Page 35 of Thief of Night
Everything would be fine if Red just gave his version of what happened the night before. If he admitted a shadow had come looking for him and offered to kill Charlie. If he told her something about Rose.
But he said nothing, looking out the window at the frozen lawn. The sunlight filtering through the curtains turned his hair to dark gold, limning his profile and filtering only slightly through his skin.
Perhaps it was impossible for him not to hate her, tethered together as they were. Perhaps, given his past experiences, it was impossible not to want her dead.
Tell me,she thought,before we have to go see Adeline.
As if equally miserable, the coffeepot made a rattling sound, then stopped working.
“Oh no,” said Posey, gazing at it despairingly. She was in a zipped-up plush pajama lounger with feet. “I needed that coffee.”
Charlie took out a saucepan from beneath the counter. “I think I can make some, cowboy style.”
Posey looked on with great skepticism. “I’d prefer barista style.”
“And yet, here we are.” Charlie poured the grounds into the saucepan, then filled it with water and gave the mixture a stir. “I need to ask you something. You know people in the local seeker community. Did you hear anything about those Grace Covenant murders?”
“The cult thing?” Posey sat down on a kitchen chair and looked around the room. “You ready to move next week? Everything’s done.”
Charlie was so unused to things working out—and especially unused to not being the one tomakethem work out—that for a moment, she didn’t quite understand what her sister was saying. “We can be in the new place before Christmas? We don’t have to spend the holidays in Mom’s hotel room, cuddled up against stacks of Bob’s Magic cards?”
Posey grinned. “That’s what I’m saying. Now, who’s your favorite sister?”
“You! You!” Charlie walked over and hugged her hard. “That’s fucking fantastic!”
Red turned away from the window, probably because they were very loud. After a moment, he gave her and Posey a slanted smile. “I can help,” he said, voice soft, as though not sure his entering the conversation would be welcome. “With moving boxes.”
Sometimes, it was so easy to see that he and Vince were the same person.
“And the heavy furniture,” Posey told him. “Especiallythe heavy furniture. Good thing we have that van.”
“I hate to ask,” Charlie said, drawing away her sister’s attention. “But does your changing the subject mean youhaven’theard any rumors about the cult murders?”
“Actually, I did hear something,” Posey said. “Rooster Argent was supposed to be speaking.”
“You knew that?” Charlie asked, worried. The more people who knew, the faster that rumor would reach the authorities.
“He’s a big deal.” Posey rolled her eyes. “He makes TikToks about being an alterationist. Gives people tips on waking their shadows.”
“So he’s a scammer?” Claiming you could quicken shadows was the snake oil of the moment—preying on hopeful, desperate people the same way Rand had when he offered to contact their dearly departed.
“Stop being such a cynic,” Posey said, sticking her tongue out at Charlie. “You know you’re just trying to hide your gooey center.”
“Okay, then I’m surprised that the Cabals let this Rooster guy put their secrets out there on social media.” On the stove, the coffee came to a boil. She turned it off; she’d let it get too hot.
“He’s a good recruitment tool,” Posey said.
“Who’s the cynic now?” Charlie asked.
“The important thing is that I got us an apartment,” Posey said, preening.
“You got us an apartment!” Charlie cheered as she finished making thecowboy coffee, straining it through a paper towel. It came out as dark as her hair and only slightly flecked with grounds.
She poured three cups. Took a sip.
It tasted like ass.
Red drank some without seeming to note how terrible it was. He did, however, add a lot of cream.
