The Secret of Spellshadow Manor Read online

  “Then why—”

  “Why bother helping you at all?” Elias said, his voice lazy. “Why feed you breadcrumbs when I could just stuff the whole loaf in your face?”

  He laughed, and the sound chilled Alex’s blood. It was a jackal’s laugh, high and keening, and it cut out with the abruptness of a breaking window.

  “A bomb should only be armed once its user is sure it will hit the mark,” he said, his voice creaking with laughter.

  Alex drew in a long breath. He knew that outbursts and overt maneuvers would get him nowhere; whatever game Elias was playing, he played it on a level that Alex could hardly fathom, with information Alex didn’t have. Alex couldn’t turn the tables on his fickle ally just yet. He had to bide his time.

  Setting the book gently down to one side, Alex nodded to the shadow.

  “Thank you for the gift,” he said.

  Elias almost seemed disappointed by the response, but shrugged it off. “Out of curiosity, who do you think cursed her?” he asked.

  Alex felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising.

  He’s trying to get under your skin. He wants you rattled. He wants you indelicate.

  “Only just realized that it was a curse today, as you rightly pointed out,” Alex said, shrugging.

  The shadow leaned forward.

  “I’ll give you a hint,” he said.

  The room seemed to grow colder, and Alex shivered in spite of himself. The edge of Elias’s form was fuzzing, spreading out into a black haze that stole the light, eating it up and growing fat with its luminosity. The young man’s head vanished, and in an instant, there was nothing but a voice, lingering in the air.

  “He tried to kill me, too,” Elias said.

  And then he was gone.

  Chapter 34

  To Alex’s immense irritation, Elias’s words proved true. The Historica Magica was a repetitive slog through a blitzkrieg of facts that rivaled the dullest sections of any reference book, reading more like an enormous index. It seemed to be entirely dedicated to family genealogies, technical descriptions of old magical homes, and recreations (without embellishment, of course) of marriage certificates. It was, in short, an exacting description of the driest facts concerning magical life.

  However, it wasn’t entirely useless. After putting a false cover on the book to make it unrecognizable, Alex took it to the study hall, finding a large, soft chair in a corner by the fire and settling in. He traced the family lines, and as he did so, his mind dismantled the patterns, names, and ideas. They slowly began to fit together into something that resembled a picture.

  The most obvious, and perhaps most expected, fact he found was a sudden rash of deaths in the magical families in the same generation as Malachi Grey. It seemed that almost every family line ended abruptly there; the ones that did not seemed to die out within a couple more generations. Alex was almost relieved when he finally found a footnote on a date of death which read: the last of the major lines.

  So they had all died out. All his people were officially gone. It didn’t say explicitly that Malachi Grey had killed them, but at least he had that detail for certain. But why hadn’t he killed Alex? Alex had been completely helpless in the Head’s office, completely at the ghost’s mercy. And he had spared him. The question had been plaguing Alex ever since, but he could not think of a satisfying answer.

  He continued to search the book for a time, but the warmth of the fire and the soft fabric of the chair lulled him, coaxing his eyes slowly shut. He tucked the book closer to himself, hugging it to his chest. He would just rest his eyes for a moment, and then he’d go back to reading.

  It would only be for a moment.

  “Hey.”

  Alex blinked his eyes open, shaking his head as he came to, hands scrabbling over the false cover of his book. He looked around with wild eyes for a moment before he saw Ellabell, a little smile on her face, her head tilted quizzically. She had pulled a chair over beside his, and now she was watching him with a raised eyebrow. He shoved the Historica Magica farther out of sight and let out an uneasy cough.

  “Hey,” he said. His head was still fuzzy with sleep, and his speech didn’t quite sound right. He cursed inwardly. He should have picked a little wooden chair with wobbly legs, impossible to get comfortable on.

  Ellabell’s eyes darted to where he had shoved the book out of sight, but she didn’t ask after it. Instead, she said, “So, did you figure out if my roommate is cursed?”

  Alex shuffled up in his chair, trying to sit up straighter. “I think she might be,” he said.

  Ellabell nodded with a sigh. “That’s my conclusion as well. I’ve been poking around trying to see if there are any rumors about someone pulling that sort of stuff, but so far no luck. Professor Lintz actually thinks she cursed herself.”

  Alex frowned. “Why would he think that?”

  “He says a lot of really talented young mages push themselves too far and accidentally put a curse on themselves,” she replied. “Something about how, if you draw upon too much magic when your body isn’t used to it, you can scar your soul.”

  She said the last with a little hokey wave of her hands. Alex raised an eyebrow. “Do you believe him?”

  “I believe him as far as I can throw him,” she said, lifting one arm. That would not be far: Lintz was a large man.

  “Anyway,” she said, her arm flopping back down to her side. “Natalie was looking for you. Said she was going for a glass of wine and wanted you to come.” Ellabell puffed out her cheeks, and Alex smiled. Of course Ellabell knew there was nowhere to get a drink on the manor grounds, but she didn’t seem like she would question it.

  “Got it,” he said, rising to his feet. His arms and legs, comfortable and warm in the chair and still littered with icy burns from the last day of practice, seared in protest. He shook the feeling off, making sure to keep his book out of sight.

  Ellabell nodded amiably, but there was a strange light in her eyes. It wasn’t friendly, but neither was it antagonistic.

  “You don’t need to take such pains, you know.”

  Alex looked back at her. “Oh?”

  She laughed. “It’s just…” She looked covertly from side to side. “We’ve all got secrets here,” she said.

  Alex nodded, uncertain what she wanted.

  “Even me, Alex,” she said. “And even you. I don’t know what the teachers were looking for the other week, and I don’t know what that book you’re hiding under your shirt is, but if you think nobody has noticed, you’re insane. It’s more that…well, we respect each other’s secrets here.”

  She said the last with a smile, brushing a brown curl away from her glasses. He gave a slight nod, then turned sharply away.

  How much did she know? She admitted little, but she could have been lying. And if Ellabell had noticed, then others had more than likely noticed too.

  He needed to be more careful.

  Chapter 35

  Alex lowered himself down into the cellar just as Natalie seized a bolt of Aamir’s lightning and redirected it into the ceiling. There was a low whump in the dirt, and the whole room shook for a moment. Natalie cheered, and Aamir, whom they all had learned was something of a sore loser, scowled.

  “I did it!” she cried, doing a graceful little twirl, then steadying herself, looking queasy. “I told you I could!”

  Aamir continued to glare at her. “That was luck,” he groused, although he didn’t sound entirely assured. He turned, and, seeing Alex coming down the last rungs of the cellar, he waved. “Alex! Finally decided to join us?”

  Alex smiled. “Seems like you two are having fun on your own.”

  Natalie spread her arms wide with a proud grin. “Aamir is having fun getting beaten.”

  Aamir rubbed at his brow. “You still haven’t even managed to destroy the bottle once,” he said.

  True to the older student’s word, a new bottle of wine had been set out, and now it stood at the center of the floor surrounded by burns
and cuts of dirt. Natalie seemed unperturbed by her failure to achieve their real objective, however.

  “No, but now I can grab your lightning out of the air!” she said, miming a grabbing motion toward Aamir, who sidestepped with a roll of his eyes. Natalie paused, then doubled over coughing.

  Aamir turned to Alex.

  “The girl should not continue,” he said. “She is not well, and I would not feel good pressing her any further.”

  Natalie made a noise of protest, a fiery aura bursting into life around her shoulders, but Alex nodded.

  “Did she tell you about her condition?”

  Aamir inclined his head. “About the curse? Yes. Horrible business.” He looked over at where Natalie was now standing with her arms folded, indignation all over her face. “I was also cursed in my first year,” he went on. “Took about four months to fade away. It is a nasty affair.”

  Alex gaped. “You were cursed too?”

  Aamir raised an eyebrow at Alex’s surprise, then shrugged as if being cursed for four months wasn’t a big deal. “I am told that I pushed myself too hard. Personally, I suspect that someone did not like me performing at the level that I was. I have kept my progress to myself since then.”

  Alex stood in stunned silence. The pieces were starting to fall into place. He walked over to the bottle, lifting it and carrying it back over to the rack. Slotting it in, he ended the challenge between Aamir and Natalie.

  “I’m ready when you are,” he said, hoping this was true.

  His efforts the previous day had been lackluster at best. He had learned how to reach into Aamir’s magic and divert it, but the art was inaccurate, and the fact of the matter was that reaching into a fire still hurt, even if it only hurt his hands.

  Natalie stalked over to a corner and sat down against one wall as Aamir took his position opposite Alex. As was usual, he took his time building up his power, his fingertips flickering with budding flames. He closed his eyes, drawing in a deep, calming breath.

  Alex felt a surge of annoyance. He knew the other boy was taking his time to be kind, to give Alex a moment to prepare himself. Part of him appreciated it, but another part, the part that he was ashamed to admit had been frustrated by magical failure after endless magical failure for months now, hated being condescended to. Aamir assumed he would win and Alex would lose, and what was worse, he was probably right.

  Alex planted his feet in a wide stance, staring at Aamir, his jaw set.

  Then Aamir’s palm came whipping out, and with it came the fire. In his irritation, however, Alex was too focused on Aamir to watch the flames spearing toward him. Moving on instinct, he dodged to one side, using Aamir’s outstretched hand as a reference for where the flames would go. He saw the boy’s hand flatten, then make a small movement to one side.

  On an impulse, Alex stepped forward, and felt a light chill as the flames coursed behind him. Drawing an excited breath, he continued to watch Aamir’s hand, trying to read it. He ducked the next waft of fire, sidestepped another, and then bounded forward toward the older boy.

  Aamir blinked in surprise, and with finality he brought his other hand around, a second bloom of fire flowing into existence. Alex hesitated, his eyes darting between Aamir’s hands, trying to follow both movements at once.

  Cold smashed into him from both sides as his head tried to dive forward and his body tried to pull back. He spun, falling to his knees amid a shower of icy dust. He coughed, spitting up snow as he cursed.

  “That was…better,” Aamir said, his voice soft with surprise. “What did you do?”

  Alex struggled to his feet, shaking himself free of his sudden, chill-induced tiredness.

  “Just trying something new,” he said. It wouldn’t do to give away his meager strategy, would it? Dodging attacks wasn’t the most impressive thing, but it would be useful in an actual battle.

  For the next half hour, Alex practiced watching Aamir’s hands, and before long he could identify several different spells and command signs. Thankfully, he already knew a number of them from when he had been helping Natalie with her pyromancy, but now he learned others. The swift, jabbing fingers of lightning. The firm swipes of water, and the rooted, swaying motions of anima. For the first time, he saw sweat on Aamir’s face as he attempted to strike Alex, who bobbed and tumbled between the bursts of magic.

  When Alex grew exhausted, he taught Aamir and Natalie what he had learned, having each demonstrate a spell so the other could follow it. While neither of them took to the art as naturally as Alex, it wasn’t long before their duels over the little bottle of wine took on a more delicate, dance-like approach. They stood, trying to keep one eye on each other and one eye on the bottle, Aamir dancing his magic away from Natalie’s gasping motions, parrying her blows, then making desperate assaults. Alex, seated against the wall, thought it looked rather beautiful.

  Tuning out the rush of fire, Alex stared down at his hands. They were shaking, red with frost, and he noted with consternation that his left hand was actually bleeding where the skin had dried and split. He sucked at the wound, thinking.

  When he had been with Natalie in his room, he had been able to focus his anti-magical energy into a wand of sorts. When it had turned magic to cold, the ice hadn’t been on his person, and therefore it hadn’t hurt him. He considered that, then drew himself into the first pose he had ever learned: Alaman’s Inner Enlightenment and Fire.

  The pose was meant to make a pillar of energy coming off the creator, so when Alex inverted it, he assumed he would get a downward push of energy. Rotating his arm, he mixed in Gren’s Stalwart Shield, opening his palm and trying to picture a blade of anti-magic spearing down into the ground.

  A rush of cold, and a burst of power. Alex staggered back against the wall as a wavering, sloppy blade seemed to slide from under his skin, glittering silver and swirling like stardust in the air. The other two, each with their eyes intent upon the other’s hands, didn’t notice as he lifted the eerie weapon, trying to give it a swing.

  It blew apart the instant he tried moving it. Alex let out a huff of disappointment as the blade dissolved into the air. It seemed that controlling anti-magic was a finicky process, made all the worse by his complete lack of any knowhow on the topic. Drawing in his breath, he tried to form another blade.

  This time, he managed to focus on it enough to bring the weapon around to his side, although the tip drooped like a depressed sunflower. He strained his mind, fingers moving in delicate motions that massaged the void. He realized on some level that his ability to form the blade would be meaningless if it required this much attention; to take his eyes off of Aamir in a fight, even for an instant, would result in a swift and painful loss. However, he focused on holding the blade together until it broke, spilling to the ground in a silvery cascade, onyx lines breaking to dust on the air.

  A crash of glass sounded. A spray of red cut the air as Aamir finally managed to sneak through Natalie’s grasping magic with a line of fire and slam the little bottle into the dirt. He let out a triumphant sigh, a victorious grin quirking one corner of his mouth.

  Natalie, rather than sulking, clapped excitedly.

  “Nice one!”

  Aamir gave a slight but gracious bow. “Thank you.”

  “That,” said Natalie, dabbing at her brow, “was your first time to break the bottle with fire! I think that is your win.”

  Aamir’s eyes brightened. “Then you mean—”

  “Yes,” Natalie said. “I will teach you to grab. Of course. But first, I think we should check on Alex; he has looked poorly for some time now.”

  Alex started. It seemed that one of the duelists had been paying enough attention to her surroundings to notice Alex’s experiments.

  Aamir, on the other hand, just looked perplexed. He looked over at Alex, who just shook his head.

  “Just messing around with anti-magic,” he said.

  Eyes still bright with his victory, Aamir set his stance, energy gathering as Natalie retreat
ed to the wall. “Want to test it?”

  Alex smiled in response, inwardly praying that he wasn’t about to end up on the floor again.

  Aamir’s attack came in a savage hook, an arc of flame that cut out to Alex’s right before launching itself in at him. Alex moved his hand toward it, altering his stance. Meron’s Blade.

  A shield of anti-magic surged out from his wrist, and he felt a dull impact as the fire spilled over it. He gritted his teeth, but the cold didn’t come. The ice and snow flared around his shield in a great explosion of white that left Alex temporarily blinded. He cursed, waving a hand, trying to see Aamir through the surge of snow. He had just gotten sight of the boy’s hands again when a bolt of lightning carved the air between them. Alex’s shield imploded in upon itself as he tried to bring it around, and he hastily ducked.

  Aamir’s magic seemed to erupt around him, and Alex rolled haphazardly to and fro, trying to get into a position where he could summon another anti-magical weapon. Aamir, however, did not seem willing to give him that chance. He launched assault after assault, each seemingly designed to keep Alex on his feet and moving, unable to concentrate.

  An attack slammed down at Alex from above, and he only just managed to produce a pulse of anti-magic that turned the sundering flames to snow. Aamir laughed, crouching lower in his stance before throwing himself forward, his eyes ablaze with glittering sparks as his leg snapped out, sending a wave of fire rolling off it.

  Acting on an impulse, Alex stabbed his hand down. Gren’s Stalwart Shield, he thought as the blade speared out of his hand in a fount of cold, and then he carved upwards.

  As expected, it broke halfway through the swing, but the flecks of anti-magic still took the brunt of the fire, turning the air into a swath of steaming mist and sending a spray of water over Alex’s face. This quickly chilled as the remaining flames broke over him. He cursed, waving his hand and trying to clear his eyes, and as he did so, he felt a burst of cold catch him in the midriff. He was thrown to the ground, landing hard on his back with a grunt of pain.