Chapter 3
I wasn’t about to stick around to see what was about to burst out of the darkness. With my heart racing, I sped back to Pam’s room and woke her up. “I-I heard growling,” I stuttered, entirely out of breath.
“Where?” she asked, pulling me inside.
“In the hallway.”
“Why on Earth are you out roaming the castle anyway? Lights-out was hours ago.”
“I saw Isabella. She was trying to show me a clue, but I got scared when I heard the growling. It’s dark, and I was by myself.”
“You can sleep here if you want,” she said groggily. “But what would be growling at you? I thought Prince Alexander and his royal Ghostbusters killed all those evil spirits.”
“Apparently, there are still a few hanging around. Besides, they can’t really kill them, since they’re already dead. They just send them to a level of Hell where—”
“Whatever. Kill them? Banish them? It’s all the same to me, as long as they’re gone. Now, can I go back to sleep please?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.
“What!? No way. We need to go check it out!”
“Zoey, I’m not in any mood to look for a growling entity. It could be King Geoffrey.”
“He doesn’t want me to find that clue. I know he’s trying to scare me away. We’ve got to check it out.”
She sat up and reached for her robe. “Fine. I know I’m usually all about girl power, but if we’re going to go out there with that whatever-it-is, we need the guys.”
I nodded, and we hurried off to find them.
Unlike Pam, Hunter and Eric were anxious to check it out, so I quickly retraced my steps and led them to the portrait Isabella had walked into.
Pam ran her fingers over it. “It just feels like an old painting to me.”
Eric cocked his head and shined the flashlight across the surface. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a picture of her.”
“Maybe there’s something behind it,” I suggested.
Hunter reached behind the painting and grinned at me. “Smart girl,” he said. He pushed a lever, and a hidden door creaked open.
Too shocked to register what was happening at first, I stumbled through the wall and into the other side with wild, unseeing eyes. The others piled in behind me. Very slowly, I began to realize that we had stepped into a strange library. From the inside, I could see that the secret door was operated by some strange mechanism. There were no exits and no windows. I was surprised I was able to breathe, as the room was made of stone, stuffed, floor to ceiling, with books and dusty tomes, red gilded titles in old English glistening on their cracked brown spines. I glanced over at a few of the titles. Most seemed to be about the history of the castle, but there was also a small collection of horrifying volumes, books about necromancy, blood magic, and human sacrifice.
“Ick,” Pam said, her voice cracking. “I’m pretty sure these would give Stephen King nightmares.” She shuddered as she pointed to a shelf of books about witchcraft and dark magic.
My stomach churned with horror. “You’re not kidding.”
Hunter picked up a book, blew a layer of dust off the leather cover, and examined it. “So we found a hidden room full of occult books. Great. Library of the freaking dead.”
“Yeah,” Eric said. “We obviously weren’t meant to find this place.”
I glanced around the eerie room. “I wonder if anyone ever comes back here. Somebody has to know about this room. I’m sure it’s why Isabella led me in this direction.”
Eric let out a long whistle. “Some of these books are old. This scroll is from the 1700s.”
I looked around and noticed a small desk in the corner. On top of it sat an open book, with a page marked by a leather strap attached to its spine. I walked over to it slowly, moved the bookmark out of the way, and anxiously rolled my eyes over the ancient script. With so much adrenaline swirling through me and my thoughts spinning, the writing was difficult to make out, but a few familiar words jumped out at me: “Isabella,” “blood,” and “May.” Those intriguing and possibly ominous notations sucked my attention straight into the book, and I was just about to start reading from the top of the page when a terrifying slam resounded from behind me. I leapt where I stood, then spun around and found, with a queasy shock of white-hot horror, that the secret door had opened somehow. Even worse, I heard thudding footsteps stomping down the third aisle, the farthest from me.
We all looked at each other, shocked and wondering who it could possibly be.
Instantly, my fight-or-flight reflex kicked into high gear, and I decided flight was the best option. I whipped around and grabbed the heavy tome with a grunt, then darted down the row in front of me, as quietly as I could. A moment later, the footfalls stopped. My heart beat in a wild staccato as I waited to see what would happen next, but nothing did until I emerged from the aisle and two books flew from their shelves, straight at my head, seemingly of their own volition. When I shrieked, Hunter grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the exit. With the seemingly important book in hand, we hurried back the way we came and dashed through the secret passage to the relative freedom of the hallway. From there, we all took off without even discussing it. I knew I wouldn’t feel safe until I was back at the dorm.
We went into the living room and turned on the light.
“What was that about?” Eric asked. “You think they were mad you took their book?”
“I’m not sure,” I said, breathing heavily. “Isabella led me there though. She wanted us to find something. Without her, I would have never known there was a secret passageway or a hidden library.”
Hunter nodded. “True. Maybe it was King Geoffrey or one of his goons, just trying to scare us away from clues.”
“Well, stomping around was a pretty lame attempt. I’ve been scared by far, far worse things lately than a few ghosts traipsing around a library.”
“Had us running out of there, though,” Eric pointed out.
“True,” I agreed with a chuckle, “but not without this book.
“So what do we do with it?” Pam asked.
“It has some scary stuff in it. I saw some sketches in the back. They look like…human sacrifices or something.” I swallowed hard as the words tumbled out. For some reason, the book gave me an odd sense of déjà vu, as if I’d read it before, but whatever it was all about, I was sure it was going to cause me more than a few sleepless nights. In the end, I was more than right. I was wide awake from our midnight escapades and couldn’t possibly sleep, so we decided to make our way to the common room to check out the book. I sat on the couch and began thumbing through the musty pages, trying to determine what the Old English text had to say.
I soon happened across a page that contained what looked to be an immortality spell, one that would supposedly reverse even the vilest of ailments and restore the strength of youth. It seemed very complex, as far as spells go, and it required the blood of someone from my family line, a descendant of Isabella. Part of the instructions were illegible to me, because the text suddenly switched from somewhat readable calligraphy to some other form of writing, something older still, like no script I’d ever seen before. I had no idea what I was looking at, what the age or region of the language was, but I did know the instant I looked at it that there was something very, very wrong with whatever was written there.
There, in the corner of the common room, we spent almost an hour trying to come up with valid explanations as to why such a book would even exist, let alone be on display in that very bizarre, very hidden little library.
“We have to go,” Pam chimed in, yawning and stretching. “They’ll be waking up soon, and if anyone finds us down here, they’ll start asking questions.”
Her yawn was contagious, because Hunter followed suit. “She’s right.”
I kissed him goodbye and went back to my room. With a great deal of reluctance, I slunk back into bed, hoping to doze off for an hour-long power nap before my alarm clock started blaring. Unfortu
nately, as I lay there, my heart pounded with terror, and my mind swam with the need to discover the why of it all. There was one person I was sure could give me some answers, but I wouldn’t see him until third period. In the meantime, I’d have to haul the dangerous relic around like it was just one of my textbooks, all with a fake smile on my face. I knew it was risky to sneak the book into my backpack, and I didn’t want to get caught with it if someone discovered it was missing and decided to search us, but it would have been far riskier to leave it unattended in my room.
The day dragged on, as if someone had put the clock on high doses of valium. I was barely aware of anything, spaced out from being so tired. I mindlessly stumbled from class to class like a zombie, robotically scribbling down notes, all while my eyes and mind groaned with a deep desire to just go back to bed. I wanted nothing more than the coolness of the pillow against my head and the warmth and softness of the blankets around my fatigued body. I knew I wasn’t supposed to feel so uneasy and paranoid since Miss Shila was out of the picture, no longer controlling our bodies at night, but there were still lots of things to worry about in that castle. Truth be told, she was a lot less terrifying than some of them.
Chapter 4
Before I knew it, I was sitting in Mr. Geo’s class. From my place in the back corner of the room, I made purposeful, urgent eye contact with him. Silently and ever so slowly, I turned my stack of textbooks toward him so he would see the spine of the thick red volume among them. I hoped he had some idea what it meant, but even if he didn’t, he certainly seemed to take notice of my fervent glances. Occasionally, he cast his own curious gaze in my direction, even as he lectured about the War of the Roses.
Much to my relief, when the bell rang and everyone began shuffling out of the room, Mr. Geo said, “Zoey, I’d like to see you for just a minute in my office before you go to lunch.”
My classmates offered me a sympathetic look, as if I’d been called to the execution chamber or something, but I just nodded, collected my books, and walked off to what they all assumed would be some grim fate.
Mr. Geo’s office seemed smaller than it was the last time I’d been there, almost suffocating. Nevertheless, I wordlessly placed the book on his desk and sat down, then watched him frown at the blank cover.
He glanced curiously at me, flipped through some of the yellowed pages, then skipped to the one marked by the leather strap. “Where did you find this?” he asked me faintly.
I fumbled for an answer, trying to remind myself that he was not as bad as he’d once seemed. I had to trust him, because I needed an adult ally in the school. Based on what his girlfriend told me, Mr. Geo was a descendant of one of the cooks who had worked there generations ago, in Isabella’s time, and that ancestor of his had been murdered in the massacre. It only made sense that he would want to free the spirits. His girlfriend also came from Isabella’s bloodline, and she wanted to free the spirits as well, but she wasn’t the chosen one; that honor belonged to me, the holder of the necklace. It was a bit odd to discover that I was somehow distantly related to Mr. Geo’s lover, but I was glad she was onboard and wanted to help us. Without her, I never would’ve gotten my hands on the emerald ring that protected me when I closed the portal.
“I found the book last night in a hidden library,” I finally answered. I then went on to tell him briefly about Isabella leading me from my room to the hidden library behind her painting.
“Fascinating,” he said, scratching his chin and not bothering to pull his eyes off the book, his lips contorted in a thoughtful frown as he examined the page before him. “So you just followed Isabella?” he asked.
“Yeah. She said she was trying to speed up the process, I guess because there are only a few months left before graduation.”
“Zoey, you must never follow a ghost,” he cautioned, finally peering at me.
“But she’s not just any ghost. Isabella is my ancestor.”
He nodded slightly, then frowned down at the page again. “Yes, but she’s also easy to imitate. There can be…imposters. Someone or something could easily lure a naïve girl into a trap.”
“Hmm. Maybe you’re right,” I said. “Something did throw books at us in that weird library.”
“So we still have disgruntled spirits trapped here?”
“Yes, and I think they are angry at me, that they blame me for trapping them.”
“Well, you couldn’t very well leave that portal open any longer. Don’t worry. Prince Alexander is getting rid of them as we speak. He took down a dozen last night.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“My girlfriend Debra can communicate with the spirits. She came to visit last night and said she’d talked to Prince Alexander herself.”
“That’s cool. You know we’re related somehow, right?”
“Yes, and I find the family tree quite…intriguing. Once this is all over and done with, we can trace it back and see how you are connected, since we know you both came from Isabella’s bloodline.”
“I’ll just ask Isabella. That’ll be a whole lot quicker and cheaper than Ancestry.com,” I said with a smile. “If you marry Debra, we could be in-laws once removed or something!”
Without bothering to laugh at my joke, Mr. Geo just shook his head and stared at the book.
“Do you think King Geoffrey really wants revenge on me, to get back at Isabella?” I asked.
“We mustn’t assume anything. Many others might have been wronged by the royals. No one in history has ever led a country without making an enemy or two. In all those decades, somebody in this castle would have died with resentment in their heart at some point. In fact, the odds are so high that I’m surprised there’s only one bitter spirit floating around here.”
I swallowed hard. I’d hoped Mr. Geo would ease my fears, but instead, he was telling me I might have even more enemies, something I definitely did not need at the moment. I glanced down at the book and asked, “Is it authentic or just some kind of replica, Mr. Geo?”
“The manuscript appears genuine,” he said. “I can’t imagine why such a book wouldn’t be in a museum, but it’s certainly the original. Most likely, a private collector bought it to add to the library.”
“I figured out some of the Old English, but can you interpret those hieroglyphics?”
“It will take some time and a bit of research to decipher it.” He frowned at the page, then up at me, saying, “You must be careful, Zoey. The marked page is a spell for immortality, one that demands your blood.”
I gasped at his words; up to that point, I had no idea the threat was so personal. “Mine and not just anyone’s from Isabella’s bloodline?” I asked with a gulp.
“Yes, yours, I’m afraid.”
“Who would do something like that? Who would even think it up?”
“Someone who’s afraid to die will go to all ends to stop it, even if it means the death of another.”
Exasperated, I leaned back in my chair to regard the ceiling. It seemed to me that the odds of it being a student were extremely unlikely. None of our classmates knew about the secret library; if they did, there would have been gossip or at least an exaggerated urban legend. I could only guess that a teacher or school official was using the library or had inadvertently stumbled upon it. With a cold jolt of worry, I glanced up at my teacher again. “You don’t think it’s the principal, do you?”
Mr. Geo looked up from the text with a baffled look. “What do you mean? Why would you accuse him?”
“He… Well, we saw…” As my throat tightened with rising fear, choking my words, I glanced over my shoulder, as if expecting to find someone standing in the doorway. Confident that no one was eavesdropping, I lowered my voice and continued, “My friends and I saw him with his nurse. He’s doing chemo treatments.”
“How upsetting,” Mr. Geo said. “I was aware that he’s been ill, but…cancer?”
It shocked me that he didn’t know. Not only was the principal hiding his terminal illness from the s
tudents, but he had obviously not informed his staff and faculty about it either. He seemed like a man who was open about things, but he certainly was hiding his illness, and I wasn’t sure why.
“Perhaps he is just embarrassed or doesn’t wish to be pitied,” Mr. Geo said carefully. “We can’t jump to any conclusions. An accusation like that requires more evidence than just a hunch.”
“But how can we find any?”
His eyes flashed across my necklace, then back down to the book. He paused and examined the page still before him, then hesitated before he said, “I’m not entirely sure I’ll be able to help you with that, but that pendant…” As I touched it reflexively, he leaned back, his seat bouncing slightly as he fiddled with the pen he plucked from the corner of his desk. “You are the owner of a very powerful artifact indeed, my dear. I am not sure you are quite aware of just how powerful that bauble is.”
My thumb traced the bejeweled teardrop, and I glanced down at it, admiring it as the nearly translucent color reflected a spot of light. “Yeah. My mom got it from her mother, who got it from hers. It’s an heirloom and eventually made its way to me.”
“Far too much fate is dismissed as chance, Zoey,” he surmised, sounding like a man who should have been writing fortune cookies for a living.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Simple. What are the chances that a girl from Isabella’s bloodline just so happened to walk into this castle wearing that necklace, the artifact that is capable of saving every trapped castle spirit, the one Isabella wore in real life hundreds of years ago?”
“It does blow my mind when I think about it.”
“Not only that, your arrival was…predicted.”
“It was?”
“Yes. It was prophesied that some 500 to 700 years after Isabella was trapped, the chosen one would come. You fall in the correct timeline to play that role. Isabella thought your mother would save the spirits, but she never came to the castle as predicted. Thus, when you came, all the spirits were excited.”
Ablaze - Book 4 Page 2
