“So,” said Carwyn. “Charades?”
“Ethan said they gave you money,” I told him. “And that you’re set to stay here for a week and you have a pass. Is there anything else that you want? Is there anything else I can do for you?”
The doppelganger hesitated.
“Come on, Carwyn,” I added. “I dare you not to be predictable.”
“Well,” said Carwyn, “I’m a growing avatar of darkness, and I’ve been waiting for room service a suspiciously long time. Like, two hours. I’m wondering what to do about it.”
He didn’t need to say any more. I’d seen doppelgangers in the Dark city not being served in shops and cafés, until they slunk away. The best way to encourage doppelgangers not to linger was not to make a fuss but simply not provide what they needed.
I could have called Ethan—even if I didn’t want to make up with Ethan at that moment, I could have called Ethan’s dad or his uncle—and demanded that they sort out the situation with the hotel. It was in their best interests to keep Carwyn quiet and content.
I intended to do just that, but I remembered something, suddenly, about my mom, and it made me smile. Whenever anything like that happened in front of her, my mom would always order whatever it was the doppelganger had asked for herself, then hand it over.
I thought that it would cost me nothing to be kind and mean it, just this once. To be like my mother, just for one night.
“You said you wanted to see the Light city,” I said slowly. “Let’s go out and see some of it. I can show you around, and we can grab something to eat as we go. My treat.”
Carwyn put his head to one side. I wasn’t sure if he was assessing the sincerity of my offer or simply weighing the amount of fun he could have getting pot stickers in the Village with me versus checking out what the hotel cable television had to offer.
“All right, golden girl,” he said slowly, “lead me to the light.”
CHAPTER FIVE
It was clear even before we reached the street that I had made another terrible mistake.
Carwyn had put up his hood before we left the hotel room, and we got a judgmental stare from the receptionist as we walked out. Matters only got worse from there.
We took the subway to the restaurant I’d decided on. It was only a few stops, but that was long enough. One woman who had seemed sleepy a moment before we stepped onto the train, her kid resting his sticky face against her shimmering Light-reinforced raincoat, went rigid as soon as she saw Carwyn. She stood vibrating with distress by the doors and exited, making for the next car, at the next stop. Other people were less obtrusive, melting away off the seats and through the doors or into the corner.
One guy in pink suspenders, who I thought might be trying to impress a beringed woman whose shoes were twined with Light magic so the spike heels became small bright towers that would not hurt her feet, stayed where he was. He sat only one seat away from Carwyn. The bright-shod woman watched Carwyn with obvious apprehension. The man in suspenders, I saw, was pretending to be nonchalant, and playing a hand-held game. He was a lousy actor. We could all see his shaking hands.
Carwyn shifted, and the guy dropped the game with a clatter and a flash of light that blinked out like a tiny supernova. He stared, and from under Carwyn’s hood came a soft, sinister sound, something like a hiss, and Carwyn’s pale fingers went creeping over the empty seat.
The guy made a low sound in the back of his throat and slid hastily along the row of slick orange plastic seats until he was at the other end of the car. I leaned over and rapped Carwyn’s hand with my knuckles, making sure my rings were involved so it would smart.
“You’re not helping yourself.”
“No,” Carwyn murmured, “I’m amusing myself.”
“You’re the only doppelganger that they have ever seen in person,” I said as we left the train, to the visible relief of its remaining passengers. “Spreading fear and distrust is only going to contribute to the false idea of doppelgangers that they’ve built up in their heads.”
“Please inform me on the subject of doppelgangers,” Carwyn said humbly. “They sound like such interesting yet widely misunderstood creatures. Is it true that they only drink human blood?”
“I hope not,” I said. “This place doesn’t serve it.”
The Star Bright was already in view, with its white fa?ade and gleaming, tilted windows, the star on the black sign a burst of Light magic that looked almost like a real star. I’d had brunch there with Ethan a couple of weeks ago, and it was a warm, comfortable place to eat and talk. I smiled at the woman with the short black tie and moved toward an empty table.
“I’m terribly sorry,” said the woman, stepping in front of me. “But these tables are reserved.”
“What, all of them?”