The Secret of Spellshadow Manor (Spellshadow Manor #1)

Natalie looked at Alex, and he jerked his head toward the opening. She nodded, creeping up to examine the row of stones.

“Graves,” she whispered as Alex drew closer. “Old ones.”

They weren’t just old, Alex soon found. They were ancient. The dates and names had been worn from their surfaces by time, until nothing but smooth stone remained.

They moved on.

The passage Finder had entered was a strange thing. There was no door, just a deep hole of darkness that led to a staircase which plunged down into the earth. Natalie stepped forward, and with a flick of her hand she conjured a small flame at her fingertip, casting a pale pool of light around them. She made to move farther in, glancing nervously back at him.

“Natalie!” Alex caught her arm just in time, gesturing to the thin golden line that crossed the hallway and pulling her away from it. “Aamir warned us about those lines. The blue ones we could probably risk, but the gold lines I’m not so sure about.”

“What will happen if we cross it?”

“I’m guessing something horrible.”

She fell silent, looking at the golden line with him. Alex could already feel the line’s hostile presence, beating cold as ice against his skin. He looked over at Natalie, who was edging away from the line with a cautious expression on her face. Well, they had come this far. And they might finally be close to some real answers.

He made his decision.

“I’ll go first,” he said. “But if something bad happens, you run, okay? Run back to the manor right away.”

She was shaking her head. “No, Alex—”

“It doesn’t make sense for both of us to get in trouble!” he insisted, and finally she relented.

He took a deep breath and moved forward. He hesitated just shy of the border, his heart racing, the chill air beating against his skin. He bit his lip, drew in a breath, then threw himself forward.

It hit him as though he had swallowed a gallon of ice water, and now he could feel it swashing about in his gut. He doubled over, his breath coming free in a great cloud of frost. Natalie leapt forward, her feet kicking up golden dust from where the line was writhing and twisting, its ends broken on the ground, as Alex continued to heave up frost and snow, his eyes bulging as he clutched his sides.

“Alex! Are you okay?” Natalie asked, rushing to his side.

“Cold,” gasped Alex, his teeth chattering as ice wrapped around them.

She held him a moment, rubbing his arms up and down. The cold wasn’t getting worse, but he could feel it in his bones, could see his fingertips paling, then darkening with frostbite. Natalie clearly saw it as well; she reached out, and warmth poured from her hands as little bubbles of fire gathered in her palms, warming Alex’s skin.

“Honestly, I thought it would be something worse.” She poked at the broken line with her toe. “You are feeling better?”

“I need a minute,” he grated out.

Natalie bit her lip anxiously. “I think we should keep moving,” she said. “We should not stay here long.”

It took a few minutes before Alex was ready. Natalie insisted on draping his arm over her shoulder like a wounded soldier as they limped down the stairs into the dark.

There was no light save for Natalie’s little flame. The air around them grew moist with the smells of dirt and decay, and as Alex watched, the walls changed from the manor’s coarse bricks to a smooth, black marble.

He knew what the place was before they saw the first tomb. It lurched out of the dark, a great statue of a man in a crisp suit, one hand outstretched and covered in delicate veins of ice, carved to look like lightning. They stared at him, and the plaque beneath him.

Gifford White, the Stormcaller. Lord of Spellshadow Manor.

Set in front of him, on a little white sheet, was a skull. Natalie gasped at the sight, covering her mouth with her hand.

They kept moving. There were other figures, other names. Women with rubies for eyes, and men with ever-flowing fountains of water pouring from their hands. Beneath each, a skull lay upon the white sheet.

The hall of dead lords and ladies was long, and it took some time before they reached its end. With each step, Alex grew more concerned that Finder would be there to step from the shadows, pale hands reaching out and condemnation on his lips, but there was no sound or movement as they approached the final statue.

“Is he here?” Natalie asked warily. “Finder?”

Alex turned to the final statue, and hesitated.

The man the last statue depicted was tall, his shoulders broad and muscular, his cloak a crisp cut. His eyes had been wrought from gold and steel, irises gleaming from beneath a low-hanging hood.

Malachi Grey, the plaque beneath him proclaimed. The Finder. Lord of Spellshadow Manor.

Beneath the statue was a skull. It frothed with a cold so intense that Alex could feel it against his skin. Between the two gaping eye holes, a third hole had been carved into the bone. It seemed to stare at Alex as he looked, his mouth dry, his hands clenched.

Finder was dead. How was that possible?

“Time to go,” Alex stammered.

Without waiting for Natalie’s response, he grabbed her by the wrist and hurried from the little crypt. As he went, he thought he could still feel the skull’s regard, the three empty sockets watching them go.





Chapter 20





“Necromancy?” Professor Lintz said, his heavy brows lifting. “My boy, that was outlawed a long time ago.”

Alex was seated in the professor’s office in the student wing. It was a lavish room, adorned with several gold-framed portraits, which appeared to depict Lintz himself, and a display case containing a rather impressive collection of scepters.

“No, no, no,” Lintz continued. “It’s a forbidden magic. Anima’s nasty cousin, you know?”

“How’s that, sir?” Alex asked interestedly.