Unused to being told anything like that, Charlie could only reply, “My level of recklessness is pretty unbelievable.”

  “What if I never get my memories back?” Red went on, as though now that he’d started talking, he couldn’t stop. “I know you hoped that if I got the part that the Cabals stole, I would be him again. I know that sometimes when you look at me, you see him. But I’m not him. And I don’t want to be. I’m afraid to lose what little self I have. I am afraid that everything you like in me isn’t me at all.”

  Of course someone who had memories thrust upon him didn’t want more. Of course the idea of not remembering something was as frightening as being made to remember. In his mind, being Vince was tangled up with being Remy. She could hardly blame him, when he was being forced to answer to both names.

  And it made sense that he was afraid that anyone who liked him, really liked someone else.

  “I’m glad you’re the one here with me.” She leaned forward to take his hand. “You and no one else.”

  He smiled across the table at her, the curve of his mouth and the smoldering light of his eyes full of promises.

  She wondered what would happen when they got back to the cottage. Then she looked up and saw that Mark was no longer at the table.

  “He’s gone,” she blurted out. “I was supposed to follow him.”

  Charlie shouldered off Red’s suit jacket and walked swiftly out of the dining room, into the parlor and bar area next door. Mark wasn’t there. She looked around wildly, but there was no sign he’d ever been in the building.

  She felt the sting of embarrassment in the back of her throat. She’d gotten so distracted that she hadn’t even noticed him leaving. With no better explanation for wandering around, she tried to act like a person who’d been looking for the bathroom and gotten turned around.

  On her way, she overheard two of the servers whispering together. “Did you hear? That guy sitting alone. His father tortured him. The whole story is messed up.”

  Charlie froze.

  “Must be why he keeps her around,” whispered the other. “The shadowless girl. It would creep me the fuck out to have that near me.”

  Giving them both a lethal look, she headed into the bathroom. There, she fixed her lipstick and stared at herself in the mirror. In the slip dress, tattoos and curves on full display.

  It was said that a person without a shadow was without a soul. And while Charlie had never believed that, people’s superstitions had been easier to dismiss when they weren’t about her. Now she couldn’t help wondering if there really might be something wrong with her, some essential part of herself that was missing.

  Something’s been wrong with you a lot longer than you haven’t had a shadow, she told herself.

  When she left the bathroom, a waiter spotted her. “Miss?” he asked. “We’re just serving dessert at your table.”

  Gritting her teeth, she squared her shoulders and headed back, distracted enough to knock into a bald man coming into the dining room.

  “Excuse me!” the man snapped.

  “Sorry,” she said, then threw herself into the chair opposite Red.

  At her expression, he looked worried. “We can go. We’ll find him.”

  “New plan.” Charlie opened her hand, flashing him the room key she’d lifted when she’d bumped the man, then closed her hand again. “We find the welcome packet that everyone at this retreat got and go from there. But we don’t have much time.”

  “Do my eyes deceive?” a voice boomed from across the room. “Remy Vincent Carver! Back from the dead like Lazarus.”

  A big, red-bearded man came into the room and turned immediately toward Red, throwing his arms open for an embrace.

  Red stood and made a performance of hugging him and slapping the man on the back with feigned enthusiasm. The diners turned toward the commotion, but the man didn’t seem to care. He was in the same dark jeans, brown cashmere sweater, and Allbirds as several of the more casually dressed men in the room, but on him the clothes looked rumpled and a little sloppy.

  He seemed familiar, but Charlie couldn’t place him.

  “It’s been what? A decade—no, not quite that, but nearly,” the man was saying.

  “Archie,” Red said, a little stiffly. This was the first time since they came to Solaluna that she saw his performance falter.

  The man didn’t seem to notice. “I can’t believe it’s you!” he said. “After all this time. And with what you’ve been through. I mean, I read what they’ve written in the paper.”

  Then, Charlie realized that she knew him from the TikTok he’d made with Rooster.

  Charlie took a step closer to Red. Archie seemed to take note of her for the first time.

  “Lena,” she said, before he could ask.

  “You sitting down to dinner?” Archie asked, then gestured toward their plates. Some kind of panna cotta, accompanied by a dessert wine. “Oh, you’ve nearly finished. Well, shit.” He gave a big laugh. “Not like you want me on your date. But y’all have to be here for the retreat. At least let me introduce you to the guest of honor.”

  The guest of honor? Wasn’t that supposed to be Rooster?

  She thought of the key in her pocket, but nothing they could have found in a random guest’s room could compare to what they could get from Archie. He was the key to all the information they wanted, so long as they played this right.

  “I thought that Rooster was…” Charlie began.

  “Yes, a tragedy, what happened to him,” Archie said. “But we’re lucky that the guy leading the puppeteers agreed to come in his place. Quite a coup to have him, since he’s very private, even paranoid.”

  “The head of the puppeteers,” Charlie repeated slowly.

  “Here Mr. Punch comes now,” Archie said, gesturing toward a young man walking into the dining room. “Hopefully ready to give away all those Cabal secrets.”

  Madurai Malhar Iyer stopped in his tracks, Posey Hall on his arm. He wore the same suit she’d seen hanging in his closet. Posey was in a white flowy dress that Charlie had never seen before.

  After a momentary pause, they walked to the table.

  There was a ringing in Charlie’s ears as she realized that Posey had found a way to make it into Solaluna after all, and done it in a way that put them all in even more danger than before.

  “Nice to meet you,” Malhar said, in a voice that cracked only a little.

  Posey was smiling like a cat sitting in front of a bowl of cream. “Yes, it’s so nice to make new friends.”

  29

  Cold Night Air

  As it turned out, Archie was the force behind the Umbral Elevation Retreat. The organizer and the one coordinating with both the Cabals and the wealthy seekers, he was well on his way to making a fortune with conferences and was thrilled to tell his old pal Remy Carver all about it. He’d pulled up chairs and insisted Charlie and Red linger over after-dinner drinks while he, Malhar, and Posey worked through their meal.

  “We’ll sort you out with a new shadow,” he was saying to Red. Then he turned to Malhar with an expansive grin. “You Cabal people have resources to spare, don’t you?”

  With one disturbingly casual reference, Archie made it clear that he could lead Charlie to the shadows. He’d confirmed that distributing them to the wealthy was the real purpose of this event and that Archie was expecting his new Cabal pal to supply them.

  Malhar smiled ambiguously, clearly having no idea what Archie was suggesting.

  This was going to be so bad.

  Charlie looked across the table, narrowing her eyes at her sister.

  She should put an end to this. Reveal who Posey and Malhar were, get them kicked out, even if she got kicked out with them. Of course, if she did that, the chances of Mr. Punch finding out he’d been impersonated went up exponentially. Assuming that he wasn’t already here, in which case, he would know either way.

  Archie cleared his throat. “So, I have a question for you, Mr. Punch. The Cabals started out small-time and secretive, right? Mysterious. But as the Cabals grow, they need protection. And we all know it’s not voters that determine the direction of this country, not politicians who control the government. It’s those with the money to influence voters and to fund campaigns.” Garrulous to begin with, the more Archie drank, the looser his tongue and the louder his voice became. At least Charlie had the satisfaction of seeing several other attendees look mournfully at their table, clearly wanting to come over, yet realizing that unless invited, they were unlikely to be welcome. “So, what does the future look like? How do you get them on board without ceding control?”

  “They need him more than he needs them,” Posey snapped. Normally, she had few good things to say about the Cabals, so it was funny to see her defend them.

  Still, Malhar should have spoken. He needed to seem intimidating, not intimidated. His continued silence was going to give him away.

  “We’re honored to have you here,” Archie said, clearly relaxed and enjoying expounding on what Charlie didn’t doubt was a favorite subject. He turned toward Malhar and saluted him with his glass. “Truly we are. But it’s no secret that laws are being discussed in the hallowed halls of justice.”

  “If the government goes after the Cabals,” Red said, “the Cabals could wind up more powerful, not less.”

  Archie made an incredulous face. “So long as they’re run by people like our illustrious Mr. Punch, I am glad for them to have all the power they can amass.” He reached over to place a heavy hand on Malhar’s shoulder.

  “Glad to hear it,” Malhar said with a tight smile.

  “Very interested in your speech tomorrow,” Charlie said to him. “I understand that Rooster was going to speak about quickening shadows.”

  Posey glared at her.

  Charlie glared back. If Malhar couldn’t fake it through this dinner conversation, there was no way he was going to survive the weekend.

  After a moment, he spoke. “It’s not as simple as turning a switch. People want it to be, of course—they expect dramatic and painful, but simple. That’s not true. But I do believe anyone can accomplish a quickening.”

  Archie’s surprise was obvious. He must not have thought much about any technique other than the stitching of new shadows, despite the promised workshops featured in the description of his conference.

  “Can you explain the process to me?” Charlie prompted Malhar.

  He turned a vaguely pleading expression on her. “We’re at dinner. I would hate to bore you with a discussion of the bicameral mind.”

  “Let the man eat,” Archie said, probably because he thought Mr. Punch was attempting to avoid discussing anything important in front of Red and Charlie.

  “We’d all be riveted—I’m sure,” said Red. “But we will hear the whole thing soon enough. We’re just excited to have that opportunity.”

  “Yes,” Archie boomed with real sincerity. “We’ve added security, of course. Three gloamists, very capable, all of them armed with onyx—and real weapons, although don’t tell that to Solaluna.”

  “Yours, I presume,” she said to Malhar. Those would most likely be the ones bringing in the shadows and they would absolutely know that Malhar wasn’t Mr. Punch. Even if Professor Frank hid his identity from the world, he couldn’t hide it from the puppeteers under his command.

  “How many of the attendees would you say are gloamists themselves?” Posey asked. It was obvious she didn’t understand the nature of Mr. Punch’s association with Archie. Charlie needed to get her out of there before she blew her own cover.

  “Very few,” Archie told her, with a shrug. “Although Solaluna claims to have at least one on staff.”

  As he went on, Charlie attempted to send a text under the table without being too obvious about it. When I head to the bathroom, you follow or I blow up your spot. Understood?

  The message went through. Charlie saw her sister glance down. Then three dots indicating she was responding flickered on the screen, but no words came. She must have been composing and deleting messages over and over again.

  OK, Posey sent finally.

  “The thing is,” Malhar said to Archie, putting down his wineglass, “becoming a gloamist shouldn’t be dangerous and it shouldn’t be something that people have to spend their lives hoping for and never getting. Magic should be for everyone.” She could feel the sincerity of the words. This wasn’t part of Posey’s con.

  “Everyone who can afford it,” Charlie said.

  Archie barked out a laugh, glancing toward Red. “Where did you find this one?”

  “She’s a delight,” Red said. “Except for the constant attempts to redistribute my wealth.”

  Archie’s gaze on Charlie shifted to be more evaluating. “Interesting.”

  This was a good time for her to get up. “Excuse me for a moment. I’ve got to go to the restroom.” By that point, she knew the way.

  Behind her, she heard Posey making her excuses.

  There were three one-person bathrooms, all with individual locks. Charlie shoved her sister into the first one.

  “Are you out of your mind?” she demanded once the door was shut.

  Posey gave her a self-satisfied look. “Surprised?”

  “That you’re putting Malhar, yourself, Red, and me in danger?” Charlie said. “Of course I am, because it’s stupid. I’m supposed to be the stupid one.”

  Posey made a face. “I’m sorry about what I said to you, but you keep acting like you need to protect me, because you protected me when we were kids. I know more than you do about being a gloamist. I can protect you.”

  Charlie hated that they’d argued, but she was also unwilling to let her sister off the hook so easily. “You holed up in our house, not even willing to go out for groceries, for months. You were scared to go on the lawn. You left me with most of the bills. And now, you’re not scared, even when you should be, and you’re going behind my back. Fine, maybe I am too protective of you, but you made me be that way.”

  Posey took a step back. Her eyes looked shiny.

  “You think you want me to tell you the truth, to open up,” Charlie said. “Maybe now you understand why most people prefer lies.”

  “That’s not fair,” Posey told her.

  “You’re going to get Malhar killed and you’re talking about fairness?” Charlie grated out. “It’s one thing to put yourself into danger—that’s your right, I guess. But bringing him in is cruel.”

  Posey waved her hand, as though Charlie was just being dramatic. “He’s got a zillion theories about shadow magic. He knows so much that he’ll convince them he must be a Cabal leader.”

  “Not if the real head of the puppeteers is here,” she told her sister.

  “But he’s not,” Posey said, although she seemed less certain than she had been a moment before.

  “How would you know?” Charlie asked. “You have no idea what he looks like. He could be Archie and you would have no idea.”

  Posey looked briefly stunned, then angry. “Why are you trying to scare me?”

  For a moment, Charlie understood the urge to drug someone. If she could have knocked Posey out and woken her up in a week, she would have been sorely tempted.

  “Because you don’t understand what’s going on here. Wealthy people aren’t paying Archie exorbitant amounts of money so they can eat fancy food, visit the spa, and get lectures from elusive gloamists. They’re buying quickened shadows, supplied by Rooster Argent. And since Rooster is dead, Archie is expecting the rest of the shadows from Mr. Punch. Those shadows are what I’m here looking for.”

  “What?” Posey’s eyes widened with panic. She glanced at the door. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You were offended that I wasn’t asking you for help. And this wasn’t something I wanted your help with.”

  “Well, I’m here. I might as well do what I can, right?”

  Charlie leaned her head against the wall. “I guess so. But you have to be careful. The real Mr. Punch might show up at some point this weekend. And even if he doesn’t, those three guards will know that Malhar isn’t him.”

  “I have access to information. And I know more about Cabals than you think.” Posey’s voice rose at the end in a leading manner, as if she had more to say and was just waiting to be asked.

  No possibility was good. “What do you mean?”

  “I joined the alterationists,” Posey said, chin in the air as though anticipating more scolding from Charlie. “I’ve been working with them. That’s why I’ve been out so much. That’s how I could afford the apartment.”

  “The apartment that you told me was cheap?” Charlie’s thoughts were all over the place.

  Posey gave her a guilty grin. “But don’t you love it?”

  “Is working for them what you want?” Charlie asked. “I thought you hated the Cabals.”

  Posey chewed on her lip. “It’s what I want for now.”

  It wouldn’t be easy to get out if she changed her mind, but since Charlie had made the same bad bargain, there was no point in saying so. It occurred to her that Posey seemed serious about protecting her, and Charlie very much hoped that wasn’t her real reason for joining. “Then okay. I’m glad for you.”

  Posey seemed flummoxed by that reaction. “So I can help.”

  Charlie surrendered to the inevitable. “If anyone can find out where the shadows are being kept, it’s Malhar right now. I’ll get out of the way. Text me what you find out.”

  “I will,” Posey promised.

  When Charlie returned to the table, she didn’t sit. Instead she stood beside Red’s chair and put a hand on his shoulder. He smiled up at her in a way that made her stomach hurt.

  “We should go,” he said to Archie, as though he couldn’t bear to be without her a moment longer.

  “Plenty of time for us to catch up tomorrow,” Archie said, then turned his attention to Charlie. “And for me to get to know the girl who stole Remy’s heart.”

  “I hope so.” Charlie glanced over at Malhar. “It was so interesting to talk with you.”

  Malhar met her eyes, his expression an apology and a plea. Archie slapped Red on the back. Posey gave Charlie a small nod.