Page 21 of Curses & Cold Brew
I cleared my throat. Better to not think of them in front of her.
We wove around the back of Bones and Tomes Bookstore, stacks of empty boxes piled up on either side of the forest-green door, waiting to be recycled. Across the narrow road was a nondescript burgundy door, Latin written on gold plating across it. I’d walked past that door a million times, had even opened it once to see what was inside, only to find a cloakroom, but I hadn’t dared to step over the threshold, lest I be sucked straight to hell. I imagined there was a false door that was opened by some demonic incantation, but I wasn’t about to get on the demons’ wrong side by trying to find a way in uninvited.
Now, I was getting a personal escort.
Ramona and I walked into a dark chamber, lit only by a large brass lantern hanging from the ceiling.
“I’d offer to take your jacket,” Ramona said, “but I’m assuming your macrame waistcoat is at the cleaners?”
I rolled my eyes but didn’t miss the way the buttons on her white shirt strained across her chest as she shrugged off her woolen trench. The loose silk fabric slouched back into place as she hung her garment up, and I realized that I’d never been so attentive to the quality of clothing on anyone else. There was no shortage of rich men who paraded their stylish families around town during their visits, but none of them made luxury look soappealing.
“It’s not even that cold,” I rebuffed, even as I shuddered at a sudden chill that swept through the crack in the door. “I won’t be whipping out the heavy coats until past All Hallow’s.” I crooked a brow at Ramona as she hung her coat amongst a line of near-identical ones. “I suppose demons are used to hotter weather.”
She let out a surprised laugh and looked back at me with a wink. “Something like that.”
“Goddess, we’re not about to enterhell-hell, are we?”
“Hell-hell? As opposed to Hell Lite? Diet Hell?”
My eyes darted to her. “Are we going to actual, literal Hell right now?”
She grinned. “Would that frighten you?”
“No”—I groaned—“but I would’ve worn a nicer outfit.” I pulled at my turtleneck. “I knew I should’ve worn the emerald skirt. It really brings out my eyes and—” Ramona looked at me, perplexed. “What?”
“Nothing. You just say the oddest things at times.” She straightened the cuffs on her shirt and rolled her shoulders back. “Remember, stay behind me. Don’t talk.”
“Stay behind you. Don’t talk. Got it.” I gave her an awkward thumbs-up that made Ramona look even more exasperated.
She faced the back wall. Holding up her hand, she said, “Ego sum ex hoc velo.”
With a groaning pop, the wall sank in and rolled to the side, revealing a giant hallway. I gasped, taking in the opulent space.
This was nothing like the dark, little speakeasy I’d expected. No, this place was a towering hall of white and black marble flecked with silver and gold, black sconces, and black and burgundy velvet upholstery. If Mount Olympus and Transylvania had a demonic palace baby, this is what it would look like.
It was notably warmer in here than it was outside, and I wondered if they intentionally kept it balmy so it felt more likehome.
“Let’s go, red,” Ramona said, tipping her head toward the giant stairwell at the far end of the hall. Giant fireplaces roared to life on either side of the hall when she stepped onto the marble floor, her dress shoes clicking, one step, two, before she paused and turned toward me with a smirk.
“Wow,” was all I could manage as I followed her. My body felt light, nearly floating in the cavernous space.
How was this here, hidden down a tiny street in a sleepy little town?
Footsteps echoed from up ahead, and I craned my neck up to see Naphula standing on the balcony, scowling down at us. I only knew her in passing, had heard more whispers about her than words she’d actually spoken from her own mouth. Witches and demons weren’t exactly meant to consort—not that I held that reminder in any regard, obviously—but Naphula didn’t fraternize withanywitches in town as far as I knew.
“What isshedoing here?” the silver-haired demon asked venomously.
“Ignore my new pet,” Ramona announced to her friend. “I came to speak with the council.”
“I’m not your pet,” I hissed at her under my breath.
Ramona spun to glare at me, and the rest of the words I’d been about to say disappeared from my lips. I’d given her a promise that I wouldn’t speak—twice—and had broken it within moments. She looked away before the scarlet shame radiating from my belly could reach my cheeks. I was beginning to recognize that I had put myself in real danger by being here. This council chamber was beyond the coven’s purview. There would be no rescue if things went awry, and I wasn’t sure that Ramona could help much either.
Naphula tsked, shaking her head disapprovingly. “Are you fucking this one too?”
I bristled at that but bit my tongue to remain silent. Was this something Ramona did often? Broker deals and then lure her marks into her bed? Woo them with trips to the demonic council? Would she have slept with Lulu if I hadn’t intervened?
It shouldn’t have bothered me in the slightest. It was probably the least objectionable thing about the demon, especially considering my own body count. Still, for a moment Ihad felt like I was special, and now I felt like just another fool pulled in by her overpowering charisma.
