Read The Dark Glamour (666 Park Avenue 2) for Free Online Page A

just have to sift out the nonsense from the rumours from the true stuff, which is much harder to do without a real, live witch to experiment with.’ She grinned, and Jane smiled back, but the amber eyes were still somewhere far away. ‘I think it’s time for bed,’ Dee announced, standing and stretching to her full, purple-pajama’ed height. ‘I’ve got a little reading to do, now that . . .’ she waved her long-fingered hands to encompass Jane, the apartment, and possibly the leftover pitas.
    ‘Sure,’ Jane agreed uncertainly. ‘I’m sleepy myself. Big day.’ But Dee was already vanishing down the high-ceilinged hallway that led to her room, and Jane sighed. No matter how dire things had been lately, she had a wonderful new roof over her head and a good friend underneath it with her. She felt a silly smile creeping back onto her face at the thought of the progress she had made towards fixing her life in just one day.

Five
    ‘W AKE UP !’ D EE ’ S muffled voice came from the other side of the door. ‘Jane, it’s, like, nine.’
    ‘G’way,’ Jane called back before burying her face in her squishy white pillow. The bars of sunlight creeping closer to the white rug under her bed made it clear that Dee was right about the hour, but Jane didn’t intend to care until the sun was directly in her eyes.
Which could take hours, with any luck.
Between strange nocturnal noises and her own nightmares, Jane hadn’t got a single full night of sleep in three weeks at the Rivington.
    Dee went quiet for a moment, and Jane could hear her shifting awkwardly behind the door. ‘Um . . . Misty’s kind of on her way, and mostly to see you. I hope that’s okay. She was all worked up, and I didn’t know you were this anti-morning.’
    Jane threw her pillow at the door. It hit the wood with a completely unsatisfying lack of thud. Then there was really nothing to do but swing her legs out from under the cream-on-white quilt and shuffle off to her en suite bathroom. It was tiny, but closing her eyes and standing under the waterfall showerhead, she could almost convince herself that the last month had just been a bad dream, and she was really on her honeymoon in Belize.
With Malcolm.
She sighed and groped blindly for a towel. The romantic part of their relationship was done; she was sure about that. Too many secrets; too many belated confessions. There was no amount of charisma, attentiveness, money, good looks, or even phenomenal sex that could make up for what had already passed between them. Still, she could imagine worse company to be stuck in a jungle paradise with . . . and after seeing how thoughtfully he had prepared for their post-Lynne life, she was more concerned than ever about his well-being.
He should have someone looking out for him as well as he’s looked out for me,
she thought sadly, shrugging into a terrycloth robe the apartment’s owner had clearly stolen from a very nice hotel at some point.
Which reminds me: once I find out what Misty wants, the rest of the day will just have to be a shop-a-thon.
    She followed the scent of coffee and something richer into the kitchen, and pulled a chair up to the small, spindly table. The ivory granite counters were covered in reusable shopping bags with food practically exploding over their tops. Dee, looking annoyingly efficient and wide awake, plunked down a smooth white espresso cup and a matching porcelain ramekin in front of Jane.
    ‘I was going to just do scrambled eggs,’ Dee explained, ignoring Jane’s death glare, ‘but I don’t know if French people even eat them that way, or if scrambling them is all vulgar and American. So I did them
en cocotte’
– Jane winced at her friend’s appalling version of a French accent – ‘and there’ll be toast.’ Something popped in a corner behind Jane, and she jumped awkwardly in her chair. ‘Toast!’ Dee cheered, leaning across the table to flip a couple of perfectly browned slices onto Jane’s plate.
    Jane