She edged toward him a little self-consciously, holding out her arms. He moved into them, closing his eyes as he felt her wrap her arms tightly around him. Through the fabric of his t-shirt, he could feel the skin of his shoulder dampening beneath her tears, shed for him.
“It’s okay,” he whispered.
She shook her head, gripping him tighter. “No, it’s not. I can’t imagine… I’m sorry, Alex. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
They held each other for a long while, separating slowly. Ellabell brushed the tears from her eyes and Alex brushed the tears from his, realizing how fiercely he adored the girl in front of him. It was not the right time to tell her—she would think it was just his grief talking. But he knew he would tell her one day soon. He had to, in case there came a day when he might lose her too.
“I don’t think you should take any more advice from that shadowy creature,” said Ellabell, looking up at him with anxious eyes. “I know he’s useful and he helps you where none of us can, but I don’t trust him. I didn’t before, but now I feel as if he’s only capable of creating suffering, delighting in his secrets and in tormenting you. It’s all a game to him, and I don’t want to see you lose.”
Alex could see that her warning was kindly meant. Worry furrowed her brow as she spoke, her hand gripping his, her expression earnest. There was truth in what she said; he knew that. The problem was, Elias was addictive. Alex hung on to every word the shadow-man said, hoping for a morsel to be thrown in his direction. When he was at a loss and feeling as if all hope was gone, as he was now, Elias was like a beacon of promise, of fresh ideas, of inspiration. He could see that now, and even after promising himself he’d never see his shadow-guide again, not after Elias’s unforgivable act, he wasn’t sure of the strength in his resolve, should he come face-to-face with his shadowy acquaintance again. It was a truth Ellabell knew too; he could see it on her face. It pained him to see it there, that expression of saddened insight, though he couldn’t argue against it.
“Can you honestly, in your heart of hearts, tell me you could forgive what he did?” she asked, her voice soft and reassuring.
He shrugged wearily. “He told me it was an accident. I’m not sure how forgivable it is, knowing that,” he replied uncertainly, his stance already starting to waver. It annoyed him that he was even entertaining the notion of eventual forgiveness, or that he was trying to defend Elias, even with the tiniest justification. It was not something Elias deserved—he knew that, and yet he couldn’t stop the words coming out of his mouth. On Ellabell’s face, he saw a reflection of his own doubt.
“Just think about it—how likely is it that anything Elias does is an accident?” she countered.
Alex nodded. “I know.”
“I know why you feel as if you need him, and I can understand the appeal. Believe me, I can. Sometimes I wish I had my own spirit guide showing me the way. But you’re growing in strength day by day, on your own. You’re becoming a force to be reckoned with, and you’re doing it by yourself,” she encouraged. “With every setback, you get up and you fight again, and you face these battles stronger than you were before. I think Elias has seen that, and I have a feeling he’ll try to manipulate you, making you think you need him more than you really do, especially now that you know something he was trying to keep secret from you. He has lost your trust, and I just worry about the lengths he will go to, to get you back, if he thinks there is even the slightest chance.” She smiled sadly, like a loved one trying to persuade an addict to get back on the wagon.
“You don’t think Elias is capable of feeling remorse?” Alex asked, genuinely interested to hear her reply.
She shook her head. “I don’t think Elias is capable of feeling, period.”
“Maybe you’re right,” he muttered.
She sighed. “Don’t think I’m trying to manipulate you or smear him—I don’t know him like you know him. I can only go by what I have seen and heard. All I want is for you to do whatever makes you feel better, and my worry is that Elias is only going to make you feel worse. Every time you see him, he tears you down, giving you just enough to keep you coming back.” She shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong.”
“That’s the trouble—you’re not wrong. It would be easier if you were.”
As they spoke of Elias, the keep pressed in upon Alex, worse than it had done since before Vincent’s lesson, until the claustrophobia he felt was almost all-consuming. In his veins, he felt a raw, violent need to do something drastic, to get up and fight as Ellabell had said, and make a last-ditch attempt at seeking out the old warden whose elusiveness had only caused them more pain. It was not a half-baked desire or whim, but an intense physical need that, if not met, made him worry for the consequences to his sanity. He knew he couldn’t stay a moment longer, doing nothing, without actually losing his mind. He didn’t want to stake out hallways and drift around in the hopes of stumbling across Caius—he wanted to go after Caius directly, and scope out the warden for himself, to figure out whether he truly could take the information he wanted by force.
A thought came to him. The gatehouse. He remembered the sight of the little building nestled at the forest’s edge, seen for a moment while the barrier was down. He recalled thinking it was the perfect place for someone to hide out. The only problem was, how to get there? There was only one way he could think of, and it made him want to try something he hadn’t dared to try before. Now, feeling desperately that it was all or nothing, it seemed like a risk worth taking. If he didn’t at least attempt it, he knew Ellabell may as well go in search of a straitjacket now, because he would need it. Hadn’t Demeter said that the keep could turn the young and hopeful mad?
“What’s going on in there?” she asked, tapping lightly on the side of his head.
A hesitant smile played upon his lips. “What do you know about magical travel?”
“Which kind?” she replied, raising a curious eyebrow.
“I’m talking full-on Star Trek teleportation.”
She laughed. “I would never have taken you for a Trekkie.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said, grinning despite the day he’d had. She had that effect on him.
“Well, I wouldn’t advise trying it indoors or in an enclosed space, as a beginner, in case you end up taking a chunk of building with you—stone and stuff. Even for someone more advanced, it’s pretty hard to extricate the human body from a room when traveling, by all accounts.”
“I’m not sure I’d like to see those accounts.” Alex shuddered.
“They’re pretty grim,” she agreed, grimacing.
“Would an open space with a stone floor work?”
She nodded. “You’ve got a better chance, for sure. From what I read, walls seem to be the main problem.”
“Come on,” he said, grasping her hand and leading her toward the turret where he had left Siren Mave and Elias not so long ago.
“Where are we going?” she asked, dragged along half-willingly.
He flashed a look back. “I need to get out,” he called to her. “I need to go after Caius. I need to see first-hand what it is we’re dealing with, see if I can spot a weakness or a way to get to him.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” said Ellabell anxiously.
“What choice do we have?” he asked.
“He’s too powerful!”
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take—I won’t strike alone, I promise. I may do some stupid things now and again, but I’m not that reckless. I just want to see him for myself and gather as much intel as I can, so I can see if there’s a way we can get to him. Call it reconnaissance. Besides, I can always teleport back if I get into trouble,” he said, trying to convince himself that it was true.
They mounted the steps to the turret, and he was relieved to see that his mysterious guardians had left no trace they had ever been there.
Ellabell glanced over the edge of the turret. “How are you going to get past the ba
rrier? I’m not having you plummeting to your death again, Alex.”
“It shouldn’t affect me if I’m careful,” he replied. “And I have an idea that means I won’t end up eaten by the moat monsters.”
“Won’t you set off something horrible?”
He shook his head. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got the hang of this barrier magic, so I don’t annoy it and make it retaliate against me.”
Ellabell pushed her spectacles up to the bridge of her nose in a nervous tic. “Pretty sure?”
“Ninety-nine percent…”
“You better not, Alex Webber. If I have to deal with nightmare demons, I won’t be happy.”
Smiling, Alex began to conjure ribbons of silvery black beneath his fingers, feeling the familiar ripple of them under his skin as he concentrated on what he wanted them to do. He was tired, and they came more slowly than usual, but gradually he had enough to play with.
“Do you think it’ll work?” Ellabell asked, distracting him.
“Hopefully—you definitely think this is out in the open enough?”
There was a note of panic in her voice. “I hope so.”
It had begun to drizzle, the cold rain falling through the mass of bronze, foggy clouds that moved above them. He raised his face to it; it made a nice change from the stiff, filtered air. It soothed the weary contours of his skin.
Feeling refreshed, he returned to the task at hand, conjuring layer upon layer of icy anti-magic between his palms, focusing on what he needed to do to get his body from A to B. His sights were set on where he knew the gatehouse to be, having seen it gleaming in the near distance for just a moment, when the fog had dispersed earlier. As ever, it was the well of pent-up emotion that seemed to fuel his skills, revealing them. His frustration was spilling over, thanks to the day he had just had, and he was more than happy to use it for something productive, rather than wallowing in the intense misery of it.
Slowly, he reached up to feel for the barrier of magic again, knowing as he touched the edge of it that he needed to get away as soon as humanly possible, to clear the fog in his mind and ease the vise around his chest. Around him, the barrier thrummed more insistently, letting him know he needed to push beyond it. He hoped fervently that, if he was careful and didn’t feed his anti-magic directly into the wall, there wouldn’t be any dire consequences for those within the keep.
Now for the traveling part. A memory of seeing the Head twist into existence, in the cemetery beside the entrance to the tombs at Spellshadow, crept into Alex’s mind. Thinking about it, he realized the technique looked somewhat similar to the travel method Natalie had wanted to try in the Spellshadow gardens, when the barrier had prevented her from moving from one point to another. A true teleport. He wondered silently if he was capable of it, coming to the brazen conclusion that if the Head could do it, then so could he.
He climbed up onto the actual wall of the turret, teetering slightly. Ellabell reached up a hand to steady him, but he refused it.
“You should probably stand over there, just in case,” he said reluctantly, gesturing toward the far side of the turret.
She nodded. “Good point. Just… stay safe, and please come back, okay?”
“I promise, on both counts.” He smiled, returning to what he was doing as she moved over to the opposite edge of the turret.
Trying and failing to remember the passage in the travel book, Alex decided to wing it, folding his energy inwards and feeling the thrum of the barrier as it tried to fight him. Moving his anti-magic as smoothly as possible through the barrier, he focused his mind on the edge of the forest, beyond the moat with its unsettling splashes, and as close to the gatehouse as possible. It was the only spot he could think about.
Suddenly, he felt everything fall away, air rushing all around him, making him worry that he had, in fact, just hurled himself to his death. Seconds later, his body snapped back into reality as he landed in a heavy heap at the edge of the woods. Instantly, he felt clearer and calmer, the air fresher, the barrier gone, the pressure easing off. As he looked back at the vast stone behemoth of Kingstone Keep, he thought he could see the blurry silhouette of Ellabell waving from the turret’s edge, beneath the fog the building was encased in.
The gatehouse lay a short way before him, the windows dimmed. It didn’t look like anyone was home.
Chapter 15
Alex ran across the rain-jeweled grass toward the gatehouse nestled at the edge of the forest, the trees dripping water from their sodden leaves with a steady tap-tap. He slowed as he reached the building, the windows staring dimly out toward the keep like dead eyes. Peering over the lip of the outer sill, he cupped a hand to the pane and looked inside, making sure there was nobody within. As far as he could see, not a soul resided in the house beyond.
Above him, the sky was a velvety black, patterned here and there with the fluffy swell of slow-moving rainclouds. Behind them, the stars peeped out. He had forgotten how much he loved the sight of real, tangible things, and not just fog and stone.
The darkness of this unknown place made him feel nervous, knowing anyone could be hiding in the shadows and he’d never know they were there. Steeling himself, he moved around to the front door of the gatehouse and let himself in, closing the door quietly behind him, in case he disturbed any stealthy sleepers within the building. To his relief, it was empty, though that didn’t exactly fill him with confidence. Still not quite feeling comfortable, he decided to put up shields in the windows as an extra precaution. Plus, it meant he could turn the lights on and not fear discovery.
Running anti-magic from his hands, he pressed the rectangles of the dark shields to the window frames and left them there, buzzing quietly, as he moved toward the lanterns hanging from the walls and lit them one by one. Once illuminated, he began to investigate, hoping nobody would catch sight of him from the keep with his extra precautions in place.
Looking around, it was clear to Alex that somebody had been here recently, and that somebody came here often. There were empty cups and stale crusts of bread scattered on dirty plates, with a pile of dishes in the small sink fitted to the wall at one side of the main room. It was oddly domestic, which didn’t seem to fit with the vision of Caius he had in his mind, but he supposed even a tyrant had to eat at some point.
Alex moved toward a desk at the back of the room. Snooping through the papers strewn across the workspace, he spied a stack of envelopes, some torn open, some still licked shut, as well as a map, flattened out on the surface of the desk. Intrigued, Alex leaned over to observe it more closely, seeing with some surprise that it appeared to be a map of the local area—a drawing of the keep, neatly labeled, then the mountains he had seen from the prison a long way behind, and various other little settlements dotting the forests and rivers that seemed to crisscross through the landscape. It was the first time he had seen a layout of one of the magical realms, and it was almost comforting to examine it, all drawn out clearly before him. It made it seem more real, somehow.
Knowing it might be important, but not wanting to take the map in case it raised an intruder alarm, Alex riffled through the various drawers until he found a suitably scrappy, insignificant-looking piece of paper. Spreading it out on the desk, he picked up a pen and made a quick sketch of the map before slipping the ragged copy into his pocket.
Alex turned back to the rest of the papers stacked on the desk, and a flash of color caught his eye. A curling letter “A” was imprinted in a circle of blood-red wax on the back of a cream envelope.
A royal seal, perhaps? Alex thought, taking a closer look. Something childlike in him desperately wanted to open the letter, but it hadn’t yet been opened by its recipient, and he was fearful of retribution if it were discovered that a trespasser had gotten a sneak peek.
Reluctantly, he left the letter where it was, instead searching the gatehouse to make sure there wasn’t any essence hidden in the small, inconsequential rooms that branched from the main one. He tapped books and pulled on torch b
rackets, checking for hidden chambers, but there were none. In fact, there was nothing particularly interesting at all, to Alex’s supreme disappointment—just a few cloaks, some food items, and a lot of books. And most of them had to do with ornithology and geography, nothing that particularly grasped Alex’s waning attention. He didn’t want to read about bald eagles and common sparrows; he wanted books with a bit more excitement between their pages.
Checking another set of cupboards for any sign of hidden essence, Alex realized he already felt lighter, a sense of calm and relief flooding his body, now that he was beyond the influence of the keep’s barrier. His mind was clearer, and there was no fog or pain clouding it; there was only himself and his sanity, restored to him.
He wondered wistfully if he could just stay away from the prison forever. Part of him thought it might be better that way, to give the others the chance to move forward without his outbursts exacerbating their problems, though the other part of him knew he couldn’t just give up now. The truth was, playing the hero was starting to take its toll on him. His chest still ached from the missing piece of soul, and his shoulders still sagged beneath the weight of what the future might bring, with so much uncertainty now ahead. It wasn’t a role he’d ever pictured himself in, and he could only hope he was doing a good enough job of keeping those dear to him safe.
Each day, his hatred for the royals burned brighter, and he knew it was not just the barrier making him feel a heightened sense of anger. It grew with every atrocity he heard of, with every named bottle of essence he touched that had once been a person, now used as an object instead of respected as an individual. It grew with each day he was kept away from his ailing mother and his friends were kept away from their families. It grew with each revelation of the royals’ dark and twisted ways, and the lengths they would go to make others suffer for their benefit. It grew with the knowledge that their king had essentially ordered yet another mass death warrant.
The Secret of Spellshadow Manor 4: The Keep Page 15