The Breaker (The Secret of Spellshadow Manor #2)(9)

But, remembering that moment so vividly, and seeing his history laid out on the library table before him, Alex couldn’t help but dwell upon his father. That faded man in the blurry photograph, kept in a shoebox the whole of Alex’s life. He knew nothing of the strange man who had created half of him—had never seen him, met him, or heard him mentioned much. His mother hadn’t liked to talk about him, so Alex had stopped pushing.

Where else would this power have come from but him? Alex pondered, his eyes on the clouds beginning to trail across the overcast sky. He tried hard to sharpen the detail around the man in the photo, but he couldn’t envision his face. Alex looked back at the list of names in the index, a thought niggling at the back of his mind: Is my father’s name among these bloodlines?

‘Webber’ came from his mother’s family, not his father’s. His father’s name could well be there, in front of his very eyes, and he wouldn’t know it. He had never dared to ask his mother more about his father than she was willing to tell, and she had never been very willing to say much on the subject. Alex knew his father’s name was Alexei, but that was all. The mere mention of him always brought sudden tears to his mother’s eyes, leaving her silent and mournful for hours after.

Either that, or I’m a mutant, Alex thought dryly as he checked over the names again, seeing if any jumped out at him. None of them did.

Alex’s eyes were drawn once more to the glittering lights in the distance. An enchanting, tormenting spectacle. He couldn’t help but gaze at it. The pain in his heart increased, his chest tightening, as he thought about his mother, waiting out there for him to come home, sitting by the phone and hoping the next call would be from her son. Watching the door, praying the next knock would be his knuckles on the wood, heralding his return.

He bit back bitter tears as he gazed out to the glimmering horizon, wishing he could run through the glass and not stop until he reached home. He missed her, and hated to think she was in pain because he had never come home that day. He hated to think of her worrying and panicking—or worse, thinking he was dead. In her state, all of this was terrible for her health. Alex gritted his teeth against the twist of loss inside him, hoping desperately that his mother was still out there, alive and awaiting the return that he promised would come one day—however long it took.

A mix of emotions rose up in Alex, surging through his veins, overwhelming him. The frustrations of his dead-end heritage; the irritation of knowing his name might be on the page but unrecognizable; his untrained powers coiling inside with nobody to aid their growth; the blurry image of his deadbeat dad and the secrets of what lay, icy and dark, inside of him. And, most frustrating of all, the keenly felt loss of his mother, of being so seemingly far away and unable to comfort her—the helplessness he felt, locked up behind walls of someone else’s design.

The outside called to him, and he knew he had to get out of the stuffy confines of the library before he released an icy fury on the place and everyone in it. Checking the clock, Alex saw it was close to seven. Jari and Natalie would be expecting him soon anyway.

Picking up the books on the table, he hurried to put them back where he had found them until only one remained in his hand. He tucked his Historica Magica away again and set off toward the wine cellar. Sparring would be a prime opportunity to let off some pent-up steam from a lifetime of unanswered questions.





Chapter 4





Natalie and Jari were already waiting in the stagnant warmth of the wine cellar when Alex arrived, breathing heavily from his run. His friends seemed locked in a peculiar standoff, the freckled boy glowering at the onyx-haired girl.

“Did I miss something?” Alex asked as he dropped down the last few rungs of the cellar ladder.

“Jari says we are not permitted to begin until Aamir is also here,” Natalie explained, her voice tight with frustration. Jari’s glower deepened, his eyes narrowed to almost reptilian slits.

“It’s only right that we wait,” Jari said, folding his arms across his chest as he sat down on the ground and leaned against one of the crumbling wine racks, sending spiders skittering in all directions.

“We could wait a few minutes, I guess.” Alex shrugged, though he was eager to get started, his muscles wound tight from his library ordeal.

“We are waiting until Aamir gets here,” Jari said firmly, his tone brooking no wiggle room for negotiations.

“What if he does not come?” Natalie cut in.

Jari whipped his head toward her. “He will come—he promised.”

“No, I believe he said that he promised he would try to come,” Natalie retorted, sighing loudly. “We are wasting time.”

“We aren’t starting until Aamir gets here,” Jari repeated.

Natalie grunted, sinking down onto the floor, against one of the side walls.

Alex followed suit, sitting on the dirt opposite Natalie, so they made up a wonky triangle on the floor. Jari’s gaze settled on the hatch to the cellar, unmoving. Natalie rolled her eyes. Alex tilted his head back, staring up at the earthen ceiling, noting silently where the roots were coming through from the trees and plants above, the pale tendrils creeping through like slender, skeletal fingers.

Half an hour passed, and still Aamir had not come.

Alex was sure he had drifted off for a while. Natalie tapped her foot on the dirt in a vague attempt to amuse herself. Jari stared at the hatch.