The Keep (The Secret of Spellshadow Manor #4)(28)

There was something oddly addictive about escaping into the body of another, seeing their life instead of his own, especially considering the pressures that awaited him in his own existence. Here, there was no Alypia, no portal, no stress, no time constraints, no imposing barrier magic overpowering his emotions. Here, there was only what he wanted to see, and he felt this was exactly what his mind needed.

Pulling away from the funeral, he stretched farther and farther back along the line. It was like flicking through the pages of a painstakingly made family tree, with some images less clear, getting fuzzier and fuzzier the farther back he went. Eventually, the visions became nothing but grainy tableaux; he could still hear things that were being said, but he could no longer see any of the actors playing out the scene.

“When you’re ready, return as carefully as you can, recoiling slowly,” instructed Vincent.

As Alex returned to the cell, which seemed so ordinary now, a ripple of concern flowed through him. He worried that performing such a feat might have used up some of his essence, as other powerful spells did, but he realized, as he clutched his chest, that the spirit line he was following had acted like a buffer, keeping his own essence safe. It was almost as if the spirit line was a power source all its own.

“Why are you really teaching me this?” Alex asked suddenly, gripping the bottle in his hand. He wasn’t sure if Vincent’s motives were as altruistic as he’d made out.

Vincent picked at a thread on his armchair. “I felt… compelled to instruct you in the ways of spirit lines. There was an inkling within me that it may be of some use to you—a compulsion… as I said,” he explained, a tightness in his usually crisp voice.

Alex frowned, eyeing the necromancer with curiosity. If there was more to the story, Vincent didn’t seem particularly forthcoming, his stern expression preventing Alex from inquiring further. Still, Alex couldn’t quite suppress the sense that there was more to it than met the eye.

As Alex placed the bottle back on the table, he realized how relaxed his mind still felt, how much joy the fleeting escapism had given him, within the lines and lives of others. Though, the attraction he felt to it also scared him slightly, making him think he might have to keep his spiritual endeavors to a minimum for fear of the dark places they might lead. After all, there was a reason necromancy was frowned upon, no matter how pleasant it might feel.

Deciding to take a brief pause, Vincent offered Alex something to eat and drink, to help replenish his energy. Alex took the food eagerly, quickly wolfing down a snack of soft white bread, tangy cheese, and sweet figs. He had to wonder where Vincent had gotten such things—perhaps he and Agatha had their own means of pilfering better items, seeing as they had free rein of the place. Alex just wished Lintz and Demeter would nick food from the same place, so they didn’t have to eat another bowlful of insipid gray gruel. The drink was a tall glass of something fizzy. As it touched his lips, he realized it was the same stuff Alypia had offered him, in her glass-roofed office. The taste brought bad memories with it, but he gulped it down nonetheless; his spiritual adventures had left him parched.

“How did I do?” Alex asked, swallowing the last of the cheese.

Vincent grinned. “Better than expected, for a beginner.”

The five-minute interval had given Alex a chance to think about the potential of these newfound skills, and how he might use them for his own means. It was encouraging, and Alex realized it was probably worth every moment of time he spent away from the task of breaking down the barrier magic. An idea had come to him while he was biting into a plump fig, though the thought of actually trying it out made him nervous. His own spirit beckoned, whispering to him the possible secrets of his hidden lineage.

“Do you think I could try my own spirit line?” he wondered aloud.

“Do you feel up to the challenge? You look a touch pale.” A strange expression crossed Vincent’s pale face, but Alex would not be deterred, not when such a huge opportunity was orbiting within his grasp.

“I’ll be okay—the food helped, and we’ll end the lesson straight afterward,” he said.

Vincent raised a silver eyebrow. “You’re certain?”

“Yes,” he replied, though he had to wonder if this was the whole point of Vincent teaching him how to trace spirit lines, to encourage him to try it on himself and learn more of his secret past, as a secondary observer. Who was to say that, while Alex was in someone else’s memories, Vincent wasn’t rooting around in his? Trusting a necromancer only went so far. Still, he was desperate to try his own spirit line.

“Very well, then. Let’s begin.” Vincent spoke softly, gesturing for Alex to close his eyes, as he had done before. “Seek out the pulse of your own spirit, deep within the heart of your inner core, beyond the realms of solid flesh.”

Alex searched through the darkness, reaching through the blockades of his conscious mind, pushing deeper into the very epicenter of himself, feeling his physical self fall away as he sought out the glow of his own spirit line. It burned brightly, though it surprised him to see that his was the same color as the mages’.

See, we are not so different after all.

“Now, follow it,” whispered Vincent, somewhere in the air around him.

Gathering his anti-magic, he poured it toward the burning heart of his spirit, watching in delight as a silver stream flowed away into the distance, mapping out the history of his existence. Alex wasn’t interested in the near past; he had lived those days and moments, and he did not need to see them again. However, he paused awhile on a memory of his mother. It wasn’t something he could pass up, seeing her again, even if it was just in memory.