The Breaker (The Secret of Spellshadow Manor #2)

“I can’t hide while you fight. It’s not fair, and I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered softly.

“Are you staying?” Gaze interrupted, addressing Ellabell from the edge of the adjoining corridor as she ushered the last of the students through.

Ellabell nodded.

“Very well,” Professor Gaze said reluctantly. “Stay safe. I’ll be thinking of you all.” She tipped her hat one last time before disappearing into the hallway after her wards, leaving Alex, Natalie, and Ellabell alone in the vacant hallway.

The golden line that barred the way to the Head’s quarters was already broken, yet to be repaired after their last adventure into the forbidden zone, although it still buzzed where the line remained intact.

“Well, here goes nothing,” breathed Natalie, raising her eyebrow at Alex as she spoke the Americanism she had learned from him. She stepped toward what remained of the barrier line and touched it cautiously, wincing as she made contact. It wouldn’t be long, if the plan worked.

Moments later, there was a cold rush of air as the Head whipped his cloak around and appeared in the hallway before them, called by the touch of a student’s hand against the line. A menacing grin rested on the pale, skeletal features of his face—what was visible, anyway, beneath the hood.

“And where,” the Head growled, his voice rasping, menacing and unnatural, in the back of his throat, “do you think you’re going?” He stalked toward them with a smirk, already raising his hand to form a thread of energy between his fingers.

Thinking fast, Alex plucked the bladeless knife from his belt and wielded it at the Head. The blade shimmered to life as soon as Alex’s hand wrapped around it, crackling with metallic energy, the sharp edge ready to bite. The energy that pulsed through the arm wielding it was cold, pulling at the twisting tendrils of his anti-magic to draw into the blade. Alex’s gaze flashed toward the knife, wondering what powered it. It seemed to be using him—his anti-magic. Natalie and Ellabell fell in behind him with their palms raised, ready to fight. With a cry, Alex charged forward, brandishing the knife.

The Head hissed as the glowing blade swept the air close to his face, the light reflected in the deep, sinister pools of his eyes.

“How can you—hand me that knife at once!” he demanded, his voice pouring from an unnatural place deep beneath his cloak. “It does not belong to you. You should not be able to wield it! Give it to me!” The Head reached for the blade. Alex slashed a warning slice between them, stopping the Head in his tracks.

“Never,” replied Alex.

“Where did you steal it from, you vile little thief? How dare you!” the Head seethed, the whispering sound sending a shiver up Alex’s spine.

“You know very well where I took it from,” said Alex in a low voice, the knife’s silvery energy emboldening him. “I will make you pay for what you’ve done.”

As Alex’s anger rippled out from the epicenter of his heart, the blade began to glow more brightly. It strengthened with every pang of emotion felt through the hand that held it, burning more fiercely as it connected to the soul within.

The Head gave a hollow laugh. “You,” he whispered, pointing a bony finger toward Alex. “What are you?” His foul gaze leveled with Alex, but Alex refused to look away.

“You know who I am,” growled Alex, slashing again with the blade as the Head took a step toward him.

A vicious smile appeared on the wizard’s emaciated lips. “Can it be, after all this time, that you have come to me?”

He lunged toward Alex, but Alex was ready for him, swiping at the Head’s bony arm with the knife. His mind focused on the pulsing center of the Head’s essence, feeling the coiled creature within the Head’s body. It was cold and uninviting, pushing against Alex’s mind. He pushed back, teeth gritted, and lunged forward once more.

The knife made contact with the Head’s arm, and the scream that erupted from the hooded figure’s throat pierced the air in a bloodcurdling howl—the cry of a demon, guttural and raw. Snarling, the Head recoiled in searing agony.

As Alex withdrew the knife, he noticed a tiny bead of something red, glowing at the end of the blade, diluted against the shimmering silver. Before he could examine it more closely, Ellabell grabbed his arm.

“Run!” she cried, pushing him forward.

They broke into a sprint. The knife still glowed in Alex’s hand, and as he ran, a wave of clarity crashed through his mind. After what he had witnessed on the battlefield and with the blade, he knew now, with great certainty, the man beneath the hood was a creature of both magic and anti-magic—a hybrid of the two, forged from light and dark.

But Alex couldn’t wrap his head around how the Head had come to be. Could it be as simple as the Head being the offspring of a forbidden love? The abominable result of a Spellbreaker and a Mage, defying tradition and propriety to bring him life? Or was he something worse, created and not born?

He heard the thud of Natalie and Ellabell’s feet close behind him as they made it to the fork in the corridors. They had just entered the main hallway leading toward the Head’s office when a great blast surged from behind and knocked them flat on the floor. Alex’s face slammed against the hard ground as the blade went skittering across the flagstones, just out of reach. He scrabbled for it but could not reach it as a second blast exploded over his head, keeping him down.

Jari burst from the chamber next to them, a war cry howling from his lungs, only to be sent flying, seconds later, by the eruption of a third blast. He landed on his back with a heavy thud. A fourth blast followed, more forceful than the last, knocking the air clean out of their lungs as the Head’s voice filled Alex’s ears.

“You will never escape me,” the malicious voice breathed.

“We will,” spat Alex, his face pressed down against the cold stones, the taste of blood in his mouth.

“It was an excellent attempt, but it was never going to work. I am far stronger than you will ever understand. You have merely annoyed me. Thanks to your foolish endeavors, you have set me back years. Do you know what that means, Alex Webber?” hissed the Head, the voice somehow coming from inside Alex’s own skull.

Alex did know what that meant. “I will stop you,” he seethed through gritted teeth, speckled red.

“Thanks to you and your ill-favored uprising, I will have to find double the students. I will need to bring in more to replace what that idiot Renmark disposed of.”

The Head’s displeasure surprised Alex; he would have thought the Head, in all his vile glory, would have relished the death and suffering of so many students. Wasn’t that what the whole purpose of the chamber was? To see so many students die, year after year, as they failed a test they could never win?