Page 74 of Book of Night
“She was a model from the Netherlands. Used to children behaving differently than American kids. She thought there was something wrong with him.” Adeline smiled as though recalling a fond memory. “Edmund cursed.A lot.”
“What about now?”
Adeline sighed. “She lives in New York since the divorce. My mother found Father’s obsession with gloaming… distasteful.”
The painkillers must have kicked in, because Charlie’s head hurt less. It was a little easier to think and it bothered her even more that this whole situation didn’t add up. “Why did Edmund decide to take off?”
“He didn’t want to do what Father said anymore.” Something in Adeline’s face made Charlie wonder if Adeline wasn’t feeling a little rebellious herself. “Father asked a lot from Edmund.”
She could imagine. His grandson was the one with the magic, after all. Even once Salt got himself a quickened shadow, he still wouldn’t have the years of experience his grandson had. That was impossible to buy, and Charlie could only imagine how much that would grind Salt’s gears. A man who was used to buying anything, unable to buy the power a kid had.
“What was he like with you?” Adeline asked. The question was inflected oddly, as if one of the words meant something else.
Perhaps Adeline thought of Edmund as a shape-shifter, the way his grandfather had described him, changing to suit the person he was with. It was hard to argue with that. After all, if he was different with everyone, then how could she know?
But Charlie did have one way to describe him. “You ever been to the Quabbin?”
“The reservoir?” Adeline looked slightly horrified.
“You know there’s a whole town down there,” Charlie said. “Buried under the waves. That’s what Vince was like. A drowned town. Still along the surface. Everything’s hidden underneath.”
“You can’t know—” Adeline started, then cut herself off. Looking down at the slim gold watch with the diamond case on her wrist, still miraculously running despite the heat and the moisture of the room, she cleared her throat. “It’s almost time to meet Father for lunch. We ought to go.”
She stood. Charlie followed her lead, rising and stretching until she got a satisfyingly audible crack from her shoulder blades.
In the changing room, Adeline regarded her speculatively. “I know you’re not going to think this is nice of me to say, but I’m glad you’re not with Edmund anymore.”
She was right. It wasn’t nice. But it was interesting.
The spa had left an outfit for Charlie hanging from one of the lockers. It had the look of coming from a golf shop, one that she imagined was probably in themain building. Pants in a stretchy navy material, a white collared shirt, and a navy chevron zip-up jacket. They’d brought her white tennis shoes and socks, but her flats were fine, with just a little dried mud at the edges. She got dressed and braided her hair, but without a clip, it immediately began to unravel.
Charlie’s gaze fell on her shadow.
In all this talk, no one had quite explained how Vince lost his—or when.
“Charlie?” Adeline called.
She blinked, coming out of her thoughts.
A golf cart idled in front of the spa, the driver waiting to take them to the main building. Charlie didn’t have to go to lunch. She could head back inside, insist that someone call her a cab. Put on her own clothes back at home.
But if Salt wanted to find her again, he had the resources to do it. He could tail her to and from work in his Rolls. For all she knew, he might be able to send a cop to her house to pick her up for him.
Maybe that nice Detective Juarez.
Enough money bought anything.
The grass was wet against her ankles as she walked to the golf cart. Then she hung on as they crossed the parking lot, past Bentleys and Lexuses. Charlie wondered how many of Odette’s clients were members here.
Inside the main building, Charlie followed Adeline across a gleaming stone floor to the restaurant. The host didn’t ask their names, just led them to a private room where the walls were covered in yellow silk, and paintings of horses, coats gleaming like polished mahogany, hung atop the cloth.
Lionel Salt was already waiting for them at the table, nursing a lowball glass of whiskey with an ice globe sitting in it. She took in his wrinkles, his faded age spots and too-pale skin, as though he’d tried to bleach them away. The smoothness of his forehead from injections. He wore a black turtleneck and dark gray pants. On his finger, a gold ring marked with an unfamiliar arcane symbol gleamed. Charlie noted that neither he nor Adeline wore any onyx.
“This is a lot of trouble to go to for a conversation,” Charlie said as the host hastened to pull out her seat for her.
“You look refreshed.” Salt exchanged a look with Adeline, who nodded. Maybe there had been some kind of two-part poison in her cucumber water. If she started to feel woozy, she was going to stab Salt in the chest with whatever knife there was, even if it was a butter knife.
He leaned over to a waiter. “We will have the smoked pheasant confit salad, the Kanzan cherry blossom tea–cured salmon, and the grilled lamb loin.” He looked at Charlie. “I assume you’re not a vegetarian?”
