"You could have lost your mind," Grandpa seethed.
"I don't think any of them have mastered it yet," Kendra said. "If they do, we'll have no secrets. The Sphinx seems determined."
"Does this mean we need to enter the chamber beyond the Hall of Dread?" Tanu asked.
"Absolutely," Grandpa said. "The Society is gaining too great an advantage. We must work under the assumption that they will soon be empowered to see anywhere. We need to learn all we can to even the odds."
"Can't we use the Chronometer somehow?" Seth asked. "Wouldn't time travel come in handy?"
"I've been studying the device," Coulter reported. "I've made a little headway, but the Chronometer is both complex and dangerous."
"There is little available knowledge on the subject," Grandma added. "We don't have an instruction manual."
"They have an artifact that heals any wound, and another that could let them see anywhere," Seth said. "They'll use the Oculus to find the others. We know about the Chronometer. What do the other two artifacts do?"
"One grants power over space," Coulter said. "The other offers immortality."
"If they collect all five, they can open the demon prison," Kendra said.
"Zzyzx," Seth breathed.
"Which would mean the end of the world as we know it," Grandpa said. "The Society of the Evening Star would fulfill their self-proclaimed mission and usher in the night."
Grandma poured warm milk into a mug, added chocolate powder, and stirred. She placed the mug in front of Kendra.
"Thanks," Kendra said. "Warren mentioned that you guys brought the Journal of Secrets."
"It's in the attic," Seth said. "On our side."
"It has the passwords for opening the secret room," Kendra said. "I'll need an umite wax candle."
"I stocked up," Grandpa said. "We have plenty."
Kendra took a sip from the mug. "We might as well do it now."
"You should rest first," Grandma urged. Kendra shook her head. "I slept in the car. I doubt the bad guys are resting."
* * *
The dismal dungeon corridor stretched to the left and right, lined with cell doors on both sides. But none were comparable to the door before Seth, composed of blood-red wood bound with black iron. Coulter stood on one side, Grandpa and Kendra on the other. After considerable begging, Seth had been permitted to tag along.
Coulter held a flaming torch. Grandpa carried a key and a mirror. Kendra clung to the Journal of Secrets. Seth had a flashlight.
"Stay away from the doors in the hall," Grandpa reminded them. "Each door has a peephole. Resist any urge to peek. You do not want to gaze into the eyes of a phantom. Do not touch any of the doors. Violate this rule and you will be removed from the Hall of Dread immediately, never to return." He was looking at Seth. So were Coulter and Kendra.
"What?" Seth said.
"You often ask for chances to prove yourself," Grandpa said. "Don't blow it."
"You'll barely know I'm here," Seth promised.
"Many of these creatures can radiate fear and other disturbing emotions," Coulter warned. "The special cells that hold them help dampen the effects. Speak up if the sensations get overwhelming. Kendra, watch out for feelings of depression, desperation, or terror. Seth, I'll be interested to see how well your immunity to magical fear holds up in here."
Grandpa inserted a key into the door. He placed a palm against the red wood and muttered a few unintelligible words as he turned the key. The door swung inward.
Coulter entered the dark hallway first, using his torch to ignite others hanging on the walls. The wavering firelight cast an ominous glow over the stone walls and floor. As Seth followed Grandpa inside, he noticed that the air was palpably colder than elsewhere in the dungeon. His breath plumed in front of his face.
The hall was not long--the torchlight already glimmered against the far wall. There were eight doors on either side of the corridor, equally spaced, each crafted from solid iron and embossed with archaic symbols and pictograms. Every door had a keyhole and a closed peephole.
"You're right," Kendra said, her voice hushed. "This place feels wrong."
"You can feel the darkness," Coulter whispered. "You all right, Seth?"
"Just a little cold." Aside from the inherent creepiness of the heavy doors bathed in torchlight, and the unsettling guesses of what might be imprisoned behind them, he sensed no sinister emotions.
Grandpa led the way toward the end of the hall. Coulter hung back at the rear. As Seth passed the second set of doors, he began to hear faint, spidery whispering. He glanced back at Coulter. "Do you hear that?"
"The silence can play tricks on your ears," Coulter replied.
"No. Don't you hear voices whispering gibberish?"
Coulter paused. "All I hear is the torch crackling. It's quiet as a tomb. Are you squirreling around with me? We're falling behind."
They picked up their pace, catching up to Kendra. Seth concentrated on the babbling whispers. As he focused, he began to catch words.
"Alone... thirsty... pain... hunger... agony... mercy... thirst."
The words were tangled, many voices overlapping. When his concentration lapsed, the sounds reverted to gibbering nonsense.
Seth glanced back at Coulter, who motioned for him to keep walking. Why couldn't the older man hear the voices? The eerie babbling wasn't just in his head. He could hear the jumbled whispers as distinctly as his footsteps.
Soon they reached the final set of doors at the end of the hall. The wall ahead of them was a blank expanse of stone blocks interrupted by three brackets holding torches. Seth saw no evidence of a door.
Kendra opened the Journal of Secrets, and Grandpa lit an umite candle. Coulter watched over her shoulder.
"It says to light the torches on the left and right. Then place one hand on the center sconce, and the other on the block with the silver vein in it."
Coulter brought his torch close to the wall. He and Grandpa started to examine blocks.
"Do you hear the voices whispering?" Seth asked Kendra.
She punched him on the arm. "Cut it out. You might not feel the fear, but I'm kind of freaked right now."
"I'm not kidding," Seth said. "Save it."
Seth stepped away from her. The whispering sounded clearer than ever. He began picking out forlorn phrases. "I hear you," Seth whispered in his quietest voice, barely more than mouthing the words.