A Legacy of the Damned: Daughter of Astaroth

Chapter 63 - The Locked Room

The whisperings from the other side of the door make my pulse race. "Demon child..." it says. "The ancient keeper..."

I blink and stare at the door. The ancient keeper? Who? Me? Or was it talking to the Nephilims?

"Did you hear that?" I ask Sacha but he stares at me with furrowed brows and from the blank look on the other Nephilims' faces behind him, they didn't hear it either.

"Daughter of Astaroth...we have what you want.."

Do they really? I spend a few more seconds, staring at the door in contemplative. Tricky tricky tricky... I know I shouldn't believe everything that I hear, after all, I'm good at telling people what they want to hear in order to get what I want. But the urge to be on the other side of that door is very strong.

"I have to do it," I tell Sacha, closing the gap between me and the heavily carved door.

The moment I set my palm flat against it, the delicately carved vines start to move. My hand and my arm are buzzing. It's as though they're drawing energy from me. They're twisting and slithering like little serpents to wrap around my hand and slim wrist. My heart starts to race and my ears are filled with dark whisperings.

The Nephilims watch on curiously while the vines tighten around my hand as they rearrange their positions.

I clench my jaw and press my lips together as thorns pierce through my skin, drawing blood.

Sacha's cool indiffrent expression slips. His eyes widen, his jaw tightens, and his nostrils flare.

Then he's saying something. His lips move but I can't hear him. His voice is drowned by the whisperings in my ears.

When the blood starts to trail down and drips off my elbow, he looks as though he's ready to tear the door to pieces, but I put my free hand up to his chest to stop him from reacting. He grabs it and holds it tightly in his hands. Then he brings it up to his lips to press a kiss on the back of it. His eyes are intent on my face, watching my every expression.

Watching him- the fire in his eyes, the determined curve of his strong jaw, his nose, high cheekbones, and those messy curls help. I draw strength from his hand that's holding me. His scent calms me.

When the vines find their positions, the rose petals in the carving fall on the floor one by one and as they fall, the vines around my hand ease up, retreating little by little. The whisperings stop. By the time the last petal drops to the floor, my hand is finally free and the door opens with a click.

I stare up at Sacha and he gives a little nod before I cautiously pull the door open wider to peer inside. A gust of wind blows through me with an ugly cackle and I jump back with a start. Everyone behind me looks as startled.

"Well, there goes one spirit making a run for it," I comment lightly after I recover. The other Nephilims all stare at me as though I was insane while Sacha squeezes my arms and pulls me back so that he could enter the room first this time.

All of us file in behind Sacha and Olivier flicks a switch beside him. The room is suddenly bathed in the dim orange light from an antique fixture on the wall.

I give the room a cursory glance as I step in front of Sacha.

The room is not very big or grand and the furnishing is quite minimal. Set against the nearest wall is a four-poster queen-sized bed with a bare mattress and a pillow. Next to it is a bedside table and a dresser. There is a small table flanked by a couple of antique chairs by the windows. All in all, a pretty normal-looking room if not a tad bare with no pictures on the wall or a rug on the floor.