Chapter 28
Wands Drawn
Brandon
The four of us stand before an iron-hinged door at the rear of the castle, where the ground dips and the flanking walls jut outward, casting us in shadow.
Lily-Anne casts a furtive glance back at the grounds, where a few people stroll.
Ellenor does not share her sister’s nervousness and eagerly tries the iron handle. “Locked,” she scowls, clicking her tongue.
“Not surprising,” Lily-Anne says. “It doesn’t look like it gets much use.”
I silently agree. The wood is swollen from damp, the hinges spotted with rust.
“Let’s return,” I say, and it’s not a suggestion.
Ellenor’s face falls in disappointment, but Lily-Anne appears relieved.
“Hold on—not so fast.” Jack grins, rummaging in his pocket. “I came prepared.”
He holds up a skeleton key with showman’s flair.
“Where did you get that?” Ellenor gasps.
“I got it during work experience years ago. Thought it looked cool, so I kept it.”
I stare. It comes as no surprise that Jack’s idea of not breaking in involves precisely that: breaking in—not with shattered glass, but with a key he was once entrusted with and failed to return.
Despite my careful optimism from a few weeks ago, I’m starting to fear that the reformed Jack I hoped for is rather similar to the old one.
Jack hands Ellenor the key. “Care to do the honours?”
She jumps at the opportunity, and if she weren’t already won over by Jack, she is now.
Click.
She throws us a grin before seizing the iron handle. The door still doesn’t budge.
She sighs. “It’s stuck.”
“Allow me,” Jack says. He grips the iron handle and shoves hard. The door gives way with a low, echoing groan that rolls into the darkness beyond.
“Creepy,” Ellenor breathes.
“I don’t think I want to go in,” Lily-Anne says suddenly.
“Still scared of the dark?” Ellenor teases. “Here—I’ve been dying to use this thing.”
She reaches into her bag and produces what appears to be a gnarled, polished stick.
“Wait—you actually brought a wand?” Lily-Anne asks.
“Of course. How else will I manage all the mischief that’s in need of managing?”
She raises the wand and presses a button. “Lumos!”
The tip lights up, casting a pale blue glow into the room beyond.
“Brilliant,” Willoughby says. “Where did you get it?”
“Online,” Ellenor says proudly. “Don’t worry, Lily, I got you one too.”
She digs out another wand, this one smoother in appearance. “Here.”
Lily-Anne takes it hesitantly. “I thought the wand chooses the wizard?”
“Yeah, but this one wasn’t picky.”
“Gee, thanks.” She raises her wand and presses the button.
Nothing happens.
“No batteries?” she asks Ellenor.
“Sorry. I forgot.”
Lily-Anne shrugs. “That’s okay. It’s still cool.”
As Ellenor prepares to lead the charge into the castle, I touch Lily-Anne’s arm.
“We can wait out here if you’d prefer not to go inside.”
“To be honest, I’m not sure if—”
“Don’t worry—we’ll be in and out in a jiffy,” Jack interrupts.
I fix him with a hard look. “Let her speak.”
He lifts his hands, unrepentant. “Sorry, Lil. I just don’t want you to miss out on the real, authentic Whitstable Castle. Not the guided-tour version.”
He’s talking. And he’s good at it.
Lily-Anne hovers, uncertain. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Neither do I,” I state.
“Come on,” Ellenor pleads to her sister. “Let’s have an adventure!”
“What if we’re caught?” Lily-Anne asks.
“I won’t let that happen,” Jack says solemnly. “But if we are, I’ll take full responsibility.”
“Will you, now?” I ask softly.
Were that true, I’d stand corrected: behold, a reformed Jack Willoughby.
He pretends not to hear me, and I tense as Nova’s voice floats from within the dark doorway.
“Do you see it now?”
I stare at the yawning entrance, the shadows whispering.
Lily-Anne’s voice pulls me back, eager and more confident. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
“That’s the spirit,” Jack says fondly, squeezing her shoulder.
“You’ll come too, won’t you?” she asks me, her tone hopeful.
Reluctance tugs at me. Every instinct says there’s more waiting inside than Jack’s games, but if Lily-Anne asks, I’ll go. Always.
“Yes. Of course.”
The air inside is stale and heavy with mould and old wood. The space resembles an abandoned cellar, the lower walls stained where floodwater once reached. Barrels and crates crowd the far end, along with dusty wine bottles stacked on long wooden shelves.
Lily-Anne drifts towards the nearest shelf, and I follow.
I raise my phone, its torch cutting a pale beam through darkness to illuminate dusty, coloured glass.
“Thanks. Are we pretending that’s a magical wand too?” she teases.
“Medieval torch, actually,” I reply. “Can’t you smell the pitch and burning animal fat?”
“Oh yes. Just lovely.”
We share a smile.
Her fingers skim the bottles, brushing dust from green and brown glass.
“These are beautiful,” she whispers. “Reminds me of the sea glass we’ve been collecting.”
“Oh?”
She glances sideways at me. “I noticed the kintsugi bowl on your patio is empty. Do you know where the sea glass went?”
I still.
“Did you move it?” she presses.
I could say I returned them to the sea, or emptied them in the garden, or that the wretched garden gnome—which I’ve failed to locate—took them, but I won’t lie to her.
I open my mouth, but I’m saved from answering as Jack bounds over, cutting between us.
“Hey,” he says, to Lily-Anne as she glances upward. “Can you hear that?”
We all tilt our heads to listen.
At first, it’s only faint. Then it gathers, threads of melody seeping down through stone and timber. Rich, swelling strings carry something beautiful yet unmistakably modern beneath their restraint.
Lily-Anne’s breath catches, her eyes astonished. “I know that song! It’s a Taylor Swift one.”
Jack groans. “Don’t tell me you’re a Swiftie.”
“I’m afraid she is,” Ellenor says.
Lily-Anne doesn’t rise to the bait. She’s already moving toward the metal staircase that leads to a door above us, drawn by the music. “It sounds like an orchestra.”
“Could be,” Willoughby says. “They do events here. Want to check it out?”
“An event would mean people in the castle,” I caution.
“True,” Lily-Anne murmurs, though she doesn’t look convinced. “But I’d love to hear it properly. We could be careful.”
“Extra careful,” Ellenor promises. “We’ll exercise constant vigilance.”
I know it even before Lily-Anne nods—there’s no stopping her now. Her nerves are overridden by something deeper than caution, her eyes alight with a quiet, determined curiosity.
A few minutes later, we’re in the castle proper, surrounded by rich oak panelling and elaborate plaster ceilings. The place is well lit, and a disappointed Ellenor mutters “Nox” and stows her wand. Thankfully, there’s not a soul in sight.
The music reaches us more clearly here, an orchestral swell rising somewhere ahead. It masks our footsteps but dulls our ability to hear anyone else who might be nearby.
Jack leads us through the corridors, and we peer around corners, sneaking forward as the music grows steadily louder.
“It’s coming from the Mallandain Room,” he says under his breath. “This way.”
Ahead of us, double doors stand ajar. The full weight of the orchestra pours through them now, along with the scrape of chairs and the low murmur of voices. I catch glimpses of instrument cases stacked near the walls. My skin prickles.
This is too close.
I’m about to halt us when Jack veers sideways, pulling us into an adjacent room no larger than a cubicle.
“A broom cupboard!” Ellenor whispers happily as she shuts the door, though it holds only a vacuum and floor scrubber.
“Should be safe enough to listen from here,” Willoughby says, teeth glinting in the dim light.
While I’m not keen on sharing such a cramped space with him, I’m suddenly glad to be here.
There’s something thrilling about hiding like this, listening as the orchestral arrangement seeps through the walls, strings lifting and folding over one another until my chest aches.
It takes me back to my college years, sneaking out with friends when consequences still felt distant.
More than that, I watch Lily-Anne. She’s completely still, eyes closed, her expression softening as the music washes over her.
Watching her like this, I feel it too—the nerves easing, the rules and risks slipping into the background, even my irritation with Jack momentarily forgotten.
We are somewhere we shouldn’t be, listening to something not meant for us.
Ellenor seems moved as well.
Jack…is on his phone.
I take the opportunity to lean close to Lily-Anne. “Do you miss it?” I ask softly. “Playing in the orchestra?”
She considers this for a moment, then she nods. “I do, actually.” A small pause. “But not enough to want to go back.”
Jack glances up from his phone.
“Nice arrangement,” he says, a little too casually. “Still doesn’t beat playing it live, though.”
There it is. Nudging her back towards the café.
“And plenty of cafés to do it in,” I say mildly.
“Yeah. But you want the right room for that kind of sound.”
“Or the right people.”
Lily-Anne’s gaze flicks from Jack to me, a small frown forming. Whatever she’s thinking about our quiet standoff she keeps to herself.
Not Ellenor, who elbows her lightly. “Merlin’s beard. This just got interesting.”
Jack glares at me. I hold his gaze without flinching.
He breaks eye contact first, his focus sliding back to his phone, retreat disguised as disinterest.
Only then do I register Lily-Anne watching me quietly. I turn, and for several heartbeats we hold each other’s attention.
Then, the final notes of music fade next door, breaking the spell.
Outside the cupboard, the musicians pack up in a commotion of murmured voices, instrument cases snapping shut and laughter echoing in the corridor. We don’t move until the sounds drift away and silence falls heavy.
Jack straightens and swings the door open with confidence.
“Alright, everyone. Follow me.”
I fall in behind him, saying nothing, content to let him put on his performance.