Page 87 of Book of Night
Then a gossip blog article, with aerial photos of some people on a yacht.
Charlie squinted. On the prow, two bodies were entangled with one another, half hidden by a shade sail. The woman’s blond hair was tossed to one side, and her bikini top was pushed up. The man was bent over her, but she knew him even without seeing his face. She knew them both. Adeline and Vince.
IS HEIRESS CHEATING ON SHIPPING TYCOON?
Charlie couldn’t help remembering how Adeline had outright said she was glad he and Charlie weren’t together anymore. And all those photos of Adeline and Edmund together at all those fundraisers, balls, and parties in New York. Never anyone else by his side, or hers.
Couldn’t help thinking of the photo in his wallet.
Posey came in, leaning against the doorframe. She was holding a pack of worn tarot cards in her hand. “What are you looking at?”
“Proof the Hall family curse is real,” Charlie said, and closed her laptop.
“How about you shuffle the deck and pick three cards.”
Charlie gave her a look. “Oh, come on.”
“Think of tarot as a psychological tool,” Posey told her. “Accessing the unconscious. Jung was all for it. And you need to get at the part of your mind that’s holding you back from being a gloamist.”
“Fine,” Charlie said, accepting the stack. She shuffled them as though she was about to play poker.
“Concentrate on your question,” Posey told her. “It helps if you close your eyes. Ask the cards what’s blocking your magic.”
But what Charlie wanted to know about was Red.
She flipped over the top three cards without looking and handed them to Posey. Maybe this is why people went to psychics, in the end. Because they needed help and stopped caring how they got it. Any port in this motherfucking storm.
“These are all major arcana,” her sister said, frowning at them. “Interesting.”
“What does that mean?”
Posey didn’t look happy. “That something big is going on.”
“Okay,” Charlie said uncertainly. “What else?”
Posey set down the first card. “The Magician. The conversion of the spiritual into material. It’s a card of new beginnings, so I am guessing this is about you being a gloamist.”
“Nothing we don’t know,” Charlie said, although she was a bit impressed.
Posey set down the second. “The Fool.”
Charlie rolled her eyes.
“See how he’s about to step off that cliff? And is oblivious to the danger.”
“I see.”
Charlie’s sister looked at the final card, raised an eyebrow, and grinned. “Ooooh. Looks like there’s a taboo that you’re in danger of breaking.”
Charlie frowned. “Which card is that?”
Posey showed it to her. A religious figure sat on a throne in red robes holding up his hands as two monks knelt before him. The Hierophant.
That night, Charlie went down to the basement and took out the aerial silk that she hadn’t practiced on for months, the one that was supposed to keep her limber enough to slither through windows like the Grinch.
She strung the cloth up on a hook, shook off the dust and at least one annoyed spider. Then she climbed in and went through the old exercises. The ones she used to do every morning, before pickpocketing practice. She was stiffer than she used to be, but as her muscles warmed, she found herself relaxing into the rhythm of it.
On the wall, her shadow followed every pose.
