Page 15 of Druid Cursed
A castle hidden in the woods like an ancient secret waiting to be found.
Not even the chill and unfriendly aura of the forest could prevent a shiver of excitement.
A relic from the times of honor and chivalry, swords and shields, when life was simpler, if just as dangerous.
Darren had always ridiculed her fascination with ages past, but that never stopped her from loving all things medieval, swords and castles, chivalry and adventure.
Without the oppression, preferably. And with indoor plumbing.
Her modest library at home was filled with books about life in that era.
To walk through the halls of an honest-to-god castle, even briefly, was a dream come true.
Kellen had called it his ancestral home, probably knew all its history, when it was built, what trials it had endured, the names of the people who had lived there before him…
Nope, she wasn’t going to think about him, not when a freaking castle peeked from among the trees and brambles, as if hoping she’d find it again.
She could look up its history herself later.
She did not need a man for this or anything, especially not one as tempting as Kellen Ravenwood.
“Here we are,” she breathed, grinning wide. She couldn’t keep the awe from her voice.
Weathered stone turrets, towers, and battlements made dark smudges through the wild thicket that had grown up around the structure.
It had to be centuries old to have fir and oak trees tall enough to conceal it, crowding so close they surely hadn’t been planted there on purpose.
Blackberry vines and ivy filled most of the gaps left by branches and boughs, and with the moss playing concealer, it was a wonder anyone would spot this building on their own.
Cara backpedaled, her face stricken with fear. When the back of her calves hit a huge fallen log on the other side of the path, she plopped down onto it and didn’t get up. “If you’re going in there, you’re on your own.”
“What? Why?”
“It looks like a diseased trap full of rotten boards, poison, and toxins. Not to mention wild animals. Probably rabid. And the mold alone would have me coughing for the rest of the year.”
Maggie turned and studied the castle. It looked amazing, mysterious, like secrets of the best kind waiting to be discovered. “All I see is a great adventure.”
Cara scoffed. “Your definition of adventure isn’t the same as mine.”
The fact that Cara, whose strength and confidence was a palpable force, was freaked out by something that only excited Maggie sparked a reckless sort of bravery. “Are you sure you’ll be okay out here? A raccoon or army of squirrels could attack you.”
She pointed at the castle, her finger trembling. “The only way I’d ever go in there is if there was an alien invasion out here. If you don’t come back out in a reasonable amount of time, I’ll get help. But going in there is not happening.”
“Suit yourself. If you hear me scream, run.”
“And if you hear me scream, I expect you to come out with a battle cry and fight the wildlife with me.”
“Will do,” she said with a laugh, then headed off.
Two platforms flanked the castle entryway, and oversize stone ravens stood guard on either side, blackened by weather and spotted with lichen, their eyes empty holes.
Dead leaves gathered around the foundations, and ivy suffocated the passage, creating a natural trellis.
As she stepped beneath it, she felt as if she moved from one time into another. Into the past.
Maggie paused a few feet from the steps leading to the entrance with a heavy iron door.
The tip of the shadowed tower peered from the heights of the trees.
It reminded her of Kellen. Secretive. Ominous.
Intriguing. He’d probably spent a lot of time in that turret, brooding and thinking up ways to scare guests.
Enough wasted thought on Kellen. She had a ring to find.
Pushing aside the branches of an overgrown rowan tree, Maggie ducked under some low vines and maneuvered up the stone stairs. The steps were solid and sound, no cracks or crumbling edges. She tugged her snagged sweater free from a stray branch and stopped outside the great iron double doors.
Rust flaked the hinges, the only sign of their age.
The symbol wrought dead center in the split between the doors reminded her of a realm mostly forgotten, of primeval societies.
The same knot design scattered throughout Ravenwood Estate played background to a raven mid-flight, claws outstretched as if in attack.
The bird’s black, glaring eyes looked hard as diamonds.
The hairs on her nape prickled, but she refused to let any featherbrained fowl intimidate her. It wasn’t even alive.
A push on the door did nothing. No visible lock mechanism marked the iron. No knob, latch, or handle.
A deep hum rose in the air, a lullaby beat of crickets and gentle, flowing water.
The sun shone down on her, warm. Her eyes grew heavy…
She should be taking a nap right now, curled up in that luscious window seat in her room or reading a book, with a basket of hot blueberry muffins and her favorite coffee.
No exploration of stones that had seen better days could trump that.
Maggie stumbled over something and blinked as she regained her balance. The rock she’d tripped over had rolled on its side, and several beetles scuttled for the shadows.
“Good. You changed your mind.” Cara stood from the log where she’d been waiting and brushed moss from her khakis. “Let’s go.”
“I…” She pivoted. Without intending to or even realizing it until now, she’d descended the castle steps and made it back out to Cara. Goose bumps tingled along her arms. What the hell?
She swept a hand through her hair and straightened her sweater. “Sorry to disappoint you. Didn’t change my mind, just regrouping. I’ll be back in a bit.” She ignored Cara’s harrumph, squared her shoulders, and faced the castle once again.
Back at the door, Maggie ignored the prickling sensation along her nerves and touched the raven’s wing.
An electrical zap shot through her arm, like a warning— ouch —but as she traced the intricate details of the bird’s feathers, the sensation faded.
Close attention had been paid to every pinion of the emblem.
Even the talons held a sharp edge. But it was within the raven’s parted beak, beneath its black tongue, that she found a tiny metal knob.
It gave with a push of her thumb, and the door clicked open.
Yes! She made a little victory hop. The Ravenwoods should add an ancient castle escape room to their Halloween extravaganza. It would be epic.
Carefully, she pushed the doors apart. They swung inward without a sound. Releasing a shaky breath, she stepped inside. With Cara waiting, she couldn’t stay long. Hopefully the ring on Wendy’s list would be easy to find.
The grand entryway contained two staircases spiraling up to the second floor.
Her imagination roamed free in this kind of place.
It wasn’t hard to envision knights and their ladies finding each other in the shadows and stealing a kiss or two.
A fireplace big enough for Kellen to stand inside without slouching graced one wall.
Cobwebs and dust filled its grate, the stone blackened by uncountable fires burned long ago.
It was everything she’d hoped it would be. As if drawn by tether, she wandered across the great hall to the corridor beyond, toward the stairs leading to the tower. Leave it to Wendy to send her straight to the top, to the one spot most likely to have artifacts hidden away safe.
The steps leading to the tower appeared sound enough. Maggie peered up the winding stairwell. From somewhere high, air whistled, as if part of the roof had fallen in and allowed the elements to sneak inside.
She wiped her damp palms on her jeans and forced herself up the steps.
Perspiration gathered on her forehead as she climbed higher and higher.
A spiderweb brushed her face, and she swiped it away without stopping.
If she paused for even a second, she had the distinct sensation she’d never reach the tower, though she couldn’t explain why.
Finally, her legs beginning to burn with effort, she reached a landing. Another double door with the same raven emblem guarded entry into the top of the tower. One side was ajar, as if welcoming her inside. Maggie breathed a sigh of relief. Now, to find the ring.
She slipped inside and paused, momentarily stunned. Holy. Crap.
Unlike the empty castle below, the tower must have forgotten its time had long passed.
It was everything she’d always imagined a medieval tower should be.
Books invaded every space, the wall shelves, tables, and floor, great tomes boasting leather covers bound with handmade stitches.
A round table took up the center, covered with bottles, feathers, bones, and rocks.
Maggie wandered deeper into the room, feeling like a trespasser in a dream.
Two windows on opposite sides allowed light in, both with thick glass still intact. Next to one window, a planted tree snaked up the wall, its black, thorny limbs leafless. Dried herbs hung from the frame in gray bunches, and she caught a whiff of lavender, sage, and thyme.
A hint of lemon and licorice. Kellen. Was he the one using this room?
One book was open, its pages yellowed with age, an oil lantern beside it.
She brushed her fingers above the page, just the corner.
It looked as if it might crumble if she breathed anywhere near it.
The writing was beautiful, decorative, colorful, and intricate.
A pocket-size book was tucked beneath the other, and she pulled it free.
The book felt warm in her hand. She traced the ridges of the cover’s tooled leather design, a tree with a flock of ravens in its branches.
Maybe, if she asked nicely, Kellen would let her borrow it.
But as fascinating as the tower was, Cara still waited for her outside. She couldn’t mess around. She had a ring with a secret to find, then a whole list of other items.
She circled the room. Where would a “wizard” keep a ring? A peacock feather rested on one shelf, a collection of glass jars next to a mortar and pestle—
“What are you doing inside my personal chambers?”
At Kellen’s voice behind her, Maggie gasped and spun, nearly knocking over a stuffed owl, and when he stalked across the room toward her, she backpedaled all the way into the wall and plastered herself to the stone.
He loomed over her, his eyes glittering dangerously, like oil caught aflame, about to explode.
His expression was one of cold, hard fury.
For the first time since she’d met him, an arrow of fear pierced through her.