Page 63 of The Curse of Eternity
When Drake nodded, I inhaled deeply. We were running out of daylight every second with my bellyaching.
“Let’s do it.”
Steeling my resolve, and determined to get back home before Winston had to send that letter, I watched Drake bring the tip of his pointer finger to his mouth. His upper lip curled back, revealing the pointed canine. A bead of blood rose to the surface when his hand lowered, and though he’d already begun healing from the wound, the blood remained.
Grimacing, I hurriedly brought his finger to my mouth and swallowed the sour, gritty fluid. I’d beheaded a number of vampires, but I’d never gotten their blood in my mouth. Sweetness coated my saliva like an aftertaste, strangely citrusy, and not nearly as gross or salty as my own blood tasted.
The single drop slid down my throat, settling in my stomach. My heart thumped, my fingers tingling like electricity danced across my palm. Up my arms and throughout my chest until it burned through my exhaustion.
“Woah.” An unwitting smile curved my mouth in the face of Drake’s considering gaze. Then he nodded, clearly satisfied.
“The magick will allow you entrance.” His forced smile didn’t touch the despair behind his eyes, but he offered his hand all the same. An invitation to our damnation, the road ahead paved with good intentions.
His skin felt like a cold flame, the blood pulsing through his veins so much slower than mine. Drake faced the mirror while our fingers entwined, and took the first step. I watched his form disappear one inch at a time, revealing nothing of what existed on the other side. Taking a deep breath, I plunged ahead.
Oh, fuck—
Searing chills crawled over the surface of my skin like an ice cube slipped beneath my clothes. I couldn’t suck air into my lungs, like being underwater, completely deprived of oxygen. My lungs flayed with every passing thrum of my pulse. The dark room ahead came into focus, but I couldn’t take this much longer.
Was I about to die? Would it all be for nothing?
My eyes bulged as the tempo of my pulse slowed in my ears. The trickling beat grew further away…
Stagnant air hit my face, cold but lacking the excruciation of the mirror, and I gasped for breath. Large gulps of frigid air raked into my lungs, stinging in my chest like an echo of the mirror’s entrapment. Drake caught me by my elbow before I could collapse. Bent double, I gagged. Cold sweat dripped down my brow as I glanced up at the concern crossing Drake’s features.
“Are you alright?” he whispered, his gaze cautiously flickering from me to the end of the room. Straightening up slowly, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
“I’ll survive,” I breathed, freezing when I glanced around the old-fashioned drawing room, like the kind I’d seen watching period pieces with Olivia. A wide white-tasseled rug threaded with scarlet and gold took up nearly the entire room. Armchairs were positioned to my right on either side of a low wooden table. On our left was oddly empty space,a showroom?
Shuddering, I glanced back over my shoulder. The mirror we’d passed through looked solid behind us. Only the scent of death was consistent.
“What’s with the smell?” Imagining a group of children entering through that, led here only to be converted into bloodthirsty killing machines, made the rank atmosphere taste even more bitter.
“A remnant of the spell crafted to create this place.” Speaking under his breath, Drake strode across the room on silent footfalls toward a wide black door. “Although intended to be a mirrored image of the original castle, there were limitations. Nothing can grow here, and everything spoils not long after being brought in. Similarly to its inhabitants, the fortress exists in a permanent state of decay.”
“This is crazy…” The edges of my vision turned foggy as I tip-toed my way to his side, and I made an effort to keep my breathing even.
“Sorcery is a powerful craft. Some gifted with its aptitude can unlock limitless potential.”
“My best friend’s a witch, and I can’t imagine her accomplishing anything of this magnitude.”
“Pray your friend will never be made to, as some who possessed the talent have been.” His right hand rested on the iron handle, but he paused, his gaze capturing mine. “Follow inmy lead, I know the path we must take. If we come across the guards, hide immediately.”
“What if it’s too late?”
“Then you run. Retrace your steps back to this room, and flee.”
Biting back the argument threatening to break free, I nodded once. Drake was still for another moment, like he was listening for something. Then he twisted the doorknob, and a hush of displaced air followed the door’s opening. My hand settled on my machete handle as Drake slipped from the room in a blur.
Fast on his heels, I emerged into a corridor almost identical to those inside the Cneaz’s manor—but worse. There were no windows on either side of the stone-brick walls. Oil lanterns were hung at odd intervals, each one unlit, and probably unused since the residents could see as easily in the dark as the day.
A wealth of paintings adorned the walls, perfect and undamaged by time, but considering the gruesome depictions, I was glad they’d become imprisoned here. Another long illustrious rug ran the length of the hall, silencing my steps as I started after Drake.
Without hesitation, he took one turn after another through the desolate castle. Even with his superior senses to guide us, I was uneasy. My blood pounded too loudly in my ears to pick up on anything else.This long stretch of hallway left us too exposed.I hurried my steps to bring my mouth closer to Drake’s ear.
“How many werewolves are usually here?” I barely enunciated the words, my gaze peeled and darting from ahead to behind us.
“To my knowledge, there may be close to three dozen lycanthropes within the fortress alone.”
