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He quietly closes the trunk and comes up to me.
“What are those for?” I ask as I glance down at his weapons. I know I’m not supposed to talk, but I have to know.
If he was planning on killing me, he wouldn’t need all of that.
So, what is he planning on killing in there?
“Nothing,” he mumbles as he surveys the castle.
I swallow hard. “That’s a lot of pointy things for nothing.”
He rolls his eyes. “It’s just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“In case the old myths are true.”
I feel my blood start to go cold. I want to get back in the Jeep and get out of here, but he grabs onto my bicep with a firm grip. I let out an involuntary squeak as he starts pulling me toward the castle.
Dustin creeps past the main entrance and pulls me around the exterior stone wall. I can’t help but drag my fingers along it, loving the feel of the cool stone.
The dry leaves are crunchy under my feet, but seem to be silent under his. At least six times, he turns back with a snarl and tells me to be quiet.
I’m seriously thinking about running into the forest and risking an arrow in the back when Dustin stops at a random place in the stone wall.
He looks it over for a minute and then grabs ahold of a dark stone. He pulls it and a secret door appears out of the wall. With a groan, it slides open.
“Wow,” I say as I stare in amazement. That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.
Dustin grabs my arm and pushes me inside. I was so amazed that I forgot to be afraid, but the fear is back now, especially when he holds the cocked crossbow over my shoulder and points it into the darkness.
He pushes me down the long pitch-black corridor, using me as a human shield until we emerge behind a large rug that’s hanging on the wall. We slide out from behind it and I gasp when I see the enormous room. It’s incredible with high vaulted ceilings and thick wooden beams running across it. Three massive chandeliers each the size of a swimming pool hang down in the ballroom and I can’t help but imagine what they would look like when they’re all lit up.
There must have been fabulous parties with hundreds of guests in this room. I can picture them dancing below the beautiful paintings that still hang on the walls.
“Keep moving,” Dustin whispers harshly from behind me. He’s got a wooden arrow cocked in the crossbow and I gulp as I look at how sharp the wooden point is.
“We’re not here to study castles are we?” I whisper.
His grip on my arm tightens. “No. We’re not.”
There’s one supporting beam in the middle of the vast room and he pushes me straight to it.
I’m terrified now and things are moving too fast for me to process. He slings the crossbow over his shoulder and then pulls out a roll of duct tape. He tapes up my wrists and then ties me to the post with a thick rope.
“Please don’t do this,” I plead with him. “Please. I just wanted a job. I don’t want this.”
He yanks one more piece off the roll of silver duct tape and then rips it off with his teeth.
“No, don’t. Pl—”
My voice turns into a murmur as he places it over my lips.
I’m pleading to him with my eyes, but he doesn’t care. He just looks up the intricately carved post that I’m now tied to and then at the wooden beams along the ceiling.
“Mmnnmnn mnngghm nnmr,” I say to him as he takes a step back and then leaps onto the post. I watch in shock as he climbs up it as agile and graceful as a wild cat.
He gets to the wooden beam and then sprints along it until he’s beside the wall.
My eyes are wide and full of disbelief as he crouches down and points the crossbow at me.
I squeeze them shut and hold my breath, expecting an arrow to sink into my body, but it never comes.
With a breath of relief, I open my eyes and see him surveying the room as he points the arrow at me.
Okay, the arrow is not for me…
…but then, who or what is it for?
Chapter Two
Roderic
I sit back and sigh as I read Voltaire’s Candide in the library. I still remember reading it when it first came out in 1759. I was a young boy of only seventeen years old. Warm blood ran through my veins back then. Before I was turned. Before I joined the walking undead.
I’ve read it at least a dozen times over the past couple of centuries, and I’ll probably read it another dozen times by the time my bones turn to dust… whenever that will be.
