The Shadowseeker - Victor Kloss Page 0,79

sure nobody was in sight, Ben descended the stairs again, stopping at the door. He placed a hand on the stone and slapped it. It was as solid as it looked. Ben bit his lip in frustration. They had tried a dozen different ways to open the door in the last few days without success. Had Dagmar been trying to work out how to open it as well? He recalled her staring at the door; she certainly hadn't been resorting to force.

Ben placed a hand on the stone, feeling its hard texture. It was the first time Ben had actually touched the door without the intention of breaking the thing down, and he was surprised by how cool it felt.

Something touched the edge of Ben's mind, making him jump. A faint consciousness. Ben gave a sudden intake of breath. It was the door; it felt alive. Ben thought of the lockers in the Institute, but this was different. The lockers were a magical race inhabiting the lockers. This door was a consciousness unto itself.

Ben ran his hand over each stone, touching softly, with a tenderness normally reserved for a pet. The further down the door he went, the stronger the consciousness became, until the door felt like a real person. Ben was on his hands and knees now, touching the stone at the base of the door, focusing on the consciousness, hoping for a sign or a signal.

Then he saw it.

An outline of a door within the door, so faint that unless he focused he lost sight of it. The inner door was no more than three feet high and fit underneath the bolt. Ben began searching for a handle of some sort, his face just inches from the door. It took him a moment; the handle was so well camouflaged it was something he could only feel, not see. Holding his breath, Ben turned the handle. There was a faint click, and the tiny door opened.

Darkness lay beyond, but just enough sunlight crept through to make out stairs. Lots of stairs.

— Chapter Twenty-Seven —

Beneath the Institute

“A living door? Even by today's standards that's weird,” Charlie said.

Ben had rushed into the library and practically dragged Charlie and Natalie outside, before revealing his discovery.

They were now loitering in the front courtyard with great impatience, waiting for an opportune moment to circle the Institute without being noticed. Draven and a couple of his Wardens were talking by the water fountain.

“Doesn't he have anything better to do?” Ben asked, tapping his foot impatiently.

Five painful minutes later, Draven finally walked – stomped might be a better word – back into the Institute and for a moment, at least, the courtyard was empty.

They walked quickly round to the back of the Institute and hurried to the little outbuilding. After a quick look around to make sure nobody was watching, they went down the steps and stopped at the stone door.

“Now what?” Charlie said.

Ben pressed a gentle hand against the stone. He felt the door's presence immediately, almost like touching a tree brimming with life.

“Touch there,” Ben said, retreating his own hand.

Charlie did so, his face a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. After a moment he retreated his hand and shook his head.

“I don't feel anything,” he said.

“Really? How's that possible? You're more sensitive than I am to these things.”

Natalie extended her slender arm. “Let me try.”

Her hand stayed on the door for even less time than Charlie's.

“Nothing for me either,” she said.

Ben felt a moment of alarm. He touched it again himself, and once again felt its life pulsing through him, if anything, stronger than before.

“It's still there,” Ben said, with a sigh of relief. “I don't understand how you're not feeling it.”

“Maybe it's a Guardian thing,” Natalie suggested.

Ben hadn't thought of that. Charlie clearly thought Natalie might be on to something, for his face lit up.

“That would make sense,” Charlie said. “Maybe this is another one of those passages that only Guardians can access, just like the one that led to the common room.”

“Well, let's see if I can still get it open,” Ben said.

His hand went slowly down the door, feeling the texture of the stone, just like last time. And just like last time, the door's consciousness became more significant the further down he went. He got onto his hands and knees, feeling the stone, looking for the edges of the little door.

This time he saw it clearly. Even the handle, which he could previously detect only by touch, was visible. Ben