Crowned by Fire by Nenia Campbell Read Free Book Online Page A

finger.
    “ Thanks,” Catherine said flatly.
    “ Mine is on the left,” he continued. “We share the bathroom. I suggest opening the windows. The second floor isn't used much.”
    He went into his own room then, giving her a chance to explore. The guest room was small, cramped, and musty, like it hadn't been used for a while. She could detect very faint traces of perfume—something strong and powdery, like something an older woman would wear. Every available surface was dripping with dust-covered lace. A desk pushed against the far wall housed an impressive collection of snow globes.
    Catherine turned her attention to the other two doors in the room. One led out to a small enclosed balcony, where a cactus sat, looking dejected and lonely in a cobwebbed corner. The other was a closet, mostly empty. There were a few old dresses inside that bore the same lingering odor of perfume as her room. Hadn't Cassandra mentioned a grandmother? This must have been her bedroom.
    Catherine dumped the sack with the Grimmoire and her clothes on the bed, expelling the breath she'd been holding in. then she coughed. Well. However awkward this was, it was better than sleeping in the street—or in the car.
    In the next room, Catherine heard the water run. The witch was taking a shower. She was in sore need of one herself. After last night, she imagined that she probably smelled like a crime scene. She hoped there would still be hot water left when he was done.
    With a sigh, she yanked open the drapes. A mistake. Clouds of dust wafted into the air. She coughed, waving the clouds away from her face. The sun had fallen lower on the horizon, a deep ruby that stained her hands the color of blood.
    The water stopped. In the next room, a door slammed.
    Finally.
    Catherine took her own shower, no longer able to stand the stench of dried blood or the sensation of greasy hair clinging to her neck and scalp. She pulled on jeans and a camisole, with a long-sleeved shirt worn unbuttoned over it. As she tied her hair back into a loose bun, she thought about her parents.
    What were they doing right now? Were they on the run, too? Would she ever find out? Not knowing was starting to seem a lot more painful than knowing. She needed closure.
    A knock sounded at her door, and she saw her eyes widen in the mirror. She walked to the door and opened it, surprised to see Cassandra standing there. “Yes?”
    “ I just wanted to let you know that dinner will be ready soon.”
    “ Thank you.”
    “ You're welcome.” Cassandra looked a little wan. Was that because of the reading? Or had her father belittled her for the witch's presence? The seer's green eyes flicked towards the bathroom and she bit her lip. “Is he in?” she asked quietly.
    He can't hear you , Catherine wanted to say. His ears were no more refined than any mere human's; there was no need to tiptoe around him with such caution. Anyway, he didn't deserve it. “He should be,” she said neutrally. “I heard him get out of the shower.”
    Used up all the hot water, too. The bastard.
    Cassandra closed her eyes. For a moment, she looked very tired and impossibly old. Catherine had a vision of what she would look like fifty years from now; it wasn't pleasant. “He locked me out and isn't answering the door.”
    The thought of being locked out of her own home by an interloper filled Catherine with fury on the other girl's behalf. She glanced at his door without enthusiasm. “Let me guess. You want me to get him for you?”
    Cassandra's expression brightened so much that Catherine almost felt guilty. “Would you?”
    Fuck . “Yeah, all right. Fine.” She closed the door and leaned back against it, pinching the bridge of her nose. He's just a witch. Like any other.
    Not quite like any other. He was a good deal more powerful than most witches. She had watched him turn silver into liquid, nightmares into reality.
    Now she was annoyed at herself for showing fear. She stormed up to the bathroom,