Witch Door Novels & Stories

Dolf marked each point she indicated with small pen dots. "Actually," Jenny continued, pressing her fingers to various spots on the map, "there are false windows here, here, here, and here. If there's trouble, people inside might escape through these ways. They're accessible from the outside as well, using a hidden switch on the frame. The children often used them to sneak back in when they weren't supposed to be out."

“Wait!” Williams had already typed in the first number. She blushed. “It’s 1570…” “Are you certain this time?” She nodded. Ok, maybe she wasn’t certain at all. But she didn’t want to appear more foolish than she already felt in front of him. He punched in the remaining digits and pressed the enter key. The keypad went blank. Williams turned the knob. The door didn’t move. Almost the same second, metal bars fell over the windows that faced the front street. Same thing for those in the kitchen, and as they would find out after checking through the entire house, every other window.

She had the key, and she had the courage to face whatever lay behind the next door. The West Wing was dark, the air colder than it had been before. The shadows seemed deeper now, as if the house itself was holding onto its secrets tighter, unwilling to let go. Bliss reached the door at the end of the corridor, her fingers brushing against the key as she slid it into the lock. The sound of the tumblers shifting echoed in the silence, and she pushed the door open, stepping inside.

"... should we go back to that door later? Who knows, the dead end might disappear, so you can go home!" Adro thought for a moment, then answered, "That might happen. But most likely, the wall will not change. There have been rumors about an old male witch who likes to make magic doors. He can only enchant one door one time. If he has passed through it, the door will return to an ordinary door. However, no one could find the witch's whereabouts." "So, the existence of the witch door is just a rumor?" Grace furrowed her brows. "I and most people thought so, but after this incident, I believe the rumors are real."

Nike scratched the back of his head as his other hand reach on the inside of his robe to get his wand. "Alright, I'll gonna use a spell for this one then." As he said that, Nike waved his wand and muttered, "XEKLEÍDOMA" As soon as he was done chanting the unlocking spell;, the doorknob turned by itself and right after that, the massive wooden double door open on its own. To their surprise, the interior of the place is not affected by the same reddish-brown color that dominates the entire Blood City.

The hallway behind the door was not too long and only had a closed entrance on the left side, which we did not touch. In the end, the door was no longer wooden, let alone black. It was a thick iron doorway with a security code on the side. Darwin wrote down the number, shielding it from my eyes as he stood between me and the pack, until with an electronic sound the lead-gray door gave way. The younger brother stood in the doorway and beckoned us in. Fito tapped the wall to the right on the inside and several LED lights came on, illuminating everything. «Oww... Wtf» I thought.

They let me know they were still tracking me with a couple of yipping giggles, once or twice coming close to take a swipe at my exposed legs. A couple of well-placed hits with my duffle only seemed to piss them off more, and I picked up the pace, heart hammering away. The cold was nipping at my limbs, my breath fogging, as I took turn after turn, hoping to lose them. I was twelve blocks away from my apartment but only five from the Cruz household. I'd hate to drag them into this, but they were the very few individuals who had a warded door. Made of solid wild Hawthorn blessed with salted holy water complete with a mixed silver and iron handle made in the shape of a pentagram.

Adam looks at her, the threat in his eye. She slips around the back of the couch, staying as far away from them all as possible, opens the bathroom door, then locks it behind her. The lock is flimsy; a tiny thing perhaps two inches long in a cheap gilded alloy. The door even flimsier, a cardboard honeycomb type that wouldn't stand a minute against a determined man. She opens the window, looking down at the two-storey drop. There's a fine brick outcrop just below her, barely a ledge. Just a toehold.