CHAPTER FIVE:

THE MYSTERIOUS CASTLE

It was like Tom had stepped into a fairy tale.

Or a horror story, depending on your point of view.

In the moonlit darkness, the castle stretched up to the sky like a mound of jagged rocks. The stone walls appeared cracked and worn out, and dead vines gripped the edges like twisted fingers. Snow-covered gargoyles crouched on the towers and rooftops, gazing down as though watching for intruders. The only signs of life in this place were the flickering torches by the massive, wrought-iron door and the faintest traces of light coming from beyond the glass windows. But there was also a sort of majesty and beauty to this foreboding structure. It seemed so tranquil and still, like a dragon sleeping peacefully in its hovel.

And… there was sadness, too. Perhaps it was the nightly chill, but Tom swore he could feel an aura of misery hanging over this castle like a black veil.

It intrigued the baker all the same. "I n-n-never knew th-th-there was a castle here," he said to himself, his teeth chattering. "Why has no one ever s-s-spoken of it b-b-before? Surely, s-s-some traveler would have s-s-seen it. I mean… it's a c-c-castle!"

The wind started to pick up again, and only then did Tom remember that he was lost, alone and freezing. His clothes were soaked due to the snow he had fallen in earlier, and now the slightest breeze felt like a hundred needles poking his skin. Tom rubbed his numb hands over his chest, shaking so hard that it hurt. The orange lights inside the castle suddenly looked very welcoming.

"All right," he said, leaning on his walking stick. "I'll s-s-see if anyone's h-h-home. If I explain m-m-myself, I'm sure they'll let me st-st-stay for the night. J-J-Just one night w-w-wouldn't hurt."

He started walking down the straight path cutting through the hedge maze. Both sides were lined up with large shrubberies shaped into animals: a stallion, an eagle, a panther, a warthog… each one fearsome and mighty. In his frozen state, Tom kept thinking they would spring to life at any moment, so he hastened along the path and up the stony steps.

When he reached the great doors of the castle, the baker wondered who lived here. Merchants and nobles had manors; everyone knew that. Castles were meant for kings and queens. But there hadn't been a king or queen in these lands for… well, for as far back as Tom could recall. It made this place all the stranger.

Tom wiped his nose on his sleeve, summoned his courage, and knocked on the door with the end of his stick. Thud, thud, thud – each sound was soft, but drawn out and hollow.

Something clicked from within. Then, one of the doors opened wide, groaning a bit on its hinges.

Tom sighed with relief and brushed himself off before emerging through the threshold. "Th-Th-Thank you," he said, turning to see who had opened the door for him. "Thank you very…"

He trailed off when he realized, to his surprise, there was nobody there to greet him.

In fact, there was nobody inside the entire entrance hall.

As Tom took in his bearings, he could tell that this place was indeed a castle fit for a king. There were tapestries and paintings hanging on the walls, curtains hugging the edges of the windows, burning candelabra on every table and dresser, and a large warm fireplace adorned with beautiful decorations. Just ahead of the doors was the beginnings of a massive marble staircase, which split off at the next level into two directions. Even the solid-gold banisters were beautiful!

Tom exhaled with awe. "Remarkable," he said.

But… where was everyone? He was still trying to figure out the mystery of who opened the door for him.

As though reading his thoughts, the door closed with a shudder. When Tom snapped around, the locking mechanisms in the door snapped together before going still and silent.

Tom gulped. How did that happen? Was it the wind?

Well, he didn't have to face any hungry wolves anymore, that was for certain.

Clearing his throat, Tom proceeded further into the entrance hall. His footsteps clunked against the smooth stone floors. "Hello?" he called.

Hello, hello, hello…

Tom tried again, louder and longer this time. "Helloooooo?"

His voice echoed through the chamber. There was still no response.

Tom decided to be courteous and introduce himself to his enigmatic host. "My name is Tom Dupain, from the village of Villeneuve. I apologize for intruding at this late hour, but – as you can plainly see – I've become hopelessly lost. My horse is missing, and… and I wish only to find a safe place to stay for the night."

He paused, waiting for someone to appear or speak out.

Still, nothing.

Maybe they're shy, Tom thought, or they don't get a lot of visitors. He cleared his throat again. "Rest assured, I mean you no harm. I'm merely a humble baker, and I have every intention of setting back out at first light."

At that moment, something sounded in the shadows. It sounded like whispering.

"Aww, the poor thing."

"Not exactly the visitor I was hoping for."

"Quiet – both of you!"

Tom glanced around suspiciously. "Hello?" he called. "Who's there?"

But all that greeted him was hollow silence.

Tom sighed. "Very well," he said. "I'll just… make myself at home then, shall I?" He took off his soggy cloak and hung it on the tall coat-hanger by the door. Then, he moved to stand by the roaring fireplace. The heat was a balm to his sore, frozen limbs. Tom sighed as he warmed himself.

All the while, he took another long look at the castle interior, marveling at the intricate sights. "And might I point out," Tom said in a cheery tone, "that you have such a magnificent home. Truly unprecedented – never seen the like."

Another tiny voice whispered somewhere in the walls. "Well, he certainly has good manners, for a baker."

"Looks can be deceiving," another one hissed. "You know that."

Tom tried not to appear nervous. Doors that opened themselves and walls that talked to each other? One would think he was going mad. But at least he was warm again.

As he took his time thawing himself, Tom swore he heard movement coming from one of the corridors beyond the staircase. He inched over to look, and saw nothing but flickering candlelight.

Tom knew he shouldn't be snooping, but he just had to know who the castle's mysterious owner was. They had to be nice people, otherwise they wouldn't have let Tom inside. It couldn't hurt to look around just a teensy bit.

Forsaking his spot by the fire, the baker moved cautiously down the hall and entered the corridor. The walls came together into a narrow hall before opening up to a smaller, cozier chamber. It looked like a study room, complete with an extra fireplace, plush cushions, and shelves upon shelves of books, scrolls and astronomical knickknacks. Whoever lives here is definitely a well-educated fellow, Tom deduced as he proceeded further into the castle.

The next hallway was lined with portraits and large, standing candelabra. The floor became adorned with a black-and-white checkerboard pattern. When Tom emerged, he found himself in a large dining hall with a long wooden table. Oh, yes, and another fireplace. Thank heavens they know how to keep warm during the winter, Tom thought.

Another gleam of light caught his eye, and the baker moved down the empty table. To his surprise, one of the places was set with a silver dish, a matching goblet, and a whole assortment of foods to choose from: cheeses and breads, wine and water, pre-cut slices of steaming beef and chicken, spiced vegetables, and even a beautifully-decorated slice of cake. Tom's mouth watered at the sights and smells of this miniature feast.

He glanced around once again. "Is all this for me?" he asked into the open.

No voice offered an approval. Then again, no voice stated an objection, either.

Well, it would've been such a shame to let such delicious food go to waste, wouldn't it?

Smiling big, Tom seated himself in the cushioned chair, unfolded his napkin and tucked it into the front of his shirt. "Thank you very much," he said before reaching for the plate of bread. "You are most gracious. Very gracious, indeed."

It was the best food he had ever tasted. Tom stuffed himself, making sure now and then to keep his table manners in check. After all, someone had clearly gone to tiring lengths to fix him a good meal. Tom reminded himself to thank his considerate host a thousand times over. Once he figured out who that person was, of course.

When he had his fill, Tom put down his fork and sighed against his chair. Oh, how he wished Sabine and Marinette could be here now, enjoying all these marvelous comforts with him!

The memory of them suddenly filled Tom with great regret. They must be worried sick for him by now. Marinette was probably watching through the circular window by her bed, waiting for her father's wagon to appear. What if the horse returned without its rider and cargo? What would Tom's daughter do then? Knowing her, she'd come looking for me. And with those wolves out there… That extra helping of beef and the slice of cake was starting to curdle in Tom's stomach.

"I have to go back," he said. "Tomorrow, I must go back." Maybe one day, he would bring Sabine and Marinette to this castle, assuming the anonymity of it all wouldn't scare them.

He excused himself from the table, headed back into the entrance hall, and then proceeded up the stairs.

The walls of the second level was adorned with golden laurels against a backdrop of mint-green. The doors had the same design, so they almost looked invisible. One such door was open. When Tom poked his head inside, he saw a lavish room with a large, four-poster bed adorned with velvet curtains. Spread out on the bed was a nightshirt, some pants, and a pair of woolen socks.

Well-educated, gracious, and thoroughly stocked.

Tom thanked his invisible host again before trading his sodden clothes for the ones laid out for him. Then, after laying his leathers to dry by the fireplace and scrubbing his face clean in the washbasin, the baker practically collapsed into bed and fell fast asleep.


His dreams were murky and dark, but when Tom woke up, there was sunlight streaming in through the grand window. Blinking from the brightness, the baker rose up and saw nothing but clear skies. Perfect weather for setting out for home.

When Tom dressed and headed downstairs, he saw that his spot at the table was laden with a hearty breakfast. "Oh, this is almost too much. How am I ever going to repay this person?" But the baker sat down graciously all the same, and helped himself to porridge with raisins, fresh fruit, bread, and a helping of hard-boiled eggs.

After the meal, Tom went to retrieve his cloak by the door and turned one last time to face the empty entrance hall. "Once again, you have my profusion of thanks," he called. "I appreciate your generous hospitality, and so I bid you adieu and au revoir."

As though answering him, the castle doors unlocked themselves and opened up big and wide for him. Probably as much as a farewell as the castle's owner would offer. Tom accepted it, knowing he would lose his mind fretting about how the doors managed to open themselves.

The great gardens and hedges burst out of the sparkling field of snow like little green buds. Tom took it all in before fastening his cloak and heading down the steps with his walking stick. Hopefully, the wolves wouldn't be out hunting during the daylight hours. If Tom was lucky, he could find the road again and make a straight shot for Villeneuve… and home.

He was halfway to the gates when he spotted something in the maze to his left.

It looked like a large garden surrounded by a tall fence of stone pillars and wooden lattices. Bulging bushes sprouted in between little cobblestone walkways. On each bush, clearly untouched by winter's chill, were bright flowers of multiple colours.

Tom knew what they were right away. Roses!

He had completely forgotten the gift Marinette had asked him for. Since he had lost his wares in the forest, Tom realized he couldn't possibly go home empty-handed. Besides, this castle had given him hot food and a soft bed. Surely, the owner wouldn't miss just one little rose when they would still have so many.

Tom's feet seemed to have a mind of their own. They cut in and around the maze and into the garden.

There were so many roses here, and Tom could help but bend over and breathe in their stimulating fragrance. Each bush was a different colour: white, ivory, pink, red, yellow, peach, and even lavender. Whoever lives here has such exquisite taste in flowers, Tom thought. He almost didn't know which one to choose. Here in France, different rose colours had different meanings. There were roses for passionate love, roses for friendship and happiness, roses for love at first sight, and roses for gratitude and kindness.

Tom looked at the bush of ivory roses, their pink centres pulsing amongst the white like beating hearts. Ivory, for the love of a father to his daughter. "Perfect," Tom said, reaching for the one in fullest bloom.

He nearly pricked himself on the thorns, but he managed to get a good hold on the stem… and snapped it right off.

Suddenly, an unnaturally warm wind hit him like a sudden wave, one that made the bushes rattle and the snow on the ground blow about.

Then… a vicious, otherworldly roar rang through the air like a death knell.

Tom cried out in terror, clutching the rose to his chest as he glanced around. His instincts screamed at him to get out of there. He turned and sprinted back in the direction he came.

He didn't get very far. Something hard prodded him in the back, knocking the baker forward. Tom fell face-first into the snow, but he managed to prevent the rose from being crushed. He rolled onto his back to see who had hit him.

His heart almost stopped.

Crouched high on top of the stone fence was a figure cloaked in black, the tattered ends of which trailing behind him in the morning wind. From underneath his hood, his eyes glowed a bright, emerald green. But they were narrowed, and bore an angry look that made bones turn cold. The figure held what appeared to be a metal staff in his hands, which were also black and pointed on the ends. Were they gloves?

The figure leapt off the edge, doing a full somersault before landing in a low crouch in front of the sprawled baker. When he rose back up, his lips pulled back in a feral growl, exposing his teeth. Almost human, but with abnormally sharp canines.

Tom could do nothing but stare as the stranger stalked towards him in his thin black boots.

No… not boots – feet. Thick, black-furred, lion-like feet with a sharp claw on each toe!

And when the figure drew closer and lifted his staff, Tom nearly fainted from the sight of those hands. They were thin and humanoid, but covered in black fur, and each nail was nothing more than a nimble, cat-like claw.

The figure loomed over him, blocking out the sun like a phantom from a nightmare. His green eyes continued to burn bright. "Thief," the voice within the hood spat. Male and young and human, but grated and slurry like two stones rubbing together. "Do you know what you've just done?"

Tom shivered, and it wasn't just from the cold. "I… I-I-I… I…" he choked, barely recognizing his own voice.

The creature lifted the end of his staff to the baker's chin. It wasn't sharp like a sword, but it looked thick and heavy enough to imply that the figure would take his sweet time bashing Tom's head in several times over.

"I allow you into my home," said the creature, his words thick with spite, "I give you food, I let you sleep in one of my rooms… and this is how you repay me? By stealing?"

"I didn't…!" Tom began, shaking his head. All the while, he wrapped his head around his attacker's words. This person, whatever he was, was the owner of this castle? "Who… Who are you?"

A long breath of mist steamed out from under the hood.

Then, the creature reached up with one clawed hand and pulled his hood back.

Tom gasped, crawling back a few feet.

He might have been just a normal peach-skinned boy, were it not for the thick strip of black fur that covered his eyes and cheekbones like a mask. His eyes stopped glowing, revealing green sclera and oblong pupils that reminded Tom of an angry lynx. Tuffs of short golden hair covered his head, and from its folds sprouted two pointy, cat-like ears. They twitched irritably from the sudden chill. The end of the figure's cloak shifted, and a long, furry black tail slithered out into the open, swaying from side to side like a pendulum.

All the blood drained from Tom's face. This was no boy. This was some hybrid monster! Some kind of… beast!

The creature sneered at him, though his feline eyes still carried that jagged edge to them. "My name is Cat Noir," he said, pulling his staff away from the baker's face. "Bet you're wishing you didn't steal from me now, aren't you?"

Tom shook his head again, willing himself to speak. "I… I'm not a thief! I'm just a common baker from the village!"

"So I've heard," Cat Noir said. He started to walk around Tom, and the baker could feel the beast's eyes peering into his soul. "Well, one would think that even a common baker would know that when you take something that isn't given to you, you must give something in return."

He doesn't believe me. Tom sat up straighter. "I don't have anything to give," he insisted weakly.

"Oh, but you do," Cat Noir stated, eyeing the rose still gripped in the man's quivering hand. "These roses, this garden…" He beckoned to the bushes behind him. "They are the only beautiful things I have left now. They are precious to me. Tell me, thief: what's most precious to you?"

"I am a poor man!" Tom argued. "I have no gold, no treasures…"

"You have your life, don't you?" Cat Noir suggested coldly, stopping before the baker. "Is that not a worthy price?"

It was as though all the air had been sucked out of Tom's lungs. Before he could stop himself, he lifted himself onto his knees and clasped his hands together. The thorns from the ivory rose poked through his gloves, but he didn't care. "Please, sir… I beg you!" Tears formed in his eyes. "I have a family! My wife and daughter –!"

"Daughter?" Cat Noir's eyes widened at that, but the surprise was gone in an instant. He leaned closer, baring his teeth. "You expect me to believe that? Do you take me for a fool? Thieves like you will say anything to save your own necks."

"It's true!" Tom pleaded, sinking lower to the ground. "I do have a daughter – she's seventeen!" He held up the rose. "I was going to give this to her, as a gift! I never meant to steal anything! I had only the purest intentions at heart, I swear!"

To his relief, the half-human-half-beast took some time to ponder what he said, and the burning look in his eyes cooled off.

Tom swallowed before continuing, "I'll do anything you ask. But please, don't kill me. My family will die without me! We have so little… but my daughter… she has so much to live for! It would break her heart if I were to never return!"

Cat Noir's ears curled in, and he tapped his sharp fingers against his staff. Tap-tap-tap. Tom had never heard a more horrifying sound, like the seconds of his life were slowly ticking away.

The beast began pacing, his face scrunched with thought. After a few minutes, he let out a deep sigh. It almost sounded like pity. "It doesn't matter what your intentions were. It will not change what must be done. A price must be paid. That is the way of things around here."

Tom couldn't hold back his tears any longer, and he crumpled to the ground sobbing.

"However…"

Tom stiffened and looked up.

"The deal doesn't require a death. Only a life." Cat Noir turned to the baker once more, his expression hard. "Swear to me that everything you've told me is true. Swear it. On your daughter's life."

Tom nodded, his cheeks gleaming in the sunlight. "I… I-I swear it. On… my daughter's life. On all that I am as a father."

"Very well. Get up."

The man wasted no time obeying, even going so far as to brush the snow off his clothes. Heaven forbid he would be charged with stealing that, too.

Cat Noir gazed off into seemingly nowhere, his expression softening. "You know what to do," he murmured.

Who is he talking to? Tom didn't dare open his mouth to ask.

The creature planted the end of the staff in the ground beside him. "I will let you go back to your village, and to your family," he said.

For a moment, a bubble of hope swelled inside Tom's chest, and he smiled with great relief. "Oh, thank you, good sir! Thank you –"

"On one condition," Cat Noir interjected, his eyes narrowing once more. "You may only remain with them for one week. After that, you must return here… and stay in this castle forever."

The bubble burst. Tom's smile dropped. "But… But my family…"

"You will be given a hearty sum of gold and jewels to take back with you to Villeneuve. With it, your family will want for nothing. They will live comfortably for the rest of their lives, with full bellies and warm beds." Cat Noir lifted his chin at the man. "You may spend a week in their company, and make your final goodbyes. After that, you will return here to fulfill your debt, and I will allow you to spend the rest of your days in my home."

Tom's eyebrows came together. "As a prisoner?" he translated.

"As my honoured guest," Cat Noir growled. "Since you have nothing to give me, the only way you can pay now is with your life. And since I'm in a generous mood, I will let you keep it… so long as you dwell on this estate."

Tom couldn't believe what he was hearing. A lifetime imprisonment for a flower?! Even if this beast was telling the truth, even if Sabine and Marinette would be given luxury and comfort, Tom couldn't bear the thought of living without either of them. "Please… Monsieur Cat Noir… Surely, there is another way…"

A dark snarl erupted from the creature's throat, causing Tom to stagger back.

"Considering how you're the one who trespassed into my home and then saw fit to take one of my precious roses," Cat Noir said lowly, "you should be grateful that I'm allowing you to live here in my magnificent, unprecedented home, as you called it. And that I'm giving you a whole week to settle your affairs and cherish a few more waking moments with your wife and daughter. If it were any other beast, do you think they would be as considerate as I am?"

Tom looked away, his grief overwhelming him so much that he could no longer answer.

"Oh, and one more thing," Cat Noir added, flashing his teeth. "If you try to run away, or if you fail to return here at the appropriate time, I will find you and lock you up like the thief you are. And your family will be left to fend for themselves." The condescending look in his feline eyes told Tom that he was very serious. "A life for the rose – that's the deal. Take it or leave it."

The baker sighed heavily, his tears returning.

Live in this strange castle with a monster, or die alone in a cold dark dungeon. Either way, he would never see Sabine and Marinette again. Tom was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and he knew it. But he saw no other way out.

"I…" The baker cleared his throat and wiped his nose. "I lost my horse in the forest. I have no way to return home with the gold."

Cat Noir grinned slightly and glanced over the man's shoulder. "That shan't be a problem. Look."

Tom dared to turn away from the humanoid beast, and that's when he saw a beautiful white stallion waiting on the main pathway. Its wispy mane blew in the wind, and its dark eyes regarded Tom and Cat Noir with cool indifference. A small wagon was secured behind the horse, lugging five heavy-looking trunks.

"You may check the trunks, if that pleases you," Cat Noir said behind Tom. "Everything your family needs is there. The horse knows the way back to the castle. Just give the order, and he will obey." A cold wind swept through the air. "Remember. You have one week. Don't make me come looking for you. I would hate to get frostbite on my ears."

Tom turned around, his eyes incredulous.

But Cat Noir was gone. No footprints in the snow indicated where he had hastened off to. It was as though he had never been standing there in the first place.

Tom shivered, but knew he shouldn't overstay his welcome.

He went up to the stallion and climbed into the saddle. The horse didn't protest in the slightest.

"Um…" Tom wondered if it really could understand him. "Take me to Villeneuve."

The horse whinnied in response, and then trotted forward.

As they neared the gates, the frozen bars swept wide open for them, revealing the wintery wonderland that was the forest.

Tom didn't bother to look back. It wasn't as though he'd never see this cursed place again, anyway. Besides, it would only remind him of the fate that awaited him.

One week at home. One week to say goodbye to his sweet wife and his darling little girl. After that, he would have to live the rest of his days as the "honoured guest" of a cat-like beast.

Tom waited until they passed through the castle gates before weeping silently to himself. What have I done?