Door Threshold Black Novels & Stories

The other two quick to follow. Leaving only Porter looking at me. Wearing a pair of slick running pants and a black tank top. He walked over and palmed the door to push it open further. “Come on in.” He waved a hand to usher me. I walked in. Noticing again how everything was stacked by size and the decorations were all either black or white or checkered black and white. In the middle of the studio Living Room was a squared corner couch in slate black with white lines trimming the back and arm rests and outlining the edges of the matching throw pillows.

Chronos palace. Excluded from reality was a pocket dimension and in it, was a massive castle with adamantine reinforced doors. The same doors which were kicked open and four individuals strode inside, all four of them wore black robes with hoodies leaving only their mouth visible. On each of the lips they had small blood markings, representing their epithets. They kneeled before the large throne with an equally large individual sitting there. “Pestilence reporting sir, it seemed the ten keys were defeated and your son has finally awoke his dormant power.” Pestilence enunciated in a feminine tone, her head still facing the reflective surface of the floor.

He pulled out the gray key and tossed the fake rock to the side. After opening the door as fast as he could, he ushered her inside. Then he felt around on the left side of the wall until he felt a switch. He flipped it up and quickly turned to close the door. The foyer floor was dark beige marble. The walls were beige. There was Mexican gray Chessani two drawer sideboard along the left wall. Three vases were on top of it. There was a closet about twelve inches away from it. A crystal chandelier hung above them, giving the foyer and what was ahead light.

Chapter 30 The Caldwell mansion's front door slammed with enough force to rattle ancestral portraits, sending dust motes dancing through shafts of afternoon light. The mahogany double doors, imported from Italy at a cost that could have fed a small nation, bounced against their hinges, one cracking slightly at the impact. Lora stormed into the grand foyer, her Louboutins clicking a furious staccato against marble floors that had been polished that morning by servants who feared Emily's wrath. "You *pathetic* coward!"

“Still sure?” I nodded. Last door. She swiped the card. The room beyond was massive—easily forty by sixty feet. Blackout curtains covered every wall and window. The floor was covered in thick black mats, several large mattresses scattered like islands. Chains hung from the ceiling in multiple spots. A padded bench with straps, a sling, a pillory. Tables lined one wall: industrial-sized lube bottles, stacks of towels, boxes of condoms, a small fridge with water and electrolyte drinks. Overhead, dim red emergency strips glowed just enough to outline shapes.

Just raw walls and open gaps. The moment he stepped up— The air vanished. Complete silence. An unnatural silence. Then he saw it— A black door in the middle of the floor. It wasn’t mentioned in any records. A number was written on it— 413 But the mall only had shops up to 412. Room 413 didn’t exist. The door was slightly open. Inside — darkness so thick the flashlight couldn’t pierce it. Aarav gently pushed the door. It creaked. And then—

At the end of the corridor, Samuel stopped beside an ordinary wooden panel. “There.” Marcus frowned. “That is a wall.” Samuel placed his hand against a small section of molding. A hidden lock clicked. The panel moved. A narrow staircase appeared behind it. Eliam stared into the darkness. “How many times have you been down there?” “Enough to know I should never have returned.” They descended. The air grew colder with every step. At the bottom was a steel door. Samuel entered a code. The door opened. The room beyond looked nothing like the rest of Blackwood International.

Another set of doors stands at the end, guarded by silence and high-end intimidation. The elevator dings. The doors slide open to a private corridor—silent, suffocatingly elegant. The kind of hallway where secrets live in the wallpaper. My heels sink into the thick runner as I step out, my pulse drumming in my ears. At the end of the hall there are two tall matte black doors. No number. Just presence. I approach slowly, heart in my throat, and slide the key card through the reader. The little light flashes green. A soft click.

Nodding in agreement, the three of them proceeded to the front door. A few stairs and a large oak double door stood in their way. The columns previously looked upon, could now be studied quickly as well. The way they shined, was not paint, but because they were pure white marble with grey in them. Cordovia next took in the door, which was lined with the tree of life in iron and the roots wrapping themselves in a circle. The base color of the door was a deep cherry red color. And the doorknobs seemed to shine with their gold iron plating.