The Secret of Spellshadow Manor 2 by Bella Forrest (best ebook reader for pc TXT) 📕

on the backs of savage unicorn warhorses hurling golden spears and wielding sharp-edged blades of pure magic at crooked figures dressed in flowing gowns of crimson and white. Dragons and Thunderbirds soared in a technicolor of scales and feathers, breathing bursts of fire and rippling bolts of jagged lightning down upon the armored knights.

Alex wondered if the room had once been a ballroom or a great dining hall of some kind. It certainly looked grand enough, with suits of ancient armor rusting on the walls and twisted marble statues, god-like in their poses, flanking the room.

Two huge portraits hung on each of the four walls. On two sides, Alex felt watched by the eyes of stony-faced old men with white hair, staring out over the top of golden pince-nez, their expressions haughty and proud. On the third wall, two ancient crones peered out from glassy blue eyes, wearing golden bands across their foreheads, their gray hair twisted up into an elaborate style above it. On the fourth, two much younger individuals watched Alex. A man of around thirty with autumnal hair and golden eyes looked out upon the black marble and glittering chandeliers, a small smile upon his lips. In the painted waves of his hair, a silver band was just visible, intertwined with his lustrous locks. Beside him on the wall, in the next portrait along, a young woman watched Alex with sparkling gray eyes, her flaxen hair so long that it disappeared into the frame of the image. A silvery twist of a tiara wove in and out of her flowing hair, glinting with the delicate touch of jewels.

Alex wondered who they were, these special figures.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” asked the cloaked man in the middle of the room, standing with his back to Alex.

“What is this place?” Alex said nervously.

“It used to be the grand ballroom,” explained Professor Escher, whose voice oozed across the room like molasses, making Alex’s skin crawl. “Come, sit,” he instructed with an elegant flourish of his arm.

Alex paused, a million hurried thoughts racing through his mind as the distance between himself and Professor Escher seemed to stretch impossibly ahead of him. Foolishly, he wondered if he had time to run for it—if there was time for him to get out onto the front lawn and have a crack at anti-magical travel or to push all of his anti-magic into the gate and hope for the best. He knew it was ridiculous, but he was beginning to feel desperate.

“I wouldn’t try running if I were you,” purred Escher in a soft, amused tone that seemed vaguely threatening despite its quietness.

“I wasn’t going to,” lied Alex.

“Good. Now come and sit.”

Alex walked toward the table and chairs and sat down in the one closest. Professor Escher still had not turned, and the sight of the still, black shape was an unnerving one. Carefully, Alex placed his hands beneath the table and began to conjure the familiar prickles of ice against the skin of his fingers, forming the beginnings of some anti-magic, just in case.

“I know what you are, Alex Webber,” whispered Escher suddenly, his back still to Alex.

Alex could barely move as fear held him to the chair. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

Escher chuckled coldly. “Oh, I think you do. You are a Spellbreaker, Alex Webber. One of a kind, these days,” he said slowly, a hint of amusement in his silky voice.

Alex was speechless, stunned into silence. His heart hammered in his chest as he let the words wash over him in uneasy understanding of what had just been said. The Deputy Head knew his secret. He was doomed; he was certain of it. It was a Mage’s destiny to dispose of Spellbreakers—Malachi Grey had said as much. How would they dispose of him? Alex wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“How—” he began, but Escher cut him off swiftly.

“How do I know? That is not important. What is important is what happens next,” he said, turning to face Alex for the first time. Glittering eyes moved menacingly beneath the eyeholes of his mask, and Alex could hear the faint hint of a grin as he spoke. “I must assure you, Alex, that I do not intend to harm you,” he added with a twist of his wrist.

“What?” whispered Alex, dumbfounded by what was happening.

“I do not intend to harm you, nor do I intend to tell anyone what you are. Your secret, I suppose, is safe with me. I do not wish to get you into any more trouble than you are already in,” hissed Escher, his voice momentarily menacing.

“What kind of trouble am I in?” asked Alex, flinching as the glittering eyes bore down on him through the white porcelain of the mask.

“A great deal of trouble… perhaps,” he said, lighting a flicker of hope within Alex. “It all depends on you, really. You are the master of your own destiny. Here’s the deal: I will not say anything or harm you in any way, under one proviso,” he added casually, extending his gloved index finger to illuminate his point.

Alex waited for the fine print.

“You are a disruption, Alex. It is my duty to remove disruptive students, but my plans for you are somewhat different. I have an offer for you. In exchange for keeping your secret, you must leave the manor.” The words sat heavily in the air between teacher and student as Alex let them sink in.

“Leave?” asked Alex, confused.

“Yes, leave. This is my offer. I will take you back into the real world—only you—and restore you to your mother and your old life,” proposed Escher quietly, a note of surprising gentleness in his voice. It was unnerving to Alex, how Escher could shift between emotions so swiftly, surprising him at every turn, but hearing Escher mention his mother with such softness was almost more than he could bear.

Memories and feelings rushed vividly into Alex’s mind as he thought of his ailing mother, out there beyond the twinkling