"This kid's no vampire," the boy sneered, looking down his nose at Wentworth. "Get out of here before I call the professor."
"Go ahead and call her," James nodded. "Went here has the teeth and the pedigree. He's the real deal, right down to his ten ounce blood ration a day and an unnatural allergy to garlic and garlic-related root veg. Tell him, Went."
"I'm really sorry," Wentworth said, his cheeks burning. "I had nothing to do with this. No one's supposed to know, really. My parents made special arrangements with the school…"
"Oh, let them in, Harding," a girl said from a nearby sofa. "Who cares? Remora isn't even here."
"This kid's no vampire, no matter what these cretins say," the boy, Harding, declared, narrowing his eyes, his nostrils flaring. "No vampire, no entry."
"But look at his teeth," Ralph insisted, guiding Went under the nearest chandelier. "They may not be the sorts of fangs you read about in Professor Remora's books, but they're plenty pointy if you look at them in the right light. Show them, Went. See?"
"Anyone can hex a pair of fangs," Harding replied, rolling his eyes.
"Let me take a look at the boy," another voice said, its tone polite but commanding. James glanced around. The portrait of the stern-faced man with the pointed beard was staring down at them from the lower landing. Harding looked from the portrait to Wentworth, considering. Finally, reluctantly, the taller boy nodded toward the landing.
"Make it quick and then vanish, why don't you?" he growled.
James, Zane, and Ralph followed Wentworth closely, crowding up onto the landing. The portrait narrowed its eyes at the small boy. James glanced at the little brass plaque affixed to the bottom of the portrait's round frame. It read, 'Niles Covington Erebus III'.
"Only moderately developed in the canines," the portrait said thoughtfully. "But real enough, I suspect. Hmm. There's only one way to know for certain. Mr. Harding, if you would turn me around, please."
Obediently, the sneering boy climbed onto the landing and sidled toward the painting. Eyes still narrowed at Wentworth, he lifted the painting of Niles Erebus from the wall. When he turned it around, James was surprised to see that the rear of the painting was a mirror.
"Look at yourself, young man," Erebus said, apparently speaking to Wentworth.
Comically, everyone on the landing leaned toward the mirror.
"HO-leee HINKYpunks!" Zane breathed in amazement. "Went! Where are you?"
Still peering into the mirror, James reached aside with his right hand. His fingers patted Wentworth on the face, knocking the boy's glasses askew. In the mirror, however, James' fingers moved over empty space.
"Hey," Wentworth said, annoyed, straightening his glasses. "Quit it, already."
"He's not there!" Ralph exclaimed. "He's invisible in the mirror!"
"I don't see what the big deal is," Wentworth announced wearily. "It's not like some kind of superpower or anything. You have any idea how hard it is to comb your hair if you can't see yourself in a mirror?"
"Well, Mr. Harding," the portrait of Erebus said from the reverse side of the Mirror, "it would appear that this young man is, indeed, the real article. According to the house rules, he and his guests must be granted entrance."
"But," Harding said, disgusted, "look at him! That's not what a vampire is supposed to look like!"
"And you are an expert on these things, of course," Erebus sighed. "Fear not. I will accompany our guests during their visit and assure that they do not wander where they are unwelcome. After all, being granted entrance does not amount to carte blanche access to anywhere they wish, does it?"
"It sure doesn't," Harding nodded dourly. He sneered at Zane again and then, rather stiffly, handed him the small portrait. "Enjoy your stay, gentlemen."
"Thanks, Harding," Zane grinned, taking the portrait. "Your vigilance is inspiring. I'll put in a good word for you with all the other vampires I know." He winked at the older boy.
"Well then, my friends," Erebus said briskly as Harding skulked back down to the parlor, "now that you have attained something approaching a legitimate entrance, I believe you were on your way to the upper corridor. Shall we proceed together this time with better luck?"
Over the course of the next hour, James, Ralph, Wentworth, and Zane wandered the myriad halls, landings, secret stairways, hidden chambers, dens, bathrooms, and various common spaces of the castle, all the while listening to an informative, if slightly pedantic monologue from Erebus' portrait about the details of each space. Apart from being somewhat amazed at the sheer number of rooms crammed into the castle, the boys found nothing that illuminated the riddle of Ignatius Magnussen's dimensional key.
"I don't get it," Zane finally proclaimed, plopping onto a chair on the third-floor landing. "How'd the quote go? 'The truth walked the halls of Erebus Castle,' right? Well, we've walked more halls than I can count and I didn't encounter any truth. Did you?"
James shook his head. "I didn't realize it would be this hard. I thought once we got inside, it'd just make sense, somehow."
"Might I inquire," the portrait of Niles Erebus said with a somewhat impatient sniff, "what you gentlemen are talking about?"
"You got me," Wentworth announced, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "I'm just the token vampire. I decided these three were totally nuts three floors ago."
"It's this riddle we heard," Ralph admitted, leaning the portrait on a windowsill so he could look at it. "Some old professor from a long time ago said it: the truth walked the halls of Erebus Castle. You seem to know an awful lot about this place. Any ideas what it might mean?"
"I built this castle," Erebus said, bristling. "I should think I would know everything that could possibly be known about it. Your riddle, however, is rather hopelessly obtuse. Without any sort of context, it could mean anything at all."
James sighed. "What a complete waste of time. It was probably just something Magnussen made up after all, just to throw everyone off his trail."
"Magnussen, you say?" the portrait asked, raising one eyebrow. "Ignatius Magnussen?"
"Yeah," Ralph replied, perking up a little. "You know anything about him?"
"Virtually nothing," Erebus answered dismissively. "He was rather after my time as you've apparently failed to notice. In my current state, however, I do recall seeing him visit the castle from time to time. The man had a bit of a fascination, it seemed."
"How'd he get in?" James asked. "He wasn't a vampire too, was he?"
Erebus rolled his eyes impatiently. "Obviously the rules of entrance do not apply to faculty and administration, young man. Every house is regularly frequented by professors from different societies, both for social and academic reasons."