The Breaker (The Secret of Spellshadow Manor #2)(82)

The knife made contact with the Head’s arm, and the scream that erupted from the hooded figure’s throat pierced the air in a bloodcurdling howl—the cry of a demon, guttural and raw. Snarling, the Head recoiled in searing agony.

As Alex withdrew the knife, he noticed a tiny bead of something red, glowing at the end of the blade, diluted against the shimmering silver. Before he could examine it more closely, Ellabell grabbed his arm.

“Run!” she cried, pushing him forward.

They broke into a sprint. The knife still glowed in Alex’s hand, and as he ran, a wave of clarity crashed through his mind. After what he had witnessed on the battlefield and with the blade, he knew now, with great certainty, the man beneath the hood was a creature of both magic and anti-magic—a hybrid of the two, forged from light and dark.

But Alex couldn’t wrap his head around how the Head had come to be. Could it be as simple as the Head being the offspring of a forbidden love? The abominable result of a Spellbreaker and a Mage, defying tradition and propriety to bring him life? Or was he something worse, created and not born?

He heard the thud of Natalie and Ellabell’s feet close behind him as they made it to the fork in the corridors. They had just entered the main hallway leading toward the Head’s office when a great blast surged from behind and knocked them flat on the floor. Alex’s face slammed against the hard ground as the blade went skittering across the flagstones, just out of reach. He scrabbled for it but could not reach it as a second blast exploded over his head, keeping him down.

Jari burst from the chamber next to them, a war cry howling from his lungs, only to be sent flying, seconds later, by the eruption of a third blast. He landed on his back with a heavy thud. A fourth blast followed, more forceful than the last, knocking the air clean out of their lungs as the Head’s voice filled Alex’s ears.

“You will never escape me,” the malicious voice breathed.

“We will,” spat Alex, his face pressed down against the cold stones, the taste of blood in his mouth.

“It was an excellent attempt, but it was never going to work. I am far stronger than you will ever understand. You have merely annoyed me. Thanks to your foolish endeavors, you have set me back years. Do you know what that means, Alex Webber?” hissed the Head, the voice somehow coming from inside Alex’s own skull.

Alex did know what that meant. “I will stop you,” he seethed through gritted teeth, speckled red.

“Thanks to you and your ill-favored uprising, I will have to find double the students. I will need to bring in more to replace what that idiot Renmark disposed of.”

The Head’s displeasure surprised Alex; he would have thought the Head, in all his vile glory, would have relished the death and suffering of so many students. Wasn’t that what the whole purpose of the chamber was? To see so many students die, year after year, as they failed a test they could never win?

“He should have known better. So much work to be done,” muttered the Head, apparently not realizing Alex was still privy to his thoughts.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alex could see the Head was still a fair way away, standing at the entrance to the main hallway. But in the skeletal palms of his hands he was beginning to manifest a rippling ball of black and gold. It was like no energy Alex had ever seen, and he was certain it spelled out the end for him. Pinned to the floor, unable to move, the blade just a fraction too far away, there was nowhere to run, no way to win.

Suddenly, the very shadows around Alex and the others shifted. The darkness became liquid, whirling from the deepest recesses of the hallway. The air crackled, and a rush of frosty air sent icy fingers running through their hair. Alex lifted his head in time to see Elias appear, floating in vaguely human form before them.

He flashed his glinting teeth at Alex. “Why do I always seem to be doing the heavy lifting?” he quipped with a starry grin.

The sight of the shadow-creature startled the Head, his inhuman mouth twisting into a grimace of confusion and wry amusement as he and Elias prowled around each other. Only it wasn’t clear which was prey and which was predator.

“Oh, Elias, you are a thing of beauty, aren’t you? Just look at you. Still so powerful. You had such potential. The finest wizard I had ever seen—the only one who might have been of vital use to me, and yet you chose to waste it on this half-life. Such a shame,” the Head taunted.

“You have no idea,” snapped Elias, his voice brimming with bitterness. “I would have been more powerful than you could ever have dreamed if it weren’t for that sniveling little weasel Derhin. He was so desperate to take my place, and you listened! You are the fool here. Together, we could have fought and found another way out of this mess, but you were too much of a coward for that! As if I was just going to give myself up,” he growled, the rage building in his shadowy throat. “I would rather watch you burn. I will see it one day. I will watch your destruction and I will smile, as you did,” he spat, his sharp teeth glinting with menace.

“Now, now, Elias. No need to be so sensitive. It was all such a long time ago,” chuckled the Head.

“I am patient. I have been patient. Your days are numbered.” Elias smirked, as if he knew something the Head didn’t. “You have realized too late,” he whispered.

The Head sneered and conjured a spear of ice and fire, aiming at Elias’s head. The shadow-man evaded it easily, coming back at the Head with a rippling swarm of pure, dark energy that billowed in a mist toward the Head’s face.