The first thing Elliot Finch noticed about Blackwood Manor was that it had far too many windows.

The second thing he noticed was that every single window appeared to be watching him.

The third thing he noticed was that Clara had already walked halfway to the front door.

“Clara.”

She stopped.

“What?”

“Wait.”

“Why?”

Elliot pointed at the mansion.

“Look at it.”

“I’m looking.”

“No. Really look at it.”

Clara turned around.

The mansion stood silently behind them.

Its walls were covered in dark green ivy.

Its windows were tall and narrow.

The roof had several pointed towers.

And the front door was large enough for a giant to enter without bending down.

Clara looked at her brother.

“What am I supposed to see?”

Elliot whispered:

“Bad decisions.”

Clara sighed.

“You said the same thing before we entered the forest.”

“And I was correct.”

“You also said it when we entered the mayor’s house.”

“I was correct then too.”

“And the secret passage.”

“Especially the secret passage.”

Clara walked toward the mansion.

Elliot followed.

“You’re ignoring me.”

“Yes.”

“That’s rude.”

“Thank you.”

They reached the front door.

Clara raised her hand.

Before she could knock…

The door opened.

Slowly.

Elliot immediately stepped backward.

“No.”

Clara looked at him.

“What?”

“It opened.”

“Yes.”

“By itself.”

“Apparently.”

“That’s not normal.”

Clara stared at the darkness inside.

“Nothing about this day is normal.”

Elliot looked at the open doorway.

“That’s a very good reason to leave.”

Clara stepped inside.

Elliot followed.

“You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told.”

The door slammed shut behind them.

Elliot jumped.

Clara didn’t move.

“Did you do that?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Because I feel like this is the kind of thing you would do.”

Clara turned around.

“Elliot.”

“What?”

“Why would I slam a door?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you have secret hobbies.”

Clara stared at him.

“You’re nervous.”

“No.”

“You’re talking too much.”

“I always talk this much.”

“You’re talking even more.”

Elliot looked around.

The entrance hall was enormous.

A staircase divided into two directions.

A chandelier hung from the ceiling.

Several portraits watched them from the walls.

Elliot looked at the nearest one.

An old man with a long beard.

“Who is that?”

Clara examined the portrait.

“Probably a Blackwood.”

“How do you know?”

“His name is written underneath.”

Elliot looked.

EDGAR BLACKWOOD — 1821–1890

He nodded.

“That explains everything.”

“What?”

“His name.”

Clara rolled her eyes.

Elliot moved to the next portrait.

A woman wearing a red dress.

ELEANOR BLACKWOOD — 1845–1912

Then another.

HENRY BLACKWOOD — 1870–1934

Then another.

MARGARET BLACKWOOD — 1892–1961

Elliot frowned.

“Where’s the mayor?”

Clara looked around.

“What?”

“The mayor’s portrait.”

“Why would he have one?”

“He owns this mansion.”

Clara stopped.

Elliot looked at her.

“What?”

“How do you know?”

Elliot pointed toward the wall.

There was a small golden plaque beneath the staircase.

It read:

BLACKWOOD MANOR
Property of the Hargrove Family Since 1947

Clara stared.

“The mayor owns this place.”

“Apparently.”

“Then why didn’t we know?”

Elliot shrugged.

“Maybe he didn’t want people to know.”

“Why?”

“Maybe he likes surprises.”

Clara gave him a look.

“That’s not funny.”

“Actually, I thought it was.”

A noise came from upstairs.

THUMP.

Both froze.

Clara slowly reached into her coat.

Elliot whispered:

“What are you doing?”

“Getting my flashlight.”

“Oh.”

Elliot reached into his backpack.

Clara looked at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting my frying pan.”

“Put it away.”

“But—”

“Put it away.”

Elliot reluctantly returned the frying pan to his bag.

Another noise.

THUMP.

Clara raised her flashlight.

“Someone’s upstairs.”

Elliot nodded.

“Or something.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why?”

“Because it makes this worse.”

“I thought you liked mysteries.”

“I like mysteries.”

She looked toward the staircase.

“I don’t like things that make mysterious noises.”

They climbed.

Halfway up…

Elliot stopped.

Clara turned.

“What?”

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Someone breathing.”

Clara listened.

Nothing.

Elliot whispered:

“Maybe it was you.”

Clara stared.

“Do I sound like that?”

“Sometimes.”

She continued climbing.

Elliot followed.

At the top was a long hallway.

Several doors stood on either side.

One door was slightly open.

Clara walked toward it.

Elliot grabbed her arm.

“Wait.”

“What?”

“Look at the floor.”

Clara lowered her flashlight.

A trail of muddy footprints crossed the hallway.

They came from the open door.

And continued toward the staircase.

Clara crouched.

“These are fresh.”

Elliot looked down.

“Very fresh.”

“How can you tell?”

“They’re still wet.”

Clara stood.

“Someone was here recently.”

“Maybe the mayor.”

“Maybe.”

“Or the mysterious man from the forest.”

“Maybe.”

“Or the person who kidnapped the mayor.”

“Maybe.”

Elliot frowned.

“You’re not very helpful.”

Clara walked toward the door.

“You’re welcome.”

She opened it.

The room was a study.

A desk stood beside a large window.

Books filled the shelves.

A fireplace occupied one wall.

And on the desk…

Was a cup of tea.

Elliot stared.

“That’s the mayor’s tea.”

Clara looked at him.

“How do you know?”

“He drinks tea without sugar.”

“So?”

“I delivered his breakfast every morning for three months.”

“That doesn’t make you an expert.”

“It makes me a specialist.”

Clara examined the cup.

“It’s still warm.”

Elliot looked at the door.

“Then someone was here.”

Clara nodded.

She moved toward the desk.

There was a large leather notebook.

She opened it.

The first page contained a list of names.

MAYOR HARGROVE

ELLIOT FINCH

CLARA FINCH

DR. ADRIAN VALE

MR. THOMAS GRAY

Clara froze.

“Elliot.”

He looked over.

“What?”

“Your name.”

Elliot stepped closer.

His smile disappeared.

“Why is my name here?”

Clara turned the page.

There were notes beside each name.

MAYOR HARGROVE — KNOWS TOO MUCH

ELLIOT FINCH — DOESN’T KNOW ENOUGH

CLARA FINCH — WILL FIND OUT

Elliot stared.

“That’s rude.”

Clara ignored him.

She turned another page.

The next page was blank.

Except for one sentence.

THE BROTHER AND SISTER MUST NEVER REACH THE CELLAR.

Elliot looked at Clara.

“That’s interesting.”

“Very.”

“Where’s the cellar?”

Clara slowly looked toward the floor.

Elliot immediately shook his head.

“No.”

Clara smiled.

“Yes.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“Because the note literally says not to go there.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s a reason not to go.”

“That’s a reason to investigate.”

“Clara, if someone writes ‘Don’t open this box because it contains a poisonous snake,’ you don’t open the box.”

“Why not?”

“Because it contains a poisonous snake.”

Clara smiled.

“You’re getting smarter.”

“Thank you.”

“Unfortunately, not smart enough.”

She walked toward the bookshelf.

Elliot followed.

“Why are we looking at books?”

“Secret passages.”

“Of course.”

Clara pulled a book.

Nothing happened.

She pulled another.

Nothing.

Another.

Still nothing.

Elliot sighed.

“Maybe it’s not a secret passage.”

Clara pulled a fourth.

The bookshelf moved.

Elliot’s mouth opened.

“That was incredible.”

Clara stepped inside.

Elliot stared.

“How did you know?”

“I read the book.”

“What book?”

Clara held it up.

The Architecture of Secret Doors.

Elliot nodded.

“Right.”

They entered the passage.

The bookshelf closed behind them.

The passage descended.

One step.

Two.

Three.

Then twenty.

Elliot counted aloud.

“Twenty-one.”

“Stop counting.”

“Twenty-two.”

“Elliot.”

“Twenty-three.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“To know how many steps we’ve taken.”

“Why?”

“In case we need to come back.”

Clara stopped.

“Elliot.”

“What?”

“There’s a wall.”

Elliot walked into it.

“Ow.”

Clara stared.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yes.”

She examined the wall.

There was a small metal handle.

Clara pulled it.

The wall opened.

They stepped into a massive cellar.

Elliot looked around.

“This isn’t a cellar.”

Clara nodded.

“It’s a bunker.”

The room contained dozens of wooden boxes.

Some were labeled.

POLICE RECORDS

TOWN COUNCIL

BLACKWOOD FAMILY

PRIVATE

Elliot walked toward the last one.

Clara grabbed his arm.

“Don’t.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s private.”

“We’re already inside someone’s secret bunker.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to open everything.”

Elliot looked at her.

“That’s exactly what it means.”

He opened the box.

Inside were photographs.

Dozens of them.

Old photographs.

New photographs.

Pictures of Willowmere.

Pictures of the mayor.

Pictures of the Blackwood mansion.

Then Elliot found something that made him stop.

A photograph of himself.

He was standing outside his house.

He looked about twelve years old.

Beside him was Clara.

She was younger too.

Elliot turned the photograph over.

A date was written on the back.

Seven years ago.

Below it were four words.

THEY DON’T REMEMBER.

Elliot’s hands went cold.

“Clara.”

She turned.

“What?”

He showed her the photograph.

Her expression changed.

“Where did you get that?”

“From the box.”

“Who took it?”

“I don’t know.”

Clara looked closer.

“That’s our house.”

“Yes.”

“And that’s us.”

“Yes.”

“Who was taking the photograph?”

Elliot turned it over again.

There was nothing else.

Clara took a deep breath.

“Maybe someone was watching us.”

Elliot tried to laugh.

“That’s comforting.”

A sound came from behind them.

SCRATCH.

They turned.

Nothing.

Clara raised her flashlight.

“Who’s there?”

Silence.

Then…

SCRATCH. SCRATCH.

Elliot grabbed Clara.

“Did you hear that?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to be the only one imagining things.”

The sound came from one of the boxes.

Elliot pointed.

“That one.”

Clara approached it.

She opened the lid.

A small black cat jumped out.

“MEOW!”

Elliot screamed.

Clara screamed.

The cat ran between them.

They stared at each other.

Then Clara started laughing.

Elliot frowned.

“What’s funny?”

“You.”

“Why?”

“You screamed at a cat.”

“It attacked me.”

“It jumped.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s what cats do.”

“Not this one.”

The cat stopped near the door.

It looked back at them.

Then ran.

Elliot pointed.

“See?”

Clara shook her head.

“You’re hopeless.”

They returned to the boxes.

Clara found another photograph.

This one showed the mayor.

He was standing beside a man.

The man was tall.

Thin.

Wearing a black hat.

Elliot recognized him.

“The man from the forest.”

Clara stared.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

She turned the photograph over.

There was a name.

THOMAS GRAY.

Elliot frowned.

“That’s one of the names from the notebook.”

Clara nodded.

“Who is he?”

A voice answered from behind them.

“Someone you should never have met.”

They spun around.

A man stood at the cellar entrance.

Tall.

Thin.

Wearing a black hat.

Thomas Gray.

Elliot immediately reached for his frying pan.

Clara stopped him.

“Don’t.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s a person.”

“He’s suspicious.”

Thomas Gray smiled.

“Very observant.”

Clara stepped forward.

“Where is Mayor Hargrove?”

Thomas didn’t answer.

“Who are you?”

Still nothing.

Elliot raised his hand.

“I have a question.”

Thomas looked at him.

“What?”

“Why do you dress like a villain?”

Clara closed her eyes.

“Elliot.”

“What? It’s a reasonable question.”

Thomas stared at Elliot.

Then…

He laughed.

Not a friendly laugh.

Not a happy laugh.

A cold laugh.

“Your brother is exactly as strange as I was told.”

Clara’s eyes narrowed.

“Who told you about us?”

Thomas smiled.

“The mayor.”

Elliot stepped forward.

“Then you know where he is.”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

Thomas pointed behind them.

“You’re standing on it.”

Clara looked down.

The cellar floor.

Elliot slowly stepped backward.

“What do you mean?”

Thomas smiled.

“The mayor was never kidnapped.”

Clara stared.

“Then where is he?”

Thomas pointed toward a large wooden door at the far end of the cellar.

“The mayor is behind that door.”

Elliot looked at it.

The door was covered in chains.

Clara walked toward it.

Thomas suddenly shouted:

“Don’t!”

She stopped.

“Why?”

Thomas’s face had become serious.

“Because the person behind that door isn’t the mayor.”

Silence.

Elliot stared at him.

“Then who is it?”

Thomas looked at the chains.

“The reason he disappeared.”

Suddenly…

The door shook.

BANG!

Elliot jumped.

Another bang.

BANG!

Clara stepped backward.

Something was hitting the door from the other side.

Thomas whispered:

“He’s awake.”

Elliot stared.

“Who?”

The door shook again.

A voice came from behind it.

“Clara.”

She froze.

The voice continued.

“Don’t trust the man in the black hat.”

Elliot looked at Thomas.

Thomas looked terrified.

Clara whispered:

“Who are you?”

The voice answered.

“Your father.”

Elliot’s face went white.

Clara stopped breathing.

“That’s impossible.”

The voice laughed softly.

“Is it?”

Thomas grabbed Clara’s arm.

“We have to leave.”

She pulled away.

“No.”

“Now.”

“You’re lying.”

Thomas shook his head.

“You don’t understand.”

The chains around the door began to break.

One.

Then another.

Elliot grabbed Clara’s hand.

“Maybe we should listen to him.”

Clara stared at him.

“You believe him?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“Because I really don’t want to meet whoever is behind that door.”

The final chain broke.

The door slowly opened.

Darkness appeared beyond it.

Then…

A man stepped forward.

He was older.

His face was pale.

His clothes were torn.

Clara stared at him.

The man looked directly at her.

“Hello, Clara.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

She whispered:

“Dad?”

Elliot looked at the man.

Then at Thomas.

Then back at Clara.

Thomas shook his head.

“That’s not your father.”

Clara stepped forward.

The man smiled.

“Of course I am.”

Thomas shouted:

“Clara, don’t listen to him!”

The man suddenly laughed.

His face changed.

Not physically.

But somehow…

Everything about him became wrong.

His smile was too wide.

His eyes were too cold.

Elliot stepped backward.

The man looked at him.

“You.”

Elliot froze.

“Me?”

The man smiled.

“You’re the reason the mayor disappeared.”

Elliot pointed at himself.

“Why?”

The man whispered:

“Because the mayor discovered who you really are.”

Clara stared.

“What does that mean?”

The man stepped forward.

“You two think this mystery is about a missing mayor.”

He smiled.

“It’s not.”

Thomas raised his weapon.

The man laughed.

“The real mystery…”

He looked directly at Elliot.

“…is why your parents disappeared seven years ago.”

Elliot froze.

His entire body went cold.

Clara stared at her brother.

“Seven years ago…”

The man smiled.

“Yes.”

Elliot remembered the photograph.

THEY DON’T REMEMBER.

He looked at Clara.

She was crying.

The man continued:

“Your parents didn’t abandon you.”

Elliot whispered:

“Then where did they go?”

The man stepped backward into darkness.

“Ask the mayor.”

The door slammed shut.

Silence.

Elliot stared.

Thomas lowered his weapon.

Clara turned toward him.

“You knew.”

Thomas didn’t answer.

“You knew about our parents.”

Still silence.

Clara stepped forward.

“Tell me!”

Thomas finally looked at her.

“I knew.”

Elliot’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Where are they?”

Thomas looked toward the door.

“That’s the question the mayor was trying to answer.”

Elliot stared.

“Then the mayor isn’t our enemy.”

Thomas shook his head.

“No.”

“Then who is?”

Thomas looked at the empty darkness.

“The man behind the door.”

Clara wiped her tears.

“Who is he?”

Thomas’s face became pale.

“His name is Edmund Blackwood.”

Elliot frowned.

“The family who owned this mansion?”

Thomas nodded.

“The last Blackwood.”

Clara looked toward the door.

“But he’s supposed to be dead.”

Thomas smiled sadly.

“That’s what everyone believed.”

A loud crash came from above.

The mansion shook.

Thomas looked toward the ceiling.

“They know we’re here.”

“Who?” Elliot asked.

Thomas grabbed his coat.

“The mayor’s enemies.”

“How many?”

Thomas looked at him.

“Too many.”

Elliot sighed.

“Wonderful.”chapter

Thomas opened a hidden door.

“Come on.”

Clara didn’t move.

“Where?”

Thomas looked back.

“To find the mayor.”

Elliot followed.

“Can we bring the sandwiches?”

Clara stared at him.

“Elliot!”

“What? We might get hungry.”

Thomas looked at the frying pan sticking out of Elliot’s bag.

Then at the rubber duck.

Then at Clara.

“Are you always like this?”

Clara sighed.

“Unfortunately.”

The three disappeared into the secret tunnel.

Behind them…

The locked cellar door slowly opened.

Edmund Blackwood stepped out.

He looked at the photograph of Elliot and Clara.

Then smiled.

“The children have finally remembered.”

He walked toward the stairs.

And whispered:

“Now the real game begins.”

To Be Continued…