Chapter Five
How complicated was it to find a hidden latch in a room overrun with vertical planks with a gazillion beaded grooves?
Isaac had been searching for an entire hour with no luck.
For once, he wasn’t planning an escape, not outside the castle.
He just wanted a back way to the kitchen.
Marcus would bring him what he wanted, but Isaac wanted to see what was in their cupboards, and if he didn’t get out of this room, he might go stir-crazy.
Isaac was used to working, to freedom, to feeling the sun on his face.
Not trapped in a bedroom inside a gothic castle that didn’t even have a television.
Who didn’t have a television in every room of their home these days?
Unheard of. If he was in forced confinement, Isaac wanted to rot his brain and fill up on as many empty calories as possible, damn it.
Isaac’s fingers traced yet another groove, pressing and prodding at wood that refused to do anything except be wood.
Maybe there wasn’t a secret passage in this room.
Maybe Whichello had specifically chosen quarters that lacked an escape route because the demon wasn’t as trusting as he pretended to be.
Stay put. Just stay in the room like a good little prisoner and wait for someone to bring you food like you’re five years old.
But staying put meant staring at walls until his brain started melting out of his ears. Already he’d counted the ceiling beams twice, organized the books on the shelf by color, then by size, then alphabetically because, apparently, he’d lost his mind somewhere between lunch and dinner.
This is what happens when you promise not to run. You turn into a restless raccoon with nothing to tear apart.
Another panel. Another disappointment. Isaac’s palm slapped against the wall with more force than necessary, frustration building like pressure in a sealed container.
He wasn’t looking for an escape route. Not really.
Just wanted to raid the kitchen, maybe find some cookies or chips or anything that didn’t taste like loneliness.
You’re making excuses to leave. You know that, right?
Isaac paused, hand still pressed against the wall.
Yeah, he knew. Knew he was manufacturing reasons to wander the castle when he’d promised to stay put.
Knew the smart thing was to wait for Marcus to bring him whatever he needed.
Knew that wandering around a demon castle after nearly being assaulted was possibly the worst idea he’d had all week, and that was saying something considering the week he’d been having.
But the walls of this room pressed in like they were breathing, getting closer every time he blinked. Beautiful as the quarters were, they still functioned as a cage, and Isaac had spent too many years in cages of various kinds to feel comfortable in another one.
Just stay here. Read a book. Take a nap. Do literally anything that doesn't involve sneaking through passages like you’re starring in your own terrible horror movie.
His fingers drummed against the wall panel, a nervous rhythm that matched the argument happening inside his skull.
The rational part of his brain laid out excellent points about safety and promises and not being stupid.
The other part, the one that had spent sixteen months running from everything and everyone, couldn’t sit still for another second.
I’m losing it. Officially. Completely. There should be a certificate for this level of cabin fever.
Another panel yielded nothing. Neither did the next three. Isaac worked his way around the room methodically, pressing every section of wall that looked even slightly suspicious, which turned out to be most of them because gothic castle design apparently required maximum suspicion levels.
His shoulder bumped against a decorative sconce, and something clicked.
The sound echoed through the room, mechanical and final, like a lock disengaging. Isaac froze, staring at the wall section that had just swung inward a fraction of an inch. A thin line of darkness appeared where solid wood had been moments before.
Well. That was not supposed to happen.
He’d been looking for a passage, sure, but finding one felt different than expecting to find one. Now that it gaped open in front of him like a mouth waiting to swallow him whole, the kitchen expedition seemed significantly less appealing.
Go back to bed. Pretend you didn’t find this. Wait for Marcus like a sensible person who values their continued existence.
Isaac’s hand reached for the gap before his brain finished that thought. The wood felt cool under his palm as he pulled it wider, revealing darkness that smelled like dust and age and secrets nobody wanted found.
His phone. Right. Probably shouldn’t venture into creepy passages without a light source unless he wanted to star in a cautionary tale. Isaac patted his pockets, relief flooding through him when his fingers closed around the familiar rectangle.
Twenty percent battery. Because apparently the universe had decided he couldn’t have nice things like a fully charged phone when he needed it most.
Better than nothing. Probably. Maybe.
He pulled up the flashlight function, the beam cutting through darkness that seemed to eat light rather than reflect it.
Every logical thought screamed at him to close the panel and walk away, to pretend he’d never found this passage and stick to his promise like someone with functional survival instincts.
But his feet carried him forward anyway, crossing the threshold into the passage like they’d already won an argument his brain hadn’t finished having.
A small huff escaped his lips, the sound somewhere between resignation and dark amusement.
Negotiating with fate never worked in his favor, but here he was, trying anyway.
Cool air wrapped around him as he stepped fully into the passage. Behind him, the panel remained open, a rectangle of warm light that grew smaller as he moved deeper into the darkness. Should probably close it. Should definitely close it. Didn’t close it.
Brilliant. Now anyone who walks into your room will know exactly where you went.
The passage stretched ahead, narrow enough that Isaac’s shoulders nearly brushed both walls.
Cobwebs draped across the ceiling like tattered curtains, and his phone's light caught on dust particles that swirled in lazy patterns. Each step forward felt like a commitment to a choice he hadn’t fully thought through, which pretty much summarized his entire life if he was being honest.
Wish I had breadcrumbs or something. String. Chalk. Literally any method of finding my way back that doesn't rely on my terrible sense of direction.
Another turn appeared ahead, the passage branching left and right with no helpful signs indicating which led to the kitchen and which led to certain doom.
Isaac went left because right felt too obvious, which was possibly the worst logic he’d ever employed, but his brain had apparently clocked out for the evening.
Should’ve thought this through better. Should’ve asked Marcus about passage locations. Should’ve done a lot of things that weren’t stumbling around in the dark hoping for the best.
Something creaked above him, the sound of old wood settling or maybe something else entirely. Isaac’s steps slowed, his ears straining to identify the source. Probably nothing. Old buildings made noise. That was normal. Totally normal.
Another sound, closer this time. Footsteps?
His own breathing seemed too loud in the confined space, each exhale echoing off stone walls in a way that made him hyper-aware of every bodily function he’d normally ignore.
Heartbeat pulsing in his ears. Lungs expanding and contracting.
Blood rushing through veins that felt too close to the surface.
Just your imagination. Just old wood and bad acoustics and an overactive stress response from the worst day of your life.
But his body didn’t believe that reassurance. Every muscle pulled tight, ready to bolt or freeze or do whatever panicked prey did when cornered in dark passages. The footsteps came again, definitely not his imagination this time, echoing from somewhere behind him.
Isaac spun around, phone light swinging wildly across walls and ceiling and absolutely nothing that should’ve been making footsteps. Empty passage stretched in both directions, no movement except particles of dust dancing in his phone’s beam.
His hands started trembling, making the light bounce erratically. Get it together. You’re fine. Nothing's there. You’re just freaking out because of earlier, and that’s completely understandable, but you need to breathe.
Breathing felt impossible. His lungs forgot their function, pulling in air that didn’t seem to contain enough oxygen. Each inhale was too shallow and fast, one coming quicker than the last until black spots appeared at the edges of his vision.
Not now. Not here. You cannot have a panic attack in a secret passage.
But his body had other plans, engaging full catastrophic thinking mode with enthusiasm. What if Dimitri had escaped? What if there were other demons like him wandering these passages? What if Isaac had just trapped himself in the worst possible location with no witnesses and no way out?
The walls pressed closer, or maybe that was his vision narrowing, everything tunneling down to the small circle of light from his phone. His free hand braced against the wall for balance as his knees threatened to give out entirely.
Whichello. The thought came unbidden, irrational, completely unhelpful. Where was the demon now? Probably brooding in his office while Isaac lost his mind in the dark like this was some kind of poetic justice for the time he’d run away.