The Tour Part 3

We were making our way back toward the main corridors when I spotted it—a passage that branched off from the route we'd been following, disappearing into shadows that seemed deliberately maintained. Unlike every other area we'd visited, this corridor felt cold, unwelcoming, and utterly forbidden.

Finally, I thought with grim satisfaction. Something they don't want me to see.

"What's down there?" I asked, stopping at the mouth of the shadowed passage before either twin could redirect my attention.

"Storage," Louis said quickly. "Nothing of interest."

But even as he spoke, I was studying the corridor more carefully. The doors that lined both sides weren't the polished wood and brass fittings I'd seen elsewhere in the castle. These were heavy oak reinforced with iron, fitted with locks that looked like they belonged in medieval fortresses.

And gouged into the wood of every single door were what could only be described as claw marks.

Claw marks. Deep furrows that had been carved by something with talons longer than my fingers, something with the strength to tear through wood that looked thick enough to stop cannonballs.

"Storage for what?" I asked, taking a step toward the forbidden corridor despite the way both twins moved to subtly block my path.

"Miss Montgomery," William said, his voice carrying a note of polite but firm warning. "Perhaps we should continue to the library. I believe you'll find the collection quite impressive."

They're afraid, I realized, studying their carefully neutral expressions. Not of me, but of what's behind those doors. Or what might happen if I get too close to finding out.

"Of course," I said, allowing them to guide me away from the shadowed passage. "I wouldn't want to delay our tour with trivial curiosity."

Trivial curiosity about doors that look like they've been attacked by something with claws the size of daggers.

But I made careful note of the corridor's location, the number of doors I'd glimpsed, the way the twins' posture had changed the moment I'd shown interest in that particular area. Whatever was being stored behind those clawed doors, it was significant enough to warrant serious security and careful misdirection.

And if it's important enough to hide from me, it's important enough for me to investigate when I'm not being chaperoned.

The library, when we reached it, was exactly the distraction William had promised. Thousands of books lined shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling, volumes in languages I recognized mixed with others in scripts that looked like they predated human civilization. The scent of leather and parchment and old knowledge filled the air, and despite everything, I felt my pulse quicken with genuine pleasure.

Books don't lie, I thought, running my fingers along ancient spines. Whatever secrets this place holds, some of them are probably recorded here.

"Lord MacAllister encourages reading," Louis said, noting my obvious interest. "Please consider the collection at your disposal."

At my disposal. Within the carefully defined parameters of my captivity, of course. But still—access to knowledge was access to power, and I would take whatever advantages I could find.

"How generous," I said, already planning which volumes I might examine first. "I'll certainly take advantage of such a remarkable collection."

Starting with anything that might explain what leaves claw marks on oak doors.

We completed the tour with visits to a dozen other rooms—sitting areas, reception halls, a portrait gallery where stern-faced MacAllisters glowered down from gilded frames with eyes that all seemed to share Kieran's unsettling golden hue. By the time we returned to my chambers, I had a much better understanding of the castle's layout and a growing list of questions I intended to pursue.

"Thank you," I told the twins as we paused outside my door. "This has been most... illuminating."

In more ways than you intended, I suspect.

"We're pleased you enjoyed it," William said with what seemed like genuine warmth. "If you require anything else, you need only ring for assistance."

They departed with synchronized bows, leaving me alone to process what I'd learned. The castle was vast, ancient, and operated by rules that had nothing to do with normal reality. The servants were loyal to a degree that suggested either exceptional treatment or compelling reasons not to betray their employer. And somewhere in the depths of this impossible place, behind doors marked with claw gouges, something was being kept that the staff didn't want me to discover.

Something with very large, very sharp claws.

I was still standing in my doorway, contemplating the implications, when I heard it—a sound so low it was almost below the threshold of human hearing. A rumble that might have been distant thunder, or machinery, or something altogether more organic.

A growl.

It lasted only a moment, rising from somewhere deep in the castle before fading into silence. But in that brief sound I heard intelligence, frustration, and something that might have been... recognition.

It knows I'm here, I realized with a chill that had nothing to do with temperature. Whatever's behind those clawed doors, it knows there's someone new in the castle.

And it's not particularly happy about it.

I stepped into my chambers and closed the door, but the sound echoed in my memory long after silence returned. Because whatever had made that growl, it was large enough to damage oak doors, intelligent enough to distinguish between familiar and unfamiliar presences, and apparently confined closely enough to my quarters that its displeasure could reach me through stone walls.

What are you, Kieran MacAllister? I thought, pressing my back against the solid wood of my door. And what exactly am I sharing this castle with?

The answers, I suspected, lay behind those forbidden doors. And despite every instinct screaming warnings about curiosity and cats, I knew I would have to find a way to discover what was being hidden from me.

Soon.