Page 2 of Thief of Night
Who she might be able to summon through the tether, but doubted she could control if he fought against it. Not that she planned to control him.
She’dpromisedhe wouldn’t be a tool in her hands, the way he’d been with Salt. He didn’t believe her, though. To prove the point, he’d made it very clear that he wasn’t going to help her unless she forced him.
Which meant she was in this alone. Again. Typical Charlie Hall, willing to cut her throat to spite the knife.
Trust is earned,she reminded herself. Just like wealth, love, kindness, and friendship. And if most of the time it wasn’t earned honestly, well, so much the better. She was a cheater by nature. She just needed to find her angle and make him trust her, before he discovered how to turn his immense power against her.
With that uncomfortable thought in mind, she gripped the stone knife more tightly and forced herself to climb the stairs instead of running out of the building.
The third level was as covered in filth and refuse as the second. Charliepassed cabinets, the dirt and dust on them so thick that she couldn’t tell the color underneath. Ahead, the floorboards had given out and a hole gaped along one wall. She approached it gingerly. When she looked over the edge, she expected to be able to see all the way down to the basement, but instead there was only darkness.
As she stepped into the next room, she saw a heap of a man in a dirty coat, lying on an even dirtier sleeping bag. Drawing closer, she saw the bag was stained dark with blood. She leaned down, but the brightness of her flashlight did nothing to disturb him. His chest didn’t rise or fall. No breaths clouded the air.
The dead man wore a camo jacket and filthy work boots. Near his feet rested a grocery bag with most of a six-pack of Schlitz and a half-eaten sandwich inside. He must have snuck in to sleep in the building and discovered there was something else already there.
The distinct scent of spilled beer mingled unpleasantly with that of a butcher shop. No smell of decomposition, though. The blood hadn’t even had time to coagulate. His death was so recent that she might have interrupted the Blight during its feeding.
It would be nearby. Maybe still in the room.
“Vince?” she called softly, under her breath, but no answer came. She could feel the thin thread of her connection to him, but nothing else.
A shuffling on the floorboards behind her made her turn, thrusting out her obsidian dagger and sweeping the flashlight after it.
The beam illuminated a rat, eyes shining with reflected light. It looked as surprised as Charlie felt.
“You should get out of here,” she told it, thinking of all the rat bones on the floor below.
The rodent sniffed the air, still watching her. Its whiskers twitched.
“I know. I should get out of here too,” she continued conversationally. “But I historically only make bad decisions.”
The rat gave a surprised squeak before racing off into the maze of debris. Charlie barely had time to turn before the Blight swept over her, washing her in inky darkness.
Her whole body went cold as the thing tried to thrust its way down her throat. Burrow into her chest. She choked, the small discs of onyx she had strung around her neck and braceleting her arms the only things keeping the shadow from smothering her right there.
She stabbed wildly with her knife, no technique at all. Thankfully the blade connected, hitting something solid. With no idea if she was even really hurting the thing, she stabbed again, a cornered animal, fighting only because flight was off the table.
The Blight flowed away, turning solid in front of her, only visible as a deeper darkness, a hole ripped out of the fabric of the world. Its mouth, like a jagged slash, opened wide and then wider.
She should have brought a lot more onyx.
She should have listened to everyone who ever told her that she was a fool and that she was going to get herself killed.
She should have never made that promise to Red.
Charlie turned and ran. She’d faced small Blights before, but they were laughable when compared to this one, full of fresh blood and raw power. She had no idea how to fight this monster made from darkness—in darkness, no less.
She only made it a few steps before the Blight dropped down onto her back. She staggered under the improbable weight as shadow claws sank into her shoulder.
Careening to one side, she attempted to knock the thing against the wall and off her. Instead the shadow dissipated so quickly that all she managed was to slam her own shoulder against the brick.
The Blight re-formed in the shape of a too-tall, spindly man blocking her path, its monstrous fingers reaching toward her.
She jumped to the side, only narrowly evading its grasp. Her breaths had become ragged. The back of her throat felt dry as sandpaper.
The shadow rushed at her once more and she ducked under its arm to sink the onyx dagger into its stomach before twisting away. The Blight twitched, as though trying to shift form again, but the onyx blade in its belly kept it solid, unable to change.
Charlie panted, backing away, out of breath and almost out of ideas.
