Chapter 20 #2
Rory falls silent, focusing on the increasingly rough road. We’ve turned onto what’s barely more than a dirt track, winding through dense woodland. The trees press close on either side, branches occasionally scraping against the car windows like skeletal fingers.
“Charming location,” I comment, peering into the gathering gloom of the forest. “Looks like a horror movie.”
“Wait till you see the castle,” Rory says. “It makes this place look positively welcoming.”
“Is it actually a castle?” I ask, imagining stone towers and drawbridges. “Or more like a big house?”
“Somewhere in between,” Kane answers. “It was built in the 16th century as a defensive structure, but it’s been modified over the centuries. The last major renovation was in the Victorian era, when the MacGallans were at the height of their power.”
“And when exactly did the family get into the, uh, import-export business?” I ask, using their euphemism.
Kane and Rory exchange another look.
“The MacGallans have always been entrepreneurs,” Rory says diplomatically. “Finding opportunities where others see obstacles.”
“So... smugglers since forever, then.”
Kane laughs. “Pretty much. Though they prefer ‘creative business solutions.’”
“Is that what’s on the family crest? ‘Creative business solutions since 1516’?”
“Actually, it’s ‘Fortune favors the bold,’” Rory says seriously. “But your version has a nice ring to it.”
The trees suddenly thin, and we emerge into a clearing that affords a view of the valley below. And there, nestled against a rocky hillside, stands Dragon Castle.
Even from this distance, I can see why it earned its name.
The structure sprawls across the landscape, its gray stone walls following the contours of the hill, resembling a sleeping dragon.
Two towers rise like horns from what would be the dragon’s head, and a long wing stretches out like a tail along the ridge.
“Wow,” I breathe, genuinely impressed. “That’s...”
“Creepy as hell?” Kane suggests.
“I was going to say ‘impressive,’ but creepy works too.”
Rory slows the car as we begin the descent into the valley. “Declan and the others should be approaching from the other side. We’ll meet at the main gate.”
“Is there anyone living nearby?” I ask, noticing the complete absence of other buildings in the valley.
“Not anymore,” Rory says grimly. “The nearest village is about five miles away, open space from here to there. During the Troubles, this whole area was essentially abandoned.”
“Perfect place to hide someone you don’t want found,” Kane murmurs, staring at the castle with an intensity that makes me wonder what he’s thinking.
As we get closer, the castle looks even more imposing.
Parts of it are clearly in disrepair—a section of roof missing here, a collapsed wall there—but the main structure remains intact, a testament to the builders’ skill.
The stone is darker than I expected, almost black in places, giving the whole place an ominous air that’s enhanced by the gathering twilight.
Rory pulls up to a set of ornate iron gates, their design featuring intertwined dragons with ruby-red glass eyes that catch what little light remains. Beyond the gates, a cobblestone drive leads to the castle’s main entrance.
“Those are new,” Kane observes, pointing to a heavy chain and padlock securing the gates.
“Not that new,” Rory counters, examining the lock. “There’s rust on the chain. Been here a while.”
Kane gets out of the car, and I follow, eager to stretch my legs after the long drive. The air is cold and damp, carrying the earthy scent of moss and decaying leaves. In the distance, I hear the faint call of birds settling in for the night.
“They’re here,” Rory announces, nodding toward a pair of headlights approaching from the other side of the valley.
We wait as the second car pulls up beside ours. Declan emerges first, followed by Wren and Kat. They all look tense, especially Declan, whose jaw is set in a hard line.
“Any problems?” he asks Rory.
“None. Road was clear the whole way. What happened to that tail?”
“We took care of them,” Declan nods, then turns his attention to the gates, looking at the chains. “These weren’t in the photos I found of this place.”
“Someone’s been maintaining the property,” Wren observes, running her hand along the ironwork. “These gates have been repainted within the last few years.”
“So much for being abandoned,” Kane mutters.
Declan examines the lock, then pulls something from his pocket—a small leather case containing what look like lock picks.
“You know how to use those?” I ask, surprised.
He gives me a look that makes me feel incredibly naive. “Of course.”
As Declan works on the lock, I move closer to Kane, who’s staring at the castle with an unreadable expression.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly.
He starts slightly, as if pulled from deep thought. “Yeah. Just... processing.”
“Second thoughts?”
He shakes his head. “No. But standing here, looking at a place that’s been in my family for centuries—a family I didn’t know was mine until the other day — it’s a lot.”
“I can imagine,” I say, though in truth, I can’t. My family drama, painful as it is, seems straightforward compared to the MacGallan complications.
“Got it,” Declan announces as the lock springs open with a click.
He removes the chain, and Rory helps him push the heavy gates inward. They swing open with a haunting creak that echoes across the valley.
“That’s not ominous at all,” Kat mutters as they yawn open.