The Secret of Spellshadow Manor 4 by Bella Forrest (best e book reader android TXT) 📗

noting the deadly-looking beak that faced him, the actual curve of it seeming to be made from solid silver. As concerned as he was by the potential ferocity of the beast, he was relieved to see that the bird seemed to be more curious about Alex than she was threatened by him. Bright black eyes, shot through with a bolt of electric blue, watched him intently.

Tempest, he remembered suddenly, confident that was who the mountain was named after—the great warbird upon which Leander had driven fear into the hearts of countless warriors. Although the specimen that stood before him was likely not the same one his ancestor had ridden upon, she seemed no less fearsome than the bird of legend. Curiously, he leveled his gaze at the creature, deliberating whether she would let him ride on her back, or whether that was an accident waiting to happen.

As if sensing Alex’s thoughts, the huge bird tilted her head and moved even closer to where Alex had ended up, slumped against the rock face. Getting almost too close for comfort, bending her neck toward him, she tapped close to his fingers with her beak. Alex froze, only to marvel as he realized what she was doing. Staying perfectly still, he rested his hand flat on his leg. Gently, she sought out his fingers, nudging his hand until his palm lay the other way up. Bristling her feathers in apparent delight, she made a soft cooing sound in the back of her throat that sounded almost like a purr, and lay the sharpest point of her metallic beak carefully on the soft indent of his palm.

It made no scratch or cut, she was so gentle in her actions, and though Alex wasn’t sure what it meant, it gave him hope.

He wondered if, somehow, she could get him to Falleaf House, even if they took a somewhat longer route than the usual portal-to-portal one. He wasn’t at all sure how he was going to navigate to the mystery realm, or if the bird would even let him on her back. But he still had one of Lintz’s beetle beacons in his pocket, shoved in there when Alypia came through from Stillwater, with a sliver of magic remaining within the intricate clockwork. An idea sprang to his mind.

If he could just latch onto Lintz’s magical signature, he could follow the beetle on a path toward the fourth haven.

Glancing back toward the magnificent bird, Alex realized he was getting slightly ahead of himself.

First, how to fly a Thunderbird?

Epilogue

After hiding away awhile, seeking out a spot where he might lick the stinging cuts of his wounded pride, Elias drifted sourly from the dank rafters of the turret room. He loathed surprises, and Alex’s little stunt with the mind-trickery had been more surprise than he could stomach. It was good he didn’t have a nervous system, he mused, knowing he’d be in a great deal of pain if he did happen to own something so grotesquely mortal.

He stretched languidly, glancing down to see the vaporous strands of his shadowy body trying to slip away. Rolling his galactic eyes, Elias struggled to grasp at the tendrils, trying to corral them back toward him. They had a mind of their own, and he knew precisely where they wanted to go. But not yet, he insisted silently, as his wispy form lunged toward a piece of torso that had almost reached the far wall.

Smugly, he thought about the overconfidence of the Spellbreaker, who was so certain he was in charge of when and how Elias came and went from his life. It never ceased to amuse him, that Alex thought he had any say in the matter. Grinning at the memory of their last encounter, Elias delighted in the delicious irony of Alex’s final action, accidentally stealing a piece of Elias’s soul, thus connecting them for life, whether Alex liked it or not.

And he’s sure to despise it, Elias thought with utter glee. Though it serves him right for trying to outwit the wittiest of them all. Elias grinned to himself, relishing the idea that the young man thought he’d seen the last of the shadow-man’s silver-tongued, charming, handsome self, not realizing that what he had actually done was make the opposite true.

It thrilled Elias to plot his surprise revelation, just when the young Spellbreaker least expected it. There was a stubborn desire for delayed gratification too, wanting to make Alex beg for his returned presence, to appeal for his aid with heart-breaking desperation, and perhaps an apology for the way they had parted. That was what Elias wanted. Whether he’d be able to hold onto the sum of his parts until then remained to be seen.

And it was all going so well, too, he pouted as he moved from the turret room and swept through the hallways, wanting to stretch out whatever counted for limbs within his unique form. It was true, Elias mused. Everything had been running smoothly, secrets coming out left, right, and center, tumbling into Alex’s path, a veritable breadcrumb trail that even the dumbest of idiots could have followed.

But then that web-faced ghoul obeyed my instruction a little too well, and that prim do-gooder decided to bat her watery blue eyes at our weak-hearted friend, and suddenly I am the bad guy, he huffed, not sure how many more times he could say it was an accident. He was certain “sorry” was supposed to make everything better, but apparently not in this case. Besides, he mused, it was like Alex himself had said—if his father hadn’t run, his father wouldn’t have died. He knew he might be paraphrasing slightly, but he was pretty sure he had the gist of Alex’s sentiments. And yet he was still the one being made to feel bad, when he had been the one who had tried to save the guy. It didn’t sit well with Elias, not one bit. It was too real, too raw, too like a