The Secret of Spellshadow Manor (Spellshadow Manor #1)

He put his worries aside the instant she bounced the little ball down into his hand. Cold burst from the spot it had hit, a sharp, numbing pop that made him wince and grit his teeth. But the pain was worth it. He watched triumphantly as little whirls of frost rose around the spot, feeling the fire pushing against him, hot and cruel, before melting away.

Natalie stared at where a little piece of ice lay in the center of Alex’s palm. She looked between him and it, then back to him, her face dumbfounded.

“Um,” she said eventually. “I know I’m sick, but that is weird, yes?”

Alex grinned, tipping his hand and letting the little piece of glassy ice shatter against the table.

It was more than weird.

It was the best kind of weird possible.



For that afternoon, Natalie gave up on necromancy. After Alex explained his Spellbreaker theory, the two of them set about testing his powers. In her weakened state, Natalie wasn’t able to push Alex’s limits very far. She did, however, almost give him a case of frostbite from all the ice that was coating his arm by the time they took a break—it seemed that being able to resist magic and being able to resist cold were two very separate things.

By the evening, however, they had fallen back into their usual pattern. Natalie was curled up with her book propped against her knees, and Alex was reading an anthology of Spellbreaker histories while growing increasingly worried. It seemed that if there was one thing the Head would be less happy to find in his school than a non-magical person, it was a Spellbreaker. Their supposed extinction had been no accident: they had been hunted until none remained.

Or at least, that was how it seemed. That was the strange thing about every book that Alex read: past a certain point, they all cut off. Huge sections of books were filled with empty pages, as unmarked as though all the words had been sucked straight off of them.

“History? That’s what you do with your spare time?”

Alex nearly toppled out of his chair as Jari appeared at his shoulder. Natalie had slammed the cover of her book shut with wide eyes, staring at where their friend seemed to have appeared out of thin air.

“At least you have the good sense to look guilty about it,” Jari continued.

“What do you want?” Alex asked, annoyed at the rude interruption.

“You.”

“Do you need me to leave?” Natalie asked feebly from her corner.

Jari laughed, but his heart wasn’t in it. “I was just hoping…you know.”

Alex had some idea, and closed his book immediately.

“Aamir?”

Jari nodded.

Aamir had been growing even bolder in his disregard for their lessons of late, going as far as to stop showing up to class. Their professors had begun to shoot dark looks toward his empty chair, and there was something in their eyes that went well beyond the disappointment of a disrespected teacher.

“I know he thinks class is pointless,” Jari said, “but he’s standing out. Can you come talk to him with me?”

Alex looked over at Natalie, who waved a hand.

“Go,” she said with a cough.

Alex gathered his books, depositing them into his shoulder bag before leaving the library with Jari.

Life at Spellshadow had changed, Alex realized as they walked. Jari no longer continued his odd quirk of leading him by the hand, but walked alongside him. It was strange, in a way. He felt settled in Spellshadow in ways that he never had before. It was easy to fall into the patterns of this place, the consistent classes and the easygoing teachers, and forget the dangers. Perhaps that was the point.

Jari led Alex out of the door into the gardens and along the scattered remains of a path, snow and gravel crunching under their feet. Before long, they came to a little bench by the great ivy-shrouded wall.

Aamir was sitting there, staring down into a steaming mug in his hands. He was wearing navy blue gloves and a puffy coat that for all its bulk somehow made him look smaller. His cheeks were gaunt, his eyes shadowed from lack of sleep. He hadn’t even bothered to sweep the snow away from where he sat.

He looked up as Alex and Jari drew closer, and nodded in his solemn way.

“Hello,” he said. “I suppose you are here to berate me again?”

“No,” Alex began, shaking his head.

But Jari, who did seem to want to berate Aamir, launched ahead.

“You have to start coming to class again,” he said.

“Why?”

“For appearances.”

Anger flashed in Aamir’s eyes, and he rose swiftly to his feet.

“I’m sick of appearances,” he said, and his normal calm melted along with the snow around his feet as a ripple of heat swirled off him. Alex took a step away from the raw fury in the boy’s eyes. “I’m sick of smiling and playing along. We can’t all just go willingly to our graves, you know.”

“There’s a difference between preparing for the worst and actively calling it down on yourself,” Jari retorted, and now there was heat in his voice as well. Crackles of angry electricity danced over his hands, his hair lighting up with sparks.

“Oh, is there?” said Aamir. “Because it seems like I can’t do anything that’s mellow enough for you. You want me to go to class, do my projects, and graduate like a good boy, isn’t that right?”

“You know I—”

“You just want me to ride this out and hope for the best!” Aamir yelled, taking a step forward. “You don’t care about what happens to us! You don’t care about me! All you care about is that everybody is fine and happy and fits into your tiny vision of ‘okay’!”

Jari stood very still, but the magical electricity that surrounded him seemed to glow with rage. It flickered, but he said nothing at all.

Aamir, emboldened by Jari’s lack of response, continued.

“Have you ever stopped to wonder how it feels for someone like me? Someone looking at that date coming closer and closer?” he cried. “It’s January. I’m set to graduate in May.”

And then Alex saw it. That little date next to so, so many names.

May 7th.

He stood stunned as he realized the implications. Aamir was right—the students who had graduated were not likely off making their way in the world. And what had been written next to Blaine’s name? Not matured enough. A chill unrelated to the snow ran through him.