The Secret of Spellshadow Manor 6 by Bella Forrest (motivational books for men TXT) 📗

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