It was uncomfortable to be back in the library, her gaze going automatically to the small stain on the rug. But only for a moment, because Vince was already there, standing against a shelf, his arms bound in the same onyx restraints that had been hanging on the wall in the hidden hallway.
She took in the despair in his gray eyes, his broad shoulders and the muscles beneath them. Took in the dark gold of his hair and the angry line of his mouth. Looking at him made her stomach hurt.
“Char,” he said. “You should have gone when you had a chance.”
She turned her face away, not sure if she was capable of doing what was necessary with him watching.
“And who is this?” Malik asked.
“That’s Edmund, his grandson,” Bellamy said, peering at Vince as though trying to convince himself of something. “I thought he was dead.”
“Oh, we’ll get to that,” Salt said.
Adeline entered the room in her long black gown and perched on the arm of a chair. “Can I get any of you a drink?”
Charlie, having been drugged once in this room already, shook her head.
Vicereine settled herself into a chair opposite Adeline. “All right, Lionel. Now, explain yourself.”
He looked relaxed, pleased. Charlie thought he might even be enjoying himself. “I became involved with the Hierophant because we had a common interest. The murderer of Knight Singh was also the murderer of my grandson. It stands before you, in his guise. But it isn’t him. You’re looking at his shadow.”
“That is impossible,” said Malik.
“Are you saying this man is a Blight?” asked Bellamy, walking up to Vince.
Vince glowered but made no move to step away.
Bellamy reached out a hand. Almost immediately upon touching Vince’s upper arm, he pulled back in surprise. He turned toward Vicereine, who said nothing.
“My grandson had always taken a somewhat unorthodox approach to shadow magic. He treated his shadow like an entirely separate being, one he let make decisions for them both. Eventually, it became independent enough to trick him.”
“Trick him?” Bellamy echoed, more intrigued than astonished. Masks were almost exclusively interested in mysteries, which led to lots of academics and even more mad scientists. Charlie had always figured they were a bit of a hodgepodge of the other specialties, and she could see why someone like Vince would be especially intriguing to them.
“He was deceived into conducting a ritual from the book, one that proved fatal—”
Charlie interrupted him. “That’s not true. You’re the one that killed Remy.”
“Did it tell you that?” Salt asked, making his voice gentle. “It used Remy’s life, and created this shell in which it’s hiding. It then absconded with the book and began murdering anyone who knew about it. A rare book dealer. Knight, who’d had access to the Liber Noctem while it was at Sotheby’s. And finally, a thief who I’d contracted to steal it back.”
It all sounded reasonable when he said it, and Vince stood there, denying nothing. Charlie could feel her control of the situation slip away.
“Shadows lie, my dear,” Salt went on. “If you have a Blight stitched to you, it will whisper in your ear, and every gloamist knows not to believe everything it says. That is why it is a heavy burden to drape yourself in another’s shadow.”
Charlie glanced at the Hierophant. As much as Salt might be enjoying this, the Hierophant was not.
“Both of you are claiming to have solved the murder. You’re saying that’s a Blight, and it’s responsible for all those murders,” Malik said to Salt, then turned to Charlie. “While you, for some reason, believe it was Lionel and Stephen?”
She nodded, glancing at Vince, who still didn’t speak. “Knight’s not the first gloamist Lionel Salt killed, either.”
Salt smiled and stood, pacing the room, clearly believing he’d already won. “Allow me to order proof of my version of events. Adeline, my dear, what did Edmund call his shadow?”
Charlie was dressed in the color. Red, the scarlet of poppies and cutthroats.
Adeline smiled at her. “Red.”
“And what was on the walls where Adam Lokken—that thief I hired—was killed?” he asked Charlie.
“The word ‘red,’” she told them reluctantly. “Painted in blood. But it was meant to threaten Vincent, since the Hierophant believed he had the book.”
“Vincent?” Bellamy echoed.
“She means me,” Vince said.