The Dark Glamour (666 Park Avenue 2)

Jane, and Jane had to admit that she made a good point. She wanted to find Malcolm, but she’d rather stay in the dark about his whereabouts than know that Lynne had a whole suite’s-worth of ways to find her.
    Jane swivelled in her chair and gazed doubtfully towards the hallway that led to her bedroom. She had brought so little with her from the mansion, and then even less from the Rivington. As she turned back to point that out to Dee, a flash of blue on the driftwood coffee table in the living room caught her eye. She swallowed her last bite hurriedly, hoping that at least one of the two extra ramekins on the edge of the sink might contain more of the heavenly eggs, but so excited that she was willing to wait another minute or two to find out. ‘Unicorn,’ she blurted out as soon as her mouth was mostly empty. ‘The glass unicorn thingy I showed you last night. The “personal item”! It obviously wasn’t for me, which means Malcolm never gave it away, and he hid it in the safe, so it must be personal and meaningful, right?’
    Dee quirked her mouth sideways thoughtfully. ‘That should do it,’ she announced after a moment. ‘It’s actually way better than the possibilities I was going to suggest. This is good!’ Her eyes flickered briefly towards the oven’s digital clock. ‘Misty should get here anytime now, but it’ll take us a while to set up. You’ve got time to get a little meditation in, and I think you should. The more power you have ready, the more you can see. Raid my closet for something you haven’t been wearing for days, and then meet us in the living room in about half an hour, okay?’
    Jane nodded and rose obediently. From her standing position, she could see over the lip of the ramekins. A perfectly smooth yolk glistened invitingly in the centre of the smooth custard inside each one, with a delicate dusting of cracked black pepper providing inviting contrast. Jane stretched out her fingers, snagged the lip of one of them, and then shrugged at Dee. ‘Magic is hard,’ she explained innocently. ‘I need the calories.’ She tucked her spoon between her palm and the ramekin, hesitated, and then picked up the second porcelain container in her other hand. ‘And lots of protein,’ she added over her shoulder, retreating hastily towards the bedrooms.
    The first egg was gone by the time she reached Dee’s closet. In the careless jumble of mostly black clothes, Jane found a dark green knit dress that looked like it would do for the day. The skirt would be pretty mini on Dee’s tall body, but on Jane it fell just a couple of inches above the knee. Smiling and slurping at her other egg, Jane wandered back to her room, sprawled on her back on the bed, and tried to locate the diffuse tingling that would begin the process of calling her magic together.
    It was a struggle to keep her mind from wandering after the events of the last two days, but she concentrated on her breathing the way Dee had taught her, and eventually was able to calm her swirling thoughts. Underneath the new stillness it was easy to pick out the peculiar, electric rush of magic humming along in her blood. It was peaceful and gentle now, nothing like the raging lightning it became when she was emotional. This kind of power could be harnessed and controlled, applied to whatever task she needed it to perform, instead of just lashing out wildly. She drew in three deep breaths, exhaling until her lungs burned, and began to collect her magic in her fingertips, coaxing it, pushing at it, and corralling stray currents that tried to escape.
    By the time thirty minutes had passed, Jane had a respectable bundle of power resting invisibly inside each hand. She wasn’t sure if it would be enough, and considered trying to make herself angry or something to add to it, but in her calm, clear-headed state she understood that this would be a silly risk. She might not be the most powerful witch in the world – she might not even be at
her
most powerful right then – but she was ready to get to work on the spell, and that mattered more. She swung her legs off the bed, enjoying first the velvety shag beneath her feet, and then the waxy hardwood beyond it. Her senses felt heightened; every touch was meaningful, every surface complex and compelling.
    She found Dee in the living room with Misty, a thirtysomething woman whose super-processed blond waves and just-a-little-too-tanned skin made her look as though she’d spent her life on some