Page 28 of Thief of Night (The Charlatan Duology #2)

“The basics,” Charlie said discouragingly. “Gin. Vodka. Whiskey.”

“Espresso martinis then,” Adeline said. “Black. No cream.”

“You do have an espresso machine, don’t you?” asked Brooks, looking around Rapture with grave concern.

“We use cold brew,” Charlie told him.

Brooks’s expression remained skeptical. “Fine. I suppose.”

At least Charlie had a reason to walk away from their narrowed stares. As she dumped the ingredients in the shaker and shook it hard, she sent her thoughts at her shadow. Red, this would be a good time to show up .

Make me. She heard the words in the back of her head, as intimately as if they were whispered against her throat. Heard the teasing in his voice.

“You really are a monster,” Charlie whispered, shaking her head as she poured out the martinis.

The fancy foursome drank their drinks and laughed together, ignoring her. Charlie made every interaction with other patrons last as long as she felt she could reasonably get away with, and then took her time to close up.

“Looks like you’ve got friends here,” Rachel told her. “Just go. I can take over.”

“No, I—” But Charlie had no idea what excuse to give—it would be weird for her to admit that she didn’t even like them. “Thank you.”

“And sorry I was so weird before.” A line of worry sat between Rachel’s brows, as though she was the one who’d done something wrong.

“You’re fine,” Charlie promised.

Adeline walked over and threw an arm around Charlie’s shoulders. “Heard we can go. Wonderful.”

Charlie gave her an extremely fake smile. “Looks like Re—Remy’s not going to make it. I’ll just head home and—”

The door swung open. And there he was, in his black shirt and black jeans, pushing back slightly too long blond hair. Red.

“Carver!” Topher said, standing.

A not-at-all-pleasant smile curved on Red’s mouth. His gaze went to Charlie. Something about his expression made Topher hesitate in the middle of moving to greet him.

Adeline took Charlie’s hand. “I’d hate for you to get comfortable back at your place. It would be twice as hard to drag you back out again.”

Charlie thought of the Blight in her bag. She’d said she’d take it to Malhar, in the hope he could make sense of her half-formed theories. But she was increasingly unsure she could get out of spending time with these people.

“I’ve got to change—” Charlie started, gesturing to her daiquiri-stained shirt.

“See, I knew you would say that!” Adeline told her. “That’s why I brought you a dress. It’s in the car. Be a dear, Topher, and get the bag, won’t you?”

“Clever Addy,” Red said, walking toward them. “But maybe Charlie is just being polite. Maybe she’s tired.”

“Then let her go home,” Brooks said, confused by all the fuss.

“Oh no,” Adeline snapped. “We’re all having a night out.” She knew, even if no one else did, that if Charlie refused to accompany them, Red couldn’t go either.

But if she went, she was going to have to bring a Blight in a backpack with them. That seemed like a bad idea. Everything about this seemed like a bad idea.

Charlie sighed, giving in to the inevitable. “Give me the dress. If it fits, I’ll go.”

It was shiny silver tinsel and came along with a pair of pumps.

Charlie changed in the greenroom in the back, wriggling into it.

When she was done, she ran water into her hands and used it to smooth back her hair.

She wiped away any runny eyeliner or mascara beneath her eyes with a scrap of toilet paper.

When she looked in the mirror, Charlie wasn’t sure who she saw. The dress was very short and it made her legs look very long. She didn’t hate it.

Rachel gave her a thumbs-up when she came out. She didn’t hate that either. Red looked as though he’d swallowed something the wrong way and was about to choke on it, which was less flattering.

“Nice,” Madison said, though the comment was delivered to Adeline.

No one seemed to notice the backpack over Charlie’s shoulder or the slight movement from inside.

“It seems we’re going out after all,” said Red, reaching for Charlie’s hand. When his skin pressed hers, she found herself shocked all over again by his warmth. “Unless you’d rather go home.”

“I’ll ride with you, Carver,” Brooks told him, ignoring their conversation.

“It’s fine,” Charlie said. “I’m already wearing the dress.”

She stuck her backpack with the Blight inside into the trunk.

By the time she turned around, Brooks had gotten into the passenger seat of the Porsche.

When he saw her standing next to the car, he got out only to flip up the seat and let her into the squashed back.

For the entire ride, he talked about people he and Remy had known in New York.

Charlie tried to pay attention, but the stories seemed to blur together into something that sounded like the Wilberforce-Batton-Bankes and Hastings-Abbotts co-hosting a charity event where everyone played cricket on Molly.

She stopped trying and texted Malhar her apologies. She’d see him tomorrow.

It turned out that several towns to the west, at the edge of the Berkshires, there was a members-only speakeasy called Lion’s Share that stayed open until four in the morning.

Like Blue Ruin in Northampton, the third-shift bar that Charlie had been thrown out of and probably banned from, Lion’s Share got around the legal closing time by operating as a private club.

Their group rolled in a little after two and Adeline ordered another round of espresso martinis.

Charlie asked for a double shot of bourbon with a water back.

The silver-haired bartender had one of those waxed moustaches popular among hipsters fifteen years ago, except he looked old enough for his to be what they were imitating.

In her spangly dress, hair slicked back, stockings the only thing keeping her legs warm, Charlie felt chilly and awkward sitting at a high cocktail table, heel hooked on the edge of the metal bar of her stool.

She wasn’t normally a pushover—and yet, somehow they’d convinced her to come along. Was it their money that had intimidated her? Was it that they’d known Remy and she had a masochistic desire to learn everything about him, this person that Red loved above everything and everyone?

Was it that she worried Red wanted to go and was afraid to disappoint him?

Topher had been staring at her chest since they sat down. She hoped he was looking at her tattoos—and maybe he was. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who hung out with a lot of inked people.

Brooks barely looked at her at all, which was worse.

“Remy,” Madison said, glancing across the table at Red. “If no one is going to say it, then I will. I can’t believe what you went through. I know we aren’t usually very serious, but you could have told us. We would have done something.”

“I didn’t want you to try,” Red said, after a pause long enough to be awkward. He leaned back in his chair, the top two buttons of his shirt open to reveal the singlet underneath. No rings on his fingers. No dirt under his nails either.

“Salt cut off your shadow?” Brooks asked, lowering his voice. “What is it like, not to have one?”

“I lost a part of myself, I suppose,” Red said. “I’m just not sure which part.”

Charlie wished that she’d tried to find video footage of Remy at one of these parties. Surely one of his friends had recorded something . Surely there was an Instagram somewhere. Anything that would tell her Red was acting at all like Remy.

Carver.

If he wasn’t trying to trick them, she couldn’t begin to guess what he was trying to do.

“I remember meeting Salt a few times,” said Brooks. “He looked like anyone else’s grandfather. I can’t believe he was so dangerous. And how the two of you managed to be so normal, living with him, I have no idea.”

Red’s gaze went to Adeline. “Sometimes you don’t know how bad something is until it’s over.”

Adeline smiled tightly. “Family—well, you try to forgive family.”

“Forgive him?” Brooks said. “I know he died and he’s your dad, but I couldn’t forgive that.”

“We don’t understand everything that happened,” Madison said, putting her hand on Brooks’s arm.

“I understand that it happened to Carver,” Brooks said. “Not you, Addy. You weren’t locked up in the basement and tortured.”

“A toast,” interrupted Topher, clearing his throat and speaking fast to cut off the brewing argument. “To friends who you never have to forgive, because we’ll never give you a reason.”

Charlie lifted her glass to that, clinking it against the others. Topher had feelings for Adeline, that much was obvious. It was less clear whether she was aware of his affection, or returned it.

If Charlie had to wager, though, she’d lay money that Adeline knew. He wasn’t that subtle. Which meant she was avoiding the moment when she would have to reject him.

Then they launched into a conversation about socialites in New York and someone who was doing a gallery show. Someone else was getting their whole trust. A third person was buying a house in Italy—basically abandoned, with bad plumbing—which this person thought they could restore.

“Can you imagine Zoe out in the country, growing rosemary and cabbages?” At that, they all laughed.

“Oh, I think this is their weed empire. Always jumping on an idea right after the market is saturated.” They laughed again.

Charlie, with nothing to contribute, just kept drinking her bourbon. And when it was gone, she got another. And another. After a while, her tongue began to feel numb and everything got a lot more amusing.

“So, Remy, you’re officially still dead right now, is that right?” Topher asked.

“No, the lawyers took care of it,” Adeline said.

“Back from the beyond.” Red saluted with his glass and Madison and Brooks raised their glasses too.

“And you were living with her the whole while?” Topher turned his gaze toward Charlie. The condescension in his voice was subtle enough that Charlie could pretend she was imagining it.