Read Online Demon Night by Meljean Brook - Free Book Online Page A

looked for almost forty-five minutes before giving up, missing her regular workout routine—though her frantic search through her blankets and throughout the apartment had left her almost as sweaty, and halfway to tears.
    She hadn’t predicted Jane would assume the bruise came from kickboxing, but it saved Charlie from making up a story she’d believe.
    With the feather missing, Charlie wasn’t quite certain she believed the story anymore.
    “Ice isn’t going to work,” she said when Jane pushed her onto a chair at the dining room table and headed for the freezer. “This is from yesterday.”
    “Oh.” Jane tossed a handful of ice into the sink and wiped her hands on her jeans. “Then why were you late? And I called you about five times this morning.”
    “Really? I didn’t—” Charlie pulled out her cell and frowned down at the display. Five voice messages. She’d checked before leaving her place. There hadn’t been any calls then, and she hadn’t felt it vibrate on the bus ride from Capitol Hill to Queen Anne, or on the short hike up Jane’s street. “Okay, weird. The radio station was out, too, because my alarm didn’t work. I woke up to static around eleven thirty.” She glanced back up at Jane. “Did you cut your hair? Without me?”
    Jane’s hair had been on the verge of shaggy last weekend. Rich chestnut highlights streaked through the brown strands now, and they perfectly framed her small, pointed chin and large green eyes.
    “Yes.” A light blush stained Jane’s cheeks. “Sorry. I’d planned to wait for our usual salon day, but Dylan purchased a couple of hours at a spa and arranged the time off from work as a gift—”
    “No, it’s okay. I didn’t mean—” Charlie shook her head, immediately feeling like a bitch. “I was just surprised.”
    “You like it?”
    “You look like an elf. But it’s cute.”
    “Cute? I was hoping for ravishing.”
    Charlie dragged her fingers through the thick, messy tumble of her hair. “That’s me. You can have cute.”
    “Thanks a lot. Your roots are starting to show.”
    “I’m trying to convince everyone that I have hidden depths.”
    “You’ll have to grow it out at least another inch to even begin to persuade anyone.”
    There was only one response to that: a fuck you combined with the flip of her middle finger, and then wondering how a minute in Jane’s presence turned them into giggling thirteen-and fifteen-year-old girls.
    Those had been the best years. Before their parents’ divorce—before they’d been separated by a continent and too wrapped up in their own obsessions to find each other again. Before their father had brought them together again to announce that he was dying; before Charlie had destroyed her own life, and brought another year of separation on them.
    And if not for Jane slapping her awake when she most needed it, Charlie knew they’d be separated now.
    Jane pulled two diet sodas from the fridge, set one in front of Charlie. “We’re in trouble today.”
    With her drink halfway to her lips, Charlie stopped and stared up at her sister. “What does that mean?”
    “Dylan’s gone. He had a meeting.”
    “Oh, no. Did he leave something for us to eat? Or are we going out? And maybe a movie?” Charlie asked hopefully.
    Jane grimaced. “He left instructions. And shopped for ingredients while I was sleeping this morning. If we didn’t at least make the attempt…” She trailed off, and her expression seemed caught between pleading and stricken.
    “You’d feel bad.” Charlie would, too, but not as bad as—“Food poisoning would be worse. We can make sandwiches. Something we don’t have to cook.”
    Jane pointed to the grid of yellow stickies on the refrigerator. “I thought of that. But one of those was supposed to remind me to buy bread.”
    “Oh, God,” Charlie groaned. “Okay, you’re smart, and I can mix drinks. I suppose we can try.”
    After a fortifying chug of her soda, she joined her sister in