The room he keeps mentioning isnotAtticus’s bedroom. As he stroked me to completion, I was informed about a hidden door in the chapel on the first floor. Apparently, it’s behind a red banner.
“Uh, alright,” I murmur.
Suddenly, a cool hand is wrapped around my neck, and he brings my forehead to his.
“You will do wonderful,corculum.Get the book and meet me. I will do the rest,” My Atticus assures me.
A long, slow breath leaves me. “Got it. See you then.”
Walking into Chastain Castle through the front entrance is intimidating. The grand staircase sits daunting in the dark space, and I can hear the ticking of a grandfather clock in the distance.
The day we broke in with Julian, he left us in a hallway alone as he went to talk with Atlas. Not long after, Atticus came out, glaring and full of rage.
The memory itself is shitty, but it does benefit me now. I knowexactlywhere Atticus’s room is, and it takes me no time at all to fumble my way through the dark gothic castle—as silently as possible—until I’m standing just outside.
I take another full breath, preparing myself to see him. Knowing that the man currently sitting in the car is not truly Atticus does not make it easier to face him.Now, as I stand here in fear, I know I’m about to see the real thing: Atticus Chastain in all of his glory.
I hope he sleeps naked.
Pushing the door open as quickly as possible, I slip inside, cracking it behind me for an easy escape.
My Atticus said the book will be in a drawer, and I truly only see two options right off the bat. The dresser and the nightstand.
What I don’t see, though, is Atticus. Where the fuck is he? Is he atsomeone else’shouse? Downstairs getting a drink? Maybe in the west tower with Julian and Atlas, having a late-night snack?
There is no time to dwell; I could be caught at any second.
I check the nightstand first, only finding a container of earplugs and a stray charger. No book.
Moving to the dresser, I slide open the top drawer, riffling through the briefs and socks. I’m half tempted to snag one, maybe give it a sniff, but then I see it.
TheBlack Book. It’s bound in leather, cracked with time, and has its Latin name on the cover. Whatever is so special about this book, I’m unsure—but I do recognize it.
Julian had it the day we snuck in here so many months ago. What did he say about it? Atlas was cursed or something?
I just remember it sounding crazy, and Cassie and I never really talked about it again. I figured it was a personal matter, something out of my realm of understanding.
But now there is a doppelganger who looks just like the man I love, and I’m starting to think maybe Atlaswascursed. All I know is that whatever this book does, whatever it holds, will ensure I’m never alone again.
I snatch it up, smoothing the clothes that were around it and heading back for the door.
All I was given about thisroomI must find next is that it is on the first floor, in the chapel, so I search the lower hallways with quiet steps, doing my best not to alert anyone. I know it can’t be behind the door that leads to the kitchen, but other than that, I know nothing.
The first floor has four hallways and several rooms, all of which are mostly unknown to me. Yellow-tinted light normally illuminated the space—I saw this at Atlas’s birthday party—but it is dishearteningly dark now.
As I’m searching the back hallway on the right side of the estate, I hear voices.
“He’swhat?”Julian gasps.
“Oh, no,” a gentle female voice interjects.
“Missing!” Who I believe is Atlas rushes out. “I just checked his room, and he wasn’t there!”
Fear thunders through me as I slip into the first room available to me, shutting the door quietly. Taking deep, measured breaths, I slump against the wall.
Holy shit! This is the chapel!
Several pews occupy most of the space, with a creepy statue of Jesus on a cross behind a podium at the back center. A red carpet runs up the middle of the pews, and a table full of unlit candles sits to the right.
