Page 56 of When You're Safe

Or was itsomething more sinister?

The castle,with its history of battles and secrets, had a life of its own. As Ameliawandered, she could almost hear the soft murmurs of the past; distant laughter,whispered conversations, the far-off clinking of glasses from long-forgottenfeasts. But with every thunderclap, those gentle echoes were replaced by arising sense of dread, an eerie silence that seemed to swallow up all othersounds.

The cold aircontrasted with the warmth of the bedroom she now wished she was in rather thanbeing immersed in the dangers around her. The castle seemed to radiate theaccumulated cold from centuries gone by. Amelia paused beside an ancienttapestry that depicted a fierce battle. The intricate weaving showed warriorslocked in combat, and as the flickering shadows played upon it, the scenealmost appeared to move, the warriors’ expressions shifting from bravery tohorror and back again.

A gust of windrattled the stained glass windows, creating an eerie symphony of whispers andmoans. The ethereal faces depicted in the windows seemed to shift with eachgust, their expressions morphing into grotesque grimaces.

She felt achill, not from the cold, but from a sudden, inexplicable feeling of beingwatched. When she turned around, her gaze met nothing but the vast, emptycorridor behind her. However, the air grew heavier, as if charged with apresence she couldn’t see. She wished Finn was with her, and she was beginningto think that he had been right. Splitting up was a bad idea.

Hesitating fora moment, she considered retreating to find Finn but felt compelled to continue.Her stubborn streak was always there, burning bright within. Each corner she turnedrevealed more endless hallways, each more foreboding than the last. A softwhisper carried on the wind seemed to beckon her further into the heart of thecastle.

Rounding a bend,Amelia stumbled upon a door slightly ajar, an amber glow seeping out from the gap.Pushing the door open, she found herself in a vast library. Rows upon rows ofold books lined the walls, their spines cracked and faded. A lone candle burnedin the center of the room, its flame flickering wildly.

Drawn to thecandle, Amelia approached it. The flame seemed to dance in rhythm with herheartbeat, casting a warm light around the room. And then, as suddenly as shehad entered, the door behind her slammed shut, plunging the room into darkness savefor the candle’s dim light.

Frozen inplace, Amelia felt her heart race. Every creak of the floorboards, everywhisper of the wind, sent shivers down her spine. As the thunder rumbled andthe lightning illuminated the room, she realized she might not be alone here.

The castle’ssecrets ran deep, and Amelia was about to discover one of them.

The librarywas silent save for the echoing rumble of thunder outside. The dark wood,towering bookshelves, and looming portraits seemed to press in on Amelia fromall sides. As the wind howled, the tall windows shivered, casting oddreflections of the lightning’s shimmer.

Drawn toward adim and shadowy alcove, Amelia’s instincts screamed that something wasn’tright. The darkness in that corner seemed too profound, too consuming. It wasas though the very shadows themselves were attempting to hide something. Shestrained her eyes, trying to peer into the gloom. Slowly, a chilling detailemerged: the outline of a man, his features pale and eyes unblinking. Before shecould react, the man lunged toward her, the malignant intent clear in his eyes.

Without amoment’s hesitation, Amelia seized the table with the burning candle and flungit at the approaching threat. The attacker tried to dodge, but the edge of thetable caught him in the chest before he batted it away. This abrupt move gaveAmelia the moment she needed to escape his immediate grasp.

The attackermoved slower than before. The impact of the table had hurt him. Grasping forsomething else, anything, Amelia tried to finish him off. She grabbed aheavy empty candle holder from a mantelpiece and thrust it forward. The man letout a gasp, half filled with anger, half with shock, as it struck him on thecheek. This clearly made him rethink things. He needed to retreat, or run offto his next target. He didn’t wait. He pushed past Amelia, slamming her againsta wall and running out the door.

Amelia madesure that the once lit candle from the table was now extinguished on the floor,and then bolted from the library, hot on the heels of the shadowy figure. Thecorridors seemed to stretch and twist in ways she didn’t remember, yet she wasundeterred. The echo of her steps mixed with his, a frantic race through thedarkened passages.

She felt a rush,a blend of fear and determination, driving her to catch this intruder, thispotential killer. Shadows from the outside storm played tricks on her eyes,making the figure appear and disappear with every flash of lightning.

Turningsharply around a corner, she expected to come face to face with the man.Instead, she was met with the cold, oppressive sight of a solid wall. Thecorridor had come to a dead end, but the man was gone. No doors, no windows, nohiding places; the hallway simply terminated, offering no clues or escaperoutes.

Amelia stoodthere, breathing heavily, confusion mixing with her adrenaline. Where could hehave gone? She reached out and touched the wall, half expecting her hand topass through as if it were an illusion. But it was solid, cold stone.

Amelia stoodthere, catching her breath for a moment, looking at the seemingly impenetrablewall before her. Finn’s words echoed in her mind, reminding her of the possibilityof secret passageways lurking behind the castle’s ancient façade. If SamFalstaff had truly grown up here, playing in the corridors and exploringforgotten chambers, it was entirely possible he knew about hidden escaperoutes.

Feeling alongthe cold, stone wall, her fingers came across a brick that felt different fromthe rest, slightly misaligned. Tentatively, she pushed at it. To her astonishment,there was a soft yet definitive click, and a panel of the wall below creakedopen. A concealed hatch.

She carefullytook out her flashlight and peered inside. The beam revealed a narrow, windingpassageway, its walls damp with age and neglect. The passage was covered in alayer of dust that looked untouched for decades, save for some recentfootprints and broken cobwebs. From the darkness ahead, the faint sound offootsteps echoed back, growing fainter but confirming she wasn’t alone.

Ameliahesitated at the entrance, torn between the impulse to pursue and theuncertainty of what lay ahead. But the need to stop a potential killeroverpowered her reservations. Taking a deep breath and gathering her courage,she stepped into the dark, secret tunnel. The hatch slowly shut behind her,leaving her in an eerie silence, save for the distant, hurried footsteps. Herpursuit deep into the castle’s forgotten secrets had begun.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

The grandstaircase that led to the third floor of DeGrey Castle was an architecturalmarvel to Finn, an artwork carved out of stone and wood. Each step was wornfrom centuries of use, with grooves and depressions hinting at the countlessfeet that had trod upon them. Intricate wooden carvings adorned the banisters,depicting scenes from times long past, and tapestries from forgotten epochs hungon the walls, their once-vivid colors now faded by time.

Outside, thestorm raged with unabated fury. Lightning illuminated the castle’s Gothic windows,casting eerie, fleeting silhouettes on the walls. The sound of rain and windpounding against the thick stone walls became a relentless drone. Every sooften, a gust of wind would seep through an unnoticed crack or crevice,carrying with it the cold, damp smell of the tempest.

As Finn ascended,his hand skimming over the banister, his footsteps echoed in the vastemptiness, producing an odd, rhythmic drumming. The soft light from scatteredsconces barely lit his path, and shadows pooled in the corners, giving thespace an almost claustrophobic feel despite its size. He moved with speed andpurpose.

He had to getto the other DeGreys before Sam Falstaff did.

Upon reachingthe third floor, he noticed the corridors narrowing, ceilings becoming lower,making the castle seem older and more foreboding. The east wing, as describedby Mr. Lincoln, was even more isolated and silent, its atmosphere heavy with aquiet tension. Doors lined the corridor, each one more intimidating and ancientthan the last, their timeworn wood adorned with rusting, ornate handles.

Bits andpieces of fragmented thoughts began swirling in Finn’s mind. The urgency of thesituation, the silent castle, and the mysterious undertones of everything thathad happened so far combined to form a cocktail of unease and suspicion. Hefelt like he was on the brink of a revelation, the edges of a puzzle that wasslowly coming into focus.

What if…?Could it be…? His mind tried to grasp the slippery tendrils of an idea, of atheory that was just out of reach. But just as the faint outlines of thatthought began to crystallize…

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