The Secret Diary of Belle (Grimmoire Series)

Entry Seven

Enlivened by yesterday's note I strode out confidently today, candelabra in hand to try every door I could get my hands onto.

Unfortunately, I believe my captor had anticipated my movements, as every door, aside from the rooms I have already searched, was locked.

Quite the anticlimax.

I did make a new discovery today, though. In my travels I found what I believe to be the extremes of the searchable area of the house. Everywhere leads to this one particular hall. At the end of the hall are another set of red, double doors with a large, iron, lock, in the middle, binding the double doors together.

They are rather solid and immobile. If only I had a key or knew how to get the doors open. A lesser life of grifting and panhandling may have lead to the acumen of lock-picking knowledge I needed to crack that lock.

There is a small gap at the bottom of the doors where I could feel a slight breeze coming through. Gave my feet a slight chill.

As I went to return to my room empty handed, I passed the sitting room I found yesterday. Locked today, of course, but I could not help but notice that the doors were rather flimsy. I placed my candelabra on the floor and gave the doors an almighty push.

Open.

The side of the doors splintered, but they opened nonetheless. I really did not want today to be a total waste, so I thought a better inspection of the room that I was driven from prematurely yesterday would satiate my need for answers.

Immediately, I found myself drawn to the bookshelves.

Maybe I failed to notice this yesterday, but there was a book that was slightly cleaner than the rest on the shelf. Perhaps, because it has been read more often, or maybe its one of his favourites.

When I picked it off the shelf the weight of it almost caused me to drop it. It was a black, leather-bound, or some kind of hide a least, with both embossed and raised parts all over the cover, spine and back of the book.

Inside there was a lot of text, but none of it was written in any language I can identify. Some of it just looks like small pictures and squiggles rather than words. I briefly flicked through and noticed some passages were circled.

And that was all I needed to see. I decided to take it with me back to the bedroom and attempt to decode it.

At that moment I heard a noise. Not coming from this room, but somewhere down the hall. When I first heard the sound I spun around and was once again confronted by those paintings on the wall and realised that today, unlike yesterday, I did not feel as though I was being watched.

The book was too heavy to carry single-handedly, so I balanced the candelabra on top as I moved toward the direction of the noise. It kept stopping and starting, so it was hard to keep track, but soon I realised it was coming from the other side of the red, double doors.

Clinking and clanking sounds reverberated from under the door and down the halls. It did sound somewhat familiar, like the chains of a draw bridge being pulled, yet it was clearly not that. I really could not guess what was going on.

After a minute or so the nosies ceased.

When I returned back to the bedroom I found that an inordinate amount of food had been left at my door. Many more breads and cheeses than I had received in days prior. How does he expect me to eat all this when I barely make an impression on the regular amount he leaves?

Was this a special occasion of some kind?

So today included some strange noises, a book I do not understand and enough food to last me until the end of days.

As I finish for tonight, I find myself again with more questions than answers.

Pierre, where are you?

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