“We don’t say ‘witch’ in our world. ‘Philosopher’ or ‘mage’ are the preferred terms. And I am your new mentor, so you’ll need to watch that unpredictable attitude, or you’ll find yourself on the wrong side of my wrath. Are we clear?”

She choked back a retort, forcing a smile. “Clear as day.”

“Good. Come with me.” He pulled off his jacket, tucking it under his arm as he walked through the door. “I think you’ll find this place an improvement over your usual haunts.”

She followed Kester down the hallway and into a cavernous main hall. Bloody hell. She let out a low whistle. The place looked like some sort of medieval castle. Is this where he lives?

High above, the ceiling’s arches gave the room an almost cathedral-like quality. Persian rugs carpeted the floor, and rich taupe velvets upholstered the sofas. A baby grand piano stood in a far corner. Above the fireplace hung an antique portrait of a beautiful ivory-skinned woman, her raven hair threaded with wildflowers. On a small plaque pinned to the bottom of the gilt frame was the name Louisa.

Fancy as it was, a musty smell hung in the air. Dust coated the floor, and flowers in a vase had dried into drooping husks. This place had clearly been unused for quite some time. What a waste.

Kester waved a hand. “The living room.”

“Who lives here?”

“We’ll get to that.”

“It looks… fancy.” She glanced around furtively, feeling like an intruder in a rich person’s home. “But how do you get out of here?” Admittedly, escape routes were a bit of a preoccupation, but since she’d been attacked by two different creatures tonight, she thought she could be forgiven for a little neurosis.

He pointed to a doorway. “The elevator is through there, but the Plaza’s security is excellent. No one is coming in here unless you want them to. You’re perfectly safe. Come with me.”

Ursula followed him down a hallway, gaping at the vibrant paintings of pale, ecstatic women dressed in gold and crimson gowns. The place was decadent, but intensely beautiful.

He stopped by an open door, flicking on a light switch. “This is the library.”

Ursula peered inside. Distant streetlights flickered through a single window at the opposite end, and a comfortable window seat nestled under it. A small table stood in the center, and dark bookcases lined the walls, their shelves filled with leather-bound volumes. She had a sudden desire to lock herself in the room and page through each book for the next month. “I love this room,” she breathed. Maybe she wasn’t much of an intellectual, but the room’s coziness called to her.

“You’ll have time to look around later. There’s more to see,” said Kester. He strode to the end of the hall, and she followed. Though another door, he pointed out an enormous kitchen with marble countertops.