Night Magic Read Online Free PDF

again. Clara whimpered, utterly defeated. “I want the truth, and I want it now! Where is the Magic Dragon?”
    “He’s under the bed. I swear it,” Clara whispered, the pain nauseating her. His grip tightened for a moment, and then he was releasing her, pushing her away so that she fell onto the carpet before pulling herself up on her hands and knees. Her arm ached so that it would not hold her weight, and Clara cradled it against her body as she clambered warily around to face him. He was on his knees too, she saw, and she also saw that he was holding an ugly black pistol. Her heartbeat speeded up and she could scarcely hear anything over its drumbeat.
    “Make a move and I kill you,” he said between his teeth. Looking into icy blue eyes that glared at her from a face that would have been palely handsome if it had not been on the other end of a gun, Clara knew that he meant what he said. She also realized that, whatever this lunatic wanted, he was going to kill her sooner or later, whether he got it or not. Her fate was there in his eyes.
    Somehow she managed to shake her head. But already his attention was shifting from her. She had to do something, now, she thought as he lifted the dotted swiss bed ruffle and scanned the space beneath the bed. Clara watched him, afraid to move. She had to do something, but what could she possibly do against a tall, vicious maniac with a gun?
    “There is no one here!” The voice with its slight foreign accent was taut with anger and accusation. Clara swallowed. There was a can of mace in her top drawer. …
    “He—he was there. He hid there. I saw him. I—he must be under there.”
    The man pulled up the dust ruffle again. A fat gray pawdarted out, batting at the shifting material. Puff loved to take a swing at moving objects.
    “You see, he is there!” Relief rang in her voice.
    “There is nothing here but a cat!”
    “That’s Puff.”
    “I am not interested in the beast’s name! Enough of this foolishness! You will tell me where the Magic Dragon is, now. Or I will force you to talk in ways that you will not enjoy, I promise you.” He rose to his feet, his eyes narrowing until they were icy blue slits.
    Clara had no difficulty believing him. She cowered, cradling her arm protectively against her as she watched him approach with growing terror.
    “But—but Puff is the magic dragon. You know the song. ‘Puff, the magic dragon, lives by the sea,’ “ she babbled, singing a few bars for emphasis. “I named him for the dragon in the song, and I named the character in my book for Puff. Because his name gave me the idea …” Her voice trailed off and she shrank against the nightstand. In a second he would reach her. He would hurt her, she knew. Should she make a grab for the mace now? Even if she could get to the chemical, would she dare use it on this man? She remembered hearing somewhere that mace didn’t always work on lunatics—and this man seemed to be totally around the bend.
    “I want the Magic Dragon!” The words were a hiss. Clara cringed as he took another step toward her. As he closed in on her she pressed herself backward until her spine felt as if it would meld with the flowery paper covering the wall. Her hand shot down toward her nightstand and closed around a framed picture of her mother—framed in padded fabric, naturally. It was the only object she could reach… But before she could throw it or hit him with it or whatever sheintended to do, he stumbled, falling heavily, cursing in a foreign language as the side of his head hit the nightstand with a resounding crack. An indignant yowl and a flash of gray fur gave her the identity of her rescuer, but Clara didn’t wait around to see how long her attacker would be down. This was her chance, her only chance, and she took it with a speed born of desperation. Leaping to her feet, picking up the skirts of her robe, she cleared the man’s back with the agility of a running back and darted down the hall