The Dark Glamour (666 Park Avenue 2)

on,’ she prompted evenly.
    Jane sucked in a breath of drizzly air. ‘I’m Jane. I’m a witch. Gran was, too, and it turns out that Malcolm’s mother and her cousins are also witches. Except they’re evil and I’m not, and they were trying to get me to have a daughter with Malcolm so they could kill me off and have another baby witch to raise as their own. It’s this whole pride-and-legacy thing, apparently. Malcolm felt guilty and tried to help me escape, but it went wrong and now we’re both on the run. But I didn’t want to do that for ever, so I started poking around, and it turns out that Malcolm’s supposedly dead sister isn’t dead at all; she lives here. And if his family gets her back, then they won’t need me, and I can go back to being me. Oh, and I’m in disguise, in case you hadn’t noticed. And Malcolm killed Gran.’
    Elodie cocked her head thoughtfully. ‘What colour were those fuzzy socks I got at Galeries Lafayette?’
    ‘Green. And you got grey ones for me. And it wasn’t
at
Galeries Lafayette, it was from one of those vendors right outside.’
    ‘What did Antoine say about the real Marjorie’s first drafting project?’
    ‘That it looked like she spent her entire time at university screwing guys who couldn’t draw, which is probably true.’
    Elodie smiled a little and ducked her head to hide it. Jane’s heart jumped in her chest: how was it that everyone she liked turned out to be either thoroughly evil or amazingly cool? But Elodie wasn’t done testing her yet. ‘Show me some magic.’
    Jane frowned. She didn’t want to admit to being able to read Elodie’s mind, since she already felt guilty about doing it moments before. And ‘Think of a number between one and a million’ felt kind of gimmicky, anyway.
But telekinesis never goes out of style, right?
Jane checked discreetly around; while there were a few people who were technically within sight, none of them seemed to be paying any attention to the two girls on the stone bench. Many were holding umbrellas and most were hurrying along; they were about as private as they were ever going to be in a public place.
    She pulled at her magic again, feeling its sluggish reluctance to respond.
I know we’re tired,
she told it soothingly.
Just a little now; I only need a little.
‘Watch the tree,’ she told Elodie shortly, her voice coming out as more of a gasp. Elodie obediently turned to the crackly barked acacia whose canopy spread almost to the space above their heads. Its leaves were still not much more than buds this early in the year, and there were even some of the edamame-like seedpods left on its branches. From Elodie’s rapt posture, Jane suspected that she was waiting to see Jane magically make the entire tree dance or something, but she hoped her friend would settle for much, much less.
    She tugged as hard as she could at one of the brown seedpods closest to them, and it danced noncommittally on its twig.
What would Dee say?
she asked herself sarcastically, and pulled in a shaky breath to try again. This time, the seedpod came loose and began whirling towards the ground like a tiny little helicopter rotor. Feeling a little more comfortable with her plan now, Jane mentally caught it in midair, stopping its fall just above Elodie’s black curls. She let it down slowly from there, turning it back and forth as if to display it. Elodie watched its unnaturally slow descent curiously, reaching up as if she might touch it and then pulling her hand back superstitiously. Jane made the pod bounce a bit in the air for emphasis, and Elodie, not taking her eyes off the hovering object, nodded. Exhaling all the air in her lungs, Jane let it fall. Elodie flinched to one side to avoid letting it touch her.
    For a long, silent moment, Elodie looked at the seedpod by her feet. It wasn’t major magic, Jane knew, but wouldn’t it have convinced her six months ago? Finally, Elodie cleared her throat. ‘So you’re Jane. And I was totally right that moving to New York was a god-awful mistake, and now you know never to ignore my advice again.’
    ‘You
loved
Malcolm before he proposed,’ Jane pointed out reasonably, ignoring her urge to sigh with relief. ‘You even loved him after he proposed; you just didn’t love that he was from America. Which was, as it turns out, the least of his flaws.’
    Elodie’s eyes softened, and Jane saw concern in the corners of her mouth. ‘He . . . really killed her? Your Gran?’
    Jane