Page 123 of Thief of Night
32The Drifter
“Charlie Hall, as the Hierophant, help me understand why you released seven Blights into the world.”
Vicereine stood in the middle of a large room in the alterationist Cabal stronghold, a luxuriously converted church not far from where Emily Dickinson had once written poetry and renounced the world. The size, furnishings, and large iron gates made it clear that the alterationists took in more money than all the other Cabals combined.
Light streamed through the windows. Low couches in bottle-green velvet beckoned invitingly. The other Cabal leaders were spread out around the room. Vicereine lounged against the mantel of a fireplace trimmed out in arts and crafts tiles, with a phrase carved above the firebox:ART IS NOT A THING; IT IS A WAY.
Vicereine, representing the alterationists; Bellamy, the masks. And in Mr. Punch’s place, a balding man in a tweed jacket, slender and professorial.
None of them offered Charlie a seat.
She took a deep breath. “Notseven. Four, maybe.”
After leaving Mark to his fate, Charlie, Posey, Malhar, and Red had gone back to Solaluna. Charlie had taken a shower and used allllll the fancy body products in all the tiny little bottles. Red got bandages and antibiotic ointment from their personal butler, who asked absolutely no questions. A few of the shadows returned, some hoping for help finding their people. Others unable to continue without blood.
Charlie got a meager amount of sleep before Vicereine messaged her to meet the Cabal leaders.
Leave now,the text said.And bring Vince if you know what’s good for you.
Charlie almost never knew, no less did, what was good for her. She’d shown up alone.
“Where is the very dangerous Blight we put in your custody?” Vicereine asked.
With Malhar and Posey, reuniting shadows with gloamists, unaware of Charlie’s plan to face the Cabals alone. “He’s around.”
“Do you even know the location of Remy Carver’s shadow?” Bellamy asked.
“Not this very second,” Charlie admitted.
Vicereine shook her head. “You were supposed to—”
“We were separated trying to do a job,” Charlie said.
“Your position as the Hierophant is apunishment,” Vicereine reminded her, clearly not pleased at being cut off. “One that you have always failed to take seriously. If you seek to be punished in some other way, that can happen. Perhaps Red would be better off tied to another gloamist.”
“I think Red’s fine on his own,” Charlie said, crossing her arms over her chest. “The Hierophant is a bullshit, made-up position, named after a tarot card. A punishment because the assumption is that everyone in the magical community is going to spend all their time acquiring power and neglecting everything else. But there aren’t a lot of people who are any good at it, are there? Even fewer who are particularly devoted.”
Vicereine hesitated just long enough for Charlie to know she was right.
“I tracked down the murderer of Rooster Argent,” Charlie said. “Thepersonresponsible for the Hatfield Massacre.”
“This time,” Vicereine said. “This time it wasn’t a Blight.”
“He was responsible for stealing shadows from gloamists,” Charlie said. A glance at Mr. Punch’s puppet showed that his eyes were closed, his face empty of expression. It had to be easier to lie when you didn’t have to worry about what showed on your face.
“Mark Lord,” Bellamy said. “A former associate of yours.”
“Oh come on.” Charlie snorted. “This is the Valley. Everyone is a former associate of everyone else.”
“Shall we table this discussion and talk about how you stole from us?” he asked. “From me.”
“If you want.” Charlie wheeled around to face him. “You ripped a piece of Vince away to blunt his power. He needed it if he was going to survive the night. It never should have belonged to you. I took it and I am not the least bit sorry.”
“No one wanted him to die.” Bellamy sounded exasperated.
No, you just wanted to experiment on him.But there would be no profit in saying that. “Then we are on the same page.”
“Who are you to speak with us this way?” snapped Mr. Punch, speaking from the unconscious professor’s mouth. “You’re no gloamist. You’re not even a person with an unquickened shadow. You’re shadowless.”
