Page 45 of The Curse of Eternity (Descendants of Helsing #1)

Through the dim, I squinted at the engraved framework. The shimmering metal held vaguely religious symbols, like the ones on the small bell in our church’s steeple. Except, these depicted perpendicular lines and infinity symbols interspersed with stars facing the earth.

“How do we get through…”

“It is intended for only the lifeless to enter.” Like a demonstration, Drake placed his right hand against the mirror’s surface.

It didn’t stop there, passing straight through the glass like it was as insubstantial as water, but left no ripples in its wake.

My heart raced, and I blinked as his pale hand flexed on the other side before he pulled it back to our reality.

“In order to gain passage, the enchantment must be deceived. In my day, we were fed the blood of a vampire.”

“I have to drink your blood?”

“A drop will do,” he explained, but I winced. “I must warn, it may offer some…interesting side effects.”

“Like what?”

“The magick running through our veins gives us strength, as it will for you until it is metabolized.”

“Like caffeine? Make me more alert?” Damn, a shot of espresso sounded really good right about now.

The wary expression Drake wore wasn’t reassuring. “More akin to an amphetamine…”

“Never tried that one,” I muttered, and Drake’s responding smile was strained.

“I would not suggest it if it were not the only way I know.”

“Just one drop, right?”

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 in my 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.”

“Three dozen ?”

“When the majority of freshly transformed vampires left the fortress, after Dracula was slain, the Domnitori concentrated their efforts on increasing the number of lycans. To serve as security, and whatsoever else they desired.”

His explanation brought up more unanswered questions, curiosities that settled into the pit of my stomach like a rock.

We neared another corner, and Drake slowed before peering around it.

A moment later, his quick pace resumed while I jogged to keep up.

Halfway down the next hall, he halted beneath a grand chandelier.

More of a decoration, since none of the candles on its spokes were lit.

A click sounded, and I whirled. Drake stood before a set of double doors to my left. Gray wood framed the opaque windows which blended in with the walls on either side. Darkness greeted us when he pushed the right side open, noiseless as the last door’s hinges.

Frigid air poured into the corridor as I crossed the threshold from the rug underfoot to sleek hardwood floors. Worried my boots would squeak, I took the lightest steps I could manage, barely making a sound. Once my sight adjusted, my heart leaped.

Long shelves were lined up in a multitude of rows, almost reaching the high ceilings, and well beyond what I could count at first glance.

Dimly, I glimpsed a second story balcony high above, and more shelving beyond containing a treasure trove of spines in pristine condition.

Marveling at the craftsmanship, I took an awed step toward the labyrinth of stories while Drake closed the door behind us with a gentle click.

“It doesn’t make sense…” My unease redoubled, and I finally understood why. Drake strode down an aisle, seemingly at random, and I voiced my newfound curiosity when I caught up. “If this place is a mirror of the castle in our world, shouldn’t it be in ruins?”

The hidden entrance through the forest must’ve been spelled to ward away people from looking too closely, but the magick clearly hadn’t extended to the rest of the original structure since it was known for regular tourism, and in complete disrepair.

“Although Dracula is gone, his immortal blood is what this shadow fortress was built upon. And, like he had been, it is incapable of change. There can be no growth, no alteration to the structural integrity. Regardless of what occurs in our reality.”