The Secret of Spellshadow Manor (Spellshadow Manor #1)

She looked over at him, her eyes sparkling over her scarf, and he nodded. Natalie shouldered the door open a crack, then spilled herself out onto the grounds.

The sky was a bloody crimson that morning, slashes of gold and fiery orange cascading out over the few low-hanging clouds. With the sun at the far end of the manor, however, the building threw long shadows over the frozen grass, and Natalie sank into them as she began to make her way toward the old crypt.

The trip felt much too short, ending well before Alex felt he had gotten the chance to steady himself for what was to come. But there was no other way. Natalie halted abruptly, Alex forced to stop rather suddenly to avoid running face-first into her. She held up a cautioning hand, crouching low, and Alex mimicked the movement, peering around for a better look at what she was seeing.

The little graveyard was just as he remembered it. The smooth, weathered headstones were just visible amid the shadows of the manor, standing before the gaping maw of the entrance to the catacombs below. Alex was about to ask Natalie why she had stopped when he noticed something. A shadow, kneeling before one of the graves. He caught the glitter of pale white skin, and felt his whole body go cold.

The Head rose, his long robe tumbling about him like a storm cloud, and they immediately dropped to the ground, flattening themselves and exchanging quick, nervous looks. The two lay still, praying that their cloaks would keep them hidden in the dark. The Head stood in front of the graves for a long moment, looking out toward the main walls, his hands moving to clasp at his back. He let out a long sigh that was clearly audible over the whistling of the morning wind.

Then, with a twist of his cloak, he was gone.

Natalie and Alex stared at the empty air, stunned.

“Invisibility?” Natalie said in a hushed voice.

Alex shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“It does not make sense,” Natalie said confusedly. “Magic follows rules. It is like sculpting. How can you sculpt yourself out of existence?”

Alex did not know what to think, but it certainly seemed like the Head used magic differently from other people. He rose to his feet, approaching the stand of stones to see what the man had been looking at. Natalie, uncertain, followed in his wake.

“Why was he here?” she asked, moving up alongside Alex as it became clear that the Head was no longer present.

Alex was looking down at the grave that the Head had been kneeling in front of. Its surface was blank; it looked no different from any of the other graves in the little stand of stones. And yet, the Head had chosen this place to kneel.

“I don’t know,” he said, frowning at it in contemplation.

Natalie stared down at the stone for a time, her brow twisting in puzzlement. Then, she shook her head.

“We do not have time for this,” she said urgently.

As one, they turned to look at the gaping hole in the side of the manor. Even from where they stood, Alex could see the golden line shimmering in the dark; as they approached, it only grew brighter. It seemed dazzling, powerful, full of light and energy, and Alex drew in a long, steadying breath as he looked at it.

“You ready?” Natalie asked eventually.

Alex swallowed, then nodded. If all went to plan, this time he would not end up on the ground with ice and snow spewing from him. He held out his hand, twisting it, emptying his mind. There was a rush, a surge of cold down his arm, and then a long, thin blade slipped from his hand, wobbling and distorting in the space in front of him. So far so good. Carefully, straining to hold the weapon in place, he reached out and drew a quick slash over the golden line.

The second his blade touched the line, Alex knew something was wrong. The line fizzed and hissed, and then in a burst of cold it erupted into icy shards. He staggered back, but saw with horror that the ice was whipping toward him, slipping up through the void toward his fingertips. A slicing blade of frost crested from the tip, and Alex saw, as if in slow motion, the thing whipping toward his neck.

Natalie’s hand crashed into the ice in a blaze of fiery sparks. The shard broke apart, the blade of ice spinning to shatter against the wall as other such blades speared into the veil of flame that Natalie had cast in front of them, then melted as they succumbed. She was panting, pale, her eyes wide as she surveyed the scene in front of them.

Alex looked aghast at the jagged hooks and blades of ice that curled up from the floor. His hand shook, and the blade of anti-magic he held dissolved.

“Security seems to have been improved,” he said, more nonchalantly than he felt.

“It chased you,” Natalie replied, her face worried. “How could it do that? Your anti-magic, should it not…?”

Alex looked down at his shaking hand. The magic here hadn’t just been effective against him—it had been designed to kill him. Specifically him. He turned, staring toward the distant lake where the lords of Spellshadow Manor had been dumping Spellbreaker bodies for centuries. He felt a surge of sorrow for his dead people, murdered and unceremoniously disposed of, and fervently hoped he would not join them.

“Let’s just go,” he said softly.

Natalie took a minute to burn the ice from their path, working with a precision and quickness that belied her weakened state, and Alex took point as they descended into the depths.

The strength of the golden line wasn’t the only thing that had changed since their first visit. First and foremost, there was the intense cold. It grew as they descended, reaching a pitch where Alex could feel his bones stiffening and creaking as he walked. It was uncomfortable, but not entirely surprising. He looked over at Natalie, but she seemed unaffected.

“Magic,” he muttered. “Strong, too.”

Natalie looked over at him, then nodded.