The Dark Glamour (666 Park Avenue 2)

murmured. Her square jaw clenched tightly. ‘It was six months in, and they had bought me new shoes – those shiny Mary Jane kind – and wanted me to throw out the ones I’d been wearing. Which had holes in them by then, but Kathy had picked them for me, and I was in the middle of a complete fit when the smoke alarms started going off. They made me leave, but their girls – Lacey and Renee – were playing in the attic, so they had to go back in. The fire was everywhere by then, though, and . . .’ Anne trailed off and spread her hands helplessly.
    Jane’s mind flashed to Malcolm’s hands, and she dragged it violently back. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Jane told her sincerely. Losing two families in a year seemed too much for a young child . . . even if she only remembered one of them.
    ‘It was awful, but it wouldn’t have been so bad if there hadn’t been a fire at my next foster place a month later,’ Anne continued matter-of-factly, although her hands were wrapped so tightly around her teacup that her knuckles were white.
    ‘That’s a
horrible
coincidence,’ Jane agreed softly.
That’s an absolutely awful power,
she thought silently.
    ‘That’s what Kathy said,’ Anne nodded, but went on to explain that other prospective foster families hadn’t seen things quite the same way. Little Anne had quickly developed a reputation as a possible arsonist, and even people devoted to taking in troubled kids didn’t want to risk having her in their houses. Another fire in her group home when she was eleven had sealed things, even though an investigation hadn’t turned up any kind of evidence of a crime.
    Not that it would have,
Jane thought sadly, feeling an entirely new kind of guilt.
Knocking the lights out doesn’t seem so bad when you compare it to burning the house down.
She felt a wave of empathy for Anne, who wouldn’t have had any idea what was happening . . . or that she could have stopped it if she’d known how.
Lynne was obviously no picnic as a mother, but at least she could have helped her with her magic. Whoever took Annette from her completely destroyed the poor girl’s life
.
    ‘But Kathy and her family kept looking out for me,’ Anne went on positively. ‘She’s the one who gave me this tea set, actually. They’ve been there for me my whole life, or the part that I remember. So it’s a bit like family, when you think about it.’
    Her face lit up with the ghost of a real smile, and Jane automatically smiled back.
They didn’t take you in, though,
she bit back.
Or find your real parents, even with all their supposed pull.
And it wasn’t as if Annette’s real parents had been subtle about their search for their missing daughter. No wonder Anne came across so lonely, if a nice teapot was all her ‘best friend’ had come up with.
    Jane snagged a smoked-salmon finger sandwich and nibbled it, hiding as much of her face as she could with the little rectangle. She felt guilty all over again thinking of all her own friends had been willing to sacrifice for her, and they hadn’t known her for nearly as long as this Kathy had known Anne.
No close friends, no one to teach her about her magic . . . she really lost everything.
Jane crossed her ankle boots and considered her own agenda in a whole new way.
I might actually be helping her,
she realized.
Not just telling myself that – this could be good for her.
    Lynne was no picnic, certainly, but Jane was betting everything that she would mellow once her daughter was home. And then she would be the perfect person to teach Anne to control her magic, and to introduce her to a world where people actually considered her needs. The way most of New York fawned over the Dorans was downright ludicrous, actually, but for someone as used to being pushed aside as Anne was, it could be just what the doctor ordered. Jane frowned into her cup.
It never occurred to me that she would be a real person.
    Jane checked her thin tank watch as discreetly as she could. She had promised to meet Elodie later that afternoon, and her time was running short.
I did that on purpose,
she reminded herself,
so that I wouldn’t be able to unload everything on her right away.
She was more tempted than ever to just tell Anne the truth – but that didn’t mean caution wasn’t still the smarter play.
    When she looked up again, Anne was watching her intently. Jane twisted her watch face down awkwardly, hoping she hadn’t been too obvious. Anne leaned back on the floral couch