Read Night of the Magician for Free Online Page A

and went back to the kitchen for the spinach salad.
    “My feelings on the subject are immaterial,“ he said slowly, holding her chair for her. There was a curious remoteness in his words. “I was married once and I plan never again to repeat the error. Therefore, such modern issues as prenuptial contracts don’t arise for me.“
    He sat down across from her and met her steady gaze. For an instant a strange tension hovered in the air between them and then Ariana broke it with a supremely condescending smile. “So, magician, it would appear we are fated to be on opposite sides of yet another fence. You and I have, apparently, drawn different lessons from our past mistakes.“
    He poured out more of the wine and then lifted his glass. “To the lesson I learned,“ he murmured sardonically.
    “Never trust a woman who says she’s in love and wants to marry. She can damn well prove her love by taking the risk of having an affair with me.“
    Ariana’s chin lifted imperiously, and her smoky eyes gleamed as she raised her own glass. “And to the lesson I learned. Never trust a man who says he’s in love. He can damn well prove his love by taking the risk of marriage with a prenuptial contract that’s been cast in iron.“
    Wordlessly they each downed a symbolic swallow, and when they had finished, Ariana felt as if somehow they had arrived at a fragile understanding. It was time to go to work.
    “My aunt is due to attend another of her psychic’s sessions this coming weekend,“ she began in a businesslike fashion. “I’ve already told her I was curious, myself, and wanted to attend. She didn’t object when I said I’d be coming up with you; not when I explained that you were someone I’ve been dating who is also curious. She’s quite confident her new guru can withstand a little scrutiny, I guess.“
    “Where does this guru live?“
    “He has a sort of retreat up in the mountains about a hundred miles from here. Sounds very gothic. Lots of atmosphere, I gather,“ Ariana said dryly as she tasted the salmon. “Anyhow, a small group of people is allowed to attend the séances each weekend. Philomena doesn’t seem concerned about getting permission to bring a couple of guests.“
    “There’s a charge for attending?“
    “Naturally. A stiff one, too. Actually, I wouldn’t be so concerned about the situation if that was all it appeared to be costing my aunt. One expects to pay for any sort of performance, after all. I would assume she’d grow bored with this latest fad after a while and go on to something else.“
    “But the withdrawals from her account have added up to considerably more than just entrance fees for the sessions?“ Lucian hazarded.
    “Considerably more,“ she emphasized.
    “What’s the name of your aunt’s psychic?“
    “Fletcher Galen. Mean anything to you?“
    Lucian shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not. That doesn’t mean much. Probably a, er, stage name.“
    “You mean an alias!“ she scoffed, passing him the salad bowl which he took with alacrity. She suddenly noticed the way he was enjoying the meal she had cooked. Didn’t the man ever get home cooking?
    “Okay, an alias,“ he agreed. “Could I have some more salmon, please?“ He looked hopefully at the platter.
    The discussion continued, but it became increasingly clear that it was the meal which was commanding Lucian Hawk’s attention. By the time the walnut torte had been produced he was clearly satisfied with the progress of the evening.
    “I warn you I may drag out our working relationship indefinitely if you’ll guarantee to keep feeding me,“ he chuckled as he polished off the torte. “Sure beats eating off of the food stamps!“
    “Thank you,“ she said dryly.
    “Don’t worry, I know how to pay for my dinner,“ he told her easily as he helped her carry dishes back into the kitchen.
    “You do parlor tricks?“
    “How did you guess?“
    Ariana set the last of the dishes in the sink and turned to him,