We continued down the hall in silence, passing by the panoramic view of the courtyard, all of us lost in our own thoughts and worries. Rounding the corner, I walked smack into a waiting, grinning Bishop, his mask pushed to sit on top of his head, a fresh bottle of port in his hands.
This spot … again. That same eerie familiarity from before set my hair on end, just as it had the first night. In this exact spot. This couldn’t be mere coincidence … I felt my brow furrow deeply—focusing was becoming a bother, thanks to the port—as I studied our surroundings, looking for clues. The pictures, the statues, the lights, the floor, the door …
The door?
I blinked repeatedly and then squinted. Yup. It was still there. A single red door behind Bishop. “That door wasn’t there before.” I stepped closer to it.
“What door, Evie?” Bishop asked slowly, as if speaking to a child who insisted there were monsters under her bed.
“This door!” I exclaimed, pointing to it matter-of-factly. His head moved from me to the door to me again, a weird quirk bending his brow.
“Maybe you should slow down on the booze … port doesn’t normally make people hallucinate.”
Hallucinate? No … I frowned. There was no way. My free hand flew out ahead of me, gesturing angrily at the door that could not possibly be missed. “The red door. It’s right here!” Still, Bishop’s expression didn’t change. Looking to the others, I saw the same concerned expressions.
“Bishop’s right about laying off the port for a bit, Eve,” Julian echoed.
“I’m fine!” I snapped. “I’m not seeing things. It’s right here!” I looked back to where my hand was pointing, my finger only inches away from the red paint. Sure enough, it was still there. A bright red door with a brass door handle that hadn’t been there before. I was sure of it. Are they playing a joke on me? I reached forward, my hand feeling the smooth metal handle. “See?”
“No, we don’t see, Evie. Quit it! You’re starting to freak me out!” Bishop said.
A door that no one but me could see … this involved magic.
It had to be Sofie’s work, and the fact that I could see it had to do with the Tribe’s magic. I was undoing her magic again. I could see beyond whatever spell she had cast.
But what could Sofie be hiding behind a secret door in Nathan’s chateau that she didn’t want anyone to know about? What would happen if I dared venture past … could I even? What would be waiting beyond it? Visions of a three-headed serpent in a dark pit flashed into my head. My curiosity quickly pushed it away, unwilling to believe Sofie would have need for such an abomination, desperate to know exactly what she did have need for.
Before I could change my mind, my hand molded over the doorknob, sending prickles through my spine. I turned the knob and heard the click of the door catch releasing.
“Oh my …” Amelie gasped as I stepped across the threshold. There were no dark gray concrete walls and cell bars, no pit, nor were there chains holding back a three-headed demon. It was someone’s living quarters. Normal living quarters, a little on the luxurious side. Rich brown and gray textures and colors called this out as a masculine residence. The only odd thing about the entire space was the lack of windows. A hall stretched off the opposite side of the room. Maybe there were windows down there.
Bishop accidently stepped on my heels as he followed me in. I barely noticed. “Are you seeing this?”
“Yep …” he answered, dumbfounded.
“Told you there was a door,” I added with smug satisfaction.
A subtle breeze behind me, followed by a light pinch of my elbow, warned me that Caden had entered. He surveyed the area. “Maybe we shouldn’t be in here.”
Max’s long snout appeared in my periphery. “Who’s Sofie hiding in here, Max?” I demanded to know.
I have no idea.
“Right. Since when don’t you have the 4-1-1 on everything?” I gave him a doubtful glare. “You’re lying.”
I swear it! I’m as baffled as you. His nostrils flared. Looks like it’s empty. Whatever was here smells like it died long ago.
“That makes no sense. Why would Sofie be hiding an empty room? And why the lit fire?” Above the mantle hung a painting of Sofie in the arms of a handsome dark-haired man. There was only one man it could be. “Is that Nathan?” I asked.
Yup. They made a nice couple, didn’t they?
“Yeah.” I wandered forward, Caden and Bishop in tow. Running a finger along a stack of magazines, I pulled it back and found a thick layer of dust coating my skin. The couch cushion had a worn spot in the center, as if someone had sat there for so long that his or her body imprinted into it. Someone had certainly lived here at some point.