The Secret of Spellshadow Manor (Spellshadow Manor #1)

“You aren’t well,” he said. “You can barely stand, and you won’t be ready in time. I’ll go alone.”


Natalie sighed, looking miserable, but then set her jaw and nodded.

After dabbing her forehead with a cool cloth and getting her fresh water, he left her room, feeling the cold in his bones and the hugeness of the manor around him as he hadn’t done since he’d found her.





Chapter 25





Natalie’s condition did not improve. While she was able to get to her feet, staggering to and from class and summoning paltry displays of magic, Alex had no illusions about her ability to carry out a dangerous nighttime operation in the forbidden sections of the school. Professor Derhin almost threw her out of class when she nearly vomited after attempting a complex control exercise. Alex wished he had, as Natalie clearly needed to rest, but she was being unbelievably stubborn.

“If I cannot come with you,” Natalie said, “I will at least buy you some time.”

Alex eyed the girl with concern. They were in the mechanics’ lab; Alex found that tinkering with the gears and parts often helped him think. He missed his bedroom at home, with its clean lines and its solitude, and his laptop which he’d use to code all night. It was often difficult to concentrate in his dorm room—especially when Jari was excited about something, which was often. While his lack of magic meant he couldn’t create anything nearly as impressive as the rest of his peers, he was happy to tinker and problem-solve.

In this instance, however, his tinkering was somewhat disrupted by the fact that Natalie had splayed herself facedown over his workspace. Her dark hair lay in lank tangles across the table. Alex was left holding the screwdriver Aamir had given him, twirling it in one hand, looking down at her.

“What are you going to do?” he asked, eyeing his friend with a worried frown.

“I do not know,” Natalie said. “Throw up on someone, perhaps. Nobody can make a scene like a French girl.”

Alex smiled forlornly. “Can’t I convince you to go back to bed? There’s some soup in it for you if you do.”

Natalie’s head rolled just enough to reveal a small grin. “Nope,” she said.



Alex waited until it was dark, and all the other students had gone to the dining hall for dinner and the Head’s subsequent speech, before sneaking off into the hallways of the manor. He had memorized the route to the Head’s golden line, and now he retraced those twists and turns, his heart pounding in his ears with every step.

If he was being honest, he wished that he could have listened to the Head’s speech. He hadn’t even seen the man since his admittance into the manor; perhaps something in his words would alleviate some of the mystery of this place. Still, he pressed on, winding through the hallways.

With no windows to look through, Alex found himself thinking about a great many things. About Natalie, who should have been getting medical attention. About the shadow, Elias. About Finder, the ghost of Malachi Grey. About all the homes with empty rooms scattered about the world, waiting for a child who was never coming back. About the Head.

And, not for the first time, he thought about how none of it made any sense.

The line appeared before him almost without warning, leaping out from the dark like a sword swung at his feet. He stopped, hesitating just shy of it, and could feel a wave of familiar cold washing over him. He shivered, gritting his teeth. He closed his eyes, offering up a brief prayer that what he was doing wasn’t just plain stupid. Maybe the line in the cemetery had been old, or faulty. Maybe the ones here had been updated, strengthened. Maybe he was being a damn fool.

But he had to know.

He stepped swiftly across the golden line.

The cold surged into him as the line snapped and whipped about at his feet, but this time he was ready for it. He gritted his teeth as twin founts of steam gushed from his nose, icy crystals pouring over his skin. He swallowed hard, gasping, watching in disbelief as a long icicle dipped slowly down off his fingertip, then broke and shattered against the floor with a dull tinkle. Though he had known what to expect, it was still a shock.

Alex didn’t know how much time passed like this, but the spell eventually weakened. His limbs were shaking, but the ice had melted to cool water, which pooled around him. Breathing hard, he tried to rally himself. Whoever had created the line would probably realize soon that it had been broken. He had to keep moving before he was found.

As Alex crossed into the Head’s wing of the manor, the hallways around him grew more eerie. He remembered them from that first day, but without Siren Mave’s chatter, the place felt much emptier. The gray ivy grew everywhere, coating the decrepit walls. The doors were coated with moss, and the air was full of the subtle scents of ice and blood.

If he hadn’t promised Natalie, he would have explored here long ago, but as it was, he had to search every room he passed for the Head’s office. Many of the doors were jammed, unmoving in their frames. Others opened onto empty rooms, or dark chambers holding four-poster beds draped in veils long since shredded by moths and decay.

He opened door after door, revealing rotting quarters, empty spaces where once life had been. He started moving faster, the images appearing only as blurs as he dashed from door to door, seeking only the one he remembered, with the stone desk and the tree-filled fireplace.

He almost didn’t pause when he opened the door into a stone chamber about the size of his own bedroom, but something about the place made him hesitate. The smell of blood surged into his nostrils, and this time he let his eyes linger, sweeping the room.