The Lost Soul (666 Park Avenue 3) Read Online Free Page B

for her Christofle key chain. A sound from the other side of the door caught her attention, and she froze. Dee still had a key of her own, but she hadn’t been back to the apartment since she went to stay uptown.
    Jane felt for her magic, which was as tired and out of sorts as the rest of her. She struggled in vain for a moment to bring it into some semblance of order, but it slipped away maddeningly, dancing around the edges of her control.
Screw it,
she decided abruptly, jamming her key into the lock. Anyone who tried to sneak up on her was in for a nasty surprise of their own.
    ‘Hello?’ she demanded, slamming the door shut behind her. ‘I know you’re here.’ There was a pause, and then a distinct clang as something fell in the kitchen. She sighed in relief.
Dee
. Cooking up something delicious, she hoped.
    ‘In a minute,’ a familiar voice rumbled – but it wasn’t Dee’s. ‘I don’t want your omelette to burn.’
    Jane ran into the galley kitchen so fast that her feet barely seemed to touch the floor.
Malcolm
. He stood over the stove, a broad smile on his handsome, tanned face.
    ‘Forget the omelette.’ She grabbed his arm and dragged him into the living room. ‘I’m just glad you’re okay.’
    ‘You’re the boss,’ he said, sinking down into the buttery leather couch beside her. ‘I can’t cook anyway,’ he added, spreading his hands helplessly.
    ‘I know that,’ she agreed, wrinkling her nose at the distinct smell of burnt eggs. ‘It was a nice thought.’
    His eyes focused on hers. ‘You called, and I came,’ he said simply. ‘Bearing gifts.’ He held up a small wooden box, pieced together from at least half a dozen different woods that came together to form a five-pointed star on the lid. Although there was a clear break to indicate where it should open, it seemed to be sealed shut.
    Jane reached out curiously. A spark ran through her hand and up her arm when she took the box, and she jumped a little. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she breathed, although she knew without needing to be told that it was more than just a pretty object.
    ‘It’s a spirit box,’ he explained, his dark, liquid eyes watching hers carefully. ‘It’s for people who have . . . lost someone. The more you are near it, the more the spirits that follow you will infuse the box. It’ll carry their intentions, and their love for you, and it’s a way of keeping them with you. At least, that’s what the witch who traded it to me said.’ He frowned, looking uncertain. ‘She
was
a real witch, for whatever it’s worth.’
    ‘She was telling the truth,’ Jane murmured, closing her hands more tightly around the box. ‘I can feel it.’ She inhaled deeply, then forced herself to set the box down on the driftwood coffee table. As powerful as its presence was already, she could only imagine how difficult it would be to let it go once it had started to ‘feel’ like Gran . . . and maybe a bit like the parents she had lost, when she was too young to even remember. ‘Where did you get it?’
    ‘Ecuador,’ he said shortly, glancing at the box and then away again. ‘I kept hoping to see you around every corner. It’s been so long.’ His hand reached out as if of its own accord to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. Without thinking, she flinched, and his hand quickly dropped back down.
    ‘It’s been so long,’ she repeated apologetically. He nodded in understanding, and instead reached out to pick up the spirit box.
    ‘I hope it’s all right,’ he offered, gesturing toward it. ‘I know it can never replace, or make up for, what I’ve taken from you. It was just something I thought you should have.’
    ‘Thank you,’ she replied automatically, her mind spinning. Malcolm and Jane’s relationship had been complicated from the start. Lynne had manipulated her son into killing Jane’s grandmother, who had long ago placed a protective spell on Jane to hide her from other witches who would seek her power.