Page 54 of Thief of Night
Rachel, Odette’s assistant, in a cute, blue retro dress with a pattern of dreidels around the bottom, cleared tables and occasionally stopped to chat with a patron.
When Charlie glanced at her phone again, Malhar had replied with a paragraph:I don’t remember if I said this during that first interview (probably when the tape was off if I did) but ghosts are usually, although not always, described as being stuck in a traumatic memory. Like, if they died by the side of the road, they’re described walking that stretch over and over. Or drowning again and again. Or the opposite—they died in a car crash, but they really loved their coin collection, so they can be seen hovering around it. Most Blights are like that. Stuck in some kind of loop. Often loaded with the pain and fear that the dying person projected into them. So they can be aggressive. Most hang around a place that they were familiar with, sopping up whatever blood comes their way. Some move around a little more. But to be a Blight like OUR FRIEND is very rare.
Charlie found his explanation frustrating. It didn’t help her understand anything that happened in the church. She texted back:So shadows are ghosts?
Malhar sent back an immediate reply:No, but they run on the same energy.
After she made the next drink, Charlie made a decision. She texted Malhar:I am coming over after work. Late. I need to show you something.
This isn’t a great time,he texted back.
She frowned at her phone, her fingers flying over the keys.The something I need to show you is a Blight.
Oh,he texted back.Oh shit. Come whenever you can.
When she looked up, Rachel stood at the bar. She opened her mouth and Charlie braced herself to get scolded for texting instead of taking orders. Then Rachel’s eyes closed.
“Found our villain yet, Charlie Hall?” Rachel rasped.
For a moment, Charlie didn’t understand. Then she did. That wasn’t Rachel speaking, it was Mr. Punch. Bad enough to see people she didn’t know puppeted, but this was infinitely more horrible. “Stop that,” she growled. “Get out of her.”
Instantly, Mr. Punch’s shadow flooded into Charlie, forcing her mouth open, past a jaw that tried to lock and teeth that bit down hard. “I’ll be a good girl and do what I’m told,” she heard herself say before Red thrust the shadow from her, hard enough that she staggered back.
She could feel him around her, like armor. The shadow slid toward her again, then seemed to think better of it. A moment later, it slithered away like a snake.
It appears that I am the better monster. He won’t like that.Red’s words echoed in her head.
Still half in shock, she looked around the room for Mr. Punch. Someone was heading for the door, someone with a man’s height. She saw a flash of bright hair, copper or gold, the shine reflecting red under the holiday lights. That had to be him.
Do you see that guy—she started to say, when Rachel began to speak again.
“Did I just ask you something?” Rachel’s hand went to her lips. Then she seemed to reconsider. “Never mind.”
Charlie shrugged, allowing Rachel to play it off. There was no good way to explain, at least not in a way that didn’t lead to a confession no one wanted.
Rachel shook her head. “I’m sure it will come back to me.”
Charlie’s heart pounded as Rachel walked away.
By then orders had slowed, but Charlie still managed to accidentally drop a wineglass and pour half a strawberry daiquiri down her own shirt. Her hands were unsteady. She was not finishing her shift in a blaze of glory.
As bad as things had gone thus far that evening, she still wasn’t prepared for Adeline to walk in, with three beautiful twentysomethings trailing behind her. They headed for the bar, their expressions as amused as you might expect from someone at a zoo, looking at an animal they were seeing for the first time.
“Charlie! This is Madison, Topher, and Brooks,” Adeline said, looking very pleased with herself. She wore a black sweater over a black plaid skirt with a lipstick-red belt that matched her boots and her absurdly tiny Chanel purse. Her hair had been straightened into a silky blond sheet.
“You reallyworkhere,” Topher said. His brown hair flopped over his eyes and he pushed it back in the manner of someone who liked how he looked when he did that. He had on a pair of brown cords, with a collared sweater buttoned over a crisp blue shirt and a navy peacoat over that. A plaid scarf was wound twice around his throat. “We thought that Adeline was having a laugh.”
“Don’t mind Topher,” said Madison, with a cruel little smile. She had ona black dress, a white puffer coat, and bright white platform boots. “He’s high as a helium balloon, which if you gave him, he would immediately try to suck on.”
Their clothes all looked as if they were dressed for somewhere far from Easthampton.
“Oh fuck off, dearest,” said Topher.
“Where’s Carver?” asked Brooks, speaking for the first time. He had tight curls, and wore a striped sweater with just the collar points of his shirt sticking out.
Carver. Charlie blinked. The name Adeline had wanted Red to use. There seemed to be something that made monied people enjoy calling each other by their last names—Salt, for instance, instead of Lionel—but Carver suited Red a little too well.
“He’s going to pick me up when my shift is over,” Charlie said, keeping her gaze on them and not glancing at her shadow.
