Witches: Wicked, Wild & Wonderful by Paula Guran Read Free Book Online

chill wind. The tune was of a piece with the neighborhood—old and time-worn.
    Many of the residents would have smiled in recollection to hear “Lili Marlene” again.
    The tension left the girl as she swung around the lamppost by one hand to face the direction of the whistle. She waved, and a welcoming smile warmed her eyes.
    The whistler stepped into the edge of the circle of light. He, too, was dusky of eye and hair—and heartbreakingly handsome. He wore only dark jeans and a black turtleneck, no coat at all—but like the young woman, he didn’t seem to notice the cold. There was an impish glint in his eyes as he finished the tune with a flourish.
    “A flair for the dramatic, Diana, mon cherie ?” he said mockingly. “Would that you were here for the same purpose as the lovely Lili! Alas, I fear my luck cannot be so good . . . ”
    She laughed. His eyes warmed at the throaty chuckle. “Andre,” she chided, “don’t you ever think of anything else?”
    “Am I not a son of the City of Light? I must uphold her reputation, mais non ?” The young woman raised an ironic brow. He shrugged. “Ah well—since it is you who seek me, I fear I must be all business. A pity. Well, what lures you to my side this unseasonable night? What horror has Mademoiselle Tregarde unearthed this time?”
    Diana Tregarde sobered instantly, the laughter fleeing her eyes. “I’m afraid you picked the right word this time, Andre. It is a horror. The trouble is, I don’t know what kind.”
    “Say on. I wait in breathless anticipation.” His expression was mocking as he leaned against the lamppost, and he feigned a yawn.
    Diana scowled at him and her eyes darkened with anger. He raised an eyebrow of his own. “If this weren’t so serious,” she threatened, “I’d be tempted to pop you one—Andre, people are dying out there. There’s a ‘Ripper’ loose in New York.”
    He shrugged, and shifted restlessly from one foot to the other. “So? This is new? Tell me when there is not! That sort of criminal is as common to the city as a rat. Let your police earn their salaries and capture him.”
    Her expression hardened. She folded her arms tightly across the thin nylon of her windbreaker; her lips tightened a little. “Use your head, Andre! If this was an ordinary slasher-killer, would I be involved?”
    He examined his fingernails with care. “And what is it that makes it extraordinaire, eh?”
    “The victims had no souls.”
    “I was not aware,” he replied wryly, “that the dead possessed such things anymore.”
    She growled under her breath, and tossed her head impatiently. The wind caught her hair and whipped it around her throat. “You are deliberately being difficult! I have half a mind—”
    It finally seemed to penetrate the young man’s mind that she was truly angry—and truly frightened, though she was doing her best to conceal the fact; his expression became contrite. “Forgive me, cherie. I am being recalcitrant.”
    “You’re being a pain in the ass,” she replied acidly. “Would I have come to you if I wasn’t already out of my depth?”
    “Well—” he admitted. “No. But—this business of souls, cherie, how can you determine such a thing? I find it most difficult to believe.”
    She shivered, and her eyes went brooding. “So did I. Trust me, my friend, I know what I’m talking about. There isn’t a shred of doubt in my mind. There are at least six victims who no longer exist in any fashion anymore.”
    The young man finally evidenced alarm. “But—how?” he said, bewildered. “How is such a thing possible?”
    She shook her head violently, clenching her hands on the sleeves of her jacket as if by doing so she could protect herself from an unseen—but not unfelt—danger. “I don’t know, I don’t know! It seems incredible even now—I keep thinking it’s a nightmare, but—Andre, it’s real, it’s not my imagination—” Her voice rose a little with each word, and Andre’s sharp