Chapter 3
Kara
The shadows part as I materialize on the old estate grounds, my heart in my throat as adrenaline surges.
Pull yourself together, Kara.
I steady myself, taking in my surroundings. Ancient oaks loom overhead, their twisted branches casting strange patterns in the moonlight. The mansion rises before me like something from a nightmare – all sharp Gothic spires and weathered stone, its windows dark and watching.
I press my palm against the ground, sending out tendrils of magic to test the wards.
They’re strong – layers of protection spells woven together like a deadly web.
But I didn’t spend years mastering magical theory for nothing.
I find the weak point, a small flaw in the pattern, and carefully unravel just enough of the ward to slip through.
“This is insane,” I mutter to myself, even as I move forward.
“Absolutely insane.” But when I’d held Gran’s charm – the one she always wears – I’d felt something.
A pull. A connection I’ve never experienced before.
My tracking spells have always fizzled, yet somehow, I could pick something up today.
A trace of her. A series of images that strung together to form…
this. This towering monstrosity that looks like every vampire cliche I’ve ever heard of.
Bracing myself, I move toward the grand courtyard. The grounds show signs of recent activity – fresh tire tracks in the gravel, disturbed leaves near the side entrance. My stomach twists as I spot dark stains on the stone steps that could be blood.
Gran’s face flashes through my mind – her knowing smile when she caught me practicing spells late at night, her quiet strength as she guided me through complex rituals. The woman who never gave up on teaching me, even when I was ready to give up on myself.
I press closer to the shadow of a stone column as a sound drifts from somewhere above. The mansion’s facade seems to shift and writhe in the darkness, windows like hollow eyes staring down. Even the air feels wrong here – heavy with the residue of dark magic that makes my skin burn.
You should have waited for Mom and Dad…
I shake the thought from my head.
Gran is in there. I know it with a certainty that defies logic. And I’m getting her out, with or without anyone’s help.
A whispered incantation and a sweep of my hand create a shimmer in the air around me – my cloaking spell settling into place. It won’t fool a vampire’s enhanced senses for long, but it should buy me enough time to get inside.
The side entrance yields easily to my lock-breaking charm.
Too easily?
I pause, testing the air for traps, but detect nothing beyond the traces of dark magic that seem to permeate everything here.
Moonlight filters through tall windows, casting strange shadows across the marble floor of what appears to be some kind of entrance hall. My footsteps, though careful, echo slightly despite my best efforts. The air feels thick, almost oily against my skin.
Something glints near the base of a sweeping staircase.
I crouch down, my heart stuttering as I recognize Gran’s silver bracelet – the one with the charms like the bell I’d found in the garden.
My fingers brush the metal, and a jolt of energy surges through me.
Images flash: Gran being dragged up these stairs, her power flaring as she fights back.
The bracelet must have fallen during the struggle.
At least, I imagine that’s what happened. There’s something about the image that seems wrong somehow.
I close my eyes, focusing on the bracelet. The trace is faint but distinct – like a trail of breadcrumbs leading upward. Rising slowly, I begin to follow the trace, each step taking me deeper into the mansion’s oppressive darkness.
The trail leads me down a long corridor lined with rich tapestries. Their faded scenes depict brutal, bloody battles between vampires and witches.
Charming. Not.
I force myself to keep moving, tracking Gran’s essence as it grows stronger. Whatever they’ve done to dampen her powers, they haven’t managed to completely mask her presence.
The trail veers left, then right, taking me through what feels like a maze of interconnecting passages. Just when I think I’ve lost it, I catch another flash – stronger this time.
She’s close.
Gran… I have to force myself not to whisper out loud.
The silence is starting to get to me. My footsteps seem thunderous in the empty corridors. Where is everyone? I’ve been in this mansion for at least five minutes and haven’t seen a single vampire.
I pause at an intersection, letting my senses expand outward. The dark energy is still present, coating everything like grease, but there’s no immediate sense of movement or life. No whispered conversations, no footsteps, not even the subtle shift of air that usually betrays a vampire’s presence.
It’s a huge place. They could be anywhere.
I run my fingers along the ornate wall paneling. The mansion sprawls like a labyrinth – I’ve passed countless rooms and corridors. For all I know, there could be an entire army of vampires gathered in some grand hall on the other side of the building.
Still, something doesn’t feel right. My instincts are screaming that this is too easy. But Gran’s aura pulls me forward, growing stronger with each step. I can’t turn back now, not when I’m this close.
Focus on the task. Find Gran first, worry about everything else later.
The trail leads me up another flight of stairs, the smooth steps mercifully solid and silent under my feet. The second floor is just as deserted as the first, moonlight streaming through the windows to illuminate empty rooms and abandoned furniture draped in white sheets.
I try to convince myself this is a good thing. Maybe they’re all out hunting or at some pretentious vampire gathering. Better to find Gran with no one around than to fight my way through a horde of bloodsuckers.
But I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing something obvious. Even Lucien wouldn’t leave such a valuable prisoner completely unguarded…would he?
The magical signature pulses stronger now, drawing me toward a narrow door at the end of the hallway. My heart races as I detect Gran’s essence – it’s the strongest I’ve felt it since entering this place.
I press my palm against the weathered wood, reaching out psychically to check for traps or wards. Nothing. Just that same oily darkness that seems to coat everything in this place.
Taking a deep breath, I turn the handle.
The door swings open with a soft creak, revealing what appears to be a small closet.
Low light spills through a tiny window near the ceiling, illuminating bare walls and empty shelves.
But Gran’s presence is overwhelming here – like she’s been in this space recently.
I step inside, scanning every inch of the cramped space for clues. There has to be something, some hint of where they’ve taken her-
The sound of the door slamming shut behind me echoes like a gunshot in the confined space.
Shit!
I spin around, my heart leaping into my throat as darkness engulfs me. My hands find the door handle, but it won’t budge.
“No, no, no…” I yank harder, but the door remains firmly sealed.
My fingers scrabble across the door’s surface, searching for any weakness. Nothing. Just smooth, unyielding wood that seems to mock my efforts. The tiny window near the ceiling is barely bigger than my fist – no escape there.
Fine. If brute force won’t work, magic will. I gather my power, channeling it into a blast that should reduce the door to splinters. The energy surges through me, but when it hits the door…nothing. Not even a scratch.
“What the hell?” I try again, pouring more power into the spell. The magic just…dissipates, sizzling like water hitting hot stone, the strength leeched from it. My heart pounds faster as I realize none of my spells are working. The darkness feels thicker now, pressing against my skin.
Don’t panic. Think.
But the sense of being trapped is becoming overwhelming now. The walls feel like they’re pressing in on me, and I struggle to catch my breath. Until it occurs to me…
The walls…something’s wrong with the walls.
I press my palms against them, and my stomach drops. They’re moving. Slowly, inexorably, the room is getting narrower.
They literally are closing in on me.
“No.” The word comes out as a whisper. I’ve never been great with small spaces, and now the closet feels even smaller than before. I can barely stretch my arms out to either side.
I throw everything I have at the walls – binding spells, protection wards, raw magical force. Each spell seems to make the walls move faster, as if feeding off my power. The ceiling starts to lower, and real panic sets in.
“Stop!” I scream, hurling spell after spell at the shrinking space. But it only makes it worse. The walls are definitely closing in faster now, and I can feel the ceiling pressing down. The room that was barely big enough for a closet is now barely bigger than a coffin.
My breath comes in sharp gasps as claustrophobia claws at my chest. I can’t move, can barely think. The walls press closer, and my magic flares wildly, desperately, only to be absorbed by whatever dark force is controlling this trap.
God, you’re such an idiot, Kara!
Of course this was a trap. Whatever I felt – the echoes of Gran’s presence – was designed to lure me here. Gran isn’t in this place.
Only death is.
The walls pull closer, squeezing the air from my lungs, the room shrinking faster with frightening speed.
Oh, God. This is how I die.
The thought hits me with mind-numbing clarity. Alone in this trap, my power useless, slowly crushed to death in an unholy box that seems to be designed specifically to kill witches. The irony would be funny if I wasn’t about to become its latest victim.
Images flash through my mind – Mom’s face when they tell her they found my body, Dad trying to be strong while falling apart inside. Rowan… God, Rowan will blame herself for letting me go alone. And Gran… If she’s still alive, this will destroy her.
I should have waited. Should have listened. Should have…
The ceiling presses against my head now, forcing me to crouch.
Soon, I won’t even be able to do that. Pride wars with survival instinct as the space grows impossibly smaller.
I’ve never needed help before – I’m the strong one, the capable one.
The thought of crying out makes me want to scream in frustration.
But as the walls close in further, crushing me from all sides, pride loses to raw terror.
“Help!” The word tears from my throat. “Somebody help me!”
I don’t care anymore if it’s Lucien himself who answers – anything is better than this slow, agonizing death. “Please! I’m in here!”
There’s no response. Of course there isn’t. Why should there be? Anyone in this place is probably waiting for this exact thing to happen. The ceiling drops lower, forcing me to drop to the floor. Even flat on my belly now, I can feel the cold surface pressing against my back.
Oh, God! Oh, God!
I’m such a fucking fool. I’m going to be pulverized. The thought makes bile rise up my throat as I imagine the sound of my own shattering bones, my organs imploding.
I don’t want to die!
“Please!” I scream, the sound made ragged by my breath, which is becoming hard to draw in. “Somebody help me! Oh, God, please!”
The pressure begins to grow uncomfortable. In a matter of seconds, it will be unbearable. And then… And then-
The door suddenly flies open, flooding the tiny space with light.
A strong hand grasps my arm, yanking me from the death trap with supernatural speed. I shoot forward, gasping for air as I crash against a solid chest. The sound of grinding stone fills the air as the walls slam together behind me with unthinkable force.
“What part of ‘the time for hair-brained schemes is over’ didn’t you understand?” Marcus Nightshade’s voice is low and controlled, but I can hear the edge of anger beneath it.
Oh, great. It’s him.