“Come on, Virgil, I know you want the same things we do,” she said softly. “When we were kids, we used to play together. Do you remember? You, me, and Hadrian. When your sister was cruel, I stood up for you, and when Julius tried to hurt my brother and I, you stood up for us—do you remember?”
A thoughtful expression fell across Virgil’s face. “I think I still have the scar,” he whispered.
“When the war ended, you said you hadn’t wanted to follow Julius’s orders. Both you and Hadrian hated the thought of running the schools,” Ceres continued. “The two of you only did it so somebody worse wouldn’t step in—somebody who would relish the task of torturing and killing children. My brother was made to remember that recently, that he was never in this for the long haul, or for the nature of the job. I’m asking you to remember that too.” Ceres stepped forward, and to Alex’s utter shock, she grasped Virgil’s skeletal hands through the bars.
The movement seemed to take the Head by surprise too, his strange eyes glancing down at Ceres’s hands holding his, as if nobody had ever touched him before. When he looked back up at her, his eyes were filled with tears, though they refused to spill down his cheeks. For the first time, Alex felt like he could see a glimpse of the Virgil that lay beneath the bony façade—a scared man, out of his depth, treading water the only way he knew how. And, though Alex couldn’t begin to forgive the things Virgil had done in the name of saving his own skin, he could, at the very least, begin to understand.
Chapter 7
“What do you want to know?” Virgil asked, a look of defeat on his face.
Alex glanced at him in surprise. “Really?”
The Head shrugged. “Why not. I’m not getting out of here anytime soon—let’s just say I’m feeling charitable.” The clipped edge to his voice had returned, and his eyes were once again bone dry, but there was a new softness in his posture, brought on by Ceres’s coaxing. Alex cast a grateful nod in the one-eyed royal’s direction. She nodded in return, then left to join the sentries by the door, leaving the two of them alone with a sleeping Venus in the cell nearby.
“How much do you know about the spell?” Alex began. “I don’t know how conscious you were in the pit, but, needless to say, the spell went haywire.”
“Spellshadow Manor has fallen to the mist?” said Virgil, furrowing his pale brow. He seemed both saddened and relieved by the news.
Alex nodded.
“Do you know why yet?” Virgil asked.
“I’ve read over the book, but Elias said it might have had something to do with the blood we used,” Alex explained.
Virgil gave a tight laugh. “Let me guess—you used dear queenie’s over there, instead of Julius’s?”
“How did you know?” Alex asked, suspicious.
“I made the same mistake, the first time,” said Virgil.
Alex wanted to curse under his breath. What had happened at Spellshadow could have been avoided, if he had only tried to pry more information from Virgil beforehand. It was obvious now—he’d had a veritable fountain of information right in front of him, and he simply hadn’t bothered to use it. Not enough, anyway.
“And the other times?” he asked.
Virgil shrugged. “It’s hard to say. I’ve tried to imagine what more I could have done, but I’ve never managed to come up with the answers.”
“I don’t imagine you tried very hard.” Alex snorted.
Virgil flashed him an angry look, showing a pain in his eyes that Alex had never seen before. It was almost as if Alex had physically struck the man. For a long while, Virgil said nothing, though a whole spectrum of emotion rippled across his skeletal, sunken face. Finally, he began to speak. His voice was tight, like he was combating a great feeling he could not ignore.
“You might not believe me when I say this, but I really did endeavor to do the spell to the best of my ability, when Julius demanded it of me. I was prepared to sacrifice my life for the good of others—not that it was much of a life,” Virgil said quietly, his eyes taking on a far-off look. “I never wanted to fail. I gave it everything, followed the spell to the letter, and each time it went awry. The first time, Snowthorn Temple fell, as Spellshadow will undoubtedly have done now, though two havens had already fallen to the silver mist by then, given that we had nothing in place to prevent it.
“At Snowthorn, the mist surged up and engulfed everyone—those who escaped ran to other havens, seeking sanctuary. When it failed the second time, at Summerfire Hall, that haven had already been evacuated. With the third… Well, you know how it goes by now.” He sighed remorsefully. “After that, the book returned to the vault, and Julius changed tact. He knew the Great Evil could be restrained by the essence of mages, and so he implemented the schools and Kingstone, for just such a purpose. I was made Head as punishment, no doubt, for my failure—sent to seek out unknowns from the outside world and train them up, only to end their lives.” He paused, his chest rising and falling quickly, the words taking a visible toll on him.
Alex was speechless. Never in a million years had he thought he would begin to sympathize with a man like Virgil, but here he was, feeling a pang of something close to it. For some reason, he believed Virgil; he believed that the Head had tried his best, but had failed anyway. The pain in the skeletal man’s voice was not something that could be easily faked.
“But you don’t know where you went wrong, exactly?” Alex pressed, wanting to know more.
“I have my theories,” replied Virgil, his eyes gleaming.
“Tell me everything,” Alex said.
“In the first attempt, the problem was the blood. I didn’t know how important it was to have exactly the right blood, and Julius refused to give it to me, citing the sanctity of blood such as his, so Venus volunteered. I thought it would be fine—I read the text the same way you must have,” he explained. “In the second attempt, I think I must have fumbled a line somewhere. The blood was correct, but halfway through the spell, I misread a line… It had faded by that point, I believe,” he said, looking at Alex curiously, as if for corroboration.
“The book has faded for me too.”
“Indeed… Well, I fumbled the line, and the mist rose again,” Virgil continued. “Then, the third attempt failed, but there was nothing amiss. I would stake my life on it, that I had completed the spell precisely as instructed. The blood was right, the words were right, the motions were right, but the earth rumbled all the same, and out poured the silver mist. It has plagued me for years, that last attempt. I have gone over it countless different ways, looking at it from every angle, but I promise you, I can think of nothing that I did wrong.”
Alex frowned. “Surely, you must have done something wrong, though?”
“I must have, but I can’t think what—for decades, as I say, I haven’t been able to come up with the answer,” Virgil murmured, his expression thoughtful. “Once, I thought I had it, but I wasn’t able to try it again. Too much time had passed, and Julius wasn’t interested.”
“What did you think it might be?” Alex pressed, excited by the prospect of positive information.
The Head flashed a cold smile in Alex’s direction. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you’re planning to make me your mind puppet again,” Virgil said, his voice menacingly low.
Alex paused, not knowing what to say. They both knew the truth of the matter, and Virgil had exposed it. There was no way Alex could deny it, and he doubted he could convince Virgil to do it of his own accord.
“Your silence speaks volumes,” murmured Virgil, a half-amused smile on his face.
“I guess it depends on whether you’d do it willingly, without my… mental assistance,” Alex replied, trying to call the royal’s bluff.
Virgil smiled, pulling the skin taut over the protruding bones of his features. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Is that a yes?” Alex asked evenly.
“I’ll tell you what…” He paused,
clearly wanting to leave Alex on tenterhooks. “I will think about it. Upon my word as someone who, in truth, wants what you want, I shall think about it. After all, I have lived a long time with my guilt—who knows, perhaps I’ll have an epiphany.” A strange, sad expression passed over his face that Alex couldn’t quite understand. Perhaps the Head actually did feel remorse for the things he had done, and the ghosts that lay in his wake.
Ceres approached them, hands on her hips. “We should be heading back,” she said to Alex. “I have a meeting to attend in the central square, and I’d rather not leave you here unsupervised.”
Alex didn’t want to leave, not with the carrot Virgil had just dangled in front of him, but he knew he had no choice. Ceres would demand he follow, and he reasoned it was better not to cause a fuss. However, he was certain he would return to pick up this conversation where it had left off.
“Until next time,” murmured Virgil, still smiling that elusive smile.
“Until next time,” Alex echoed, before following Ceres from the windmill. As he passed Venus’s cell, he saw that she was still sleeping, looking so peaceful beneath the blanket. Although… He looked closer, noticing that her breathing had slowed, the snuffling sound of her slumber easing off.
She wasn’t asleep at all—she had been listening to every word, though for what reason, Alex couldn’t be sure. He just hoped it wasn’t something sinister. Venus was an anomaly to him. He couldn’t quite place where her loyalties lay, or which way her moral compass pointed. The only thing he knew for certain was that she was stronger than she looked, and could endure Julius’s wrath. Maybe one day she would reveal her true colors, one way or the other.
The walk back was a silent one, both Alex and Ceres deep in thought. He glanced at her now and again, wondering if she was going to speak, but she never did. Alex, for one, didn’t want to get too excited about the prospect of Virgil doing the second attempt at the spell, in case it came to nothing, but he couldn’t help feeling the tiniest flicker of hope that the Head might truly come around to the idea.
There was a commotion when Alex and Ceres returned. Someone was running across the fields, and the riders were mounting their Kelpies to cut the figure off, strapping on the bridles that kept the bulky, terrifying creatures obedient.
“Stop!” Ceres bellowed, her voice carrying across the crowd that had gathered.
The riders turned.
“Ceres! We tried looking for you—there’s an intruder, just come through the portal,” said the closest rider, a young woman in her twenties with flowing, dark blond hair.
“Sorry, I got tied up,” Ceres apologized. “No need to ride out. That’s my brother.”
The young woman turned to look at the figure, who was fast approaching. “Hadrian?”
Ceres nodded. “Many of you haven’t seen him for a very long time, but yes, that’s him. I’d question what he’s doing here, but I think I might have an inkling,” she remarked, flashing an accusatory look in Alex’s direction.
Although Alex felt slightly guilty, he was distracted by what Ceres had said about many of them not seeing Hadrian for a long time. Perhaps, Alex thought, that meant Hadrian had never set foot in Starcross himself; he just ferried the weary survivors over the border, where Ceres and her mounted band of merry men saw to the rest. It was the perfect hiding place, if it was secret even from the one who brought the people through. But now, thanks to Alex, Hadrian had evidently been forced to break his self-imposed distance.
They waited patiently for him to arrive, the riders letting their steeds return to the water, bridles strapped firmly back to their belts. As Hadrian neared, it was clear this messenger wasn’t coming with good tidings.
“It’s b-bad news,” Hadrian gasped, sprinting the last few meters to where Alex and Ceres stood.
Ceres placed her hand on her brother’s back, rubbing it gently. “What happened?”
“Julius has f-finished with Stillwater, and h-he has c-come to Falleaf,” Hadrian explained. “He is f-furious, angrier than I h-have ever seen him. I m-managed to slip away w-without being s-seen, but I n-need to hurry b-back before he r-realizes I am m-missing,” he stammered, his eyes wide with fear. “He knows s-someone is r-responsible for t-taking his wife, and h-he won’t s-stop until he f-finds out who d-did it. I w-will divert h-him as m-much as I c-can, but you should s-still be safe if you s-stay here. He doesn’t know anything about it y-yet, and I p-plan to keep it that w-way!”
“Why did you come, Hadrian?” Ceres asked softly. “Were you followed?”
Hadrian shook his head. “I m-made sure I w-wasn’t. I had to k-keep you updated, as p-promised.”
“Here, let me at least take you back to the portal, before you collapse from exhaustion,” Ceres suggested, calling her Kelpie from the river. Hers was the biggest of the herd, standing almost a foot taller than Alex, its shoulders rippling with muscle, its hooves the size of dinner plates. Still, the one-eyed royal hopped up like it was a pony, and pulled Hadrian on behind her.
“Thank you for warning us,” said Alex, reaching up to shake Hadrian’s hand.
“I j-just pray he d-doesn’t find you,” Hadrian replied, his stammer worse than ever.
Still gripping Hadrian’s hand, Alex leaned in close to the royal’s ear. “Set up a parlay—set up a meeting between me and Julius. I want to negotiate.”
Hadrian gazed at him in abject horror. “You’re not s-serious?” he hissed.
“I’m deadly serious. If you don’t set the meeting up, I’ll come anyway. If the meeting is a go ahead, leave a letter at the portal door… I’ll check for it every day,” Alex whispered.
Ceres charged off before Hadrian had a chance to answer, which suited Alex nicely. Now, the nervous royal would have no time to argue—though now that Alex thought about it, he wasn’t as sure of himself. It had been an impulsive request, borne from the glimmer of an idea that was formulating in his head.
If Julius was at Falleaf, that presented a window of opportunity Alex couldn’t ignore. In order to attempt the spell again, they needed Julius’s blood, and the only way to get that was from the man himself. Alex wasn’t an idiot—he knew he could never overcome someone as powerful as Julius, not unless he wanted to become a pile of goop on the floor. Nor did he think he could get close enough to steal some, which would undoubtedly have the same result, as Elias had implied. No, the only way to get the blood in a large enough quantity was to do something even more stupid, perhaps—he would have to negotiate with Julius, for as much as he dared.
Elias had said that Julius was the kind of man who did things on his own terms. Even if Julius and Alex called a truce while the spell was performed, Alex knew that when the dust had settled and the Great Evil was gone, the king would likely continue the removal of essence for his own sick pleasure, or to see how else it could benefit his relentless desire for power. The outcome would be the same if they stole the blood. Julius wouldn’t care, as long as the mist was purged. But, if Alex negotiated terms and garnered the release of all the students in return for the removal of the Great Evil, they might know true freedom. The dwindling number of magical babies would no longer matter, nor would the threat of death continue to loom over the mage world. That, surely, was tempting for anyone… even Julius.
Chapter 8
After watching Ceres and Hadrian ride away, Alex felt a sense of trepidation. Maybe I was too hasty, he thought, but it wasn’t important now. The deed was done. He planned to go to the portal as dawn was rising each morning, to check for any messages, though the trek there would undoubtedly be a long one. He just hoped he could sneak away without anyone noticing him.
Just then, a figure burst through the crowd, bounding toward Alex. The red hair was unmistakable.
“Alex!” Demeter cried. “While the cat’s away, the rats will hide!” he added, though Alex wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean. Still, it brought a smile to his face.
“Demeter,” Alex replied, greeting the ex-teacher warmly.
“I was wondering where you’d gotten to.”
“Indeed, I heard some strangers had arrived, and I knew it could only be you guys. I was up at the farm, helping out.”
“There’s a farm?” Alex asked, incredulous.
“Oh yes, they have everything here—it’s quite the operation. My Ceres is one hell of a woman.” He sighed, flashing Alex a borderline inappropriate wink.
Alex laughed. “She really is a firecracker.”
“Venus is still locked away. I’ve made sure of it,” Demeter said.
“Yeah, I’ve just gone to see her.” Alex paused. “Well, not her exactly. Virgil is here too. I had a few questions for him. The spell failed.”
Demeter’s expression suddenly became somber. “Where are the others?”
“They’re all okay,” Alex assured him. “We’ve been given two tents to stay in, up at the back of the camp. I was just heading back there, if you want to join me?”
“Delighted to!” Demeter grinned, before following Alex through the camp. The crowd that had gathered to see Hadrian’s arrival had dispersed somewhat, but a few eyes still followed the pair as they made their way through, Alex deliberately keeping his head down so as not to draw too much attention.
The group of five was sitting outside in front of a fire, where a pot of something delicious smelling was boiling. Alex’s stomach rumbled for the first time in a long while. With so much going on, he’d pretty much forgotten about such luxuries as eating a good meal.
The group turned, their discussion halted, but when they saw who was with Alex, their faces morphed into expressions of sheer joy. It was a feeling Alex shared; it was always good to see Demeter, who brought his unique brand of calm happiness to any room. Though Alex knew that the auburn-haired man was capable of mood-changing magic, he was never quite sure if it was his special skill or just the ex-teacher himself that made everyone feel at ease.
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