Page 9 of Thief of Night (The Charlatan Duology #2)

Cowards

By the time Charlie staggered out from the back, the car dealership holiday party had wound down. Most of the batched drinks were gone and Don looked only slightly harried alone behind the bar.

“You should go on home, darling.” Odette had moved to one end of the bar, near the taciturn woman drinking rye. Another Pepto-Bismol-colored pink squirrel sat in front of her.

“Yeah, I’ve got things covered,” Don put in.

That almost made Charlie offer to stay, just to be contrary, but the only one she’d hurt was herself. And she was plenty hurt already. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“Put a steak on that eye,” Odette called after her.

As Charlie wove her way through the crowd, glaring at anyone who looked in her direction, she noticed how quickly people turned away. In the van, she checked her face in the rearview mirror. The skin around her left eye was unmistakably swollen and brutally purplish-red.

“You should let me drive,” Red said, making her jump. She hadn’t noticed him coalescing out of the shadows on the passenger side.

“Fuck!” She leaned her head against the seat back. “You scared me.”

He looked at her impassively.

“I’m fine,” she told him, a moment later.

“You’re a liar.” A few strands of spun-gold hair fell over his eyes. It was hard to believe there had been a time she might have pushed them back without thinking.

Despite her general alarm, and the pain in her cheek, she made herself grin. “Well, sure, but that doesn’t mean I’m not fine.”

“Charlie.” Red turned her name into a sigh, one that could almost be mistaken for fondness.

“Okay,” she said, getting out so they could exchange seats. He flowed across to the passenger side, not even pretending to be human. When she was back in, she frowned. “So, are you going to tell me why you went after that car dealership guy?”

He pulled out of the lot and headed onto Cottage Street and then past Nashawannuck Pond in silence. “I don’t know why I did it,” he admitted finally.

She wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Well, thank you for defending me,” she said. “Don’t do it again.”

Red nodded, frowning.

“Unless you were trying to get me punched.” She knew that she should just shut up. Her emotions were all over the place after talking to Adeline.

He gave her a strange look, an eyebrow lifting. “And in that case?”

She smiled, unable to help it. “In that case, next time come at me directly, you coward.”

He burst out laughing, obviously surprised by his own reaction.

Charlie got the sense he hadn’t laughed much, growing up in Salt’s house.

After making some noodles, Charlie took another shower, then headed to bed, wrapped in a worn blue towel.

Her bedroom was a disaster. Half her clean clothes were in boxes on the dresser and most of her laundry was scattered on the floor, reminding her how much packing she still had to do.

She hoped the place on State Street came through.

As she shifted, she noted that the towel was dotted with blood.

Evidently, the glue on her wound hadn’t held through the whole shift.

It was possible that Red had been right, and she ought to have gotten stitches.

It was possible she still should, but it was late and she didn’t want to spend hours in the emergency room, just to find herself deeper in debt.

Her insurance had a brutal deductible and in her short time as the Hierophant, she hadn’t caught enough Blights to make much in the way of bounties.

Charlie planned to chew up a couple of aspirin, take a weed gummy, and see how badly she hurt in the morning and how swollen her eye became. It wasn’t a good sign that she felt stiff enough that going for underwear and a fresh t-shirt felt like something she had to talk herself into, though.

For a moment, the air felt static, a familiar enough sensation that she knew what it meant. She turned to see Red staring at her with burning eyes.

She pushed wet hair back from her face, refusing to let him see how much he rattled her. “Throw me a shirt to sleep in.”

He couldn’t hurt her. She was in control. Wasn’t that what he was always telling her—that she had power over him? She had no reason to be afraid.

Red walked to her dresser, opened it, and took out a tee with the logo of a club from a vampire TV show on it. He handed it to her carefully, as though she might bite, and his gaze lingered a moment too long on her collarbone.

He turned away, but her fear had already mutated into something else. Desire, sharp as a kick to the teeth.

Most of the time he seemed to despise her, but not always. Tonight, she’d made him laugh. And now he was staring at her.

Charlie took a deep breath.

“Want to come to bed?” she whispered, letting the towel fall. At least no one could call her fainthearted.

For a moment, he went entirely silent. Then a muscle moved in his jaw. She could see his body respond to her. Seemed he was human enough for that, still full of blood. When he spoke, his voice was rough. “Remy could never have loved someone like you.”

His words felt like a slap. For a moment, as with physical pain, she had to remain still until the feeling settled. Then she put on her most vicious smile. “Maybe you don’t love me either. But you want me—you’ve always wanted me.”

He took a step back, which she considered a triumph. That’s right, terrifying Blight. I’m a loose cannon. I can hurt you with words.

“Too bad you’re not getting me tonight,” she went on, leaning into the pettiness.

She grabbed the t-shirt he’d given her and pulled it over her head.

“Offer of sex rescinded.” Then she had to go through the indignity of getting up and finding a pair of underwear.

Once they were on, though, Charlie flopped onto the mattress, turning her back to him.

“You could make me, you know,” Red said, from where he still stood, close to the door. “You don’t have to ask.”

Charlie turned over in surprise, pain making her regret the swiftness of her movement. “What?”

He didn’t repeat himself, but if he wanted a fight, she was ready. It would be a relief to turn her shame and confusion into anger. “You want me to order you around? Is that it? You like being told what to do?”

“Stop pretending,” he snapped, biting off each word at the end. “You’re going to send me to do ugly things eventually. Why act like you won’t? Why play this game?”

“If you don’t want to be tethered to me, then give me one of the onyx knives in the bedside table and I’ll cut you free right now. The Cabal might hunt you down, but that won’t be my problem.”

His lip curled. “You wouldn’t.”

“Hand one to me and find out,” she said. “Unless you’re worried that if you get too close, I’ll stab you through the heart.”

“Maybe we’ll play that game another night,” he said. And then he was gone, dissolved into darkness.

“Only a coward ends a fight like that,” Charlie shouted, throwing a pillow at the space where he used to be standing.

He didn’t return.