keep my head down and follow the trail made by the feet in front of me. The grass died away, and we were on black rocks. Specks of dirt and salt blown about by the wind stung my eyes.
When I dared to look up, I saw we were heading for the Grotto. A narrow path veered off the cliff walk, taking us down, down, down to a small cave hollowed out of the crag. Inside was our family’s shrine to Pontus. Four times a year, at the changing of the seasons, we brought offerings of fish and pearls and left them at the silver altar.
I hated those trips.
The trail was precarious. One wrong step and you’d plummet to the surf below.
Our little game suddenly seemed like a terrible mistake.
My eyes fell on a slab of rocks rising out of the sea like an angry fist. That’s where Eulalie’s body had been found. If Edgar was to be believed, she was pushed off the cliffs not far from where we now stood, and her killer was still on the loose.
Once inside the cave, I breathed a sigh of relief. We just needed to search the shrine and head back. There should still be enough weak sunlight for us to see the path. We could continue the search safely at Highmoor, until everyone tired of the game.
“Where should we start?” Rosalie asked. She’d marched us here so full of triumph. Now that she was here in the crowded space, doubt crept over her features.
There was no door.
“You said it was probably concealed, right?” Fisher said, sensing our flagging spirits. “Let’s look around. Maybe there’s a strange rock or a symbol or…something.”
The far wall of the cave behind the altar was covered over with chips of sea glass, forming a wave that crested over a statue of Pontus. Cast of gold and taller than even Fisher, the sea god raised his trident high above his head, as if ready to strike. He looked like a man, mostly. His chest was broad and muscular, but his lower half was a riot of tentacles.
The twisting arms reminded me of the horrible bathtub dream from the day of the triplets’ ball. Even now I could feel the rows of suction cups along my legs, gripping and grasping. With a shudder, I turned my back on the golden statue.
“Does anyone see anything?” I asked, shifting my focus back to my sisters.
Verity and Mercy stooped low over the sides of the stone benches. Honor knelt beside them, running her fingers over the seashells decorating the bases.
“Nothing yet.”
Rosalie shook her head. She and Camille traced their hands across the stone walls, looking for catches or hidden hinges. Ligeia was at the mouth of the cave, peering at the cliffs surrounding the entrance. Fisher stood nearby, ready to catch her should she lose her balance.
I joined Lenore at the altar, caressing its silver top. “Where else could it be?” I asked. “Maybe in the gallery? There’s the painting of the Brine. Or the bathroom on the fourth floor? The tub is a big clamshell—maybe Pontus put the door there?”
“I thought for sure we’d find something here,” Rosalie said. Her eyes narrowed as she cocked her head, sweeping her gaze over the small cave. “Did anyone try the statue?” She circled around it, appraising every angle. “Is it me or does it look like the trident can move? See the gap between his fingers?”
Fisher was the only one tall enough to properly inspect it. “I think it actually does….” He reached out on tiptoe and grabbed at the metal rod. With a rusted shriek, the trident spun around so its jeweled front now faced the back of the altar.
And then the wall began to shift.
It looked like a trick at first, the chips of sea glass glinting and sparkling in the dying afternoon light. But they were moving, spinning on unseen pins. They twisted and twisted until freed from the wall, spilling onto the stone floor with a shower of sparks and revealing a gaping tunnel entrance.
We watched the transformation in stunned silence until Verity darted forward and bent down, pressing her hand to the ground.
“It’s wet!” she exclaimed. “The sea glass turned to water!”
“That’s impossible,” Fisher said, stepping in. He patted the area around Verity. When he looked up, his brown eyes were wide with wonder. “How is this happening?”
“There really was a door,” Camille whispered before breaking into a grin. “We found the door!”
“We found a door,”