CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Rain beat against the cool glass as I stared out the window from my bedchamber, mimicking the steady pounding of my heart. I twisted the note between my fingers that Lucien had left beside my bed, where my dagger no longer rested, resisting the urge to call him to me.
The letter was vague, no doubt in case Serena could somehow see it. Even though my bedchamber was warded, it was probably for the best and it hadn’t taken me long to decipher it.
Even so, dread filled within me. Why did she want him to take the dagger? There was only one purpose I could think of and the thought made my heart stutter.
I sighed, tucking the note into my pocket before turning away from the window. I hesitated, staring at my haphazardly packed satchel.
I was supposed to leave. That was the plan. But something felt… wrong.
“Please Lucien,” I whispered, hoping he could still hear me one last time. “You better come.”
Striding toward my pillow where I kept the bones safely nestled under my pillow. I shoved them into my pocket before stuffing the last of my belongings into my bag and slinging it over my shoulder.
I moved through the castle silently, blending in with the spirits, restlessly, yet invisibly shifting around me.
They still refused to allow me to see or speak to them, aside from the few times Portia had come to us, but I understood now.
Serena was terrifying and while I had no idea how much control she had over the spirits here, it wouldn’t surprise me if she could reach out and harm them if she wanted to.
My hand reached out, brushing the wall out of habit, grounding myself against the darkness. Slowly, cautiously, I made my way through the corridor toward the front entrance of the castle. I turned, my feet… or perhaps my magic pulled me to him.
Lucien’s portrait hung at the far end, its canvas dim in the faint lighting filtering in through the windows. I moved down the hall, closer, each footstep echoing like a drumbeat in my ears. And then I stopped.
A gasp caught in my throat.
So much of the painting was gone now. Nearly all of it, stripped away by the curse like pages torn from a book. Only a sliver of him remained—one sharp cheekbone, the corner of his mouth, and one hauntingly dark eye. It was still beautiful, still him.
I reached for the frame, fingers curling around the edge, as if I could keep it from fading by simply holding on. But even as I stood there, I could see it, feel it unraveling.
My leather satchel slipped from my shoulder, tears blurring my eyes as it thudded to the ground.
No.
The plan, the one we had so carefully constructed in the void the night before, was destroyed. Lucien was fading too fast and in my heart, I knew I wouldn’t be able to summon him to me.
Perhaps he had known that too.
”I’m going to save you,” I whispered. My voice broke. “Even if you never forgive me.”
The eye on the canvas seemed to watch me, scold me. I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead to the gilded edge of the frame for just a moment. Long enough to draw strength. Then I straightened and turned away.
The castle groaned around me, walls rippled, and doors shifted, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t care. I kept moving. I moved further into the castle, ignoring distractions before finally reaching the corridors leading to the south tower.
The only place in the castle we had never been able to search. The one and only time we had tried, I’d been knocked unconscious before we even made it to the tower.
The air felt different here this time, less oppressive, fresher, almost as if the curse simply hadn’t touched the space. The bitter gloom that had followed me through the castle seemed to dissipate, replaced by a strange calmness that made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.
Most of the rooms I passed were sparsely furnished, remnants of what had once been a lively home, others were completely empty. Dust motes drifted lazily through the air, like forgotten memories waiting to be disturbed.
I’d made it through the labyrinth of halls, coming up with nothing once again. I nearly lost hope by the time I reached the heavy oak door leading into the tower.
I reached out cautiously, glancing over my shoulder before trying the rusted knob.
Locked.
No matter how many times I tried, the lock didn’t budge.
I groaned inwardly, feeling defeat. Then I remembered. The key Lady Hathaway had given me was in my bag. She had said the key would open any door…
But my bag was still sitting in the hallway by Lucien’s painting.
Turning on my heels, I started to walk back the way I came. My gut telling me something important was beyond that door.
As soon as I stepped out of the south wing, however, a sudden gust of foul air curled around me, thick with the stench of rotting decay.
I gagged, pressing a hand over my mouth, my eyes watering as I stumbled back a step.
The scent didn’t fade, it deepened, like something long dead had just awakened.
A low hiss echoed through the corridor.
I turned toward the sound, only to freeze in place as the shadows along the walls began to move, slithering and writhing like oil slicks come alive. They bled together in unnatural ways, stretching, shaping themselves into forms that defied reason.
Figures emerged from the blackness. Grotesque and nightmarish, with twisted limbs, hollow eyes, and mouths that gaped too wide, as if silently screaming.
They dragged themselves forward, clawing over the stone floor in jerky, spasmodic movements.
One of them clicked as it moved, the sound like bone scraping bone.
“Damn it,” I whispered, panic sparking to life in my chest.
I called forth my magic with a flick of my wrist, the warm blue light comforting in my hand even if it wouldn’t do much. My heart pounded against my ribs as I took a cautious step back. The creatures had surrounded the hall, blocking the path back to my room.
“Not today,” I muttered, then I turned and bolted.
The castle seemed to react, groaning low, shifting under my feet.
Doorways moved. Hallways elongated. As I ran, staircases twisted in impossible directions, floors tilted, and windows slammed shut before I could reach them.
It was as though the castle had been stirred awake by my discovery, and now it wanted to trap me inside it.
She knew I was close.
Behind me, I heard them giving chase. Heavy, wet thumps.
Clicking claws. A screech that sliced straight through me.
I darted through an open corridor only for the door behind me to vanish.
I spun right, then left, rushing through a sitting room that bled into a music parlor, its grand piano playing a single discordant note as I passed.
I jumped over a velvet chair that hadn’t been there a second ago, slipped on a rug that tried to drag me down, and kept running.
I glanced over my shoulder—still there. All of them. And closer.
A mirror on the wall cracked as I passed, my reflection snarling back at me before it shattered entirely.
This wasn’t just a chase. It was a hunt.
And I was the prey.
I pressed forward, deeper into the castle’s warped heart, though every turn felt more like a descent into madness.
I had no idea where I was anymore, what wing, what floor, even what direction I was facing.
The castle shifted around me with gleeful malice, spinning halls in on themselves, turning familiar corridors into spirals that led me nowhere .
I stumbled through a narrow archway that hadn’t been there a moment ago, only for it to vanish the instant I passed beneath it.
The stairs before me twisted sharply, turning upward and then downward in the blink of an eye, steps folding in on themselves like a cruel puzzle.
I reached for the banister…gone. Another staircase to my left appeared and disappeared before I could so much as set foot on it.
“Stop it!” I shouted, voice echoing wildly off the stone. “Damn you, Serena! I’m not playing your game!”
The walls groaned in answer, warping, closing in on me like a tightening throat. The air grew thick with the scent of damp earth and old magic. And then the stone cracked.
Dark, thorny vines burst through the walls, snaking out in sharp, violent jerks, reaching for me with needle-tipped fingers.
I spun, drawing my magic just in time as one lashed out toward my throat. The enchanted blue light met the vine mid-strike, slicing clean through it. The severed end writhed, curling in on itself before dissolving into a puff of shimmering hazy black smoke.
Another vine snapped toward my ankle. I leapt back, gritting my teeth, and drove my hand down, pushing my magic into it. More vines. More magic. More smoke. More shrieking groans from the walls.
They came faster after that. A dozen writhing limbs clawing through the stone, lunging, snapping, slithering.
I carved my way through them, each strike of my magic turning their monstrous forms to vapor.
My breath came in hard bursts, sweat dampening my brow as I fought, back to the wall, heart pounding against my ribs.
Exhaustion ate at my body. I was using too much magic, but what choice did I have?
“I’m not afraid of you,” I hissed between clenched teeth, sending more magic through another wave. “You’re not going to stop me. I will find him. I will break the curse. And you can rot in your twisted little tomb.”
I ran and ran some more. Heart pounding, breath ragged, blood still roaring in my ears. Every muscle in my body ached and a deep, throbbing headache surfaced in my temples.
It was too much. My magic was eating away at my energy.
My vision began to blur and a wave of dizziness swept over me.
The castle twisted and warped around me like a living nightmare… walls pulsing, archways closing behind me, corridors stretching impossibly long before snapping back in the blink of an eye.
I turned a corner, legs burning with exhaustion, and crashed hard into something solid. Something cold. Something dark .
I stumbled back, gasping—and froze.
A wraith loomed before me, taller than any creature I’d faced, its body cloaked in shifting shadows, black wings unfurling with a hiss of smoke.
They spread wide, impossibly wide, touching both sides of the narrow corridor, blotting out every sliver of light.
Its face was a horror, sunken, skeletal, with glowing ember eyes and jagged teeth like shattered glass.
Before I could react, it struck. A clawed hand clamped around my throat, lifting me off the ground.
I choked, kicking wildly. Its face pressed close to mine, and a forked tongue slithered across my cheek, tasting me, taunting me.
Its teeth scraped against my skin, leaving shallow cuts that burned like fire.
I gasped, panic rising, and with the last ounce of strength I had, I reached for my magic and slammed it into the creature’s chest.
Nothing happened.
The light sank in, but there was no shimmer of blue smoke, no shriek of pain. The wraith didn’t even flinch.
My magic was too weak. I was too exhausted.
A choked sob escaped my throat. I struggled, kicking, clawing, gasping for air, but it slammed me against the wall like a doll. My head cracked hard against the stone. A hot gush of blood spilled down my scalp, into my eyes, my mouth. The world spun.
Still, I tried to fight. I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop. But my limbs betrayed me, trembling, weakening, failing.
The wraith’s shadow swallowed me whole.
And then—Darkness.