Vince had gone to a school like this, sitting in lectures, learning to fence. A more expensive university, one that was supposed to spit him out ready to rule over the less fortunate.
He’d had everything. Money. Privilege. Power.
For the first time, Charlie wondered what could have possibly made him run away.
* * *
Madurai Malhar Iyer was waiting for them in the lobby of the library. He was a tall guy, young, with brown skin, wearing wire-rimmed glasses and a flannel over a t-shirt, slender in a way that spoke of spending so much time studying that he forgot to eat.
“I’m Posey,” Posey said. “And this is my sister, Charlie.”
Malhar signed them in as his guests and led them into a study room in the back. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me so quickly,” he said as they walked through the stacks.
Posey nodded, obviously a little embarrassed. She wanted to impress him, Charlie realized.
Malhar swung his bag over his shoulder and set it down on the table, removing his laptop and a notebook. Several pens fell out, an apple rolling behind them. “Do you want anything? There’s a coffee machine, but it’s not very good. The hot chocolate is okay, but someone told me they got a boiled roach in their cup.”
Posey wrinkled her nose. “I’m going to pass.”
“I’ll take the roach coffee,” said Charlie. The buzz of Balthazar’s candy coffee was starting to wear off, and she needed something to keep going.
“I’ll grab you some,” he said, and then hesitated. “I’m sure it’s fine. I mean, lots of people drink it.”
He came back with three cups. Two coffees and a hot chocolate. She supposed he felt obligated to have one himself, like a host taking the first sip of wine to show they aren’t poisoning their guests.
“So,” he said, clearing his throat. “Posey, I’d like you to tell your story again, and I’d like to record it. Does that sound okay?”
Posey pushed back her shoulders. “It was my sister, really. I told you it happened to me, because she wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about it. But I convinced her that it was important.”
His gaze went to Charlie. She shrugged.
“So you’re the one with the quickened shadow?” Malhar looked flummoxed.
Charlie didn’t blame him. She turned to Posey. “The what?”
Posey looked sheepish. “It is. Or at least, it’s something. You know how weird it was acting last night.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Charlie said, standing. “Straight-up murder. No one would blame me. I can’t believe I let you drag me over here—”
Malhar held up his hands, forestalling violence. “We could do a few tests.”
Posey had told her in the car that she’d exaggerated the story, but Charlie still hadn’t seen this coming. “No way. We’re out of here. She’s wasting your time. All she wants is for you to tell her how to wake up her shadow. She’d say anything if she thought it would convince you to do that.”
“Wait,” Posey said, grabbing for her arm. “Let him look at it. Tell him the story.”
Charlie shook her off. She wanted to knock over her coffee. She wanted to throw a chair.
And yet, another part of her wondered—could her shadow be magic? Wasn’t it worth letting her sister get away with an extremely annoying scam, if some of the information they got was actually helpful?
“Fine,” Charlie said, and threw herself back into the chair. “Go ahead. Test my shadow. Whatever. But when all this turns out to be bullshit, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Malhar held up his phone. “So it’s okay if I record this?”
“Nope. It sure isn’t,” Charlie said.
“Come on,” Posey said.
“You won’t have to give your names on the recording,” Malhar said. “I’ll keep your identities secret in my notes. This is just for me to go back over, so I’m sure I have everything right. No one else is going to hear this.”
Charlie looked between him and Posey. “Okay. No names.”
Pressing a button, he put the cell down between them. “Okay, well, we’re rolling. We’ll figure this out. First, tell me a little bit about yourself. Age. Any other details that seem important.”
“I’m twenty-eight.” None of the rest was anything Charlie was going to put on a recording. “Not much more to know.”
“How about you?” He turned to Posey.
“Me?” She had been nervously picking the skin around her thumbnail. She bit the edge of it and then seemed to notice what she was doing. She folded her hands on the table.