Page 12 of Curses & Cold Brew (Maple Hollow #2)

IRIS

I ’d spent the better part of two days chasing after Ramona on this harebrained adventure, but even so, a little thrill filled me at the thought of actually seeing the demonic council.

Getting a ticket to the inner sanctum was definitely above my pay grade as an apothecary witch.

Had any witch ever stepped foot inside the place?

Surely, I would’ve heard about it if someone had.

I had been fully expecting Ramona to shut my request down when I’d scared off Lulu, but she’d crumbled relatively quickly for a stubborn demon.

Maybe I was finally working my charms on her? Witchful thinking. “Witchful Thinking” also happened to be the name of the local Maple Hollow therapist’s office.

The way Ramona’s eyes had flared bright with opportunity while she’d been talking to Lulu .

. . I shuddered as I hastened to keep up with the long-legged temptress in front of me.

Demons could feel the slightest sin bubbling under the surface.

I couldn’t help but wonder what sins Ramona sensed bubbling under mine.

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 so appealing .

“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 enter hell -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 like home .

“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 with any witches in town as far as I knew.

“What is she doing 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 I had felt like I was special, and now I felt like just another fool pulled in by her overpowering charisma.

Instead of answering Naphula’s accusatory question, Ramona only repeated, “I am here to request a favor of the council. I only need a few moments of their time.”

Naphula rounded a banister and started slowly walking down the obsidian stairs to meet us.

Each step was etched with gold scenes that were hard to make out but made me uneasy, nonetheless.

When her sharp heels hit the main floor, she paused several feet away and looked me over.

I could feel the judgment radiating from her.

Whether she was displeased that her friend brought me into their sacred space or that I existed at all was up for question.

“They are fully booked today,” Naphula said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You will need to reschedule. Perhaps I can be of help?”

Ramona let out a frustrated sound, her shoulders drooping. “You already know why I’m here.” She sounded pained to admit it. “My missing souls.”

“Souls?” Naphula asked, eyes darting from Ramona to me and back. “As in plural?”

“The old innkeeper’s soul has been pilfered as well,” Ramona admitted.

“Shit,” Naphula replied tightly. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“You never answer your fucking phone anymore.” The muscle in Ramona’s jaw worked.

“Besides, I thought I had it handled.” Her eyes shifted down to me.

“There’s got to be some way to track these souls down.

They didn’t just vanish into the ether. Someone took them.

And if they’re not in hell, they’re being held somewhere else. ”

“Tracking souls . . .” Naphula shook her head. “That’s well above our clearance.”

“Yes,” Ramona gritted out. “Which is why we’re here.”

A look of exasperation crossed Naphula’s cold face. “If you want to interrupt their meeting, I’m sure their displeasure will make quite the show.”

“It would be for a good reason,” Ramona countered.

Naphula inspected her fingernails, feigning boredom to make her point—something Ramona did often as well.

“Indeed. And Dominic will be very excited to inspect a soul marked with your sigil.” Her midnight eyes slid to me.

“Especially since such souls are being snatched right out from under your nose.”

Ramona’s lip curled in disgust. “I think it’s best that I come back at a later time. Without the witch.”

“Good thinking.” Naphula smiled at Ramona, proud of herself for her victory over Ramona’s ego. “But I’ll let them know that you stopped by.”

I knew, in her own way, that Naphula was trying to protect Ramona—and me by extension.

Ramona hooked her hand around my elbow and steered me away. “Let’s go.”

As I followed her to the magical exit, I thought back to the comment Ramona had made about tracking the missing souls.

After all, there were stacks of spell books at the apothecary full of locator spells.

My mind started whirling. It would take time, but there had to be something in those books we could use to summon one of the missing souls.

Witches used soul summoning all the time.

Jordyn’s mishap last year wasn’t typical, but I would heed that experience.

Maybe I could find a spell that could tell us who had stolen Ramona’s souls?

We didn’t need another Lou situation on our hands, but summoning Saul or Maude for a short time couldn’t hurt.

If I could find a way to tweak the spell so that I could pull a bound soul to me, maybe they could tell me who’d come for them.

Even if they didn’t remember, maybe there’d be a magical fingerprint left on them by the culprit.

“I have a plan,” I announced once the crisp air of the outside world pushed into my lungs.

Ramona looked over her shoulder at the door she’d just sealed. Only the thin outline of the secret opening remained.

“Whatever you’re going to say, don’t,” she said before I could even get a word out. “I have no more time to discuss your foolish schemes or whacky, witchy what-have-yous.”

“What?” I looked around the silent street as if I’d find an answer written across the red brick. “You don’t want to hear my plan?”

What had changed in the matter of minutes we’d spent in the demonic council chambers?

Something like fear flashed behind Ramona’s eyes. She seemed rattled, but by what, I didn’t know. When Naphula had mentioned Dominic and the fact that I also bore her sigil . . .

She placed her hand on my lower back and guided me to the middle of the town square before she spoke. The witch-hat gazebo was inundated with tourists using it as a backdrop for their family photos. Ramona stopped in front of me, blocking us from prospective photo bombs.

Why did she need me to be out in the open for whatever she was about to say? This felt like some douchebag breakup strategy.

Then she looked at me, her brows knitted in concern, and my stomach clenched.

“This is dangerous, Iris,” she said. “More dangerous than you know. I never should’ve roped you into this. The best thing you can do to help is to stay away until I figure out who has been snatching these souls.”

Seeing Ramona sweat should have made me realize the severity of the situation, but it only made me want to fight harder. We were getting close to answers—I could feel it. What’s more, I was angry. When was Ramona going to stop treating me like a damsel in distress and like the powerful witch I was?

“Ooh, so chivalrous,” I snarked, waving jazz hands. “I may like apple picking and wearing cute sweaters, demon, but I can handle danger.”

“Not this kind.” Ramona shook her head. “I don’t want you on the other demons’ radars. We still don’t have any leads, and the more we question people, the more likely the person behind this will figure out that we’re looking for them. We’ll lose the upper hand?—”

“But I have an idea—” I started.

“Everyone in town is a suspect. And if they decide to come after all of my souls, that means they’ll come after you?—”

“Ramona, just listen. I could summon the soul of Saul or Maude and ask them what happened?—”

“No!” she barked. “If they are still bound to the person who snatched them, then they will know it was you who cast the spell. They can’t know you’re involved in this. Just stay in the apothecary where you are warded and safe.”

“Why do you care if they know it was me?” I balked. “Who cares if it puts me in danger?”

“I care!” she shouted, and I froze at the force of her words. “I care, dammit. Iris, please just leave this alone.”

With that, she stormed back toward the demonic council, leaving me reeling. A small crowd of strangers looked at me as if I’d just been dumped.

And in a way, they were right.