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Chapter 29

Rolf

W et earth and the musty scent of stale air assaulted Rolf’s senses. Waves crashed outside, filling the tunnel with a deafening sound and shaking the door behind him. Only a sliver of light shone through a crack in the door where his axe had struck. In hindsight, it was probably for the best that the axe had lodged so deeply into the wood, because without that crack, he wouldn’t be able to see a thing.

He slid his feet forward, hoping he wasn’t walking toward a dead end. The mud clawed at his boots, squelching each time he shifted his weight. Though it was cool in the belly of the castle, sweat formed along his brow. Several feet in, the light disappeared. One of his hands drifted to his holsters, triple-checking he had everything in its rightful place once more, while the other braced against the stones as he felt his way forward. Pitch-black enveloped him, and instead of succumbing to the terror of feeling like the tunnel was closing in, he let his eyes drift shut and tried letting his wolf come forward. Maybe if he could give it the right nudge, he could use its heightened senses.

Ever since Adeline had fed from him, he had felt closer than ever to his wolf. On the journey, he had noticed a constant throbbing in his chest and an animalistic urge to destroy everything in his path that kept him from her. And now that he knew he was close, it was a battle reigning in the impatient beast. Which was vastly different than how it had been in the past century, when only the full moon would connect him to his animal.

Curious, he thought, and it almost felt like his wolf hummed in agreement.

His toe thudded against something, and his eyes snapped open when his hands braced against solid wood.

A door? His hands groped for a handle, but he found nothing. Fuck!

Rolf almost kicked the wooden slab, but stopped himself. There was no telling what or who was on the other side.

What do I do now? His wolf snarled as he turned around. A speck of light shone at the very end of the tunnel, roughly a dozen feet away. He debated for a moment whether he should head back the way he came. But when he turned around again, there was a door with a small circular window where the solid wooden slab had been.

“Huh,” he said. His wolf had gone quiet; otherwise, he would have felt his hackles rise. “If that isn’t interesting.”

Are my eyes playing tricks on me?

He looked behind him again, staring at the wall where the wooden door led to the sea. It was gone. Gooseflesh prickled his skin, but he faced forward once more. The new door remained. Through the window, he could see a torch flickering on the wall, casting long shadows into the tunnel. He rubbed his eyes, certain that his mind was playing tricks on him.

“Well, castle,” he said, partly to himself to give him courage and partly to whatever trickery was afoot, “I suppose I don’t have much of a choice.”

For Adeline.

He took a deep breath, turned the handle, and pushed the door open.

An intricate grand staircase appeared before him, as if he had just walked through the front door of the castle. Which he knew he hadn’t because he was far below the upper levels of the structure. He had expected at least a hallway or a dungeon with torches, but instead, the staircase’s large wooden banisters, carved with intricate floral accents, curved upward, velvet runners covered several dozen wooden stairs, and chandeliers full of candles hung from above.

The space looked vaguely familiar, as if plucked from his memories as a child, but he couldn’t quite place it, and each time he focused on a particular spot, his vision blurred slightly.

Magicked.

At the base of the staircase was a small table with a mirror and a candelabra. Rolf picked up the candelabra, glancing briefly at his image in the mirror. In the reflection, his hair had been shorn close, and his beard was gone. He was wearing an outfit similar to the ones his brothers used to wear.

Is this what I would have looked like?

With his free hand, he reached up and touched his cheek. His beard was gone, and his hair was shorn close, just like in the reflection. Leaning forward, Rolf wondered briefly what his life would be like now if he had not gone into the stone circle, or if he hadn’t ever shifted, or if his wolf hadn’t changed every part of himself. Even the eyes that stared back at him had changed, no longer the amber color he was used to.

Had his brothers’ eyes ever changed? Not that he could remember.

A gentle breeze caressed the back of his neck, and his flesh prickled, nudging him out of his hazy memories. The door to the tunnel swung silently on its hinges until it closed. Awestruck, he watched as the lock turned on its own, as if moved by a specter.

With nowhere else to go, Rolf tightened his grip around the candelabra.

“Up the stairs, then,” he said.

It was an easy decision. He would do whatever it took to get her back, even if it meant burning the castle to the ground from the inside. He would never be separated from her ever again.