Page 96 of Thief of Night
He laughed, not without some bleakness. “I suppose I am, a little. I stole lives at Salt’s behest. And no matter what Remy wanted, I am still made of pieces of him.”
She met his gaze. “You know when a worm is cut in half and both sides regrow? Can’t both of you have had his life?”
“It’s not true,” he told her. “It’s a myth.”
“What?”
“The worm thing,” he said. “They just die.”
Charlie didn’t want to believe that. Not only was it less magical, but it meant she’d done very bad things as a child on rainy days when she’d played mad scientist. “Let’spretendit’s true,” she told him. “For the sake of metaphor.”
“Is your shadow half of you?” he asked her.
“I guess I think of it as a sister,” Charlie said, raising her eyebrows at him. “Since my sister is wearing it.”
Red glanced around the room, perhaps looking for a change of subject. “Anyone worth befriending here?”
“Groups will be easier to insinuate ourselves into than couples,” Charlie said, studying the possibilities. “Or people here solo.”
Seven tables were occupied. Six women gathered around one, dressed up and drinking cocktails instead of the wine pairing. At another table, two men sat together, eating a dessert course with tiny cups of espresso, whispering together. At a third, an older man and a woman ate, unsmiling and without conversation—Charlie recognized them as the duo she’d seen earlier. Another man sat alone, writing in a notebook as his appetizer grew cold beside him.
She turned her gaze toward the fireplace. Then she froze.
A couple sat in front of the fire. Even though the man had his back to her, so that she could see nothing more of him than his shoulders and untidy hair, Charlie recognized him.
Mark, her ex-boyfriend, whom she’d last seen at Rapture, making excuses for having shot her. Who she’d hoped never to see again. The only thing that would have brought him to a place like this was a con. If he spotted her, he’d guess the same of her and be equally correct.
The waiter had returned to set the first course in front of them—a scallop and grapefruit salad, ceviche-style. Another white wine was poured. A Riesling this time.
Charlie felt the thump of her heart as she caught Red’s eye. “See the guy at the table closest to the fireplace?”
He glanced over, narrowing his eyes.
“That’s Mark,” she said. “The fuck is he doing here?”
Red raised his brows. “My previous offer still stands.”
“Tempting,” said Charlie, drinking half her wine in one go.
If Mark was here, it stood to reason that he had something to do with the retreat. Could Mr. Punch have found him and given him the job he’d offered to Charlie? Could Mark be the next harvester, stealing shadows for the Cabals? If so, following him could lead her to where the shadows were being kept.
The third course was pork medallions with spicy juniper. Charlie ate it, wondering if she could make an excuse to knock the man’s notebook to the floor by way of introduction. She tried not to look at Mark, although she couldn’t help a sidelong glance from time to time.
Charlie was halfway through the orange wine that had been paired with the pork when Red spoke.
“I haven’t been very fair to you,” he said.
“You’ve sent me some mixed messages,” Charlie admitted. “Like maybe you hate me, but also think I’m kinda hot?”
He leaned back, eyes half-lidded, smile pulling at his mouth. “I never hated you.”
“Oh?” Charlie’s gaze didn’t waver.
Red took a sip of wine. His eyes were dark. “You made me feel things I didn’t want to feel. Things I’d never felt before. Selfish, ugly things. Desperate things.”
“I don’t know what to do with that,” she said. “It doesn’t sound good.”
“It frightened me,” he said. “Do you know the fairy tale about the boy who doesn’t know fear? It’s bizarre. A boy who has never been afraid leaves home to seek his fortune and is challenged to spend the night in some haunted house. Many headless ghosts and other things try to scare him to death the way they’ve done to everyone else, but he’s not scared because, well, no fear. He gets his reward and winds up marrying a princess—and on his wedding night, his new wife learns about his lack of fear. To teach him, she pours a bucket of eels on him in their marriage bed. The squirming of the eels is so strange that he shivers and shakes and believes that he has finally felt fear.
