The Chain (The Secret of Spellshadow Manor #3)(95)

Suddenly, he heard the mutter of voices and the sound of a key turning in the lock, not far from where he stood. His heart was in his mouth, fear freezing him to the spot for a moment before action kicked in. Quickly, he pushed the door shut behind him as he ducked and rolled beneath the wooden shelving units, dust getting in his mouth and nostrils, scratching at his throat. He hoped the glowing life magic of many hundreds of mages would hide the strange, angered crackle of his own anti-magic.

Every flurry of dust made him want to sneeze, and he imagined all kinds of creatures crawling over him, in the grimy darkness beneath the shelves. It took everything he had not to reach up and rub the dust from his nose, instead staying perfectly still as he listened for the new arrivals. The muttered voices had definitely entered the study, but they did not come toward the antechamber where Alex lay. Straining to hear, he could make out the clear, crisp sound of the Headmistress’s voice, but he couldn’t determine the intonation of the other voice with her. He didn’t think it was the Head, but he couldn’t be sure. The voice was too distorted, too fuzzy.

After what seemed like an age of listening to the two speakers drone on in a hardly coherent buzz, his chest burning as he struggled to take small breaths, the sound of the lock turning again granted him a desperate reprieve. Still not daring to inhale deeply and clear the muck from his airways, he rolled out from under the shelving and crawled toward the door. Opening it a crack, he peered tentatively out into the study, but there was nobody in the room beyond. Whatever they had come to discuss, they had done it and left. Only then, stepping away from the antechamber, did he gasp for air, filling his lungs as he coughed the debris out of his croaky throat.

Moving toward the door, he unlocked it and let himself out into the corridor, running as quickly as he dared back to his bedroom. The sands of time were against him, but he wasn’t about to give up when he had come so close to the prize. He refused to be foiled by something as insignificant as lacking a bag.

Reaching his room, he dove toward the wardrobe and pulled out boxes and drawers he had barely opened, seeking out a bag of some sort—something suitable he could use to carry as many of the bottles as possible. He didn’t need to take all of them, but a hefty sum would be good. Raking through the piles of clean clothes, and shoes he’d never worn, his hands clasped around a black satchel. It was perfect for what he needed.

Checking the clock on the wall, he saw with astonishment that it was almost ten. By the time he had returned and found the satchel, he had left himself barely any wiggle room if anything went wrong—it was down to the wire now, with two hours to get in and get out with as many bottles as he could lay his hands on before they left with Helena through the portal.

Not wanting to waste any more time, he sprinted from the room with the satchel bouncing against his hip. He ducked into doorways and crouched in the shadows whenever somebody passed, feeling as if he were on a gameshow of some sort, until he reached the doorway, his pulse racing with nervous excitement. Reaching out for the lock, he stopped the threads of his anti-magic just in time, as he heard the rise of voices coming from within the room beyond.

Squatting, he peered through the keyhole to see whom he had almost revealed himself to. The Headmistress was standing behind the desk, speaking animatedly with the auburn-haired Master Demeter. Whatever they were discussing, Alypia wasn’t happy with Demeter. She was gesturing wildly, her peculiar eyes glowering at the cowed figure of Alex’s tutor. Their conversation had something to do with information that Master Demeter had failed to provide, but that wasn’t what drew Alex’s attention.

Standing to the side of the two heated speakers, Alex was shocked to see the ghostly, raggedy specter of Renmark, watching the Headmistress and the teacher intently, a strange expression on his ghoulish, foul face. Glancing back at Alypia and Demeter, Alex wondered if they even knew the phantom figure was there. Were they like him, able to see Finder-like beings, or were they like the others, blissfully unaware of their ghastly, gray presence?

He didn’t want to stay around to find out, nor did he want to get caught and blow his chance for the others to escape. He returned the way he had come, slipping unseen back into the bright lights of his bedroom. As he sank down on the edge of the bed, reality dawned. He had missed his chance. He had lost the opportunity to take some bottles and destroy the rest.

Pacing the room, he had nothing to do but wait for Helena to arrive, to take them to the portal and far away from here. As he moved, the empty satchel still slung across his body taunted him, devoid of the promised bottles. The frustration he felt at their loss crawled beneath his skin, tugging at his nerves, making him feel twisted up inside. But there was nothing he could do about it now.





Chapter 38





Helena appeared, as promised, at the stroke of midnight.

The others had gathered in Alex’s room, awaiting her arrival, though nobody felt much like talking. Alex was still in a sour mood, and it seemed to have spread among the congregated individuals, though he didn’t feel like telling his friends why he felt so low. It physically pained him, to realize how close he had come to achieving the other part of his plan, only to have it fall away at the very last moment.

They looked up as knuckles rapped against the door.

“Is everyone ready?” asked Helena, popping her head around.

Alex nodded. “Ready as we’re ever likely to be,” he replied glibly as he stood to follow the others out, bringing up the rear.