Chapter 38
After I peel myself out of the sausage dress, I meander back to my room. I watch the clock obsessively, waiting for the noises in all the rooms to die down, telling me that everyone has gone to bed. Finally, around ten past eleven, all lights are out, and the silence of the night falls over the castle.
I step out into the dark hallway and take a right. I haven’t been in that direction since I came here and was dragged to my room by Layla. Please, God, help me find my mom. I try to open every door, but they’re all locked and the end of the hallway is a dead-end. Feeling a bit discouraged, I decide to try a different part of the castle and head to the second floor again. I should really try the third floor, I think on my way up the stairs. It’s the only floor I’m forbidden to enter, and there’s probably a good reason why.
A large vestibule with vaulted cathedral ceilings opens up as I reach the third floor. My heart beats because the flights of stairs were arduous to climb, and because I know I shouldn’t be here. Orange couches are pushed against the walls on the right and left and stand between double French doors. Three fluted marble pillars stand on either side. I walk across the Persian carpet to the end of the room where a gigantic painting of a Viking ship hangs. The frame of the painting is made of gold. I reach to trace my fingers across the ridged oil painting, but instead, and to my astonishment, my fingers go beyond the canvas and paint and into an unknown territory. I gasp and withdraw my hand. “A portal,” I whisper. I touch it again and notice that as my hand reaches beyond the painting, where my hand meets the image, blue sparks surround my hand. Huh, I think. Hence the name Blufire. It’s not painful, but it definitely tingles.
Then behind me, I hear a low growl. It sounds like Anthony’s beast growl and I swivel around. “What are you doing here?” I’m excited that he’s here, but puzzled, because our agreement was that I’d come to him if I found my mom. Maybe something went wrong on his end and he needed to contact me.
The beast continues growling, and charges toward me. Snarling, he licks his fangs, and pounces on top of me. His claws dig into my flesh, and pierce my skin.
“Anthony, stop! You’re hurting me!” I yell.
But the beast doesn’t stop. He bites hold of my clothes and drags me across the room and down the stairs. I get the sense that I’ve done something very wrong and shouldn’t be here.
“Anthony, let me go, you’re hurting me!” I cry again. Blood oozes from my arms now where his claws have pierced my flesh. In a millisecond, I realize that this beast can’t possibly be Anthony. He wouldn’t hurt me. “Who are you?”
The beast growls and shakes me violently. I try to minimize the shaking by grabbing onto the beast’s mane, but it doesn’t help, and probably only provokes the beast further.
I’m terrified. With one move, this beast could kill me, and from the looks of it, that’s what it’s planning on doing. Down on the ground floor again, the beast flings me across the foyer so I slam into the front door, shattering the glass on impact. The creature growls again so loudly that I have to cover my ears. My body aches and the adrenaline rages through every inch of my being. Slinking toward me again, the beast stops a few feet away. It paces the floor back and forth a few dozen times and then as quickly as it appeared, disappears up the stairwell.
My first instinct is to cry, but I can’t afford to. I have to remain strong and I need to go see Anthony and tell him about this—now. I stumble out to the stable and saddle up the horse I rode earlier. Then I grab a smelly old wool blanket from one of the stalls, and race to the beach. It will be many hours before Anthony arrives, but I don’t dare to wait in my room, afraid the beast will return to kill me. I tie the horse to one of the nearby trees and curl up into a ball on the sand. It takes me a while before I’m able to calm myself from what just happened, but eventually I fall asleep under the star speckled sky with tears streaming down my cheeks, the fear of dying being so real that I feel dead already.