Keeper(45)

I moved closer to get a better look.

I stopped again, my breath hitching in my throat.

It had been an optical illusion after all. The bookshelf wasn’t floating or about to fall over.

It was a door.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


I stood there staring, utterly gobsmacked at the door that shouldn’t exist.

What the hell? I reached out my hand.

The hinges creaked when I pushed the large, book-

covered panel even farther away from the wall to reveal a narrow passageway. I couldn’t see much—the only source of light was a small yellow lantern that hung from the ceiling—except for the fact that the walls were made of large gray stones. I stepped inside.

The narrow passageway was long and winding, with lanterns placed sporadically to light the way. The floor was nothing but dirt.

Where am I? The passageway looked like it belonged in an ancient castle in medieval England, not a conservative, two-story house in the middle of Nowhere, Georgia. Was it possible that I’d stepped through some magical portal, transporting me to another time and place entirely? I shook my head but kept inching along.

The passage began to widen, and after rounding the last curve, I found myself standing in a large, dome-shaped room with walls that were a strange mixture of polished metal and compacted dirt. A web of ropes hung from the ceiling, and there were wide hooks attached to the metal paneling of the walls that held a large collection of weaponry. My mouth dropped open as I took in the assortment of long and short swords, sabers, scimitars, rapiers, daggers, spiked maces, longbows with matching quivers of arrows, and other strange, yet dangerous-looking objects I couldn’t identify.

I turned and nearly jumped out of my skin. Gareth was standing a few feet away, holding a long, heavy-looking sword in his hand. His back was to me, and he was wearing a plain white t-shirt and some loose sweatpants. The sword in his hands was long and curved, the blade a deep copper color.

I stared as Gareth began to move, flinging the blade around his head as though it weighed nothing. He lunged forward, striking the air, and the sword moved so gracefully it might have been a natural extension of his arm.

I think my eyes may have bugged out of my head as I watched Gareth attack his invisible opponent with a skill and ease that bespoke long years of practice. I gasped in sheer admiration and astonishment as he executed a maneuver I’d only ever seen in movies.

At the sound, Gareth whirled around and darted forward, the sword aimed at my chest.

I screeched and threw myself backward, landing hard on my ass. I was more shocked than hurt, but my entire body was shaking as I stared up at my uncle.

“Dammit, Lainey, I could’ve killed you!” Gareth roared, moving the blade away from my chest. He wiped the sweat from his brow and reached down to help me to my feet. “What are you doing down here?”

“What am I doing down here?” I dusted the dirt from the back of my pants. “What am I doing down here?” I threw my arms out. “I don’t even know where the hell I am!”

Gareth let out a long sigh and shifted from one foot to the other as if he wasn’t sure what to say next. “Serena told me—” he started, then shook his head. “No, let’s start with the easy stuff first. You’re in the training room.” His casual use of the term—as if he’d said ‘grocery story’ or ‘library’—sent a surge of anger through me.

“Oh, the training room?” I glared at him. “Well, that explains everything.”

“Look, I know you’re upset—”

“Upset?” My voice was rising, shrill and punctuated. “Now, why would I be upset? Oh, I know! Maybe it’s because I just found out that I’m a witch—a fact that you conveniently forgot to tell me for almost seventeen years! Or it could be that I just got attacked by a freaking tree. And let’s not forget the fact that my house has a hidden dungeon in it where my uncle likes to show off his secret ninja skills and throw around a sword!” I tilted my head in mock thought. “Nope, can’t see any reason at all why I should be upset.”

“A ninja?” Gareth scoffed.

“Fine. Warlock.” I threw my hands in the air. “Whatever.”

The smile faded from Gareth’s face, and he blinked a few times before he spoke again. “Come on. I’ll explain everything.” He walked over to a pair of chairs near one of the weapon racks. I huffed and followed him, plunking myself down in one of the seats.

After he had wiped down his sword with a soft cloth, Gareth hung the weapon in its rightful place on the wall and sat opposite me. “Okay,” he said, his face serious. “Where do you want me to start?”

“How come you never told me the truth about Mom?”

Gareth sighed. “I was planning to tell you. I had it all thought out in my head, what I was going to say and do, but I could never seem to find the right time.”

“The right time?” I clenched my hands into fists. “You should’ve told me when I was old enough to understand. I deserved to know the truth about my mother, about what happened to her and my dad.” My voice cracked, but the words kept coming. “I trusted you.”

Gareth cleared his throat, visibly trying to keep his emotions at bay. “I’m sorry, Lainey. I was just trying to do what I felt was right.”