The Secret of Spellshadow Manor (Spellshadow Manor #1)

“I am Malachi Grey of Spellshadow Manor,” the ghost roared over the howl of his own magic, the room shuddering with power, cracks spreading over the statues.

Alex managed to struggle free of the ivy, shoving himself away from the wall and back to his feet, darting to one side as the ghost leapt through the air, planting a fist into the earth where Alex had been a moment before and splitting the marble open. Steam rose from the chasm as the ghost’s eyes came around, magic whipping the air as he rallied for another attack.

A little way back down the hall, Natalie continued to weave her spell. An arcane circle of light gathered around her, glowing shards of silvery magic rising up around her like petals, her face lined with sweat. Alex could see the red lines of the curse throttling her, but Natalie forced her way through, her teeth gritted as she moved her hands in soft, fluid motions.

A dull impact caught Alex in the stomach, and Finder let out a sigh of satisfaction as Alex was thrown to smash against the side wall. He felt something deep inside him let out a pop, and he gasped, clutching his side as his eyes blurred with pain. Frost coated the wound, but it seemed that Malachi was employing a type of magic that his blood wouldn’t wholly defend against.

“Got you,” the old wizard said, flexing his fingers. He rose to his full and considerable height, black hair floating about his head. “I should have done this sooner. It has been so long since I had the privilege of hunting one of your bloodline,” he said.

Alex let out a cough, his whole body tingling with pain. He brought a shaking hand out in front of himself, and a shivering blade of anti-magic wobbled into existence. He stared at the tremulous blade and knew he wasn’t going to win this fight.

But he didn’t have to; all he had to do was buy time.

“You just hunt wizards now,” Alex spat. “Isn’t that right, Malachi Grey? The infamous Finder, turned upon his own.”

Malachi stiffened, and something in his features distorted. His face grew hazy and indistinct, his hands clawing at the air as he let out a soundless moan of anger, his whole form shuddering.

“I do what I must,” he said, the words smooth with practice. “I protect the world.”

“You kill young men and women,” Alex snapped, taking a step forward, kicking away a strand of ivy that attempted to encircle his foot.

Natalie’s magic had begun to let off a dull hum, but Finder didn’t seem to hear it. He moved forward, his focus on the skull in Alex’s hand.

“I am Malachi Grey,” he said softly.

“Of Spellshadow Manor,” Alex finished. “You hunt down your kind for a heartless master, and you deliver them to their graves.”

The ghost snarled, shaking his head, bursts of magic tearing the air around him.

“I find those with magic—”

“And kill them.”

Alex’s words hung in the air. Silver light blazed in a bonfire around Natalie, who was going through a complex series of hand signs, the ivy unable to pass into her circle of power. Finder’s head hung low, his hands limp at his sides.

“You don’t know,” he said. “You don’t know the choice I had to make. The choice that haunts me beyond my death.”

His head came up, and now his eyes had vanished, replaced by maggot-worn holes, his hands little more than bones. “Are you so noble?” he asked hollowly. “Do you think you are stronger than I am? Smarter? I have waited all my death for one to kill me for my sins. Will it be you? Do you have a better solution?”

Alex hesitated. His blade of anti-magic was fizzing as it pressed against Finder’s magical aura.

“Solution to what?” he asked, uncertain now. Why were the students being killed? Would he finally have an answer? Not if he killed Finder now…

Finder reached out, his pale hand closing around Alex’s sword. Frost hissed and popped into the air, a stream of ghostly snow pouring to the marble floor.

“A solution to what we made,” replied Finder.

Alex opened his mouth, but Finder spread his hands. Ice flowed out across the floor, jagged spikes of glistening cold spearing up toward him. Alex deflected one with his hand and cried out in pain as the combined cold of the ice and the magical impact left a ragged scar of frostbite on his wrist.

“You forget,” Finder said, stepping forward. “Even if my magic is a pale, ghostly mirror of what it once was, I have killed far better than you, boy.”

Alex threw himself aside as another wave of ice slid across the floor, only to be caught by a shockwave. Again, the force tore through his resistances without as much as a flicker of cold. Alex smashed to the ground, rolling to his knees, thinking hard through his shock and fear.

Finder was doing something—something he, Aamir, Natalie, and Jari hadn’t thought of. What was it? How was he getting through to him so easily? Alex watched as the man’s hands churned the air in front of him, and braced himself against another wave of energy, followed by two whizzing spears of ice.

If Finder had been able to see Alex properly, it might have been over in that instant. However, the man was blind, forced to aim wildly in the direction of his own source. Alex held the skull as far from his body as he could as he dodged and weaved through the man’s magic, trying to think, trying to figure out what he was doing.

A thunderous boom sounded, and an old lord’s head spun from its statue to smash against the floor. Shards of stone spun through the air, and one glanced painfully off Alex’s foot. He groaned, looking down just in time to dodge another wave of ice. Finder was coming down on him hard, his mane of hair tossing in his magical energies.

“Yes!” the old man cried. “This is how it was always meant to be! Just you and me, Breaker, until one of us is in the lake.”

He spread his hands, and Alex finally saw something. A blur in the air where the man’s hands had been. A little twist, and then the shockwave tore out.