Free Infernal Magic: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Demons of Fire and Night Book 1) by C.N. Crawford

room.”
    Ursula peered inside. This bedroom appeared to double as a botanical conservatory. A wrought-iron scaffold supported glass panes, enclosing half the room. A small day bed stood in one corner. It was pretty in a way, but rotting orchids and cacti lined shelves, and a smell of decay filled the air.
    She stepped out. “Interesting. Maybe I’ll get into gardening.”
    “I’ll have the cleaning staff come through in the morning,” said Kester, closing the door.
    He continued down the hall, gesturing through a doorway. She stuck her head into a grey-tiled bathroom. An enormous claw-foot bathtub stood in the center, with a shower in the corner. Beautiful. She’d never had a proper shower before, just grimy tubs with handheld sprayers that emitted a sad trickle of water. “I’m really going to enjoy that shower.”
    “I thought you’d like it. Come. There’s more.” Kester led her to another room. When he entered, he muttered in that strange language, and candles blazed all over the room. Shadows danced over high, arched ceilings and stained glass windows. In the center stood a four-poster bed with a black canopy. Shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of potions and animal skulls. “The master bedroom.”
    Stunning—but creepy. Not unlike my new mentor . “Great. Maybe I’ll sleep here.”
    There was no way she was sleeping with the skulls. She’d sleep in the living room.
    “There’s one more.” He walked to the end of the hall.
    She stepped inside. This room was smaller than the others. A twin bed with a cream coverlet nestled below a window, and an antique dresser stood in the corner. Kester muttered the spell again and the lantern that sat on the bedside table flickered to life, bathing the room in warm light. On the ceiling, someone had painted the zodiac—gold on midnight blue. It was perfect. It just needed a few finishing touches, maybe a bit of color, to make her feel at home.
    “I love it.” If Ursula had brought a bag she would have tossed it on the bed to claim it as her own.
    “There’s one more thing you need to know.” He stepped back into the hall, pointing to a door across from hers. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed it before.
    Made of rough oak studded with iron nails, it could only be described one way: creepy as hell. It looked like something you’d find in Vlad the Impaler’s castle. A pale yellow glow surrounded its frame, the exact color of the shackles Kester had clamped on her wrist in the Lotus.
    “In case the spikes didn’t make it clear enough, that room is off limits.”
    Suddenly chilled, she hugged herself. “What’s in it?”
    Kester glared at her. “You don’t need to know that. And now, I’ll leave you to that shower. Alone, of course.”
    He turned to leave, but she touched his arm. “Kester. What happened to the last hellhound? What did he move on to?”
    He stared her down. “That’s not for you to worry about, Ursula. You have enough to take care of. Get some sleep.”
    His response didn’t do anything to put her mind at ease.

    * * *
    K ester let himself out , leaving Ursula to rifle through the drawers and cupboards on her own. After a glorious hot shower to wash off the remnants of the Muppet’s stale beer, she picked through the apartment again, one room at a time.
    In the kitchen, she discovered a chrome espresso machine and coffee grinder stowed in a closet. She dusted them off, moving them to one of the marble countertops. I love coffee. I belong in America. Would it be strange to pay for coffee beans with gold ingots?
    Returning to the library, she read the spines of every book in the room. There were first editions of all the modern classics: Melville, Poe, Dickens, and Brontë. She even found older works by Chaucer, Dante, and Shakespeare—many of them written on parchment and beautifully illustrated in the margins.
    Strangely, a lower shelf seemed to be protected by the same golden glow that blazed from the door upstairs.