Chapter Eighteen
The next morning Redford reached for the bedroom door handle, ready to start the day with coffee and whatever new revelation the castle decided to throw at them. The handle turned, but the door didn’t budge.
He tried again, putting his shoulder into it, but it wouldn’t move.
“Problem?” Damon’s voice was sleep-rough behind him.
“The door won’t open.” Redford stepped back, examining the wood and then the stones around the framework, trying to understand what was happening. The castle’s awareness brushed against his consciousness as if playing tag – you’re it.
“You’re joking.” Redford pressed his hands against the wood. “Are you playing with us?”
“Who the heck are you talking to?” Damon joined him, dressed only in sleep pants that hung low on his hips.
“The castle.” Redford tried the handle again but still nothing. “I think it’s locked us in.”
Damon’s hellhound surged forward, his eyes flashing red. He gripped the handle and pulled hard enough that the wood groaned in protest, but the door remained sealed as if the frame had fused together.
“Well.” Damon released the handle. “That’s new.”
“It doesn’t feel malicious.” Redford kept his palms against the doorframe, sensing the stone beyond it. “More like...curious? Or maybe it’s observing us?”
“Great.” Damon went back and flopped onto the bed. “We’ve awakened a voyeuristic castle.”
Despite really wanting that coffee, Redford laughed. “I don’t think it works that way.”
“Then what does it want?”
Redford had no idea. Between them, they tried everything – force on the door, trying to get out the window, and Damon tried to translocate. That last one was particularly interesting, as Damon reported hitting an invisible barrier the moment he tried to shift through space.
“It’s keeping us here,” Damon said, pacing now. His hellhound was alert but not alarmed, which Redford took as a good sign. “It would be helpful if we knew why the castle was doing this.”
An hour later, just as Redford was considering whether gargoyle claws could carve through the oak, the door swung open on its own. No warning – it was just locked one minute and open the next.
Damon stared at it. “What changed?”
“I’ve got no idea.” But Redford felt something like...satisfaction? As if the castle had learned what it wanted to know.
They headed to the kitchen, both wary of what else might happen. Redford reached for the coffee maker just as it turned on by itself, the water already heating.
Damon stopped mid-step. “Did you…”
“No.”
They watched the machine gurgle to life, brewing coffee neither of them had prepared.
“Well, that’s helpful,” Damon said slowly. “But also deeply weird. We probably wouldn’t want that to happen if we had visitors.”
It wasn’t just the coffee machine. The fire in the hearth flared higher without either of them touching it, chasing away the morning chill.
And there, on the kitchen table where Redford had searched yesterday without success, sat the leather-bound journal documenting the sanctuary’s early operations.
Redford picked it up, flipping to the page he’d wanted. “I looked for this for twenty minutes and couldn’t find it.”
“The castle brought it to you.” Damon poured coffee with hands that weren’t quite steady. “It’s anticipating what we need.”
“Or trying to be useful.” Redford sat, cradling the warm mug. He got the impression Damon was both uncertain and fascinated. “What does your hellhound think?”
Damon closed his eyes, clearly checking in with his beast. “Alert, watchful, but not seeing any threat. The only thing that confuses us is that hellhounds are immune to all magic, and yet I couldn’t translocate out of our bedroom. I’m not sure how that happened.”
“Maybe the castle knew you didn’t really want to go,” Redford teased.
They spent the morning studying the papers Damon had collected from the crystal room.
It was slow going, as every passage had to be translated and a lot of it was written using terms that hadn’t been heard for centuries.
As they worked, they were both conscious of the castle watching them, while keeping the fire well stoked and the coffee pot full.
It was almost domestic, if Redford ignored the fact it was a semi-sentient magical fortress providing the comfort.
After a late brunch, they headed to the castle to meet Malcolm. The contractor was already at the west wing, consulting with Gordon who’d come to sign off the final structural assessments.
“It’s the strangest thing,” Malcolm was saying when they approached. “I’ve been having odd luck all morning. Needed my level, and it just appeared on the scaffolding where I was working. I could’ve sworn I left it in the truck.”
“Probably misremembered,” Gordon said, but he was frowning at the wall he’d been examining. “Though I’ll admit, this section we were worried about? It’s stable now. I would’ve bet money it needed reinforcement, but the mortar’s solid.”
Redford caught Damon’s eye and winked.
“The old girl’s helping out.” Malcolm patted the stone wall affectionately. “She knows we’re trying to fix her up proper.”
Gordon laughed, shaking his head. “You’re getting sentimental in your old age, Mal.”
“Maybe.” Malcolm’s expression was thoughtful as he gazed up at the tower. “Or maybe she appreciates the attention after being neglected for so long.”
After Malcolm and Gordon left to check another section, Damon leaned close. “The castle is helping them, too, making the work easier for them.”
“Checking us out,” Redford murmured. “Seeing if we’re serious about restoration and reopening the sanctuary, perhaps.” He touched the stone, feeling that vast awareness stirring beneath the surface. “It’s been abandoned for a long time. Maybe it just needs to know we’re different.”
“Well.” Damon’s hand covered his. “I guess we’d better prove ourselves worthy then.”
Moira Campbell arrived precisely at two o’clock, her silver SUV crunching up the gravel drive. The Highland Pack Alpha emerged looking every inch the authority figure - tall, red-haired, with a presence that commanded respect simply by existing.
“Redford. Damon.” She shook their hands, her grip firm. “Thank you for meeting with me again.”
“We’re glad you reached out,” Redford said. “Let us show you what we’ve completed so far.”
They led her through the west wing, pointing out the reinforced structure and all the updated utilities. Malcolm’s crew had done exceptional work, and the space felt welcoming.
Moira examined everything with a critical eye, asking pointed questions about security and what kind of protections were in place. Redford answered honestly, laying out their current capabilities and limitations.
“We’re not trying to become a fortress,” Damon explained.
“But we can offer discretion and distance from major cities. The people in the closest village are friendly and are genuinely happy to see people working on the castle again. As far as worries about tourists, I don’t think that will be a problem.
People with no attachment to this area tend to forget this place exists unless they’re specifically looking for it. ”
“That’s invaluable.” Moira paused by a window overlooking the Highlands.
“I have two residents who need sanctuary urgently. A young fox shifter named Finn - he’s seventeen - and his older sister Kara, who’s twenty-two.
They were filmed mid-shift by hikers three weeks ago.
The footage went viral before they could stop it.
Now they’ve got amateur ‘investigators’ tracking them, trying to prove paranormals exist.”
“How immediate is the danger?” Redford had already decided he’d help where they could.
“They’re at my packhouse now, but the attention is getting worse.
Someone posted their last known location online yesterday.
We’ve had humans showing up at the property line with cameras.
” Moira’s jaw tightened. “They’re terrified - Finn especially.
He’s just a kid who lost control of his shift at the wrong moment. ”
“We have the space,” Damon said immediately. “They can come here, tomorrow, if needed.”
“I’d need to see the accommodations first.” Moira’s tone was apologetic but firm. “I won’t place them somewhere inadequate, and a lot of this castle is still a construction zone.”
“Of course.” Redford gestured down the corridor. “The residential section is this way. We’ve prepared several rooms…”
He stopped, unable to believe his eyes. The door at the end of the hall, the one that had been closed because Malcolm’s crew hadn’t finished the rooms behind it yet, stood open.
“That wasn’t...” Damon’s voice trailed off.
Redford approached slowly, stepping into what was now a finished space.
In fact, not just finished, it was beautifully prepared.
There were two adjoining bedrooms, each with its own small sitting area filled with furniture that looked original to the castle but freshly restored.
“Someone” had even made sure there were linens on the beds and curtains at the windows.
There was a fully functioning bathroom between them with modern fixtures that somehow integrated seamlessly with the ancient stones.
In other words, it was exactly the type of space that Finn and Kara would need.
“What’s going on here? You couldn’t have known about Finn and Kara.” Moira stood in the doorway, staring. “But this…did you prepare this specifically for them?”
“No.” Redford met her gaze steadily. “We didn’t even know this section was accessible yet. It was supposed to be closed off until the crew finished renovations.”
“Then how…” Moira walked inside, pressing her hand on the beds to check the mattresses and even peering under the bed frames. “What’s happening here, Redford? I can sense something going on, but I have no idea what it is.”
Wolf shifters could also smell lies, and despite his reluctance to say anything, Redford wouldn’t have lied. If Moira was going to trust them with vulnerable pack members, she deserved the truth.