Charlie thought of those horrible photos.

  “And their shadows were intact?” she asked, hoping the woman might mention the girl whose shadow had been missing.

  The woman looked surprised. “I don’t know. I didn’t think about that.”

  It wasn’t the kind of thing an insurance adjuster should ask. “I’m sorry,” Charlie said. “I guess it’s hard not to be curious.”

  Melissa pursed her lips. “That night was so normal. Marv got there early with cookies. I guess that was the only thing that stood out to me. Baked goods. I usually let him close up—he had a set of keys. This is a small town. Everyone knows everyone. Margie wasn’t there. Neither was Nate. They found Margie at home, safe and sound. Nate, they didn’t, which made the police interested in him, but it turned out he was just on vacation. But there were always new members coming and going. It wasn’t like there was a roll call.”

  Had the baked goods been because a speaker was coming? “Look, obviously don’t answer if you don’t want to, but what do you think happened that night?”

  “Just between us?” Melissa asked.

  “Absolutely,” Charlie assured her, lying through her teeth.

  “These people weren’t part of any cult. They were just interested in learning about shadow magic, even though not a one of them had it. I told the police that they had speakers sometimes or out-of-town guests—I said one of them must have killed them.”

  Seeing the room, Charlie tried to overlay her memory of the photos she’d seen online onto the space. But the pattern of death made no more sense than it had before. Why would people race for the corners and stay in them instead of going for the door? How could any one person have killed three different groups, before a single person made it to the steps? No one Blight could do that. Not even a gloamist and a shadow working together. You’d need at least three separate actors.

  “I’ve got to take some pictures,” she said, moving around the room. On one wall, she noticed deep gouges. Like claw marks. She got out her phone and took several shots. “This is going to have to be fixed.”

  “Honestly, what I told the police isn’t what I really think, though,” the woman said.

  Charlie glanced at her, then went back to taking photos. It seemed clear that Melissa had more to say and maybe she was one of those people who needed to fill silences.

  For that reason or because there was a certain safety in unburdening oneself to a stranger, after a few minutes she sighed and began to speak. “Nothing human made those. The police said one of those gardening things might have been used. A three-prong rake. But I think it was claws.” Melissa turned toward the stairs with a shudder.

  Charlie followed her back up. As they passed by the church nave, with all the empty pews, her steps slowed. She remembered that red carpet, those prayer books sitting in pockets behind the seats. Memory washed over her, the smell of freshly applied nail polish and her mother’s perfume, the stickiness of the weedy flowers in her hand, someone playing the piano, and the vows that Travis read off of a folded piece of paper: I promise to love you until we die and I plan on dying in your arms.

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” the woman said.

  Charlie startled out of her thoughts, blinking.

  Tell her you’re not going to say anything about what she told you, Red prompted.

  “Your secret is safe with me,” Charlie said. Then, she made an exaggerated shudder. “And I am going to do my best not to have nightmares.”

  Melissa led her to the door nearest the parking lot. “The reverend and everyone here wants to believe it wasn’t something supernatural.”

  Charlie frowned. “You mean a Blight?”

  “I mean a demon,” Melissa said. “Every day I pray it won’t come back and then I feel terrible, because that seems like wishing it on someone else.”

  “You saw something?” Charlie’s voice came out too sharp.

  Melissa shook her head. “No, but I know in my heart.”

  Without knowing what else to do, she got Melissa to initial the fake form on her clipboard, then left, feeling like a failure. She hadn’t learned anything that led her closer to a suspect, much less knowing what role Rooster Argent had in any of this. Nor did she have any idea how she was going to keep the Cabals from getting more bad press from it.

  Outside, hoping for inspiration, Charlie took a walk around the grounds and through the attached cemetery. The cold air felt good on her face.

  Have you ever seen Blights working together? she thought at Red. If he and Rose could conspire, it stood to reason that others could too.

  No, Red said in her mind. And the idea is very disturbing.

  Since she knew he was lying, that meant less than nothing. If there had been a group of Blights—a pack of Blights, her mind unhelpfully supplied—then they could have separated the seekers and kept them in their corners.

  A boy biked into the graveyard. He looked about nine years old and eyed her with suspicion. Charlie was very glad she hadn’t said that out loud so she would have seemed to be talking to herself.

  “There’s something wrong with your shadow,” the boy called to her as he whizzed by.

  He had no idea.

  “You live around here?” she called in return.

  “I’m not telling you,” he yelled, circling her again.

  Fair enough.

  “You here about the murders?” he called.

  “Aren’t you a little too young to know about that?” She turned back and started in the direction of the Porsche.

  “The Nine-Shadow Man did it,” the kid said.

  “From the story?” Charlie asked.

  “The Nine-Shadow Man” was a fairy tale, like “The Witch and the Unlucky Brother,” except more gruesome. The Nine-Shadow Man started with one shadow, but because he was greedy, he coveted the shadows of his neighbors. One by one, he killed them and stole their shadows for his own. But with each new shadow he took, he heard the voice of the departed whispering in his ear, hungry and demanding blood. And so he kept killing people to feed his shadows, but he was too greedy not to take more shadows. And so, the shadows on his back got hungrier and hungrier as there were more and more of them. The story ended: and so, if you hear the Nine-Shadow Man on your door, you know he’s come seeking his tenth shadow.

  Turn-of the-century creepypasta.

  “I saw him,” the boy said, a challenge in his eyes. He’d stopped pedaling, one foot braced against a tombstone, looking like he was waiting for her to say he’d made the whole thing up.

  Just one decade ago, no one believed in magic, and fairy tales had just been stories. But this kid had never lived in that world. She wasn’t certain what he’d seen, but he believed he’d seen something.

  “What did you witness, exactly?” Charlie asked.

  “A man on the road with shadows all around him,” the boy said. “He was talking to himself, so I got scared and pedaled away, fast. I didn’t know about the murders until later.”

  “I’m glad you got out of there,” she told him.

  He gave her a look, like he wasn’t sure how far to trust her sincerity. Then he gave her a small nod and pushed off the tombstone. His shadow followed him in a liquid slide, not at all the way a shadow ought to move.

  “A baby gloom,” Red said, stepping into the full sunlight. His blond hair was all gold, though his eyes were the pale gray of shadows.

  She watched the boy pedal away, thinking about what he’d said. Had he seen a man with more than one shadow or had he seen multiple shadows gathered around a man?

  Red’s thoughts must have traveled down similar lines. “If Blights were working together, I would think they’d begin with attacking one individual, not an entire group and not inside.”

  A person going missing would be in the news—unless the Blights were very clever or lucky. “It might have looked like an animal attack,” she said, thinking she might do some searches when she got home. Had there been any bear-related deaths in Western Massachusetts? It seemed like that would have been something she’d heard about, though.

  And none of that would explain what had happened to Rooster. Why wouldn’t his body be with the rest of the victims?

  At the edge of the cemetery, Charlie noticed something catching the light. An empty glass bottle, half-full of cigarette butts, sat against the base of a tree.

  Charlie stared down at the bottle. The filters inside were white with curved lines of gold and the Marlboro logo printed on them. They could have belonged to anyone who smoked Marlboro Touch cigarettes—a mourner, the reverend, kids who wanted to hang out by graves. There were enough, though, that the person had spent some time near here. Her gaze snagged on an empty matchbook in a clump of weeds—a pale pink, with gold lettering. Fancy. She took a step closer to see better. Solaluna, it read. That sounded familiar, though she couldn’t place it.

  “I just don’t understand,” Charlie said, tucking the matchbook in her pocket. “If Blights were working together, why kill these people? Why come to this church?”

  “Maybe it really was the Nine-Shadow Man,” Red said.

  “Or maybe it was Rooster Argent,” she countered. “If he’s not dead, then maybe he’s the killer.”

  18

  Raven

  Halfway to Rapture for her shift, Raven called Charlie.

  She swiped her finger over the screen, glad that Red was driving. “Hey.”

  “I need your help, as the Hierophant.” Raven’s voice was a whisper, as though she didn’t want to be overheard.

  The hair rose along Charlie’s arms. “Okay.”

  “Can you come to my studio?” Raven asked. “Right now.”

  “I’m on my way to work. How serious is this?” Charlie pointed toward the shoulder of the highway. Red pulled the Porsche to the side, idling, then flicked on the hazard lights. He raised his eyebrows.

  “I don’t know,” Raven said. “It’s eating—it’s eating all the little shadows. Um, now it’s licking the blood out of the bowl.”

  Yeah, that sounded serious. “I’m on my way.”

  “It’s looking at me, I think,” Raven whispered.

  Charlie got out of the car, walking around to the driver’s side. Red let her switch places with him without any hesitation. A few moments later, she pulled away from the curb, one hand on the wheel, making a totally illegal U-turn into traffic. “Do you have any onyx?” An SUV sounded its horn in annoyance at being cut off.

  “I’ve got some dust,” Raven said. “I’m getting it now.”

  “Maybe you should leave.” The gears of the Porsche ground as Charlie shifted badly. Red winced.

  “I don’t want to run,” Raven said. “It’s getting dark. If I’m not in the light, I won’t know where it is.”

  It was terrifying to be chased by a Blight you couldn’t see, but it wasn’t great to wait for one to find you either. “Can you—” Charlie started.

  “I’ve got to go,” Raven whispered, cutting her off. “Get here soon.”

  Pittsfield wasn’t close. Normally, it took her about forty minutes to get to Raven’s. On the highway, Charlie accelerated well past seventy, knowing it wasn’t going to be enough. With her right hand, she grabbed for her phone.

  Red got to it first. “Who do you want to call?”

  “Work,” she said, pressing the button to dial.

  He plugged it into a port on the center console of the Porsche and pressed a few buttons. Ringing echoed from the speakers around her.

  “Hands-free,” Red said. “Every luxury blood money can buy.”

  If Charlie hadn’t been concentrating on the road, she would have liked to observe his face when he said that.

  Don picked up. “Rapture Bar and Lounge.”

  She gritted her teeth. “This is Charlie. Can you cover for me? I’m going to be a little late.”

  “Like ten minutes?” She couldn’t tell if he sounded more smug than usual.

  “Like an hour,” Charlie admitted, thinking that was optimistic.

  “I take my job seriously,” Don told her. “I heard about you and how difficult you were to work with. You’re proving all those people right.”

  “If you can’t cover for me, just say so and put Balthazar on.” Charlie hated asking Balthazar for help, but at least he’d understand. And maybe he’d have some advice.

  “Just a second,” Don told her.

  A moment later, it was Odette’s voice she heard. “Charlie? Is all well?”

  Her stomach dropped. This was exactly what she’d wanted to avoid. Odette had seen a little shadow magic—maybe more than a little—but she knew only about as much as most people. She didn’t understand the Cabals or the role of the Hierophant. As worldly as she was, she might be one of the many people who thought Blights were made-up stories, urban legends like white crocodiles hunting in the sewers of New York.

  “I’m going to be late,” she said. “I’m really sorry. I was just asking Don if he thought he could cover part of my shift.”

  “Oh, that’s fine. He can cover the whole shift if you need him to, the dear boy.” Odette sounded unruffled, but if all Don wanted to tell Charlie was that, he wouldn’t have gotten their boss involved.

  Well, Charlie supposed that he’d found a way to slither into Odette’s good graces after all—and at her expense. “Don doesn’t need to do so much.”

  “Oh, let him. And you finish up whatever it is that’s keeping you.”

  That was generous. Too generous. The kind of generous that put you on thin ice and maybe made you worry the ice was already cracking.

  “I’ll be there for my next shift, on time. I promise.”

  “See you then, darling,” Odette said and disconnected.

  Charlie stared at the road. She couldn’t get distracted by work. She had to keep focused on getting to Raven and what she was going to do when she got there.

  Charlie had kept many useful things to capture or kill Blights in the back of the van. A set of three onyx knives—one of which she’d brought into the mill building. An onyx-inlaid box the size to fit a scroll, because, she supposed, shadows could squish down small. That, she’d lifted from Salt’s mansion. Not to mention her lockpicks, a random wig, and other criminal bits and bobs.

  The only thing she had with her in the Porsche was what was in her work bag—one knife and a piece of netting with onyx beads she’d been lucky enough to get out of the last Hierophant’s stash, because she could have never afforded it. An item, it was worth noting, that she’d never so much as tried to use.

  “I wish I had onyx armor,” she complained, although she wasn’t sure such a thing existed. If it did, it was likely to be too fragile to be useful and so expensive that she’d need a big chunk of Remy’s inheritance to afford it.

  “You would look like a chess piece,” he said, but he smiled as he said it. “Besides, you have me.”

  Charlie recalled the lessons at Balthazar’s place, the feeling of shadow wings wrapped around her. “We should have practiced more.”

  For protection, she wore onyx earrings and a single flat disc of onyx that hung over her heart on a silver chain—certainly not as much as she would have been wearing if she’d known this was where her night would take her.

  Tension knotted her shoulders as she wove in and out of traffic, wondering if she would be too late. Wondering if Raven was going to call her back. Wishing she could call, although the last thing Raven needed while she was hiding out from a hungry Blight was the buzz of a phone to give her away.

  For a while they were quiet, Charlie’s eyes on the road. Then she glanced at him. “Why are they like this?”

  Red frowned. “Who?”

  “Blights. They’re not mindless, but they seem very focused on murder.”

  “Most of us are made in terror and rage,” Red said, including himself in the number. “Most of us don’t have much else giving us life.”

  Charlie huffed a breath. It just didn’t make sense, but she wasn’t sure how to explain. “Can they … grow out of it?”

  “Of course,” Red said, not including himself this time. “But they’ve still got to eat.”

  Moments later, the Porsche pulled into the parking lot of the strip mall that contained Raven’s studio, Eclipse Piercing & Shadow Modifications. It sat between a chicken place and a closed laundromat, with a strip of woods behind it. When she pulled around to the back, she found it eerily quiet, the hum of cars on the road dimmed. Darkness surrounded them.

  Charlie got out, reached into the back seat, and took her limited gear out of her bag.

  On the concrete steps outside the door, she spotted a stainless steel dog dish, licked clean. She remembered the first time she’d seen Raven put it out, full of microwave-warmed blood for the little shadows. Charlie hadn’t believed there could be so many of them close by. All Blights, all hungry, none strong enough to attack, if that was even what they wanted. Raven had taken one to use like thread in her alteration.

  Charlie wondered whether it would be possible to create a more powerful Blight from something so small as she moved past the empty dish. At the very least, leaving out blood had brought the little Blights to Raven’s door, but maybe it had also lured something larger. Something that was less interested in blood than on feeding on the smaller shadows.

  Charlie’s shadow slid sideways, at an impossible angle from the setting sun.

  “Red,” she breathed.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you,” he told her, a dark, hungry look of anticipation on his face. “But you should wait here.”

  Then he slipped under the door.

  She stared at the thread that connected them. For a long moment there was silence, then a loud scream that sounded a lot like Raven. Something crashed to the ground.

  Charlie yanked the door open.

  Raven was standing in a circle of powdered onyx, looking like a witch caught in her own summoning circle. In her hand she held an onyx hammer, probably the only weapon she could find in short order. She was breathing hard and tears streaked over her already-wet cheeks.