go sometimes, if he gets a better one,” Rosalva said. “He would have let me go if I brought him Red.”
“You did bring him Red,” Charlie reminded her muzzily.
“But if Red had killed him, I wouldn’t have been sad. So you shouldn’t let it bother you that you traded someone’s life for yours either.”
Charlie nodded, even though she wasn’t sure she followed. “I’ll try not to.”
“He says that now that you’re awake you have to make the call. And that I have to hurt you a lot if you warn Mr. Punch.” Rosalva held out Charlie’s phone.
“Noted.” She powered it on and message after message chimed. They flashed on the screen, one after the other. Her sister texting and calling. Malhar texting and calling.
Her brain felt fuzzy and her thoughts would need to be sharp to get through this call.
Rosalva shrugged. “Mark changes his mind a lot.”
Of course he did, cycling through control of so many different shadows. She thought of the fairy tale, of the real Nine-Shadow Man shouting at his shadows for all whispering to him at the same time, because it left no room for his own thoughts.
“What does he change his mind about with you?” Charlie asked.
It was hard to read Rosalva’s expression, made of shadows as it was. “Setting me free,” she said, after a pause. “Now, call Mr. Punch.”
“I need to tell him where to meet me,” Charlie said. “A place good for an ambush. I am going to pull up a map on my phone, okay?”
Rosalva nodded.
Charlie did, sweating through the time it took to load. It turned out they weren’t far from Solaluna—perhaps ten miles, in an apartment complex.
She went into her contacts, repeated the number in her head a few times until she was sure she’d committed it to memory. Then she deleted it.
“What did you do?” Rosalva asked suspiciously.
“I’m looking for Mr. Punch’s contact information,” Charlie told her. Then she shook her head. “Before I call, I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Why?” Beside Rosalva, Archer got up and paced around, then settled again.
Charlie scowled. “Why do you think?”
