Shadow Burns: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Preternatural Affairs Book 4) by S.M. Reine
Authors: S.M. Reine
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that you’re in a dream until it’s over.
But there I was, back in the hallway behind the drawing room at Paradise Mile Retirement Village, mired deep in an obvious nightmare. And I knew it was a nightmare.
This definitely isn’t right.
The floorboards creaked as I edged along the wall. I could feel the texture of the wallpaper under my hands, the trim at the top of the wainscoting, the uneven wood underneath my bare soles. I’d never had a dream that detailed before.
Maybe it wasn’t a dream. Maybe the house in Paradise Mile had followed me back to Los Angeles, trapping me inside its ancient walls again, forcing me to face all the victims.
“That’s stupid,” I said out loud.
It felt like I was speaking. My voice sounded clear. But this was an impossible hallway, and it had to be a nightmare. There was no rational alternative.
The light from the trap door seared my eyes as I inched past it. Heat breathed from the crack, warming my legs.
What was on the other side?
I didn’t think I wanted to know.
My shoulder bumped into the door leading into the servant’s quarters. I grabbed the doorknob.
It was unlocked.
Herbert had told me not to bother the guy who lived in there. The apparition he called “the bad man.” But there was nowhere else in that hallway to go—definitely not the trap door with fire burning on the other side, and not the locked door that I was pretty sure wouldn’t lead back to my bedroom.
I opened the servant’s quarters.
My living room waited on the other side.
I stepped through, leaving hardwood floors for ugly brown apartment carpeting.
It was as quiet as it ever got in my apartment. I could hear the dillweed upstairs lifting weights, the lesbian couple next door arguing, cars passing outside. Normal noises.
My kitchen was still in disarray from all the potions I’d been brewing. I’d been so eager to sleep that I hadn’t bothered cleaning up. Would have given Pops an aneurysm if he’d seen how I was living, but that was one of the best parts about being an adult—not worrying about the expectations of one’s former custodial grandfather.
Suzy was on my couch where I’d left her. It had to be eighty degrees in my stuffy apartment, but she was still burrowed under sheets from the tip of her nose all the way down to her toes. She was sleeping peacefully with the help of my magic. Turns out that Suzy snores kind of like a tractor with a bad engine.
When I glanced over my shoulder, the only thing through the doorway was my bedroom.
No hallway. No trap door.
“Well,” I said, because I wasn’t sure what else to say about that.
How’s a guy supposed to deal with a hallway that doesn’t exist between his bedroom and his living room, anyway?
A shuffling sound drew my attention to my front door. Sounded like a body bumping against the other side, then sliding away.
Someone was outside my apartment.
It was probably one of my junkie neighbors. Nothing new, nothing to worry about. If Suzy hadn’t been resting on my couch, I wouldn’t have even given it a second thought before crawling right back into bed.
But she was on my couch, trapped in the oblivion of my potion, and she was trusting me to take care of her.
So I looked.
I went up to the door, bent down to the peephole, and looked .
The other side was red. Bright red, like the floor and wall and ceiling were all painted a uniform shade of incandescent cherry.
I’d seen that shade of red before when I looked through the keyhole of the servant’s quarters at Paradise Mile. “What the fuck?” I whispered.
And then the red blinked out, turning to black.
My eyes flew open.
I jerked upright in bed, heart slamming against my breastbone. I was drenched in sweat again. Tangled up in my sheets like I hadn’t ever gotten out of bed in the first place.
I tried to get out of bed so fast that I tripped on my own sheets. I slammed into the floor on all fours. Kicked the tentacles of my blankets away, stripped them
But there I was, back in the hallway behind the drawing room at Paradise Mile Retirement Village, mired deep in an obvious nightmare. And I knew it was a nightmare.
This definitely isn’t right.
The floorboards creaked as I edged along the wall. I could feel the texture of the wallpaper under my hands, the trim at the top of the wainscoting, the uneven wood underneath my bare soles. I’d never had a dream that detailed before.
Maybe it wasn’t a dream. Maybe the house in Paradise Mile had followed me back to Los Angeles, trapping me inside its ancient walls again, forcing me to face all the victims.
“That’s stupid,” I said out loud.
It felt like I was speaking. My voice sounded clear. But this was an impossible hallway, and it had to be a nightmare. There was no rational alternative.
The light from the trap door seared my eyes as I inched past it. Heat breathed from the crack, warming my legs.
What was on the other side?
I didn’t think I wanted to know.
My shoulder bumped into the door leading into the servant’s quarters. I grabbed the doorknob.
It was unlocked.
Herbert had told me not to bother the guy who lived in there. The apparition he called “the bad man.” But there was nowhere else in that hallway to go—definitely not the trap door with fire burning on the other side, and not the locked door that I was pretty sure wouldn’t lead back to my bedroom.
I opened the servant’s quarters.
My living room waited on the other side.
I stepped through, leaving hardwood floors for ugly brown apartment carpeting.
It was as quiet as it ever got in my apartment. I could hear the dillweed upstairs lifting weights, the lesbian couple next door arguing, cars passing outside. Normal noises.
My kitchen was still in disarray from all the potions I’d been brewing. I’d been so eager to sleep that I hadn’t bothered cleaning up. Would have given Pops an aneurysm if he’d seen how I was living, but that was one of the best parts about being an adult—not worrying about the expectations of one’s former custodial grandfather.
Suzy was on my couch where I’d left her. It had to be eighty degrees in my stuffy apartment, but she was still burrowed under sheets from the tip of her nose all the way down to her toes. She was sleeping peacefully with the help of my magic. Turns out that Suzy snores kind of like a tractor with a bad engine.
When I glanced over my shoulder, the only thing through the doorway was my bedroom.
No hallway. No trap door.
“Well,” I said, because I wasn’t sure what else to say about that.
How’s a guy supposed to deal with a hallway that doesn’t exist between his bedroom and his living room, anyway?
A shuffling sound drew my attention to my front door. Sounded like a body bumping against the other side, then sliding away.
Someone was outside my apartment.
It was probably one of my junkie neighbors. Nothing new, nothing to worry about. If Suzy hadn’t been resting on my couch, I wouldn’t have even given it a second thought before crawling right back into bed.
But she was on my couch, trapped in the oblivion of my potion, and she was trusting me to take care of her.
So I looked.
I went up to the door, bent down to the peephole, and looked .
The other side was red. Bright red, like the floor and wall and ceiling were all painted a uniform shade of incandescent cherry.
I’d seen that shade of red before when I looked through the keyhole of the servant’s quarters at Paradise Mile. “What the fuck?” I whispered.
And then the red blinked out, turning to black.
My eyes flew open.
I jerked upright in bed, heart slamming against my breastbone. I was drenched in sweat again. Tangled up in my sheets like I hadn’t ever gotten out of bed in the first place.
I tried to get out of bed so fast that I tripped on my own sheets. I slammed into the floor on all fours. Kicked the tentacles of my blankets away, stripped them
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