Simply Irresistible by Kristine Grayson Read Free Book Online Page B

you’re psychic. Unfortunately …”
    “You won’t come into the magical part for another three decades or so,” Atropos said.
    “And we simply can’t wait that long,” Clotho said.
    They looked at each other. Vivian frowned. The beginnings of a headache was building behind her eyes. “The restaurant won’t open for another two hours, but I could try to call your friends.”
    “Aethelstan,” Lachesis said.
    “Darius,” Atropos said.
    Clotho shook her head. “They’re good men, but they may not have forgiven us. We were harsh with them.”
    “Necessarily harsh,” Lachesis said.
    The building shook again. A pain shot down Vivian’s nose. “I don’t feel so well,” she said, and sat back down, letting the tray bang against the table.
    “Oh, dear,” Atropos said.
    “I knew we should have used the tinfoil,” Clotho said.
    “We’re going to need assistance a lot sooner,” Lachesis said.
    “Vivian,” Atropos said, and Vivian started. That was the first time they had used her name since they had come into the apartment.
    “What?” Vivian continued to rub her nose. It ached.
    “Do you know a way out of here that doesn’t require stepping onto the street from the front entrance?” Clotho asked.
    “The parking garage,” Vivian said.
    “Well, then, that’s it,” Lachesis said.
    “What’s it?” Vivian asked at the same time Atropos did.
    Then all three women looked alarmed.
    “We didn’t have the same thought,” Atropos said.
    “Do you think everything is breaking down?” Clotho asked.
    “I thought that we’d simply be without magic when we volunteered to go without magic. I didn’t think that we’d lose ourselves,” Lachesis said.
    “Maybe it was a glitch,” Atropos said. “Now I know what you thought.”
    “Well, I don’t,” Vivian said with irritation. Her headache was getting worse.
    “Henri Barou,” Clotho said.
    “Yes,” Lachesis said. “You must get Henri Barou.”
    Atropos shook her head. “He won’t help us. Not after what we told him.”
    “We’ll untell him,” Clotho said.
    “I don’t know any Henri Barou,” Vivian said.
    “He lives here in Porttown,” Lachesis said.
    “Portland,” Vivian corrected her absently as she got up. She picked up her new phone book and started to thumb through it.
    “Now is not the time to read, girl,” Atropos said.
    “Haven’t you ever heard of a phone book?” Vivian asked, finally finding the bs .
    “Oh, dear,” Clotho said. “There are so many details to learn.”
    “And I thought we were prepared,” Lachesis said.
    “We should have paid more attention to the films we watched,” Atropos said.
    “Or not gotten so involved in the stories—”
    “Excuse me,” Vivian snapped. “How do you spell his last name?”
    Her headache was getting worse. She didn’t know what she had done to deserve these women, this morning, this life here in Porttown, as they were calling it. Maybe she had stepped into her Aunt Eugenia’s life without realizing it.
    The women spelled the name, and Vivian looked for it. She looked in Portland, in Lake Oswego, in Beaverton, Tigard, and Tualatin. She looked at every b and every possible spelling of Barou.
    She found nothing.
    “I guess you’re out of luck there,” she said. “If he’s here, he’s not listed.”
    “Oh, he probably didn’t use that name,” Lachesis said.
    Vivian rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, stifling the angry comment that she had been about to make.
    “What name would he have used?” she asked.
    “How should we know?” Atropos said.
    “These mages make up new names willy-nilly,” Clotho said.
    “Sometimes they’re variations on the real name,” Lachesis said, “but every now and then they pick something completely different.”
    “We would have plucked the name from the air,” Atropos said, “but, alas, we have lost that talent.”
    “Then we can’t find him,” Vivian said, “because I can’t pull names from the