Page 19

The path wound its way up to the castle and was hidden from view until we were almost upon it. At the crest of the hill, it finally emerged. The massive form was framed by surrounding trees. I couldn’t shake the confusion twisting my stomach.

Completely unsettled by the reality that I’d spent two years of my life here, I quickly glanced away. I turned my focus and looked up at the sky, where dark clouds still lingered. They teased, taunting me with the hint of what was to come.

But then, as if in a countermove, the clouds parted, and a ray of sunlight broke through. The rain stopped completely, and a brief surge of hope at the sight of the sun filled me. Pasha parked the car, and we sat in silence for several long minutes. Now that the sun shone, the rays washed over me, yet the warmth it should have provided was strikingly absent.

It was as if the sun itself knew the secrets of the house, and it refused to offer too much solace. It never did then, so why would it now? Pasha’s eyes were on me, and I turned to him. His expression was unreadable, but he took my hand.

His touch anchored me instantly. My heart raced. The photos we’d seen boasted of its former majestic structure, but all that remained were stone walls weathered by time and neglect. It loomed large before us. Vines crept up the sides like fingers desperately reaching for escape.

The front yard was in complete disarray. Tall grass swayed in the gentle breeze, and wildflowers dotted haphazardly among the weeds. There was a small path that led to the entrance, but it, too, was overgrown with moss and ivy. It was barely visible. Despite all of this, there was still a haunting beauty to the structure.

The castle itself was three stories high. From its perch atop the hill, it had panoramic views to the north and east. There was a retaining wall that continued along the steep hillside, and it curved across the north side of the castle.

“We doing this?” he finally asked.

“Yeah,” I answered.

I once more waited for him to open my door, and once he did, I fell into his arms. He rocked me back and forth.

“I don’t know if we should go through the front door or the hatch door in back.”

Pasha followed my gaze toward the looming structure before looking over his shoulder toward the rear of the property. I found myself studying him instead. His shoulders were set, and his jaw was tight.

A muscle near his cheek jumped once before he exhaled through his nose. The anger didn’t disappear completely, but it softened around the edges as he turned back toward me.

“The one she swears doesn’t exist?” he asked dryly.

A startled laugh escaped me. “Stop.”

I punched him in the arm, and the impact barely registered. If anything, it only made the corner of his mouth twitch.

“Choosing violence yet again?”

I rolled my eyes. “Front door. We’ll go that way. I can work my way to up to the back,” I said, stepping around him.

“Lead the way, princess.”

I walked toward the huge oak doors, hearing his footsteps behind me the whole way. It was the one solid thing I clung to. Each measured step echoed across the path, a reminder that I wasn’t alone.

His close, constant, and certain presence gave me confidence. It was small but precious. Together we climbed the wide stone staircase leading to the entrance. Despite the secrets within the walls of this place, it still had the ability to awe you.

Especially viewing it from the front. I stopped short. The oak doors stood nearly twice my shoulder height. Intricate carvings wound across the surface. For a moment, I simply stared.

A warm hand settled against the small of my back. “I’ve got you,” Pasha murmured.

My throat tightened. I nodded once before reaching into my pocket. Mrs. Hawthorne’s key felt surprisingly ordinary resting in my palm. The old lock resisted at first. The mechanism protested as I turned it. Finally, it gave way with a heavy click that echoed through the quiet afternoon.

Neither of us moved. Then I wrapped my fingers around the iron handle. The hinges complained the moment I pushed it open. A deep groan rolled through the entrance hall as the doors slowly parted, revealing darkness beyond.

Stale air drifted out immediately. It carried the scent of aged wood, stone, dust, and something else. My stomach twisted. The grand foyer stretched before us, frozen in time beneath a sweeping chandelier and twin staircases that curved toward the second floor like outstretched arms.

This was my former prison. The place where nightmare lived—the place that tried to kill us girls.

Fascinated by the dust swirling in the dim light that filtered through the windows, I tried to imagine the home before the Mask and Collector lived in it. Not surprisingly, I couldn’t. A shiver ran through me. The dampness from the earlier rain seemed to penetrate through my bones. I wrapped my arms around myself, struggling in the darkness to make out much.

Pasha felt along the wall, trying to find the light switch. Bea had informed us that the water and power were on at the property. The flicker of the switch being hit found my ears.

“Maybe the bulbs need replacing?” He shrugged when the light didn’t turn on. “Hold on a sec.”