Page 73 of Thief of Night
Leaving Charlie to lie there in the darkness and wonder why he couldn’t.
Moving day is when people discover who their true friends are. Charlie had asked Barb for help, but she and Aimee were allegedly visiting Aimee’s parents upstate for the holidays and couldn’t make it. José, however, showed up with Katelynn, and José’s new boyfriend, Paul. Paul and Katelynn had enough of a resemblance that Charlie thought he might be the cousin that Katelynn had offered to set up José with.
That guy with the blue hair might have eaten a moth when he was a child.Vince had met these people, so Red needed to be briefed. Was that a justification for gossip? Maybe.
Only one moth?Red asked in return.
Does it matter?Charlie imagined the powder from their wings coating her tongue and made a face.
Red smiled.Multiple moths means he has a taste for them.
Charlie had to smother a laugh. True to her word, Posey had recruited Malhar and three of his roommates who hadn’t gone home for winter break—Ibrahim, Deon, and Aron.
“We were promised the ambrosia and nectar of pizza and beer,” Deon said as he came through the door.
“And lo, that shall come to pass,” Charlie said in return. “But not until we get to the new place.”
Red had spent most of the morning working on the van and it now had a new battery as well as a few other new things. Importantly, it was running again and could hold a lot more boxes than the Porsche.
They loaded up as much as they could and headed over to Northampton to get the keys and unload the first trip’s worth. Leaving their Easthampton rental house made Charlie feel oddly nostalgic, but maybe a new start was what they needed. Hopefully the place wouldn’t be too tiny, because that was the only way an apartment downtown could be affordable.
On the way, Posey’s phone rang. She was in the front seat, squeezed in beside Charlie. Red drove the van, allowing Ibrahim—who’d promised he knew how to drive stick—to take the Porsche.
“Hey, Mom,” Posey said, then glanced over at Charlie and pressed thephone to her neck. “She wants to know if you’re going to be at their place for Christmas?”
The holidays were coming up fast. “Sure,” Charlie said. Where else was she going to go?
“Is Vince going to be with you?” Posey blinked, all mock-innocence.
“I guess I’d have to ask him,” Charlie said, looking over at Red in the driver’s seat.
“If you’re going, then so am I,” he said, which sounded like more of an answer than it was.
“You sure?” Charlie asked. “It’s not going to be—”
“Tell her I’m coming,” he said to Posey. “And thank her for the invitation.”
After that was settled, Posey told their mother about the meaning of a tarot spread she’d done for her. They laughed and talked about presents they were buying. Once again, Charlie was hyperaware of what an easy relationship Posey and their mother had.
Maybe she and her mom could be like that, if Charlie didn’t mind building a relationship on quicksand. But her mother would never forgive Charlie for all her lies, so she just kept lying.
The apartment building was a beautiful old stone building near the end of Northampton’s busiest street. It was two doors down from Rooster’s place. All the restaurants and galleries and shops were an easy walk from their door. The moment she saw it, Charlie was sure there had been some mistake. There was no way they could afford this.
It was an apartment for the kind of person who probably walked into town every Wednesday with a basket to get farmer’s market jams and who had dinner out with friends at least twice a week. The kind of person who had a chunky necklace and an interesting job.
Not that Charlie didn’t have an interesting job, but it was the bad kind of interesting.
“Come pick up the keys with me,” Posey said. “We have to go to the office.”
“I’ll start unloading,” Red told Charlie.
She felt the pull of the tether between them as she followed her sister. It wasn’t far, but she could still feel it, the slight unspooling of energy.
Posey knocked on a door on the first level bearing a slightly tarnished brass plate engraved with the wordOFFICE. A moment later, a woman with lots of silver curls opened the door. She had on dark-washed jeans and a navy blazer with bright gold buttons.
“I’m Posey Hall,” she said. “Here to pick up the keys to 9A.”
“Welcome, welcome,” the woman said, reaching over to her desk where a manila envelope marked with the apartment number rested. “We have a wine social on Wednesday nights in the back garden. Hope you can join us and meet some of your neighbors. Did we get your pet contract?”
