Night World 1 Read Online Free PDF Page A

missed you.” Her voice was soft and husky. “How’s it going these days?” She cupped her hands around the unlit candle on the table and made a quick motion as if releasing a captive bird. As her hands moved away, the candle wick burst into flame.
    â€œStill as gorgeous as ever,” she said, smiling at him in the dancing golden light.
    â€œThat goes for you, too. But the truth is, I’m here on business.”
    She arched an eyebrow. “Aren’t you always?”
    â€œThis is different. I want to ask your…professional opinion on something.”
    She spread her slender hands, silver fingernails glowing in the candle’s flame. On her index finger was a ring with a black dahlia. “My powers are at your disposal. Is there someone you want cursed? Or maybe you want to attract good luck or prosperity. I know you can’t need a love charm.”
    â€œI want a spell—to cure a disease. I don’t know if it needs to be specific to the disease, or if something more general would work. A—general health spell…”
    â€œJames.” She chuckled lazily and put a hand on his, stroking lightly. “You’re really worked up, aren’t you? I’ve never seen you like this.”
    It was true; he was experiencing a major loss of control. He worked against it, disciplining himself into perfect stillness.
    â€œWhat particular disease are we talking about?” Gisèle asked, when he didn’t speak again.
    â€œCancer.”
    Gisèle threw back her head and laughed. “You’re telling me your kind can get cancer? I don’t believe it. Eat and breathe all you want, but don’t try to convince me the lamia get human diseases.”
    This was the hard part. James said quietly, “The person with the disease isn’t my kind. She’s not your kind, either. She’s human.”
    Gisèle’s smile disappeared. Her voice was no longer husky or lazy as she said, “An outsider? Vermin? Are you crazy, James?”
    â€œShe doesn’t know anything about me or the Night World. I don’t want to break any laws. I just want her well.”
    The slanted blue eyes were searching his face. “Are you sure you haven’t broken the laws already?” And when James looked determined not to understand this, she added in a lowered voice, “Are you sure you’re not in love with her?”
    James made himself meet the probing gaze directly. He spoke softly and dangerously. “Don’t say that unless you want a fight.”
    Gisèle looked away. She played with her ring. The candle flame dwindled and died.
    â€œJames, I’ve known you for a long time,” she said without looking up. “I don’t want to get you in trouble. I believe you when you say you haven’t broken any laws—but I think we’d both better forget this conversation. Just walk out now and I’ll pretend it never happened.”
    â€œAnd the spell?”
    â€œThere’s no such thing. And if there was, I wouldn’t help you. Just go.”
    James went.
    There was one other possibility that he could think of. He drove to Brentwood, to an area that was as different from the last as a diamond is from coal. He parked in a covered carport by a quaint adobe building with a fountain. Red and purple bougainvillaea climbed up the walls to the Spanish tile on the roof.
    Walking through an archway into a courtyard, he came to an office with gold letters on the door. Jasper R. Rasmussen, Ph.D. His father was a psychologist.
    Before he could reach for the handle, the door opened and a woman came out. She was like most of his father’s clients, forty-something, obviously rich, wearing a designer jogging suit and high-heeled sandals.
    She looked a little dazed and dreamy, and there were two small, rapidly healing puncture wounds on her neck.
    James went into the office. There was a waiting room, but no receptionist.