Fear, however, isn’t enough to stop me from trying.
With that reasoning, I wait for fifteen minutes to make sure Ehlga has gone to her quarters and I won’t run into her. Then I make my move, slipping out of the room and walking down the corridor as if I’m just taking a leisurely walk—I need to look legit for whoever is on surveillance. Not like I’m up to no good.
I head over to the stairs that lead to the older section of the house, which is on a separate wing. As it makes sense to store things in a room on the ground floor, I head downstairs, carefully creeping along the passage once I get there. I’m wearing ballet flats, but they can make a squishy sound against the marble floors when I put my weight on my feet.
The lights down here are dim, and there doesn’t seem to be anyone around.
I also noticed there aren’t as many security cameras as on the other side, so maybe no one can see me.
That would be good.
I relax a little when I don’t see any more cameras, but I still maintain my awareness just in case I miss one.
When I arrive at the end of the corridor and turn toward the next, a weird feeling comes over me that I can’t quite describe.
There’s a presence. As if someone’s here, or waiting for me.
The more I advance down the passage, the more intense the feeling becomes. It’s so strong I glance over my shoulder, searching for the source of the energy. Or the person.
But there’s no one there. It’s just me and the chill crawling over my skin.
I didn’t believe in ghosts until Mom died. After she passed, it was like I could feel her spirit either with me or in the room where she killed herself. I know Dad felt it too, because we moved a few months after.
All thoughts of ghosts dissipate when I take the corner and am greeted with a full-size version of the crest on the wall ahead of me, which splits the path like a fork in a road. A light shines down on it like a halo, meaning I can see it more clearly than the engraving on the side of the cliff.
Eager to get closer, I quicken my pace, no longer worrying about the sound of my footsteps.
When I reach the crest, I search over the grooves in the carving, confirming that it really is what I see in my nightmares.
It’s it. It’s definitely it.
Being this close makes my nerves scatter and my heartbeat quicken. My curiosity ignites and I’m even more keen to find out what my link to this thing is.
I stare for a few more moments then I take the passage to my left, continuing my mission.
Down here the lights are a little brighter and I can see doors along the wall.
Maybe the room I’m looking for is one of these.
I open the first door and find an empty room. The next few rooms are bedrooms, but the last door is locked.
From the size it could lead into a hall or a bigger room, so it could be what I’m looking for.
Lorelai showed me how to pick a lock once. Her brother taught her. We broke into her aunt’s office one summer night when I was staying over.
Little did we know her aunt had locked the door because she was having sex with her gardener. Needless to say, when we walked in and caught them, we got in so much trouble, but that was overshadowed by our discovery, which led to her aunt and uncle’s divorce.
I hope a similar fate doesn’t await me. I wouldn’t want to catch Desmier and Gytha together.
I pull a hairpin from my bun and stick it in the lock. Then I push it up into the mechanism until I feel the clip, and wiggle it around.
Just as I hear the clicking sound of the pin forcing the clip down, a heavy hand rests on the space above my head and warm fingers flutter over my waist.
Despite the warmth turning into fire, ice trickles down my body and I shudder.
A low guttural laugh fills my ears and I dare not move because I know the sound belongs to the monster who stole my life.
Desmier presses his lips to the nape of my neck, but I keep my feet rooted to the ground.