Page 29 of Blindsided
Everyone pulls out their cellphones, and we turn our flashlights on.
As the glow from our phones illuminates the stone passage, I can’t help but feel like we’re in some horror movie—the kind where the clueless outsider—that would be me—gets killed first.
“Are there always secret passages in Irish castles, or is this a special MacGallan feature?” I whisper, trying to mask my nervousness with sarcasm.
“Bit of both,” Kane answers, his voice echoing slightly in the narrow space. “Most old places have hidey-holes, but my family has a particular talent for secrets.”
I stick close to Kane as we move forward, our phone lights casting long shadows against the damp stone walls. Water drips somewhere in the distance, a steady plink-plink that makes my skin crawl.
“This is ridiculous,” Declan mutters ahead of us. “We need better light.”
As if answering his complaint, Rory pullssomething from his pocket—a heavy-duty flashlight that cuts through the darkness like a spotlight.
“You couldn’t have mentioned that five minutes ago?” Kat asks, exasperated.
Wren produces another flashlight from her purse, and suddenly the passage is bathed in proper light. I feel some of the tension leave my shoulders.
“Better?” Kane asks, noticing my relieved expression.
“Much,” I admit. “Though I’m still questioning my life choices right about now.”
He grins, that troublemaker smile that somehow puts me at ease despite our surroundings. “Join the club.”
With the improved lighting, we move more confidently through the passage. It’s wider than I initially thought, with a ceiling high enough that even Kane doesn’t have to duck. The stone walls glisten with moisture, and the air smells of earth and time.
“How old is this place?” I ask, running my fingers along the cool stone.
“The castle dates back to the 1500s,” Wren explains. “But some of these underground structures could be even older.”
“And your family owns it?” I’m trying to reconcile these people with the kind of wealth that casually possesses ancient castles.
“Technically, the clan does,” Kat says over her shoulder.
Before I can ask what exactly a “clan” entails in modern times, Declan stops abruptly at the front of our little procession.
“There’s something up ahead.”
We crowd forward, and I see what stopped him—a heavy iron gate blocks our path, rusted but still formidable. Beyond it lies what appears to be a larger chamber.
“Locked,” Declan confirms, rattling the ancient padlock that secures the gate.
Kane pushes his way forward, examining the lock with narrowed eyes. “This isn’t original to the castle. Someone added this recently.”
“Define ‘recently,’” Rory says, shining his light on the lock.
“Within the last decade,” Kane replies. “It’s a modern design, just made to look old.”
Declan and Kane exchange a look that seems loaded with meaning. Without a word, they both take a step back, then simultaneously throw their shoulders against the gate. The sound of metal scraping against stone echoes painfully in the enclosed space, but the gate doesn’t budge.
“Again,” Declan orders, and they ram the gate once more.
This time, I hear something give—a cracking sound followed by the groan of bending metal. One more powerful shove, and the lock tears away from its housing, sending the gate swinging inward with a screech that sets my teeth on edge.
“Show-offs,” Kat mutters, but she sounds impressed.
We step into a circular chamber that reminds me of something from a fantasy novel. The ceiling arches overhead, and another massive fireplace dominates the far wall. Unlike the one above, this hearth is pristine, as if it were built yesterday rather than centuries ago.
“This doesn’t make sense,” Wren says, voicing what I’m thinking. “This fireplace shouldn’t be here. The stonework doesn’t match the rest of the castle.”
