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“Olivia,” she corrected.
He cleared his throat. “It’s like people say, the something-something is in the journey, not the destination.”
She placed a hand on her hips. “The something-something?”
“I can’t remember. But yes!” His eyes settled on a wooden, square sign on the wall. “Ah, here we are.” He went over to it and Olivia joined him.
“It’s some kind of map.” He ran his hand through the engraved wood. “And . . . yes.” He turned around quickly, bumping into her shoulder. “Oh sorry, didn’t know you were so close behind me.”
Olivia rubbed her shoulder, a warm tingle burning inside her. “It’s fine. So do we know where the dungeon is now?”
He grinned. “Yes, we do.”
He led her down the hall until they got to a door that opened to a winding stairway. The stairway was narrow and undecorated, like it hadn’t been designed for the more distinguished members of the castle.
“These steps lead to the watchtower up there,” he said. “There is no time today, but we can check it out another time. It would be nice to see the surrounding area from up top.”
“Maybe.”
He laughed. “Eager to see the dungeon, eh?” he asked and started down the stairs.
There was no proper response to that, so she remained silent as she followed him down the steps. The walls were dry and dusty; they left dark stains on her palm when she touched them. Something crept over her hand and she gasped, shaking it off.
“Something wrong?” Christian asked.
Her eyes went to the tiny black creature. She exhaled. “Just a spider.”
The stairs led down to another narrow hallway, at the end of which was a metal door. It was locked. The rusted chains and lock looked ancient.
Christian scratched his head as he scanned the door. “No key. You’d think they would keep these places open. It’s not like they still keep people down there.” He turned to look at her, trying to hide a smile.
“Very funny,” Olivia said as she noticed a key hanging on a large nail in the wall beside them. She took the key and reached for the rusted lock, slid the key in, and opened it. Christian joined her to push the heavy gates open.
They stared down into a winding darkness. No torches or creepy flames lined the wall, just the ominous silence as the last echo of the door’s creak died.
“We could use our phones, or . . .” Christian walked over to one of the torches burning in the hallway and unhooked it, holding it high above his head. “Or we could use one of these fire hazards.”
“Seriously, why does the keeper keep these torches lit?”
“I bet he does it to make this place creepier,” Christian answered as they both stepped through the metal door. The flames from the torch crackled and wavered as Christian held it before them.
“You know what,” he said, and she looked at him, “I think our modern torches will be much better down here.”
“I think so too,” she agreed and stared into the darkness in that short moment it took him to replace the torch and come back with the more familiar white glare of a phone’s flashlight. Olivia’s heart started racing.I’m about to go down into a dungeon. A real dungeon!she thought incredulously and wondered if she should take pictures. Mindy might want to see them. Oh and Mr. Right. She smiled at the thought of Mr. Right, but her mind was soon back on the dungeon, wondering what must have happened down there all those years ago.
“Much better,” he said when he pointed the beam down the winding stairs. They moved silently, each step taking them lower and lower. They got to another gate—this time unlocked. Square metals with thick bars, not unlike the thin ones in modern jails.
“What if there’s skeletons down here?” Olivia said. Christian halted and turned to her, his face serious.
“That . . . would be . . . awesome,” he beamed.
There were no skeletons or dried-up bones, but the dungeon was impressive and terrifying at the same time, each room linking to the next, and the walls were filled with scratches and marks. A cold shiver ran down her spine when she realized that one of the marks was filled with dried blood.
“I think we better go back up,” Olivia suggested inching closer to Christian, rubbing her arms.
“Had enough already?”
“Yes please. Don’t get me wrong, it’s all impressive but uh . . .”
