She hit us with her flashlight. “You need to keep up with the others.”
I approached her. “Niki. You didn’t see us.” I projected a wave of energy that struck her right between her eyes.
Niki’s head jolted. “How do you know my. . . name?” Her eyelids fluttered.
Ingrid moved closer, fascinated, though probably questioning her moral obligation to stop me.
“Niki, go back to work,” I said. “You didn’t see us. You don’t remember seeing us.” I motioned for her to turn around.
In a lazy hypnotic state, she scratched her face, lost in a sea of thought and then headed back.
Ingrid folded her arms. “Have you ever used that on me?”
“Of course not,” I said. “Getting inside your noggin is far too dangerous.”
High on the brickwork was an antique brass torch sconce. I reached for it and twisted it sideways. The wall scraped open.
After checking it was safe, we entered, trekking down a stone stairwell and onward. At the very end, another door greeted us. Once inside the ten- by eight-foot room, we both took a wall, eager to find the next clue to advance our mystery tour.
The door slammed behind us.
Ingrid tried to open it. “It’s locked!”
“This is Fabian’s modus operandi.” And then I saw it. There, resting on the floor in the far corner, lay a rolled up piece of cream paper.
I unraveled it.
Ingrid peered from behind my shoulder. “Tell me you read—”
“Latin, yes.”
“Well?” Ingrid reached for my shirtsleeve and tugged it.
I dropped the piece of paper and went straight for the door handle, desperately trying to turn it. When that failed, I shoved my right shoulder up against the frame.
Ingrid had picked up the note and was reading it. “We have to tell each other our deepest fear?”
I rested my forehead against the door.
Ingrid read on, “Only then will Fabian let us out?” She looked confused.
I knew why, and I hated him for it.
With concentration, I focused on the door, ready to send a jolt of force at it. Pain exploded in my skull, and I fell against the wall, stunned.
Fabian had just sent a warning right into my frontal lobe, commanding me not to try my trick in here; and evidenced by my pounding head, he was insisting. I turned round and slid down the wall.
The paper slipped from Ingrid’s hand and spiraled to the floor. “What’s going on?”
“He’s not letting us out,” I whispered.
“But I need to pee.”
“We have a bigger problem,” I said. “You’re trapped in here with a vampire.”
Ingrid sat and wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging them into her. “Tell me this isn’t you manipulating me?”
“No.”