Alex wouldn’t have called his surroundings “old-fashioned,” exactly. Old-fashioned was a blue Mustang blaring the Beetles, not an eerie, chilly, haunted tomb of a place.
Siren Mave grabbed Alex by the hand, pulling him up short as he made to move past a large pair of double doors, and letting out a little cough. She spun him around, looking him up and down once more, just as she had when he’d first entered the building.
“All right,” she said, beaming at him. “Now, just remember: manners!”
“Manners,” he repeated coldly, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing toward the door. He was out of patience for the stupid woman, who pushed him around and spoke to him like he was a child.
“Young man.” Siren Mave’s voice changed suddenly. It cut through him like a cleaver, nearly making him flinch. The jaunty, cheerful nature had vanished clean out of it. “Do be careful,” she said. “The Head has his rules. It won’t do to break them.”
Then she reached out and rapped twice upon the door. It groaned and creaked open.
“In you go,” Siren Mave said, and shoved him inside.
Barely breathing, Alex blinked as the light shifted once again. The room was twilit, and smelled strongly of old books and freshly turned dirt. He examined his surroundings for a few seconds, trying to gather his bearings. Bookshelves lined one wall, windows the other. He stood upon a carpet of what looked like gray grass and by the far wall a great…tree grew, from the shattered remains of a fireplace and chimney. Its branches and roots coiled out from the masonry, adorned with gray leaves. If there was a ceiling, it was high up, hidden in the dusk that seemed to gather itself above the tops of the bookshelves. All across the room, fireflies flickered in and out of life.
It was, or should have been, impossible.
It took Alex a moment to spot the desk that sat against the far wall. It was made of stone, piled with books and pieces of paper, inkwells lying willy-nilly, some with their contents spilling out to drip from the edge of the desk.
And behind it there was a chair, occupied by the strangest man Alex had ever seen.
He seemed to melt into his surroundings, the ashen ivy wrapping around his wrists and legs until it was impossible to tell where man ended and manor began. His face was hidden in the shadows of an ancient hooded robe, fingers protruding from his sleeves like the tips of roots, searching for something to pierce and consume.
As he spoke, his voice was like the rasp of a clock’s gears sliding into midnight:
“Welcome,” he said, “to Spellshadow Manor.”
Chapter 7
“Thank you,” Alex managed after a span of silence, staring numbly.
He worked to reorganize his thoughts. He had not been sure what to expect from this man, but he had at least assumed he would be dealing with a human. Now he was not so certain. It was more important now than ever to proceed with caution.
The man leaned forward, and, from under his hood, a pair of eyes glimmered.
“Do you know why you are here?” he asked.
“I, uh, I’m afraid I have no idea,” Alex replied. Should he ask about Natalie? Would they be kept apart if it seemed like he cared about her? With no clue what the man wanted from him, he was unsure. “But hey, did a girl come through here not too long ago?” he asked, attempting to sound casual.
A glimmer of teeth bloomed in the darkness. It was disconcerting—Alex could see no lips or chin, only a neat slash of white.
“She’s gone on ahead,” said the Head. “I am told she was not amenable to being brought to the institute, and had to be persuaded. The process is exhausting. She will be resting in the girls’ dormitory.”
Not amenable.
In the girls’ dormitory.
Alex swallowed, praying that Natalie was all right. She had certainly seemed amenable enough to him, far too amenable, and he wondered what could have happened during her own orientation. At least he had a vague idea where she was now.
“Oh, I see. Yes.”
“You do not,” replied the Head. “But no matter.”
He spread his arms, and the gesture seemed to take in more than the room around them. For an insane moment, Alex thought he could see visions of the whole world—the plains of distant Africa, the crashing waves of a great ocean, the snow-gripped peaks of the Himalayas—all encompassed within this old man’s hands.
His heart beat harder.
“You have been selected,” the man said. “Chosen by our Finder to study magic. You have no doubt noticed oddities in your day-to-day life. Things that weren’t quite right. Manifestations, as we call them. They are latent signs of your magical prowess, and we intend to hone that gift here.”
Alex thought quickly. Finder—that might be the gray man in rags. That was a manifestation, and certainly “not quite right”. But it was the only hint of anything magical about him, and he had not exactly been “chosen”. No, he had snuck in.
And now he had to attempt to blend in, penetrate farther, to wherever Natalie was being held.
“Ah, yes,” Alex replied. “That makes perfect sense.”
The Head seemed momentarily perplexed, as though he had expected Alex to be more uncertain. His hands settled onto his desk. “Yes. Quite.”
“But what would happen if I declined your offer?” Alex dared to ask. “If I chose to return to my home?”
Almost before the words left Alex’s mouth, he knew he had made a mistake.
A coolness settled over the figure opposite him, and the man’s mood seemed to manifest itself on the air. A page on the desk crawled with sudden blooms of frost, the icy tendrils spreading until the paper cracked and fell in two pieces.
“You do not leave this place,” replied the man. “That is our first, and most important, rule.”
Alex wet his lips, staring at the shards of ice. “May I ask why not?”
Little flakes of snow were gathering around the old man, seeming to writhe out of the air itself, while the Head’s withered hands formed a steeple in front of him.
“Magical talent,” he said in a brittle voice, “must be honed. It must be crafted and molded and formed until it is safe. If you were unleashed upon the world, you would be a danger not only to others, not only to yourself, but to the fabric of reality around you. There is more at stake here than life, my young student.”
Alex found himself unable to reply. There was something about the room’s atmosphere that suddenly seemed to be pressing him down, clenching in on him from all sides. A cold, dark energy that demanded silence and absolute obedience.
The Head had been watching Alex for a reply, then nodded when he saw that he had gained the young man’s silence.
The pressing weight Alex felt around him began to lift.
“You will be placed within the boys’ dormitory,” the Head said. “We have few students these days; I think you will find that there is plenty of space for you. Your classes will start tomorrow. Until then, I recommend that you acquaint yourself with your new home.”
Your new home.
Faced with more of the same disregard Siren Mave had shown him, anger bubbled up in Alex again. Nobody in this absurd place was taking him seriously, or being remotely reasonable. Who was this man to tell him what to do? Alex wasn’t some idiot schoolboy to be bossed around, to be shut up and made to fall in line.
“The thing is, though,” he began, against his better judgment, “what you’re talking about—magic or whatever—it isn’t real.”
The Head seemed to mull the words over for a minute.
“Do you truly believe that?” he asked, finally.
“Yeah, I’m afraid I do.”
The older man went silent again. Then he reached forward, shoving aside a stack of papers and placing one hand palm down on the table. His veins and tendons stood out like pulled stitches against the papery skin, and the stone under his hand rippled. It pulsed once, a heartbeat quivering through the table, shaking straight into the ground.
Everything
went black.
Alex flailed as it felt like the ground had vanished from under him, then he froze. All around him, stars began to spark into existence, cool crystals framed against an inky black void. They grew larger, and he could see spheres of flame, planes of ice, boundless crushing voids of energy and power. He felt the heat of them against his skin, felt the chill in his bones, smelled something clogging his nose, like rosemary and thyme and earthworms. He choked, attempting to thrash his arms, but his body was gone. He was gone. His whole existence had melted away, leaving only those spinning stars of power.
And then he was lying on the cool, strangely grassy floor of the Head’s office.
The man was still watching him, in the same exact position, his frail hand planted on the firm, unmoving stone of his desk.
“And now?” he asked.
Alex, completely stunned, could only stare. All mundane explanations—drugs, lights, trickery, even madness—were gone from his mind. He felt the truth of his experience all the way to his core, knowing, without doubt, what had just happened to him.
“I-I see,” he choked out.
The Head’s smile was back. He nodded, and once again Alex caught sight of those eyes. Eyes like stars of ice and fire. He felt himself trembling involuntarily, and could not rise.
“Mave,” the Head called.
The door opened, and Siren Mave bustled into the room.
“All done?” she asked in her cheerful voice. It seemed out of place here, like a child laughing in a cathedral.
“All done,” the Head replied. “Take—I’m sorry, I forgot to ask your name. Who are you, young man?”
“Alex Webber,” Alex whispered without thought, his breath still short.
The Head nodded, then looked back to Siren Mave. “Take Alex to the boys’ dormitory. I think he’ll be needing to rest up before he starts classes in the morning.”
Siren Mave gave a tittering laugh, then gripped Alex under the arm. He hadn’t the strength or the power of mind to protest as she lifted him to his feet and shoved him back out into the hallway. He felt drained of all energy, exhausted beyond belief.
At some point, he was directed to a bed, and Alex fell into it, his mind blank.
All he could see was that endless expanse of power. He was blind to everything else, not even struggling yet to come back to himself, still lost in that unfathomable void.
He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.
Chapter 8
“Come on, you can’t tell me that nose isn’t the most perfect nose you’ve ever seen.”
“I, for one, do not spend much time looking at noses.”
“Was that meant as an insult?”
“Just an observation.”
Alex didn’t open his eyes. He was struggling back to wakefulness, still feeling like a part of him was spinning eternally in the void. Overhead, the voices continued.
“Observations can be insults, you know.”
“Facts are only facts, Jari.”
“See, this is why you have no friends.”
A snort. “Because you have so many friends.”
Alex felt a weight on his chest now, felt it shift forward a little. It wasn’t uncomfortable, and actually seemed to help him come back to reality, grounding him. Despite having some sort of cover over him, he felt cold.
“I do too have friends.”
“Name one.”
“You.”
Alex could now identify two speakers. One of them spoke with a high, excitable voice, and seemed to be coming from directly above him. The other had a dourer cadence, laden with a heavy accent that reminded him of cinnamon and allspice.
Alex groaned, cracking open one eye. He was greeted by the sight of a short, freckled young man—perhaps around Alex’s age, despite his immature manner—with a scruff of blond hair. The boy was partially sitting on top of him, leaning over to look at his face. When Alex opened his eyes, a bright grin flashed into life, spreading across the boy’s face and lighting up his wide eyes.
“You’re up!”
“What are you doing?” Alex grunted, clearing the sleep from his eyes.
“Oh, sorry!” The boy abruptly leapt off him, just about ricocheting into a chair nearby.
Alex sat up on his elbows, blinking around him. He was in a bedroom furnished with three beds and three desks, all of gleaming dark wood. It was virtually undecorated, quite small, and clearly a dormitory.
His eyes fell on an older boy, perhaps nineteen, with coppery skin and an untidy mess of black curls adorning his head like a crown. He sat at a desk across the room, straight-backed and proud, an ancient-looking book held in one hand. When he saw Alex looking at him, he offered a small wave.
“Since my friend has no manners—”
“See? Friends. I have them.”
“—and apparently doesn’t understand that in order to have friends he must have more than one, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Aamir Nagi.” Aamir glanced at where the blond boy continued to loom over Alex. “The grossly oversized puppy that was attempting to climb into your bed is Jari.”
Jari beamed at Alex. “Jari Petra,” he supplied.
“I-I’m Alex,” he said.
“Oh, we know!” replied Jari.
Aamir sighed. “Don’t be creepy,” he muttered. He nodded toward Alex’s bed. “It’s on the frame, though. That’s how he knows.”
Alex sat up slowly, remembering the previous day’s events with mounting horror. He had chased Natalie down an ever-shifting lane of eerie, derelict houses. Had not saved her from the horrible ragged thing. Entered the manor wreathed in gray ivy. Found Natalie. Lost Natalie. Met the Head, and then…No, he should not think of that.
But he had not left the manor.
Natalie was here somewhere, though, and he could get to her and find some way to escape this place. He felt a little sharper now, a little more himself, but he did not notice he was clutching the bedsheets tightly in his fists until the older boy spoke, bringing his attention back to his surroundings.
“How did you like your orientation? Informative, wasn’t it?” The young man regarded him serenely.
Alex snorted. “Oh yes, it was brilliant. Really cleared things up.”
Jari laughed. “More like a disorientation, right?”
“Don’t worry,” Aamir said. “We’ll help you get settled in here. It is this way for everyone.” He cast Alex a small smile, which Alex couldn’t help but notice looked more rueful than reassuring.
“Yup!” Jari stuck his hand out for an emphatic shake that jolted Alex really, fully awake.
Alex turned and saw that his name had indeed been engraved into the wood.
Alex Webber, it read, with sinking finality.
“To hell with that,” he breathed, indignation rising in his chest. He rose briskly from the bed. “Well, it’s been lovely chatting, but I won’t be staying. If you could just point me to the girls’ dormitories, I’ll be on my way.”
They stared at him, Jari looking taken aback, Aamir a little sad.
“You can’t go,” exclaimed Jari.
“Sorry, but I have to. I really didn’t sign up for all this. It seems like a”—he eyed the two young men, who were apparently students here—“really interesting place, but it’s not for me. The girls’ dormitories are which way again?”
“Alex,” said Aamir seriously, “you truly cannot leave. The Head informed you of this, did he not?”
“He certainly seemed opposed to the idea. But what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? I’ll find a way out.”
“There is no way out, I’m afraid,” Aamir countered gravely. “For any of us. There are enchantments in place, strong, old enchantments, that prevent any student’s departure. Like it or not, you are now a student here, Alex Webber. The only way to leave is to graduate.”
Alex stopped just short of the door. “Graduate,” he repeated. “And what does that entail?”
Aamir’s lips tightened. “W
e do not know until it is upon us.”
Alex raised his eyebrows. That sounded ominous.
“But you really don’t want to leave anyway,” interjected Jari. “It can be dangerous out there for people like us. And we’re supposed to learn control here, so we don’t, you know, blow stuff up. By accident, anyway.” He grinned. “And hey—it can be fun, too. I like learning new stuff.”
Alex very much doubted he would encounter any fun here, or any trouble back at home. But the two young men seemed utterly opposed to him attempting to leave, and he certainly didn’t want them telling anyone—the Head, for example—that he was planning escape immediately upon arrival.
“So what happens if you try to leave, anyway?” he asked.
Jari opened his mouth to answer, but Aamir spoke over him.
“It is extremely dangerous. Do not attempt it.”
Alex looked between the two, wondering if this was true. As much as he hated the idea, maybe he would have no choice but to bide his time a little, acquaint himself with the place and its guardians on his own. In any case, he should be wary of letting them in on his plans.
He exhaled and ruffled his hair. “Okay. I guess I’m…uh, staying. But I still need to get to the girls’ dorms. Do you know the way?”
Jari laughed dismissively. “Oh, you can’t get in there—not without a girl to lead you. Believe me,” he whispered loudly, “I’ve tried.”
“It’s true,” agreed Aamir. “You may want to refer to your rulebook before running off on your own. The punishments here are severe.” He gestured to the nightstand by Alex’s bed. “You’ll find it in the drawer there.”
Alex eyed the nightstand warily. He didn’t want to read any kind of rulebook for this absurd place—what was the point, when he was going to escape anyway? Reading their rules would feel like one step closer to submitting to them.
The punishments, though. He felt he’d already gotten something of a taste of how ‘severe’ they could be.
He let out a breath. Well, Natalie would have to leave her dorm at some point. He would just have to find her as soon as he could.