Neon Blue E Frost (speld decodable readers .TXT) 📖

from the coffee-pot. “It might be an inferiarcus.”

“A what?”

“A demon-summoner.”

Lin’s smooth brow furrows. “I thought you didn’t deal in anything like that.”

“I don’t,” I assure her. Lin’s one of the most open-minded people I’ve met, probably because she comes from a long line of wizards. But she’s wary of anything that smacks of the diabolical. I can’t blame her; I am, too. And I don’t even have any ancestors who lost their souls to yaoguai. “But I know someone who might be able to help.” I scratch at an itchy spot behind my ear, sweaty from standing over the cauldron. “Thing is, I haven’t spoken to her in years. And the last things we said to each other weren’t very nice.”

That’s not exactly true. The last things I said to her weren’t very nice. In fact, they were the worst things I’ve ever said to anyone, and they still make me cringe when I think of them. How could I have been so mean?

“Ah.” Lin’s all-inclusive qualifier. “Were you friends once?”

“She was my room-mate in college.”

Lin raises an eyebrow.

“And my best friend,” I admit.

“And you haven’t spoken in years? How . . . unlike you.”

Even though she’s referring to a very sore point – my break up with Saul four months ago, since which I’ve refused to even say his name much less take his calls – I have to laugh.

“You definitely need some needle-time.”

I pour us two cups, stir in the sugars and hand one to her. “You’re on. How about after dinner?”

She gulps down a mouthful. “Oh, about that.”

“Mmm?”

“Ah, just, um, would you mind if I skipped dinner tonight?”

“’Course not.” I shrug. We usually eat dinner together after work, but only because neither of us has anyone else to eat with. “Something come up?”

“Kind of.” She peers into her mug like there’s something floating in her coffee. “I bumped into someone from med school at the hospital. He, um, suggested we have dinner after he finishes his shift.”

I wolf-whistle. “Linnie’s got a date.”

“It’s not a date-date,” she protests. “It’s just dinner.”

“Uh-huh. Enjoy your date.”

“Thanks. I thought I might go a little early. You know, shower.” She flicks her pony-tail, which looks perfectly clean to me.

“Oh, definitely a date.”

She rolls her dark eyes. “Anyway, would you mind taking my five o’clock?”

“No problem. Have a good time.” I move back toward the cauldron, which will need my attention soon. “And don’t forget, safe sex is good sex.”

“It’s just dinner!”

I know her so much better than that. “Don’t forget the condoms,” I sing-song to her retreating back.

Chapter 3

The fall sunshine has turned into a grey drizzle by the time I close the clinic and walk to the T. I turn up the collar of my jacket and wish weather spells weren’t so dangerous. With global warming, no one would suspect anything if Boston had a warm, dry fall.

But it would probably cause another tsunami in Asia or something equally horrible. That’s the tricky thing about messing with the weather. Nature demands balance. And it tends to right the scales on a global level.

I sigh and tuck Manny’s redwells under my arm to keep them from getting wet.

The T’s steamy. I find a seat and rock my way slowly across the Charles River. At Porter Square, the train releases me from its humid embrace, back out into the rain, and I run the three blocks to my duplex.

My tenant’s sitting in the porch swing, smoking one of the hand-rolled cigarettes that I won’t let him smoke in the house. A cloud of blue smoke has gathered under the porch eves.

“You would pick tonight to work late,” my tenant says as I run up the steps.

I glance up at the house, which looks fine. “What’s wrong, Shah?”

He nods glumly at the door.

“What? Oh for . . . you locked yourself out again?”

“If you’d get a deadbolt like everyone else it wouldn’t be a problem.”

I’ve told him a dozen times that he can replace the lock if he wants to. He just doesn’t want to pay for a new lock, and since I’m not the one who keeps locking myself out, I don’t see any reason I should foot the bill. I roll my eyes as sort through my keys to the spare key for his side of the duplex and unlock his door. “There you go.”

“Thanks. Hey, where’s your friend tonight? You know, the one with the great hair?” He wiggles his bushy eyebrows suggestively.

“On a date,” I say pointedly. I told him he should have asked Lin out long ago. Shah’s face falls. “G’night!”

I open my own door and slip inside. The house is dark and quiet. Empty. I don’t bother to turn the lights on as I walk through to the kitchen. I could use my Sight to see in the dark, but I know the house so well, I don’t bother with that either. In the kitchen, under plastic wrap, pork chops marinating in Lin’s homemade hoi sin sauce sit beside the sink. I’d planned to grill them for dinner. I look at them dispiritedly, then stick them in the fridge and pour myself a bowl of cereal.

I hate eating alone.

I carry my cereal through into the dining room and eat disinterestedly while I spread out the English file on the dining table. Reading through it slowly doesn’t tell me anything new, and when I reach the last page, and the bottom of my bowl, there’s nothing left to do but call Rowena.

The number I have for her is five years out of date. On my way back to the phone in the kitchen, I detour into my herbarium and collect a silver-embroidered pouch. A pinch of faerie dust sprinkled over my address book yields a new number with a Back Bay dialing code.

She answers on the first ring. “Hello, Tsara.”

I grip the receiver tightly to keep from dropping it. “I forgot about your precognition.” I clear my throat and try to recover with a little laugh. “You could have