Before tonight, Skye had never done coke or any drug, other than sips from her fathers wineglass. But she wielded the accoutrements with surprising grace. When the line vanished, she sat up and ran one finger across the bridge of her nose her face smooth and white as a teacup ... My premonition lit the room as if wed struck a match. Its glow settled around her in a flickering updraft. And I thought whatever story we had together Skye and I she would be dead by the end of it. Gossip of the Starlings, by Nina de Gramont (Algonquin; $22.95; available June 10)