She only had time to gasp once before it flooded into her skin. She could feel it worming inside of her, trying to force her to speak. Trying to make her tongue form the words that would cause her to deny everything.
Long ago, when Charlie had come to Salt’s house with Rand, she had practiced rolling up her eyes into her head to indicate that she was possessed. Had been ready to speak with another voice. Ever since Alonso, she’d found it disturbingly easy to be someone other than Charlie Hall. A relief, to give in to such an old urge.
“I’m drunk!” she shouted in a deeper voice than her natural one. “And a liar! A drunk liar! Also, I have a secret resentment toward the fantastic, handsome, totally-not-a-killer Lionel Salt! Who is most certainly not trying to puppet me!”
He stared at her, mouth agape. Everyone was looking at his shadow now, the way it had bent against the light to get to her.
“Get out of my head, Mr. Salt,” she said in her normal voice.
Laughter bubbled up around them. Charlie allowed herself to step away from the door to the garden, the one whose proximity to the darkness had hidden what was changed in her, what she was lacking.
The shadowless can’t be controlled. There’s a door shut inside of them.
There would have been no way for Charlie to come here and confront Salt if it was possible for him to puppet her. It had been surprisingly hard to give up her shadow, but she’d sewn it to Posey’s feet and trusted her sister to care for it. Charlie wasn’t destined to be a gloamist. She was destined for this.
“Lionel,” said Vicereine. “That was naughty of you.”
“I wanted to force her to confess the truth,” Salt said, a hectic flush on his cheeks. He managed to sound calm, however, as though this was all just a small and embarrassing disagreement. “I shouldn’t have done that, but she has herself been deceived.”
“Do you know something about the death of a Cabal member?” Malik asked Lionel. “Because that would have been a hell of a thing to keep to yourself, no matter what the truth is about your involvement.”
“I did not think I would have to reveal this, certainly not here,” Salt said, looking around, annoyed. “But you see, I have been working with the Hierophant to catch the murderer of Knight Singh. And we have succeeded.”
“Oh, did he catch himself, then?” Charlie asked. “Because he’s the one who killed Knight, on your orders.”
“Be quiet!” the Hierophant ground out.
Salt turned toward Charlie with a sneer. “The Hierophant has served the Cabal faithfully,” Salt said. “Who are you to question his loyalty, thief?”
“Stephen, what’s this about?” Bellamy asked, peering at the Hierophant. The name of the human, the one who Charlie was almost sure wasn’t in control of the body anymore. It wasn’t just the way he spoke, but that he had the wan, sickly appearance of someone whose energy was being consumed.
“She’s a liar,” said the Hierophant.
Salt looked at Charlie and shook his head sadly. “Oh dear, yes, our boy tricked you, didn’t he? The deceiver deceived. You’re not the first.” He turned back to the others, his confidence that he could get away with this growing. “Now, perhaps we can do this part in private? I have something to show you. Something I would prefer we kept between the four of us.”
Vicereine and Malik shared a glance. Malik nodded to Bellamy.
“Yes, I think so,” Vicereine said, with a look at Charlie. “I believe you said your name was…”
“Charlie,” she said. “Charlie Hall.”
“Ms. Hall, I promise you that we’ll hear your accusations and pass judgment.”
Malik nodded. Bellamy regarded her with interest. “We can be fair.”
Charlie was certain they could, but less certain they would.
“Let us adjourn to the library,” Salt said. “And I will tell you everything.” He signaled to a young man in a suit and tie. “Get him for me. Bring him in the cuffs.”
The other gloamists watched them leave, a few of them stopping one or the other Cabal members to ask them a question, or make some comment. A few laughed. The Hierophant walked behind them, his gaze returning over and over to the book in Charlie’s hands.
“You,” Salt said to her, under his breath. “Are nothing more than a piece of gristle between my teeth.”
She tried to ignore him, tried to ignore the shudder that went through her. He was just picking at stitches, hoping she’d unravel.