The Secret of Spellshadow Manor Bella Forrest (great books to read txt) 📖

Nobody seemed to notice Finder’s absence. Alex figured they would have a few days yet before the Head took note of the old ghost’s disappearance, and then things were going to get interesting. His body still ached with the pains of the battle, but something told him it was only the beginning.

Natalie seemed to think much the same. She sat in her usual chair, gazing out the massive glass wall of the library.

“Did you hear what he said?” she asked, two days after the duel.

“Mm?”

“Derhin.”

“Which part?”

Natalie was silent for a long time. “The part about how he and Lintz were supposed to escape together.”

Alex nodded. He had been churning that around in his mind ever since, the fact that even the professors craved freedom. That even they weren’t safe.

Natalie licked her lips, running her fingers through her hair. “I just. I mean.” She looked over at Alex. “I had not thought of it like that. He was so much the enemy that I hadn’t even considered that…”

“…that he might be like us?” Alex finished.

Natalie nodded, her lips twisting. “Yes.”

They stared out the window together, watching a horizon of endlessly shifting waves, whitecaps frothing the water amid swirls of rain and sleet.

“How is your research?” Natalie asked.

Alex looked down at the Historica, then shrugged.

“Grim.” How could he explain the loneliness, the powerlessness that accompanied reading over and over that your ancestors had all been murdered? That you were the last of your kind? According to the book, there was nobody left to instruct him, to guide him. There weren’t even any books they had left behind, no treasure trove of advice to follow. Of survival skills.

Natalie sighed, and Alex said nothing more.

Aamir’s absence seemed to have driven a wedge into every aspect of their life. The empty classes. The awkward silences that were meant to be filled by the young man’s dry, academic remarks. The hole where his wry smile was supposed to be burned hot in all their hearts.

The three of them continued to attend the empty class, even after their peers abandoned it for more useful pursuits. They sat in the sea of tables and empty chairs, talking, trying to fill a space that seemed determined to fill itself with absence.

Alex was thumbing through the Historica when he finally found it. Jari and Natalie were chatting, and he was watching the interaction, his finger running smoothly over the pages until one caught. He looked down, and saw something sticking out between the pages of the book. A small, withered thing, dry with age, and folded into a tiny square. It must have been pressed between the pages, lodged there all this time.

He took it out, unfolding it curiously, and was surprised to find that it was the page of another book. However, while most of the books he had found at the manor were fine print, some even inked by hand in a delicate, precise script, this page looked as though it held the ravings of a madman. The writing was cursive, but seemed to follow no lines or pattern. Large, looping letters covered one another, some crossed out, others stuffed into margins. Alex tilted the page, trying to decipher it. Bit by bit, he pulled meaning out of the page.

Of our havens, it read, nine remained. However, they are lost lost LOST. Winterlight’s halls are dark now. Sungrove House’s trees have been mulched. One by one, we lose everything. One by one by one by one by—

The trend continued, the words spiraling around and in upon themselves, filling up the blank space of the page. Alex thought that the information was at an end when he found several more notes.

Of our havens, nine remained. Of those nine, we now have four. I record them here for the sake of any who might find this journal. If you are magical, seek these places. Kingstone Keep. Falleaf House. Stillwater House. Spellshadow Manor.

Alex stared. Suddenly, his heart was in his throat, lurching to and fro. Stillwater House was the sister school that had been mentioned earlier in the year as the place where disobedient students were sent; was it possible that it was a real place? Were there others out there, like them?

The page, however, wasn’t done.

Seek these places, and do not leave them, said the script, and it seemed that the writer had grown tired. The words were shaking, thin, unsteady things. If you wish to live, cower within their walls as I have done. Cower, and await the Glutton’s communion. We are all meat, and he is the mouth.

The handle of the door turned.

Alex jumped. He’d been so caught up in the page that he had completely lost track of his surroundings. Jari and Natalie, who had been chatting, looked at the door to the classroom as it opened a crack.

Aamir slid in through the gap, his eyes flicking around the room, then settling on his friends with familiar warmth. He wore long professor’s robes, but his face hadn’t changed. Jari let out a cry, bounding to his feet and all but throwing himself at the older boy, who caught him in a tight embrace and smiled.

“You’re late,” Jari muttered into Aamir’s shoulder.

“There was a lot to learn,” Aamir replied.

Natalie rose to her feet, walking over to Aamir and giving him a quick hug from the side.

“Welcome back,” she said.

Aamir nodded at her. “It is good to be back.”

In his chair, Alex quickly folded the page into quarters, then slipped it into his pocket. The action was almost unconscious; later he wouldn’t be able to say why he did it. It was an instinct, born of much time spent looking of his shoulder. He stood, walking to where Aamir was now trying to dislodge Jari from his waist.

“Your first class has rather poor attendance,” Alex remarked.

Aamir sighed, looking at the rows of empty chairs. “I guess it’s only to be expected,” he said.

The two watched each other for a long moment, and Alex