The Secret of Spellshadow Manor (Spellshadow Manor #1)

“I think it might be more complicated than that,” Aamir replied.

Frustration bubbled up in Alex’s gut, and he could see the same suspicious expression blossoming onto Natalie’s face.

“Aamir,” Alex began, “what—”

He let out a yelp of pain as Jari stepped on his toe. He glowered at the smaller boy, who smiled beatifically back at him.

“Let him be,” Jari said. “Aamir—sorry, Professor Nagi has had a long couple of days.”

The gratitude in Aamir’s expression as he looked toward Jari was vibrant, and Alex felt momentarily guilty. Of course Aamir was going through a lot. He had been in a duel to the death not a week ago, and since then had been stolen away by the most powerful wizard on the estate to do who knew what until being shoved back into a group of inquisitive friends.

“Sorry,” Alex conceded.

Natalie, however, seemed unimpressed. “We don’t exactly have the luxury of time.”

Aamir winced, and Jari’s back straightened. Before Jari could speak, however, Aamir held up a hand. As he did so, his sleeve fell down to reveal a small golden line wrapping around his wrist.

“I’m telling you all I can,” he said.

Alex stared at the mark on the boy’s skin, and his mouth went dry as he remembered the spearing blades of ice that had erupted from the place where he had severed the last such thing. Aamir’s brown eyes slid to meet Alex’s at last, and Alex could see something deep within his friend. It was something he had seen before, on the faces of the other professors.

Fear.

“I will do my best to keep you safe,” Aamir promised. “I will do everything in my power to protect you. Do not forget that.”

Alex stared at the boy, and again he recalled Derhin, staring up at Professor Lintz.

We were going to escape together.

He took a step back as Aamir sighed, his eyes wandering over them.

“I should get on with the lesson,” he said. “It’s stupid, but I am required to still teach these stances. Sit wherever.”

He turned away, walking to the front of the room as his friends sat down in a line in the front row. Aamir’s back slouched a little as he began to write down the notes for a new magical stance, his precise handwriting quickly covering the board. He was efficient, and direct in a way that Derhin had never been, and it was easy to see that he had been thinking about ways to teach for a long time, since far before the idea to actually take a teacher’s position had occurred to him. He taught with a fluid grace, his jaw set, his eyes hot with worry.

Watching him, Alex could feel a shiver running down his spine. They were back together—they had won. Overwhelming victory on all fronts. Derhin thrown down, Finder destroyed. Natalie’s curse removed. As Aamir chalked another line on the board, then turned to demonstrate a subtle hand position before elaborating on the types of magic it would be useful for performing, Alex found himself wondering why it felt like they had lost.

It was cold in the little room. Magic pressed against Alex from all sides, wrapping about him, poking at him like great teeth, gently kneading him until he was ready for consumption.

If you wish to live, cower within these walls.

Alex thought of the great gates, wreathed in impenetrable ivy, impossible to open or close for anyone other than a chosen few.

Cower, and await the Glutton’s communion.

Walls. Great, imposing walls that kept everything in.

We walk in dreams, the Head had said. It was only a matter of time before a nightmare followed us back.

Great, imposing walls that kept everything out.

Another chill ran down Alex’s spine. He hadn’t figured it out yet. He knew he didn’t have all the information. Still, he thought of the crushed remains of Finder’s skull, and wondered if they had made a terrible mistake.





Epilogue





On the roof of the manor, Elias poured himself from one shadow to the next. His magical body elongated and warped, sliding into the mossy cracks between the old slates of clay, deftly avoiding starlight as he made his way over to a chimney and spilled down into it. He dribbled along soot-stained brick, dripping down into a long-dead hearth.

If he had been able to feel, he might have experienced something like triumph. The previous week’s plans had gone off beautifully. At long last, Malachi had been put to rest, and the school’s supply of young wizards would dry up with him. It wasn’t checkmate, not yet, but he had taken the Head’s queen, and now he was eyeing the king with his black eyes. Yes, if he’d been able to feel, he might have experienced triumph in that moment.

However, Elias wasn’t able to feel. Not triumph, not love, not hate. He had only the tattered remnants of a personality, carved into his very being in a final, desperate act by a terrified man. He had a purpose, and like a clock driving its hands perpetually toward the next minute, that cause drove him.

Elias emerged into a hallway, watching students talking in hushed voices, their arms folded and their eyes suspicious. He clung to the ceiling, curled tight into the shadow of a light fixture, magical tendrils webbing out along the seams of bricks to find his next hiding place. The students, he thought, never changed. They were as they had been, all those years ago. Scared, studious, and ignorant. It was how the Head liked them.

It was how he had been.