“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.

  “Okay,” she said finally. “I think this is a bad decision, but I’ve made lots of those.”

  This was what he’d learned from being Remy’s shadow: if there was a problem, he was supposed to throw himself at it. He was supposed to let himself get captured so he could try to kill an ancient Blight, was supposed to give up his freedom to make sure the Cabal wouldn’t feel threatened. If there was a terrible task, he was the one who was supposed to do it. If there was a difficult emotion, he was the one who was supposed to feel it.

  His golden lashes caught the light as they swept down over his cheek, hiding the smoke of his eyes. “Sometimes there are no good decisions.”

  And wasn’t that just the truth. “If I can’t talk you out of it, then how about I distract you? I bet we’ve got a couple minutes before they kick me out.”

  His eyebrows went up, clearly astonished. Maybe he thought she’d have a problem with his smoke-filled eyes, or the fact that he was a Blight. Or maybe he thought that no one was crazy enough to want to screw around in a cold, concrete room with someone whose ankle was cuffed to the floor.

  Well, welcome to the absolute mess that was Charlie Hall. She reached up and dragged his mouth to hers.

  For a moment, he went utterly still, and she wondered if he was going to push her away. Shame heated her cheeks.

  Then he kissed her as though he had never thought to do so again, hands cradling the back of her head, fingers in her hair. For a moment, there was only the sensation of lips and teeth and tongue. Of skin, and the scent of him that wasn’t masked by bleach or soap, like a charge of electricity in the air.

  And when he pressed her back against the wall like he had outside the bar that first night, she grinned up at him.

  “Charlie Hall,” he whispered into her hair. “There will never be anyone like you.”

  “For which we can all be grateful,” she whispered back, regretting wearing the stretchy pants, which were hell to get off.

  * * *

  The hard part was walking out of the room. But she did, stomping down the hall. Waiting for him to call her back to tell her that he’d made a huge mistake and they should run after all. He didn’t, despite how much she wished he would.

  Once she’d gone down four flights of stairs, she found her way back to Bellamy and his red velvet beanbag. He wasn’t alone. Vicereine was there, and Malik. Neither of them seemed particularly surprised to see her, but they also didn’t seem happy about it.

  “Hello,” Charlie said, brushing past Malik to find a cushion of her own to settle on.

  “You did us a service,” he said. “The Cabal owes you something. We like to settle our debts. If the larger world gets involved, our disputes will only make them nervous.”

  “We reward our friends,” Vicereine said. “And punish our enemies. You’ve proved to be our friend, Charlie Hall.”

  Pirate justice. Carrot and stick.

  “We want to help you,” Malik said. “Ask us for something.”

  “You know what I want,” Charlie said. “Let him go. Or at least let him be unbound. Haven’t you learned from the last Hierophant?”

  “What we learned was not to trust Blights,” Malik said. “Imagine how much worse it would have been if the Hierophant had been unbound.”

  “Not worse for Stephen,” Charlie said.

  “Stephen stole shadows,” said Bellamy. “Quickened shadows, shadows of vulnerable people. Sold them to dealers. Don’t have too much sympathy for him.”

  Malik nodded. “And the problem wasn’t Stephen. We believe that Lionel dosed him with something that allowed the Hierophant to take possession of his body. Over time, it either learned how to do that on its own—or they continued to drug him.

  “Ask us for something that doesn’t have to do with the Blight. You’d be surprised what we can make happen.”

  Charlie supposed the Cabal could give her a lot of stuff. Her sister re-registered for school in the spring. A scholarship. Pay off Charlie’s medical debt while they were at it. Get her a spanking new car. Hell, they might give her Salt’s Phantom if she asked.

  But Posey had never wanted to go to college, and Charlie didn’t want to be bribed. “I want you to let Vince go.”

  Malik made a frustrated sound.

  She couldn’t help it. It was her nature. Charlie Hall, refusing to learn from her mistakes. Eager to throw herself against the same wall again and again, no matter how much it hurt. “What did Adeline Salt give you to let her become his guardian?”

  Bellamy looked surprised. “I think you misunderstand the situation.”

  “You’re letting her take him home, aren’t you?” Charlie said.

  Vicereine gave a cruel little smile. “In a manner of speaking. But this isn’t something she chose. Do you know what she will be expected to do?”

  “Hunt Blights,” Charlie said.

  “And do you know why it’s considered a punishment, a way to make up for past crimes?”

  “Because it’s dangerous?” she guessed.

  “Very,” said Malik in slightly horrified tones.

  What was it that Balthazar had told Charlie—that she could steal the breath from a body, the hate from a heart, the moon from the sky? Well, in this case, maybe she didn’t need to steal anything. Maybe they’d give her everything she wanted.

  All it would cost was her secrets.

  Charlie pasted a smile on her face. Glanced at the old “fear less” tattoo looping across the skin of her inner arm. “Fine,” she said, through gritted teeth. “In that case, I’d like to confess.”

  “Confess?” Vicereine echoed, puzzled.

  “Do you remember when Brayan Araya had his secrets written with a laser on grains of rice and kept them in a glass jar under his pillow? I snatched that like I was the tooth fairy. Or remember when Eshe Godwin got that book with all the detailed illustrations and no one could make head or tail of it? The secrets were written in the artwork, so I cut those pages straight out. I’m not sure she’s opened it up to know they’re missing. I took Owain Cadwallader’s eighteenth-century memoir and discovered a whole pile of notes stitched into the interior binding of another book—I forget the title, but it had these cool metal catches on the side—and took those without anyone being the wiser. Oh, and I grabbed Jaden Coffey’s whole collection of seventies shadow magic zines. Want me to go on? I’ve been doing this for years.” She felt giddy, like she was sliding down a hill, no way to stop now. All the exultation of finally admitting to something.

  “You cut out pages from Eshe’s book?” Vicereine sounded pissed.

  “I’m a bad person.” Charlie reached into the pocket of her jeans, took something out, and threw it to Malik. Startled, he caught it. When he looked at what was in his hands, his brows drew together. “I also grabbed your wallet when I brushed by you. Sorry.”

  “You are making some very dangerous enemies,” Vicereine told her.

  “What’s all this about?” Malik was tight-jawed. “What are you doing?”

  “Punish me,” Charlie said. “I’m loads worse than Adeline.”

  “You want it tied to you?” Bellamy asked.

  The idea of someone inside her head, someone she couldn’t hide her worst thoughts from, someone she loved, made her feel a little queasy. “Yes. Reward or punishment, give him to me. I’ll be the Hierophant.”

  * * *

  When Vince came into the room, necklaces of onyx draped over his throat, and one attached to his arm like a leash, his eyes changed at the sight of her. He turned to Bellamy. “But where’s Adeline?”

  “We sent her home,” Malik said.

  “Then who—”

  “Me,” Charlie said. “If you can make a stupid decision, then I can make one too.”

  He shook his head. “This is supposed to be a punishment.”

  “Oh, I know,” she said. “You’re going to be stuck in my head, with all my secrets. Even I don’t know all my secrets. It’s going to be awful.”

  He appeared to be seriously considering strangling her. “Char.”

  “She’s volunteered,” Vicereine said. “And confessed to quite a few crimes just to convince us.”

  The look he gave her was scathing. “Did she?”

  “I’ll need your feet to be bare,” Vicereine said, all business now.

  Charlie reached down to take off her boots. They were already untied, the laces loose from kicking them off in the tower.

  Vince appeared to be belatedly wondering if he could break free of the onyx chains and escape. She saw him pull against the shining loop over his wrist. It must have held, because his expression set into grim lines. “You don’t know what I’ll be like, after. No one does,” he said under his breath.

  “You’ll still be you,” Charlie whispered back.

  Bellamy said something to Malik and both of them looked amused. Charlie didn’t think it was directed at her, but it ramped up her nerves. She reminded herself that she’d been through this before, cutting loose her own shadow as she sewed it to her sister’s feet. Posey had to finish the sewing, and neither of them was a great seamstress. Still, it seemed to be attached. And Posey seemed fine.

  She reminded herself that she was stealing Vince right out from under their noses.

  Vicereine directed Charlie to stand in front of him, which she did.

  “Winnie wanted me to tell you hello,” she whispered. “Your boss is furious, but probably you don’t want your old job back anyway. Oh, and believe it or not, Posey might actually apologize.”

  Vince looked down at her and sighed. But when she reached for his hand, he let her take it.

  She squeezed once before he returned to shadow.

  * * *

  The front door of the watchtower closed heavily behind Charlie as she crossed the lawn, frost-rimed leaves crunching beneath her boots.

  “Vince?” she said under her breath. “See, I told you we were going to leave together, and now we’re out of there.”

  He didn’t reply, but when she glanced down, the shape of the shadow that followed her was his. She stuck her hands in the pockets of her coat. Listened to the wind whistle through the trees.

  “I know you’re mad,” she said.

  In the van, she pulled out the tactical knife attached to her keys. Pressed the point against the pad of her ring finger until a drop of blood welled up. “Vicereine said I was supposed to do this right away, so here we go.”

  That seemed to get his attention. The shadow swirled around her in a dark cloud. She felt something against her skin that might have been a tongue, except that it wasn’t wet. The sensation made her shiver.

  “Vince?” she said again, starting to get nervous. “Stop messing with me. Say something.”

  A whisper came in her mind, making her sit up straight. “You’re not Remy.”

  “I’m your girlfriend,” she said, voice unsteady. “And this joke isn’t even a little bit funny.”

  Charlie stared at the shadow that spilled across the passenger seat, at the hectic light filtering through the trees. Watched as his shadow took shape without her control. A figure of darkness with same burning eyes and no recognition in them.

  Triumph turned sour in her mouth.

  His voice was soft with menace. “If that were true, I would know you. And I don’t.”

  She thought of the story that Vince had told her, about running away from Salt’s, about waking up beneath that underpass without memory of how he got there. She’d taken that to mean he hadn’t remembered the time between Remy’s death and waking up. But maybe he’d lost more than that, and for longer.

  Or maybe this was different. Maybe he’d never recall sitting with her under the stars. Never remember bringing ice to Barb’s party. Never remember eating buttered toast and drinking coffee in bed. She felt the burn of tears. Blinked them back. Tasted salt in the back of her throat.

  Outside, night was coming on. A few single flakes of snow fell.

  She slammed her fist against the steering wheel.

  He watched her, smoke curling from the sockets of his eyes.

  There’d always been something wrong with Charlie Hall. Crooked from the day she was born. Never met a bad decision she wasn’t willing to double down on.

  “I’m a good enough thief to steal a shadow from a tower,” she told him. “I can steal back your heart.”

  He said nothing in return. And a few moments later, the shadow had melted away, leaving her alone.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  All of my novels have left me with vast gratitude for many people, but none more than this one.

  Firstly, thanks to everyone who was on a writing retreat with me in Greece and endured my bazillion false starts. You are to be pitied as well as acknowledged.