“I’d agree.” Charlie looked at Adeline’s laptop, at the green leather Chanel shopper she’d carried it in, at the diamond studs in her ears. “You’re his only heir, aren’t you?”
Adeline’s hand went to her hair, nervously catching a strand of it between her fingers. “Don’t try to implicate me in your crime,” she said stiffly. “Your guilt is your own to wrestle with.”
“In the great room,” Charlie said. “I was pretty distracted when you came in. But the funny thing is that I still noticed you had blood on your hands.”
Charlie started toward the hall, then looked back over her shoulder. “By the way, you’re welcome.”
* * *
Charlie tried to walk calmly up the concrete steps, but when she hit the second landing, she found herself walking faster and faster until she was practically running. At the very top, she found a door, banded in onyx and locked with a bar. Charlie lifted it, surprised by the weight.
Vince stood in the small, windowless room with his back to her. He appeared much the same as he had always been, same broad shoulders, same height, same everything. But when he turned, his eyes were empty sockets, filled only with smoke. It made her think of his body as a shell with some swirling creature living inside.
Charlie thought of the tarot cards she’d pulled from Posey’s deck. The conversion of the spiritual into material. The Magician.
When his eyes closed, she noticed that for his hair had darkened to bronze, as though the gold had blown off when he changed. He was dressed in a black button-up, and his pants were some kind of performance material that looked expensive. Remy’s clothes.
Charlie felt turned inside out by the closeness of him, like the man in that story he told at Barb’s party, like a sock. All of her vulnerable parts seemed to be showing. The slightest touch might hurt.
“I didn’t quite go back together the way I was, did I?” Vince asked her.
Charlie realized that she’d stopped, going no farther into the room than that first step. No wonder he didn’t look happy. He had to think she was afraid.
And she was afraid, but only a little. She made herself walk toward him. The Fool, walking off a cliff. “I like it. It’s weird.”
That small surprised lift of the corner of his lip, as though he’d forgotten he could smile, was familiar enough for her to actually relax.
The longer she looked, the less she minded the strangeness of his eyes. “Why did you do it?”
“Lie to you?” he asked. “Hide what I was?”
“No.” Charlie sighed, sitting on the arm of one of the patterned brocade sofas. “Why fight the Hierophant? You almost died. For nothing. None of these fuckers care about you.”
His smile widened. “That is not a question anyone asked me since I got here, and they’ve asked a lot.”
“Well, I don’t think they’re focused on your well-being.”
“You don’t say.” Vince waved her toward one of the chairs, and she took in the rest of the room for the first time.
There were two chairs, a mattress on the floor, sheets, and a small rug. No books. No heavy things. No sharp things. A single bright bulb burned above them. Vince had a cuff around his leg studded with actual onyx and attached to a metal plate in the floor. It was possible that the onyx was keeping him solid. Charlie wasn’t sure. She really wished she’d read a lot more of the books that she’d stolen.
She sat, a small puff of dust going up when she did.
“Look, I’m kind of tense,” he said. “So could you just break it to me? I know you’ve got some feelings about me being a shadow.”
“I’ve been trying not to think about it too much,” Charlie told him.
He looked at her incredulously. “How’s that working?”
“I figured I could think about it when we got out of here. And maybe,” Charlie said hopefully, “we could even have a big fight about it. With screaming. And throwing things. And I could tell you how stupid you were for thinking I was having an affair with Adam.”
“After you described his murder, I figured that out for myself. You seemed pretty upset about the couch.” He laughed before he could stop himself, his hand going to cover his mouth. “I’m so sorry. That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little bit funny,” she admitted.
He looked down at her with eyes that bled smoke. “So what else do we have to fight about?”
She averted her gaze. “When did you figure it out, that I was the girl you led out of Salt’s house?”
“In the bar,” he admitted. “That first night.”
“And what? You wanted to screw around with someone you’d saved?” There, now that was what an argument was supposed to sound like.
“Maybe. No. I don’t know.” He either didn’t notice the opportunity to squabble, or squandered it. “I like you, Char. I always liked you. I should have said something, but I’m not a good person. I’m not even sure I’m a person at all.”
“Oh.” Surprised, Charlie took his hand and folded her fingers through his. They were surprisingly solid. “You’re a person. You’re my person.”
He bent down to bring their clasped hands to his lips.
That’s when Charlie started to panic.
Because they’d just had an abbreviated version of the argument—okay, it had been more of a conversation—she’d been anticipating having when they got home. And the only reason for Vince to have it while imprisoned in Bellamy’s tower was that he wasn’t going home with Charlie.
He was planning on leaving with Adeline, like she’d said. He was going to take up the mantle of Edmund Vincent Carver, as though nothing had ever happened. Get his old life back. Be the first Blight to hold a charity ball.
“So what happens now?” Charlie asked, because she had to hear him say it. “With us.”
There was something in the set of his jaw that made her think of how she’d described him to Adeline, as a lake that was still on the surface, with a whole drowned town inside. “I killed the Hierophant. The Cabal needs a new Hierophant.”
“No. Fuck no.” Charlie threw herself out of the chair. She paced the room, trying to get her thoughts under control. “You can’t let them do that to you. Not after everything you’ve done for them.”
“It’s not any worse of a job than cleaning up dead bodies in hotel rooms.” His voice sounded calm, but his fingers were curled inward, as though he was about to fist them.
“I thought Adeline was going to be some kind of guardian or something?” she said, frowning.
He nodded. “That’s one way of looking at it. But I’ll still be hunting Blights.”
She scowled. “You can’t agree to this. How long before you don’t just hate what’s happened to you, but hate the person to whom you’re bound?”
His gaze dropped from Charlie’s. “I hate her already.”
Oh.
Now she understood Adeline’s mealymouthed innuendo. And she understood exactly how bound Vince was going to be. They’d be tethered together. She’d be wearing him.
“That’s why you and I need to be apart for a while,” he told her. “I will never stop feeling the way I do about you, Char. But I won’t be the same. Someone will be trying to control me.”
She remembered him talking in his sleep. Adeline. Adeline, don’t.
The thought made Charlie’s skin crawl. “I can get you out of the cuff. We can run for it.”
He shook his head. “If we did, they wouldn’t be hunting just me.”
“I don’t care,” Charlie told him.
He put his hand to her cheek. “They told me that I need to prove I’m trustworthy, and that once I do, I won’t need to be tethered. I’ll get out of this. I’ll find a way for us to be together.”
Oh, they were going to find a way out of this all right.
“And they’re going to do it today?” Of course they were. That was why Adeline had been there. They were going to stitch him on as soon as Charlie departed.
Vince turned away, so that she couldn’t see much of his face, but he looked resigned. And she was making it harder. “Today, yes. I’ve already agreed.”
She could tell that he hated that she was making it harder.
“Tell me one thing,” she said. “If you could, would you choose me?”
“Over anything,” he said.