backflips. Slipping my fingers around the gap, I pulled with all my strength.
With a great whoosh of musty air, the bookcase swung open to reveal an ancient stone staircase that curved down into blackness. Not wanting to risk the glow of the ring giving me away, I twisted the stone around and closed my fist over it. Saying a quick prayer, I stepped down into the unknown.
CHAPTER 35
Mackenna
On the stage, conflict never resolves until the third act—at the eleventh hour. I tried to comfort myself, but the words felt empty. The eleventh hour had passed, and we were no closer to finding Jamie than we’d been at eight—or nine—or ten. With less than an hour left to save Doon, each futile minute scraped through me as if I were the narrow center of a sand timer.
Throughout the day Addie had grown more Grimm-like in my mind, until she epitomized evil incarnate. Just like the storybook kingdom and fairy-tale princes come to life, the wicked witch lived in the flesh—and she was a mean, cunning old hag. Her magic had messed with Doon’s enchantment. If she was powerful enough to prevent the Brig o’ Doon from opening and fill us with such despair we were ready to roll over in defeat, what chance did our little Scooby Gang stand of defeating her?
Unfortunately, we had to find her first. Despite Vee’s irrational insistence Jamie was here, we hadn’t found any evidence that Addie or the king of Doon had ever been in Dunbrae Cottage. We’d investigated every inch.
With nowhere inside left to search, Fergus and Duncan had gone to inspect the riverbank while Vee and I reexamined the house. Exhausted and in desperate need of a timeout, I wandered upstairs to grab a few things. In the flickering candlelight, I hurriedly ransacked Vee’s drawers, stuffing cotton undergarments, jeans, a couple of hoodies, her jogging gear, and a few of her favorite books into a canvas bag. None of her other possessions would be of much benefit for her new life in Doon. After everything she’d gone through today, I refused to accept she and Jamie wouldn’t end up together.
When I finished with Vee’s room, I headed to my own. I hastily searched for anything else that might be useful and added it to the bundle. Rifling through the closet, I grabbed my favorite jacket. As I shrugged it on, a crumpled rectangle of paper fell from the pocket to land faceup at my feet. My acceptance letter to the Adrenaline Theatre Company internship program, personally signed by Weston Ballard. Ever since I’d gotten it in the mail, I’d carried it around like a talisman, to ward off the spirits of an unremarkable life.
Although half dead with fatigue and fear, that letter caused something inside of me to break. What would happen if I failed to save the boy I cared about? My life—my goal of a successful career on the stage—wouldn’t matter if Doon and all its inhabitants perished.
And if by some miracle they were saved, what then?
To his credit, Duncan had done his best not to gawk at his strange new surroundings, and he hadn’t said one word as I crammed him into the taxi. Although he was desperate to find Jamie, I knew a little part of him had been trying to prove he belonged in my world.
But how? And as what? I suspected there weren’t too many job openings for the position of prince. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t reconcile the idea of Duncan working in a random office, or worse yet flipping burgers at some greasy fast food joint, with the daring Scotsman I’d first seen trying to pummel his brother to death.
I guess he could always keep house. Shop at the local Walmart and cook misshapen meals while I pursued my career. Survive on misplaced infatuation while I embraced my dreams.
My legs gave way and I slumped to the floor, too numb to go on. Duncan’s gorgeous yet tortured face appeared before me. His brown eyes held an unrelenting agony at the thought of his beloved home perishing. The hard set of his jaw conveyed his determination to save his world. His mouth clamped tight against unspoken fears that he might fail.
All he’d ever wanted was to serve his kingdom, his king, and his Protector. He’d told me so at Muir Lea. Yet for me, he would walk away from his heart’s desires. How was that fair when I couldn’t—no, I wouldn’t—do the same for him? He deserved better: a long and happy life with someone who shared his ideals. Not some girl who insisted on putting herself first.
Grains of sand continued to drop and shred my insides as I prayed for Duncan and Fiona’s Protector to work a miracle. Please save him, I begged. If you rescue him, along with his king and country, I’ll give him back to you. I’ll give him up forever. I promise!
A gentle whoosh resounded in the hall, followed by a blast of cool, dank air on my face. I blinked my eyes open to absolute black. The breeze that’d come out of nowhere had gutted the candles and left me in darkness.
Was this the universe’s way of telling me to give up? Why would the Protector of Doon extinguish what little light I had? Wasn’t light synonymous with hope? And Divine promise?
Please …
My hand began to tingle. I watched a shimmering green flame dance in the emerald of my ring as amazement stirred in my chest. With each passing moment, Uncle Cam’s ring grew brighter. As the glow expanded to light the room, a great and terrible knowledge settled over me. The curtain had not closed on the final act. The plot still contained a few twists, and there was magic yet to do. In the grand scheme of the universe, my own dreams meant nothing; the only thing that mattered was saving those I loved.
CHAPTER 36
Veronica
The stone felt cold and slimy beneath my fingers as I made my way down the passageway. To calm my nerves, I counted steps as I went. Twelve … thirteen … fourteen. The stairs funneled down in a tight circle. Moving silently, I descended into complete darkness. Eighteen … nineteen … twenty.
I wouldn’t allow my imagination to form pictures of what I would find. Instead, I concentrated on keeping my balance and counting—as if my life depended on it.
Twenty-six … twenty-seven … twenty-eight … twenty-nine …
I pitched forward, hitting something solid with my shoulder. Belatedly, I realized the steps had ended. My pulse pounded in my ears as I explored the barrier in front of me. It felt like wood, warmer than the stone but still slick with damp. Images of spindly legged spiders dropping on my head and rabid, hungry rats milling about my feet almost paralyzed me. I opened my fist, and the red light of my ring erupted, illuminating a crude wooden door—thankfully, no spiders or rats were in sight.
With trembling fingers, I lifted the heavy wrought-iron lever, cringing as a squeak echoed through the corridor followed by a soft, creaking moan. The door opened about a foot and stuck, forcing me to squeeze through the opening. Flickering torches lined the stone passageway that led to another windowless door at the far end. On tiptoes, I jogged toward the end of the hall as every instinct within me screamed in warning.
I put my ear to the wood, held my breath, and listened. Nothing. I braced for the screech of metal on metal, but this door didn’t make a sound as I slowly inched it closer to me.
Pressing my spine against the gritty wall, I peered through the opening. A single candle flickered in the far corner of a small, cell-like room. I blinked against the shifting light, sifting through shadowy details. A bare cot … a wooden table … Jamie!
He was bound to a chair, his head resting on his chest. Was he unconscious, or was I too late? All thoughts of caution gone, I pushed into the room and ran toward him as his eyes rolled open.
“Stop. ’Tis a trap,” he groaned.
Heedless of the warning, I ran forward. But just before I reached him, something slammed me back against the wall. I hit so hard, my legs collapsed, sending me to the floor.
“Vee!” Jamie cried.
