Page 58 of Thief of Night (The Charlatan Duology #2)

Mark nodded, anger washing out from his expression as quickly as it came.

Charlie knew that it would come back before long, though.

Anyone who traveled with him—much less someone he had a reason to hate—would wind up saying or doing the thing that triggered his paranoia and rage.

He’d kill them, even if he regretted it later.

And even if he held out for a while, they’d die some other way.

His shadows would get hungry or he would cut too deep. “Good, come on.”

He led her down two flights of stairs to his car, a white Dodge Dart, shadows wavering around him like windblown balloons.

The vehicle, dirty with road salt and stained with mud, was even dirtier inside. Take-out containers, grocery-store-sized soda bottles, and candy bar wrappers littered the back seat.

Mark had talked about his hunger before, and the evidence of that was all around her. He probably needed to eat nearly constantly to stay ahead of the drain. Like an explorer in the arctic eating whole sticks of butter.

She slid in on the passenger side.

“You gave him a warning, didn’t you?” Mark snarled as he turned to her.

“What?” Charlie asked, startled.

“When you were on the phone. You warned him somehow. They know you did. They keep whispering about it.”

Charlie’s fingers felt chilled as all the blood seemed to race to her heart. “I wouldn’t do that. I don’t want to die.”

“You play too many games,” he accused, voice harsh.

“If I warned him, then he wouldn’t come,” Charlie reminded him. “And you’d kill me. I’ve never been a hero. You know that.”

He seemed slightly mollified as he pressed the button to turn the car on. But then the engine didn’t turn over. Even the dash light didn’t come on.

Mark slammed his hands down on the wheel. “Did you do this?”

Typical Charlie Hall, in trouble because her ex had a shitty car.

“I think it’s the battery,” she said softly, remembering the van. Around her, Mark’s shadows moved like a slow strobe light. Panic made her heart skip. If she didn’t make it to the rendezvous point, even if she escaped Mark, there would be nowhere to go.

She reached for the door handle.

Before she could get out, though, he’d hit the lock button on the doors. “You wait here,” he told her.

He gave her a stern look as he got out of the car, shadows following him like the train of a bride. As he went to open the hood, he palmed the keys and the doors locked again.

Looking around, Charlie scrambled to find anything that could be used for a weapon. There was a glass bottle by her feet that she could smash. In the glove compartment, she found a screwdriver, which she tucked into her pocket.

The registration was in there too. The owner of the car had been named Marie.

Time seemed somehow to move both fast and slow. Charlie felt sick. If she couldn’t run, she’d have to travel with him until she saw an opportunity to give him the slip—or kill him in his sleep, she supposed, though she’d have to bet against her own squeamishness.

She imagined how it would be, being on the road with him, the paranoia and casual violence. Breaking into the next home and watching shadows bleed more innocent people. Acting as though she didn’t despise him. Smiling if he touched her.

She could steal Red from under the Cabal’s nose. Maybe she could even swindle the stars out of the sky. But she couldn’t do what it would take to stay by Mark’s side, not even for her own sake. No one was coming to save Charlie. And maybe she wasn’t going to save herself either this time.

Mark swore, kicking the front tire of the car violently. The shadows seemed agitated. Archer manifested, gnashing teeth. The NeverMan drifted toward the lit windows of a nearby apartment.

Taking a deep breath, Charlie slid over to the driver’s side, unlocked the door, and got out. She crouched down behind the car, easing the door closed.

She tugged the body spray out from under her bra and then took the cap off the can.

Mark slammed the hood down hard, clearly frustrated. Then he noticed the empty passenger seat. He smiled horribly.

“Chaaaarrrlie,” he called. “Are you hiding?”

She bit the inside of her cheek. It just figured that she was going to spend the last moments of her life kneeling on the frozen asphalt of a parking lot.

Mark’s shadows floated around him, slowly moving in every direction. It wouldn’t be long before they found her. “This is going to be a fun game. And my prize is going to be cutting you to ribbons.”

Charlie lunged. She flicked the lighter and sent a flaming spray of perfume toward the ground, where a thin tether connected Mark to Rosalva.

Mark swung toward Charlie, his face a mask of hunger and rage. “I knew you would betray me.”

“Well, you should have,” Charlie told him.

Rosalva floated away from him, but the others closed in. The NeverMan caught Charlie by the throat.

Charlie flicked the lighter. The shadow hand slithered away, half solid and half a thick black fog. “Stay back,” she said, turning slowly, flame in front of her. Archer and JonJon wavered, close by, ready to lunge, but seemingly nervous about the fire.

“Pathetic,” Mark said, grabbing her by the arm that held the lighter and throwing her to the ground.

Her head hit the asphalt and she felt a brief sideways sense of time slipping.

Then Mark had his fingers around her throat.

He squeezed, bringing his face close to her.

Darkness started in spots, bleeding outward, the way old film went bad when exposed to the sun.

“No one will care when you’re gone. You were born trash, Charlie, and you’re going to die like trash. ”

She tried to spit in his face, but she couldn’t gather enough breath.

Red stepped out of the darkness behind Mark.

For a moment, she thought she was hallucinating as she lost consciousness. Then she saw Red’s fingers grab Mark by his hair and pull back his head before rabbit punching him in the side. Mark gave a high, satisfying cry of pain.

Charlie sat up, breathing hard.

He had his forearm pressed to Mark’s neck. Standing behind him was Rosalva, her tether cut. She held Archer and was speaking to him in a low voice.

The NeverMan and JonJon hovered just beyond them. Charlie rolled to one side and grabbed for her lighter, when she saw why none of them were moving any closer.

The air was thick with shadows. They doused light as they moved, gathering in a wide semicircle around Red. All of them, Blights. Red had created that pack of Blights they’d speculated about and led them here to save her.

Mark tried to speak, but Red only pressed his forearm more tightly to Mark’s throat.

“The shadows,” Charlie said, her voice sounding odd after being strangled. “From the glass scrolls.”

“Yes,” Red told her. “The one you sent back found me and I thought that they could help. That shadow you saved brought me here. Posey, Malhar, and I were halfway to you when we got your call. You’re an absolute heart attack of a person, Charlie Hall.”

“You took the battery out of his car,” she said, staggering to her feet.

“The shadow couldn’t recall the exact apartment you were in. I wanted to make sure you couldn’t leave while I looked.” Red studied her. “I am so angry, Charlie. I am sick with it. What he did to you—if you don’t want him dead, you better tell me now.”

She looked at the tethers, binding the remaining shadows to Mark—JonJon, the NeverMan, Archer.

The NeverMan’s hands were long, knifelike claws, his head in the shape of a scythe blade.

JonJon appeared to be holding an axe of shadow.

If they were no longer tethered, they would be free to do whatever monstrous things they might want.

Archer stopped struggling in Rosalva’s arms. She let him go and he snuffled around on the ground.

“You willing to be responsible for them? Keep them out of trouble?” Charlie asked in a voice that only shook a little.

“Yes,” said Rose’s shadow.

Charlie turned to Red. “I think we should let him go. I think we should let all of them go.”

He raised his eyebrows, not misunderstanding her suggestion as kindness. “Are you sure?”

She thought about the horror of the apartment three floors up. About the Hatfield Massacre and the house where Red almost died. Thought of shadows being taken from places like that, ripped from the person they belonged with, perhaps even forced to drink that person’s blood. “I’m sure.”

Mark wore a smug expression, even as Red’s arm was still against his throat.

She fished her phone out of Mark’s pocket, hating the feel of his greasy jeans and the proximity of his skin. Then she leaned down and one by one, burned through each of the tethers, turning all his shadows into Blights.

“If you remain the Hierophant,” Red reminded her, “you’ll be the one to hunt them.”

“Maybe,” Charlie said. “But not today.”

“As you wish.” Red released his hold on Mark, letting him drop to the ground.

Mark dusted himself off as he pushed up, a sneer on his gaunt face. “Couldn’t do it, could you? And you, Blight? Rose told me about you. Told me how much power you have. Why bind yourself to her? She’s nothing .”

Red put his coat over Charlie’s shoulders. “And yet, somehow you were still tricked.”

“You think this is over?” Mark sneered.

A moment later, he seemed to notice the number of shadows fluttering around him. Shadows he’d stolen. Shadows he’d bound. Crowding in, with a sound like the wings of dozens of crows.

He took a step back.

“Oh, it’s over,” Charlie whispered as Red led her toward the van, its engine running, her sister behind the wheel.

Behind them, Mark began to scream.

And no matter what more Charlie heard, she didn’t look back.