Page 133 of Thief of Night
“Lots of people at this party,” Posey said, drawing Charlie’s attention back to the present.
“We’re going to try to find the library you told us about,” Malhar said. “See if the book still opens the secret room.”
Posey nodded, clearly enthused at the idea of getting out of the crowd. “I like to think Red would loan them to me. Maybe give me one as a Christmas present.”
“I’m sure he would.” It was perhaps a little ironic that they’d be the ones stealing gloamist artifacts while Charlie merely attended the party. “But if you get locked in the basement, it might take me a while to get you out.”
Posey made a face, then wandered off with Malhar.
Charlie ventured deeper into the crush of the party.
The lights on the chandeliers had been dimmed low in the ballroom. In place of cocktail tables, someone had brought in dozens of leather couches that were arranged back-to-back around a dance floor. Lots of people Charlie didn’tknow lounged in shimmery dresses and fancy suits and tuxedos. A band, all of the members wearing silver masks, played music for guests to sway to.
Red stood near one of the couches, the light turning his hair to bright gold, a contrast to all the shining silver decorating the room. He had a gentle half-smile on his face. His grandmother pointed into the crowd, looking as though she was telling him a story about someone there. Adeline hovered nearby, throwing her head back as she laughed at something Topher said. Her long hair spilled over her shoulders and her strapless cocktail dress of deepest blue.
The last thing Charlie wanted was to face Adeline’s friends again, although she should have suspected they would be around. More surprising was Fiona standing by Red’s side. She’d been at the courthouse, but there could have been many reasons for that. Laughing with him now was something different.
Charlie knew she should go up to Red and let him know she’d arrived, but she hesitated. Instead she stuck to the outskirts of the room. Contrasted against the backdrop of this environment, she was conscious of how her dress had wrinkled on the way over, how her earrings were costume. Even her perfume was a half-full bottle swiped off a Macy’s countertop.
Delaying, she moved from room to room in her cream satin dress. People stared, clocking her as not one of them. Perhaps a singer, part of the entertainment? When she caught an image of herself reflected in the glare of a window—hair slicked back, bangs pinned away from her face with a rhinestone clip, her lipstick red as a button you only pushed in an emergency—she thought she looked good. She just didn’t look like she belonged.
Bartenders in tidy uniforms of black pants and white button-up shirts were mixing drinks, most of them involving Krug, poured golden from enormous magnums. She didn’t recognize a single person on the staff. Even the bartenders were too fancy to be people Charlie knew.
To have something to do while she wandered, she drank. Coupe glass of champagne after coupe glass of champagne, cycling through the things that might be put into one—sugar cube and bitters for a classic champagne cocktail; Chambord for a kir royale; gin and lemon for a French 75; peach juice for a bellini; and then plain old vodka, just to wake up the bubbles.
By the time she ordered that last one, Charlie was well on her way to drunk.
“Your shadow!” a girl exclaimed, staring at the space where Charlie’s shadow should have been. Then the girl slapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry! Everyone is always reminding me not to just say what I think because it can be very rude.”
She was younger than Charlie, probably in her early twenties, and had that highly scrubbed polish that made her seem more beautiful than theset of her features alone. She had a faint accent, and spoke as though she’d learned slightly too-proper English.
“I’m fine,” Charlie reassured her. “Are you a friend of Adeline’s?”
“Her cousin,” said the girl. “On her mother’s side.”
Her mother the model, who’d fled back to Europe after divorcing Salt. The one who disapproved of bad manners in children, though she’d abandoned her own, leaving Adeline alone with her sinister father. It occurred to Charlie how odd it was that Adeline’s mother had never made an appearance after Salt’s death. But then, perhaps Adeline wouldn’t have welcomed such a belated visit.
“I’m going to be her assistant for the next year,” the girl said. “We’re going to Amsterdam in a week. She wants to buy a place in New York before we leave, so I have to look at all this property, but it moves so fast. We have a flight tonight down to the city for the three of us, right after midnight. Private helicopter.”
“The three of you?” Charlie echoed.
“Remy is coming, which is good because she’s nicer when he’s there.” The girl sighed. “See! That’s the kind of thing that I am not supposed to say.”
So he’d invited her tonight for some final farewell? Charlie’s polite smile turned poisonous. “Is that drink for Adeline?”
The bartender was pushing a second coupe glass in the girl’s direction. “Yes?” the girl said, something in Charlie’s tone making her hesitate.
“You go ahead and mingle,” Charlie told her. “I’ll bring her the champagne.”
Now that she had a purpose, it was easy to cut across the ballroom. This conversation had been coming, but Charlie thought that she’d pull Adeline discreetly to the side. That had been foolish. In her real life, Charlie had never been much for discretion.
“Your drink,” she said, handing the glass to Adeline.
Red spotted her. “Char,” he said, breaking off from the conversation he’d been engaged in.
Fiona elbowed him in the side. “What a pretty dress. Tell her.”
“Where’s—” Adeline began.
