Page 70 of The Scarlet Veil

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Curio Cabinet

I wait half an hour before peeking my head outside the room, searching for any sign of Michal. Dozens more candles illuminate the deserted corridor beyond, which has been cleaned to perfection since yesterday—the cobwebs swept, the tapestries scrubbed, the statues polished—without me hearing so much as a peep. It seems the servants move just as soundlessly as their master. Taking a tentative step from my room, I close the door behind me with a softclick.

True to Michal’s word, no guards loom outside to hear the sound.

In the folds of Odessa’s skirt, my new pins jingle eagerly as I hasten down the corridor.

Quieting them with a hand, I follow the candlelight and attempt to trace Dimitri’s steps on that first evening. He led me directly to Michal’s study, which seems the best place to start my search for hidden things. Theonlyplace to start my search, really, as I’ve visited nowhere else in the castle except the entrance hall. If Michal’s confidence in my ability to escape is any indication, however, he probably hasn’t hidden the cross at all—or he’s already cast it into the fire.

At that, I almost laugh.

Michal is too arrogant to destroy such a trophy, but as they say, pride always goeth before the fall. If the cross still exists, if Michal has hidden it somewhere, Iwillfind it, even if I must tear apart this castle brick by brick. I will find it, and I will use it to my advantage somehow.

Iwill.

My confidence quickly fades, however, when I turn a corner unexpectedly, skidding to a stop in a corridor lined with suits of armor. Their shields gleam dark and strange in the candlelight, where my own pale face reflects back at me from each one, both familiar and—different, somehow. My features wild and fey. When I look for too long, my reflections’ eyes seem to bleed, and—no.

With a gasp, I shake my head to clear it before turning to retrace my steps around the corner. Because this is just another perversion. Of course it is. Mila, Lou, and evenChristospoke of a darkness—a sickness—spreading through the realms, and the castle wouldn’t remain unaffected. I just—I need to pay attention. I need to take better care, and I need to—

I lurch to a halt, and my eyes grow wide at the blank stretch of wall before me.

I need to stay calm.

Because the corner around which I just came—it has somehow vanished,moved, like the corridor itself grew legs as a spider and fled. Leaving me here with only suits of armor and shadows for guidance.Right.I swallow hard and turn slowly to face them. My reflections, at least, have returned to normal, and I choose to interpret that as a fortunate sign. Perhaps the castle isn’t trying toterrorize me, after all; perhaps it’s trying tohelpme, and this corridor will take me where I need to go.

When the nearest helmet turns to watch as I pass, however, I abandonthatfoolish thought and bolt down the corridor out of sight, not stopping until I reach a staircase that looks vaguely familiar. Except it isn’t familiar at all. And neither is the next one, or the next. Blowing a damp strand of hair from my eyes, I plant my hands on my hips and glare at the portrait of the woman in red before me. Itdefinitelywasn’t there a second ago, and sure enough—between blinks—it disappears again, leaving only empty wall behind.

This is getting ridiculous.

If I haven’t already passed a vampire without realizing—and if said vampire hasn’t already contacted Michal or Odessa or Dimitri through some sort of macabre mind control—I’ll eat my left shoe. Any one of them could appear at any moment, which means this little excursion has an expiration date. With a reluctant sigh, I whirl to face the corridor at large, loathing myself for what I’m about to do. “Mila? Are you here?”

She doesn’t answer, but after her rather dramatic exit, I expected no less. Indeed, when a bud of irritation blooms in response, I focus on it with every fiber of my being. It really shouldn’t be this difficult.Nothingshould be this difficult, yet here I am, attempting to coax forth enough emotion to pierce through a metaphysical veil and ask a ghost for directions. I scoff. My friends would never believe me if I told them. A week ago, I never would’ve believedmyself. And perhaps I should be ashamed by such an admission—that no one, including me, would’ve ever thought I’d be tangled up in such a mess.

As swiftly as the realization comes, the temperature plummets, and all color seeps from the corridor as familiar ash begins to drift from the candelabra on either side of me. I brush it away with a weakened sort of triumph. Because I did it—I crossed—and I should be enormously pleased with myself. And Iampleased, but I am also... not.

Which leaves me feeling quite lost.

But I haven’t time to focus on that now. Shaking the thoughts aside, I hiss Mila’s name again, and—in true Célie fashion—a gangly, speckled-face ghost answers instead, floating up through the stairs with his hands in his pockets. “How do you know silver will kill them?” he asks.

“I don’t.” Hurrying past him in search of Mila, I make it only two steps before hesitating. Because like it or not, I cannot afford to waste this opportunity. I cannot afford to feel sorry for myself. Not yet. “Doyouknow how to kill them?”

He gestures to the twin gashes at his throat with a sheepish grin. “A friend once told me garlic.”

“Right.” I look away quickly, grimacing as I tuck that bit of information away. “No garlic. Perhaps you could direct me to Michal’s study instead?”

Grin widening, he jerks his narrow shoulder to the right. “Perhaps I could.”

Drifting into the wall, he vanishes just as quickly as he appeared, and I pause at a fork in the next corridor. Repressing a shiver, I forget about garlic and glance down each passage.

To the left, candles continue to burn, casting warm light on a passage thatmightlead to the entrance hall. The tapestry there looks vaguely familiar. I don’t remember Dimitri and me crossingthe entrance hall to reach Michal’s study, however.

Biting my lip, I glance to the right, where shadows cloak the unlit sconces.

The ghostly boy didn’tseemto have malevolent intentions. With a deep, steadying breath, I snatch up a candelabra and veer to the right, picturing Jean Luc in my mind—and Lou and Reid, Coco and Beau. They crept through the dark of those tunnels for me, and I can do the same for them. I can find my silver cross, and I can save my friends from Michal’s wrath. I can save the lives of his future victims. He knows I fear the dark.

He left this passage in shadow for a reason.

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