The Breaker (The Secret of Spellshadow Manor #2)

“Good choice.” He smiled warmly as he stepped toward the hallway ahead, with her following close behind.

It looked much the same as any of the corridors in the manor, although it lacked the grim portraits that could be found elsewhere. The only decorations were torches hanging in elegant golden brackets on the walls, the metal twisting up into the elaborate heads of serpents, which seemed to hiss at passersby with darting silver tongues. Alex speculated about who lit those torches when nobody was around, and his thoughts cast back to the plump, toad-like figure of Siren Mave, with her excessive blush and drawn-on red lips. He wondered if it was her—above everyone, she had seemed to have free rein of the place. Concern from this forgotten threat crept slowly through him, refusing to be brushed off, heightening his wariness as they moved stealthily through the halls. He very much hoped he didn’t end up bumping into her in the shadows.

In the low light from the flickering torches, doors began to appear in the walls. They were marked with brass lettering that had gone crusty with age, and, as they passed a door marked Library, Ellabell paused.

“Are you going on ahead?” she asked.

Alex nodded. “Yeah, the Head’s office is up there.” He pointed up into the abyss beyond the comfort of the torchlight.

“Then, would it be okay if you left me here?” She rested her palm against the stone wall.

“Are you sure?” he replied, his voice laced with worry. He didn’t like the idea of leaving her alone in this place.

“I know my way back from here—just in case anything happens. Plus, I don’t like the idea of going where you’re going,” she admitted shyly.

“I don’t blame you.” A hollow chuckle caught in the back of his throat as he gazed up toward the rest of the vacant hallway, though he still felt a twist of reluctance at leaving her by herself. “Are you sure, though? I don’t feel right leaving you alone,” he explained, hoping she didn’t think he was being too overbearing.

“I’ll be fine, but thank you. Now go on, we haven’t got time to chat.” She grinned at him, the expression lighting up her face. Not for the first time, Alex noted how pretty she was, with her bright blue eyes sparkling behind her spectacles and her curly brown hair bobbing as she spoke. Across the bridge of her nose, soft freckles dusted her skin, just above the deep cupid’s bow of her rosy lips. Her sharp intelligence and ready smile were captivating, and Alex felt his voice catch in his throat as he spoke again.

“Well, you know where I am if you run into trouble. Just yell or something and I’ll come running,” he told her, hoping he sounded confident.

“I’ll be sure to yell. Knock for me on your way back,” she replied, moving her hand to the handle of the library door.

“I will. Be careful, and keep a close eye on the door,” he warned, reaching out to take her hand and give it a light squeeze of reassurance.

“I will be. Take care.” Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink at the touch of his hand on hers. She gave him a strange look, the expression turning into an anxious smile as she hurriedly opened the door and stepped inside, leaving Alex alone in the hallway.

As he walked on alone, he remembered the last time he had come this way, with the chambers of rotting four-poster beds with moth-eaten drapes that smelled damply of age and mildew. The rooms of people who had long since departed. He almost didn’t stop as he came to the door of the small chamber he had seen before—the stone chamber with the manacles dangling from the ceiling above a slickly covered grate. The pull of the strange room was magnetic to him. Alex pushed open the door. The metallic tang of blood and fear still rose pungently from within, filling his nostrils with the nauseating scent as he stepped inside. He couldn’t help but revisit this place, curiosity getting the better of him.

Yeah, and curiosity killed the cat, he thought dryly as he closed the door quietly behind him.

The room was little changed. Above the center grate, smothered in gray ivy, were the grim manacles, dangling limply from the ceiling. Beneath, the ground glinted with the same sticky, sinister residue as before, the smell of blood growing stronger as Alex drew closer to the grate. To the side of the room, the same foul painting of a gaping mouth with layer on layer of savage teeth and a lashing tongue still hung above the small wooden table, which was strewn with tools and something new that made Alex’s stomach turn. A wide-brimmed hat lay on the very edge of the tabletop, tattered and frayed at the edges—undeniably similar to the hat Derhin had worn on the day of his last battle, the hat that had given him a brief advantage over Aamir. Beside it were the bladeless knife and the ordinary-looking clipboard.

Alex wandered over, glad to be away from the grate’s sickening stench and the slick substance that glistened in the semi-darkness of the chamber. Cautiously, he picked up the steel hilt of the bladeless knife and felt a sudden rush of energy course through his forearm, oddly cold, as a blade appeared at the end of the handle. The silver blade glowed with radiant white light, solid and menacing. Holding it up in awe, Alex caught sight of something peculiar as the brightness of the knife’s blade cast a silvery glow across the room. At the opposite end of the chamber, buried beneath a dense mass of gray ivy, stood a thin wooden door, the black handle just visible beneath the layered leaves. He must have missed it in the rush of his last, hurried visit to the chamber.

Putting the knife down, Alex moved toward the door, skirting around the grate and feeling his foot slip in something vile. Shuddering, he rested his hand on the door handle, trying to avoid the ivy that hung across the wood as he pushed against it, but the door wouldn’t budge. It was locked.

Slowly, Alex covered the lock with his palm and conjured a small ball of black-and-silver anti-magic, focusing the blast of it into the center of the lock. There was a quiet crack as the door gave against the shove of his shoulder.

In the room behind the first stretched a long antechamber, filled with row upon row of wooden shelves, stacked neatly with small black bottles. Though there were no windows, the room was somehow filled with a dim light, just bright enough to see by. Alex squinted into the long room, wondering if it was another wine cellar. As he ventured farther along, he realized the bottles were far too small for wine, and they seemed to glow dully from within, like fading fireflies, pulsing with a dimmed red color behind the black glass.