placed it on the floor. Then I grabbed one of the furs from the wall, slipped it on, and belted my scabbard around it.
Icy snow bit my face. Crouching low to the ground, I hid in the shadows. A dark, menacing castle sat on top of a rocky hill. Attached to a pole on the highest tower, a black flag with a red flame blazing in the middle flapped in the biting wind.
My heart pounded louder in my ears the closer I got to the castle of doom. Instead of going through the front entrance, I went around the side. Soft drapes blew in and out of a couple of glass doors left ajar on an enclosed patio. I crawled over the wall and landed softly on the stone patio.
I tiptoed to the doors and peered around the drapes. Only a long dining table with a dozen or so chairs filled the room. The Chiave protested with a shiiiiing as I removed it from my scabbard, and I paused, listening for any movement inside. With cold, stiff hands, I held the blade out in front of me and then continued inside.
I crossed over to a door and eased it open a little. My heart knocked so hard against my chest as I peeked through the crack, I was sure someone could hear it. Opening the door wider with my boot, I tightened my hold on the Chiave and inched into a scary-movie vacant hallway. One direction led to a vast sitting room, so I hurried down the other direction instead and ended up in the foyer.
On either side of a wide staircase were two openings leading to the back of the castle. The corridor on the right brought me to the kitchen, and I doubled back. Across the corridor, a narrow stairway went down and disappeared in the darkness.
A dungeon? I hope. Dungeons are always underground.
The stairs were slick and dangerous as I plunged down them into the unknown. Small sconces, casting dim light throughout the narrow corridor, gave a sense of doom over the iron doors with small barred windows lining the walls. Like a victim, I pushed all reasoning aside and headed down it.
Score. I was right. Definitely, a dungeon.
A Russian man’s voice came from behind me, saying something I didn’t understand. I spun to face him. Two men filled the corridor in front of me, both heavily armed.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Russian man spit out more foreign words.
“What?” My breaths turning shallow, I backed away from them slowly. “Um, I was looking for a bathroom.” Lame.
“You’re American?” The other man spoke English, albeit with a very heavy Russian accent. “What are you doing down here?”
I recognized him. “You were with Arik at the Boston Athenæum and then at Professor Attwood’s office,” I said without really thinking.
The guy’s eyes widened.
The other man looked puzzled and said something in Russian to him.
“Edgar, right?”
“Who are you?” Edgar focused on my face.
“Gia. I’m—”
“Gianna Bianchi. What are you doing here? You’re exposing my cover.”
From the other man’s face, it looked like he was figuring something out. He pulled a dagger from his belt and pointed it at Edgar, saying more stuff in Russian. I made out Arik’s name and a word that sounded like spoon.
“Spy?” Edgar acted stunned and readied his fists.
The man repeated the word and lunged at Edgar.
Edgar dodged the attack and caught the man in a wristlock. The dagger clanked to the floor. “Hand me the dagger,” he said.
I snatched it up and gave it to him. “What are you going to do?”
“I have to kill him.”
“What?” I stumbled backward, shocked. “You can’t kill him.”
“I have to. He knows who I am.”
“Then you are a spoon, I mean, spy?”
Edgar grinned. “If you’re on the right side. Are you a spy?”
“Um, yes?”
“Carrig is down the hall.” The man struggled in Edgar’s grip, and Edgar tightened his hold. “I’ll get rid of Val here and distract the other guard. Get out of here fast, you hear me?”
“Where’s Sinead?”
“Who?”
“She’s a faery. Carrig’s wife.”
“I haven’t seen her. Now hurry and get out of here.”
I nodded and watched as he shuffled away with the man.
“Go!” he yelled over his shoulder.
I bolted down the corridor. “Carrig,” I whispered through the small barred windows in each door I passed. If Carrig was still locked up, where was Ricardo?
Something thudded against the metal door at the end. I stopped short and flattened myself against the opposite wall. Crap. What the hell is that? I heard it again, then, “Oomph,”