The Secret of Spellshadow Manor 3 by Bella Forrest (recommended ebook reader txt) 📗

Moving toward the door, he unlocked it and let himself out into the corridor, running as quickly as he dared back to his bedroom. The sands of time were against him, but he wasn’t about to give up when he had come so close to the prize. He refused to be foiled by something as insignificant as lacking a bag.

Reaching his room, he dove toward the wardrobe and pulled out boxes and drawers he had barely opened, seeking out a bag of some sort—something suitable he could use to carry as many of the bottles as possible. He didn’t need to take all of them, but a hefty sum would be good. Raking through the piles of clean clothes, and shoes he’d never worn, his hands clasped around a black satchel. It was perfect for what he needed.

Checking the clock on the wall, he saw with astonishment that it was almost ten. By the time he had returned and found the satchel, he had left himself barely any wiggle room if anything went wrong—it was down to the wire now, with two hours to get in and get out with as many bottles as he could lay his hands on before they left with Helena through the portal.

Not wanting to waste any more time, he sprinted from the room with the satchel bouncing against his hip. He ducked into doorways and crouched in the shadows whenever somebody passed, feeling as if he were on a gameshow of some sort, until he reached the doorway, his pulse racing with nervous excitement. Reaching out for the lock, he stopped the threads of his anti-magic just in time, as he heard the rise of voices coming from within the room beyond.

Squatting, he peered through the keyhole to see whom he had almost revealed himself to. The Headmistress was standing behind the desk, speaking animatedly with the auburn-haired Master Demeter. Whatever they were discussing, Alypia wasn’t happy with Demeter. She was gesturing wildly, her peculiar eyes glowering at the cowed figure of Alex’s tutor. Their conversation had something to do with information that Master Demeter had failed to provide, but that wasn’t what drew Alex’s attention.

Standing to the side of the two heated speakers, Alex was shocked to see the ghostly, raggedy specter of Renmark, watching the Headmistress and the teacher intently, a strange expression on his ghoulish, foul face. Glancing back at Alypia and Demeter, Alex wondered if they even knew the phantom figure was there. Were they like him, able to see Finder-like beings, or were they like the others, blissfully unaware of their ghastly, gray presence?

He didn’t want to stay around to find out, nor did he want to get caught and blow his chance for the others to escape. He returned the way he had come, slipping unseen back into the bright lights of his bedroom. As he sank down on the edge of the bed, reality dawned. He had missed his chance. He had lost the opportunity to take some bottles and destroy the rest.

Pacing the room, he had nothing to do but wait for Helena to arrive, to take them to the portal and far away from here. As he moved, the empty satchel still slung across his body taunted him, devoid of the promised bottles. The frustration he felt at their loss crawled beneath his skin, tugging at his nerves, making him feel twisted up inside. But there was nothing he could do about it now.

Chapter 38

Helena appeared, as promised, at the stroke of midnight.

The others had gathered in Alex’s room, awaiting her arrival, though nobody felt much like talking. Alex was still in a sour mood, and it seemed to have spread among the congregated individuals, though he didn’t feel like telling his friends why he felt so low. It physically pained him, to realize how close he had come to achieving the other part of his plan, only to have it fall away at the very last moment.

They looked up as knuckles rapped against the door.

“Is everyone ready?” asked Helena, popping her head around.

Alex nodded. “Ready as we’re ever likely to be,” he replied glibly as he stood to follow the others out, bringing up the rear.

The school was eerily still as they moved in single file through the hallways, catching glimpses of the glittering stars outside the windows. The torches flickered in their brackets, casting frightening shadows against the walls—wispy creatures that seemed to creep after the would-be escapees, playing out a frieze against the pale stone. More than once, Alex heard one of the others gasp in fright, mistaking a shadowy shape for a real person as they turned a corner or tripped over a band of darkness, splayed out on the flagstones at their feet.

Alex took in as much of the view as he could, knowing they might never return to this place. Regardless of the magic that hung in the air, he couldn’t deny that Stillwater House was a thing of dark beauty. It looked like something torn from the pages of a luxury vacation brochure, where elegant, fashionable ladies in oversized sunglasses sipped espresso and talked rapidly in a foreign language he couldn’t understand.

Even at night, the villa was beautiful. Lamps and delicate strings of hanging lights lit up the courtyards, mirroring the stunning glitter of the cosmos above and shedding a soft glow upon the flowers and statues, giving them an otherworldly aura in the twilight hours. At some point, he figured, somebody must go around turning them all off, because he hadn’t been able to see the lights from the lighthouse—he wondered whose job that was, conjuring up the image of the toady Siren Mave. She seemed to do anything and everything and yet was never anywhere at all. He settled on believing it was her task to put out the lights, as they continued on through the lengthy labyrinth of corridors.

They passed doors and empty hallways,