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SECRET PASSAGE
PASAJ SECRET
BRAN CASTLE
22 DECEMBER 1888
“To be clear. When you’d invited me on ‘an adventurous evening,’ this wasn’t how I imagined it going, Wadsworth.”
Thomas plucked a cobweb off his frock coat, mouth puckered at the stickiness clinging to his fingers. We’d made wonderful time, traversing quickly through the tunnels we’d already been in. Now we were standing before the first clue. Or at least I believed that’s what it was. Thomas fidgeted beside me.
“If we’re all being hunted by some highly creative murderer, we might as well enjoy our last moments alive,” he continued. “Might I offer a few alternatives to spiders and dingy tunnels? Perhaps drinking too much wine. A warm fire. Inappropriate flirtations.”
I held the lantern away from my body, gaze gliding across the darkness as I spun in place. Shadows shifted obediently around the beam of light.
“Amazing,” I said.
“I thought so as well. Though it’s nice to hear you agree with some of my suggestions for once.”
“I meant this. There’s a door here.” I squinted at the black letters on it, chipped with age. I was certain we were on the path to discovering where the Impaler or Order was dwelling. “There’s… is that Latin burned into the wood?”
“It is. A cross was burned into the other chamber. Seems we’re on the right path, then.” Drifting forward, Thomas nibbled his bottom lip as he read the words on the door. “Lycosa singoriensis. That sounds… familiar.”
A soft crunch of pebbles nearby made us tense for battle. I held on to the scalpel, and Thomas was armed with the hammer used to crack open craniums. It was the best we could do.
“Did you hear that?” Thomas whispered, shifting so that he was beside me.
I twisted the knob on the lantern, the hiss of gas spluttering out at the same time the flame did. I blinked
, though that hardly made a difference. Without the light, the tunnel was practically a solid wall of black pressing down on us. Something twisted in my chest, nearly choking the breath from me. I pretended it was the blue-velvet night sky and I was cushioned on a cloud. Otherwise I’d start imagining being buried beneath the stone and I’d perish on the spot. The sound grew louder and was coming from the tunnel we’d just vacated.
We’d decided to leave the trapdoor in the morgue open, hoping a guard would come across it if something terrible happened to us. I hoped they hadn’t already started pursuing us. Thomas brushed against my arm in the dark, a gentle reminder he was there beside me.
“We probably disturbed a nest of rats, Cresswell. No need to get your drawers in a bunch.”
I heard the smile in his voice before he answered. “When that’s the most comforting thought you can come up with, things aren’t going very well. Though I’m pleased you’re thinking of my underthings.”
Before I could respond, the distinct sound of footsteps broke through my thoughts. The tread thumped loud enough for me to determine that there were at least two people pursuing us. Or whatever secret we might be about to unearth. They were getting closer. Suddenly, the possibility of Moldoveanu and Danesti coming upon us wasn’t the most fearsome thought. We had no idea who the Order was or how many people might be involved.
“Whoever is heading toward us probably isn’t the kind of person we’d want to meet in an abandoned place, far away from where people can hear our screams, Cresswell.”
I could hear Thomas fumbling in the dark, and imagined his hands flying around the wall. Steps echoed behind us. Long shadows folded themselves around the corner, pointing out those who did not belong to their masters. If we did not find a hiding place now…
A quiet groan followed by an exhale of stale decay indicated Thomas had wrestled the door open. I prayed our pursuers hadn’t heard it. “Ah. That did it. Let’s hurry, shall we?”
Remembering the door that housed vampire bats sent gooseflesh skittering over my skin. I was not keen on experiencing that delight again but saw no way out of it. If the Impaler or the Order was hunting us, I’d much prefer the bats. Light bounced from torches or lanterns, and hushed voices curled into this tunnel. It was time to move.
We slipped inside the black chamber and closed the door, blind to what might be watching us. An acrid scent hung in the space, as if something there had rotted away a long time before. An eternity might have passed while we waited in the unlit room for our uninvited intruders to move along. Thomas must have reached out, his fingers getting caught in my hair.
“Honestly?” I whispered harshly. “Must you paw at me now?”
“While I’ve thought a great deal about groping you in this delightfully macabre setting, Wadsworth, I doubt my mind has the ability to will it into fruition.”
“Do you swear?”
“On the potentially empty grave of Great-Great-Great-Uncle Dracula, yes.”
“Then who is, Cresswell?”
