The wood was dark English oak, carved with the Sterling family crest.

I inserted the largest brass key into the keyhole.

It turned with a heavy, satisfying click.

The door swung open, releasing the scent of old paper, leather, and dust.

The room was dark, the only light coming from the moon filtering through the high arched windows.

I found the light switch and flipped it.

A crystal chandelier overhead flickered, then cast a warm, yellow glow over the thousands of leather-bound books.

In the center of the room stood a massive roll-top desk.

“This is as far as you go,” Miranda said, stepping into the room and trying to block my path to the desk.

“Julian, call security right now.”

Before Julian could answer, his phone began to buzz in his pocket.

He pulled it out, frowning at the screen.

“It’s the gatehouse,” Julian said.

He answered the call, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Yes?” Julian said.

He listened for a moment, his eyes shifting to me, then to his mother.

“Let them in,” Julian said slowly.

He hung up the phone and looked at me.