My off-the-rack suits looked sad and wrinkled in such palatial splendor. Even the closets in Amarantha’s castle were designed to intimidate.

“Looking for ways to get in,” Beezle said. “I know there’s a door here somewhere.”

After a few moments he stopped and hovered in front of a rather ugly carving of a cherub. The cherub had creepy, staring blue eyes. I’d have to put a sweatshirt over that thing or I would never be able to sleep.

“Here,” he said, and pointed to the minute crack in the wall, slender as a fishing line. I would never have found it without him to point it out to me.

“Impressive,” I said, and he nodded at the acknowledgment of his superiority. “Now, how to open it?”

“It’s probably got something to do with this ugly-ass statue,” he said. “Don’t you ever pay attention when we watch old horror movies?”

“I may have missed a few things while running back and forth to the kitchen for snacks,” I replied dryly.

I put my hand on the cherub and felt carefully around for a button or a lever, anything that might trigger the door to open. When I ran my fingers under the cherub’s wing, I found a tiny switch and pushed it. The door swung into a hidden corridor.

“Whaddya think?” I asked Beezle, indicating the corridor.

“It’s probably not the smartest idea in the world,” he said, putting one claw to his mouth like he was considering the situation. “It might be a breach of protocol to go wandering around the castle uninvited.”

“It might also be a breach of protocol to install me in a room where we can be spied upon,” I said. “I’m sure Amarantha carefully considered which guest room to put us in.”

Beezle clapped his hands together. “An offense for an offense—just the stuff successful negotiations are made of. Let’s go. If you could talk your way out of the last mess, I’m sure you can talk your way out of this one.”

I didn’t need any further encouragement. My curiosity overrode propriety. I wanted to know where the tunnels went. We walked into the surprisingly well-lit corridor. Lamps burned every few feet, and the stone floors were sparkling clean. There wasn’t a cobweb in sight. This was not the haunted passage of those old movies that Beezle loved.

Before I swung the door closed I realized we should have some way of knowing which door was mine, and also how to reopen the door from the corridor.

“Beezle, run and grab my lipstick from my makeup bag,” I said.

“You mean the lipstick that you spent twenty-five dollars on and never use?” Beezle asked.

“Just get it and keep your comments to yourself,” I said.

I examined the exterior of the door while Beezle flew back in the room on his errand. There was a small lever at doorknob height, built flat into the door. There was just enough room under the lever to slide my fingers and pull it out. As I did, I heard a click. Easy-peasy.

Beezle flew back to me and wordlessly handed the lipstick out. I closed the door and then drew a line just above the lever with my lipstick. Hopefully it was small enough to go unseen by anyone walking this way. No matter what I told Beezle, I really didn’t think Amarantha would tolerate another offense from me so soon after the last one.

The corridor stretched out in both directions with no defining features or useful signs, like “Watchtower this way” or “Ballroom on the next level.” I’d tried to pay attention to where we were taken but the castle had such a profusion of floors and twisting stairs that maintaining any sense of north-south orientation had been impossible.

With no clues to go on, I decided to go right. I remembered vaguely something that I’d read in a historical novel once. The characters had been attempting to negotiate a maze, and one character had said that if you always turned right when possible, you would reach the heart of the maze.

I didn’t know if turning right continuously would take me to the heart of the castle, but at least it would make getting back easier. I would just turn left until I found my corridor again.

We’d only gone a few feet when I heard Nathaniel’s voice. I stopped for a moment and looked guiltily around before I realized the voice was coming from his room. I crept closer, pressing my ear to the wall. Beezle gave me the big what-the-heck-are-you-doing eyes. I waved him away.

“Yes, of course. This delay won’t change anything. No, Lord Azazel is not aware of any of this. He has no inkling.”

Interesting. So Nathaniel was sneaking around Azazel’s back. But what was he up to?

“Do you take me for an idiot? I can handle her,” Nathaniel said angrily. “I said, I can handle her.”

Her? Who was he talking about? Me? Amarantha? Or some other player in whatever scheme he was involved in?

“I will speak to you tomorrow,” he said firmly. I heard the push-button tone as he clicked off his cell phone.

I waited a few minutes longer but he didn’t make any more illicit phone calls and I heard nothing more interesting than the shifting of mattress springs. I yielded to Beezle’s insistent gesturing and continued down the corridor. We turned right when we reached the end and only then did we feel it was safe to talk in whispers.

“What in the four hells did you do that for?” Beezle asked. “How do you know Nathaniel doesn’t know about the secret doors? You could have been caught.”

“I’d be surprised if Nathaniel knows about the doors. He doesn’t strike me as observant generally.”