The Shadowed Manse (16 page)

The wraiths backed up and then lunged, but Morgan surprised them by surging forward and bashing them with her shield. That dazed and surprised them good, so when Morgan dropped her shield a moment later, Arthur — reaching his arms around her (she squirmed) — blasted them several times each, killing them.

This time, he hopped back immediately — before Morgan could retaliate.

They slid along the wall until they were finally backed into the corner. He couldn’t see the servitors and numina at the other end of the hallway, but he could hear them still fighting. He was pretty sure some of the shades he’d fought had already returned. And a big mass of them and another wraith were charging toward him and Morgan.

“You can close in tighter,” Arthur said.

“You wish — heads up! Two dark-hearts high up in the opposite corner.” She craned her head back. “And two above us. Told you there were sixty in here.”

“I was right! They were congregating down here because of the stones!”

Morgan nodded toward the door at the end of the hallway labeled INNER SANCTUM. “Or they were trying to stay close to whatever’s in there …”

Arthur’s eyes fell upon the glowing triskelion and the matching sigil carved into the wooden door above it. Suddenly, a chill ran down Arthur’s back. His heart raced, and the world closed in on him — shadows upon shadows. A voice whispered into his mind — a voice that was cold … reptilian … ancient … mocking.

It was the warlock.

“Arthur Primus, come to claim your mantle at last … untrained … afraid … trapped in a manse of shadows … nothing but a boy … abandoned by your father … unwelcome in your own home … unloved …”

Arthur tried to focus, but he couldn’t get it out of his head.

“Come to me,” the warlock hissed. “Come to me, and I will tell you everything you want to know … how your cousins died … how your mother Amelia died … I can tell you who killed them … I can tell you why … and I can tell you all about your mysterious father … why he hid you away … and
why
he did all the terrible things he did. I will tell you all this and
more
… and then … then you will make your choice.”

Arthur thought back, “Let me guess. Join you or die.”

“No, Arthur … no. If you do not join me, your little girlfriend will
die
.”

“Arthur!” Morgan yelled. “Get with it or we’re going to get killed!”

“The warlock in my mind,” Arthur said, panting. “He said …”

Morgan turned toward him. He looked into her stormy eyes, which were a little paler than normal. A trembling frown marred her perfect lips and her heart-shaped face. “I don’t care what he said. Kick him out and get to shooting! I need help — now!”

The warlock’s voice returned, but it was fainter now. “Oh, do come inside. Bring your anger. Bring the girl. You know you must face me. If you’re not ready now, you never will be,
orphan
, because —”

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” Arthur screamed.

But the warlock just laughed.

Morgan, the hallway, the battle, everything around him faded away into mists and darkness. Suddenly, he was back at home in Rockville. The scents of cake and snuffed candles filled the house, but Arthur wasn’t celebrating his fifth birthday in the kitchen with everyone else. He was in the living room, crying in Grandpa Nelson’s arms. He remembered the day perfectly. For weeks, he’d had it in his head that his father was going to come to his birthday party, and when he didn’t show, Arthur finally realized his dad was
never
coming back for him. Grandpa Nelson had held him until the tears dried up, and then he’d told him ridiculous old stories to make him feel better. Grandpa Nelson could always make the pain fade, even if the scars remained.

Then, Arthur was standing in the graveyard, watching as they lowered Grandpa Nelson’s pale blue coffin into the earth. The day was sunny and clear, and it had seemed to him the wrongest thing in the world. It should be raining at a funeral — it should be as gray and cold as their hearts. From then on, Grandma Nelson was the only family Arthur had left. And even though she did love him — in her own way — not so deep down, she resented him. The day Grandpa Nelson had died was the last day Arthur had felt happy.

Weeks … maybe months later, he no longer remembered: It was nighttime, and he was sleeping in bed. Suddenly, he cried out and sat up. His heart was racing — pounding so hard he thought it might explode. He’d forgotten this completely. But it was the first time he’d had that feeling like there were two hearts beating inside his chest. Grandma Nelson had grumpily rushed him to the emergency room, but by the time they got there, the sensation had stopped. Every test had said he was normal.

From then on, the few friends he'd had at school drifted away. His alienation from the other kids, from everyone, grew deeper. He became more lonely and awkward, and eventually rebellious. Steadily, he became convinced that he was supposed to be somewhere else and doing something else — though he’d had no idea what. He was so frustrated all the time.

Endless days of torturous boredom began to pass through his mind, but the warlock had some nerve if he thought he could make Arthur relive school. Those days were over. The anger and stubbornness and rebellion that had gotten him into so much trouble at school finally served its purpose: Arthur fought back.

Ignoring the series of moments from his past when he felt particularly lonely — rainy weekends cooped up alone in his tiny bedroom or by himself on the playground or alone at lunch — Arthur recalled Morgan telling him that they
were
friends. He pictured Lexi chasing pool balls around the Smoking Lounge and Vassalus fighting beside him in the training room. He thought of how happy the servitors all seemed to be with him in the Manse now. The warlock forced onto Arthur visions of Derek being lavished with Christmas gifts and attention, but Arthur smiled despite them. He smiled because he finally understood his destiny. He wasn't alone anymore; he would
never
be alone again.

A surge of joy cut through the warlock's illusion, and the real world came back into view. Arthur was once again standing in the Grand Hallway — and it was empty of shades and wraiths — they were all gone!

Then Arthur’s eyes fell onto what lay in front of him.

“No!” he screamed.

Riddled with cuts and scorch-marks, their silvery blood splattered everywhere, the servitors and Vassalus lay dead. Alongside them, Lexi gasped for breath. Her eyes locked onto Arthur.

He fell to his knees beside her and touched her head. “Lexi …”

“Arthur … why didn't you save us?”

Her eyes faded, and she breathed her last.

No — this couldn't be happening. Morgan! Where was Morgan?

Arthur spun, and there she lay, behind him: her perfect school uniform torn and specked with blood, her arms and legs scratched and burned, blood pooling beneath her, and worst of all, her head twisted at an awkward, unnatural angle. Her eyes were no longer storm-blue but a sullen, dreary gray as they stared lifelessly at the ceiling.

Chapter Fourteen

The Tetris Calm

“NO!” Arthur screamed.

No, no, no. This just
couldn’t
be. The shades must’ve killed them while the warlock was in his mind, but then where had the shades gone? Had Lexi managed to kill the last one before it killed her? The gems still hanging in the corners — the gems he had failed to destroy — blinked. Shadows appeared in the middle of the hallway, and turned as one towards him. They walked over the bodies of his friends without even noticing them, as if they were nothing.

This was all his fault.

He’d been so certain they could handle this, and he had failed. He had failed Valet, Arms, Cook, and Waiter. He had failed Vassalus and Lexi. And Morgan … he had promised himself he would get Morgan through this alive, that he would never let her get hurt …

Tears falling down his cheeks, he knelt beside her. The shadows could have him. He didn't care anymore. “Morgan, I’m so sorry.”

From out of nowhere, something hit him in the leg. “Ow!”

“Arthur!” Morgan said. “What’s wrong with you?!”

“Huh?” he said with surprise.

Arthur was on his knees behind Morgan. She was still alive, with her shield up. Shades and wraiths were closing in on them. The battle was still raging, yet here he was stroking his hand across the wood floor. It had all been a trick; the warlock was playing games with his mind. But now the spell was broken, and the demented vision was gone.

She kicked him again. “Snap out of it and get to shooting, moron!”

“Oh … right.”

Gasping to catch his breath, his knees trembling, his stomach knotted, Arthur shakily climbed to his feet. He aimed at the dark-hearts above, fired, and missed badly on what should’ve been a simple shot to make.

A half-dozen shades crashed into Morgan's shield. She screamed his name as it flickered. Finally, Arthur's instincts took over, and he fought for their lives. He fired again, and shattered all three dark-hearts. Their purple shards rained down on him and Morgan. Throughout the Grand Hallway, shades disappeared. The remaining shades on this end of the hallway crowded in on Arthur and Morgan, while a wraith patiently waited behind them.

Aiming at the dark-hearts in the opposite corner, Arthur stood on his tiptoes and took shots over Morgan, who had brought her shield down lower. But as more shades bashed against her shield, she bumped into him, throwing off his aim. He put his back firmly in the corner, and kept Morgan off him with a hand between her shoulder blades. (She snarled.) He reached as high as he could on his tiptoes, and fired again. The shades lunged into Morgan’s shield right as he pulled the trigger, and he missed again. Arthur groaned in frustration.

“Use a continuous beam,” Morgan snapped.

Arthur held down the trigger of one gun and swept it back and forth. The beam wasn't strong enough to break the gems itself, but it banged the fragile stones against the ceiling. The stones struck and shattered.

The remaining shades in the Grand Hallway disappeared.

The wraith that had been waiting patiently howled and charged forward. Morgan lowered her shield, and Arthur fired shots into it. But the hits to the maddened beast’s chest didn’t slow its charge; it was going to crash into them. Morgan would be driven back into Arthur, pinning him against the wall.

Arthur dove aside just as Morgan got her shield back up. The impact knocked her against the wall. Panting, she kept the shield up as the wraith continued to strike with its claws. Wounded and enraged, it hadn’t seen Arthur dive out from behind Morgan.

Arthur rolled to his feet and aimed both guns at the beast. “Hi there.”

The wraith turned and glared at him. Arthur fired two shots into its face, and it went down. As soon as it hit the floor, it turned to smoke.

Arthur glanced up. The numina and servitors were still fighting — and losing — against a pair of wraiths at the other end of the hallway. He took off running. “Morgan!”

“I see them,” she responded, as she dropped her shield and followed him.

Arthur fired his raygun down the hallway, distracting the two remaining wraiths. When he got close enough to aim, he stopped, focused, and fired. He hit one in the back of the head. It toppled forward — right onto Lexi, who sliced and diced it, her claws blurring, until it was nothing more than a fading wisp of inky, sulfurous smoke. Morgan force-punched the other wraith in the back of the knee, though Arthur was pretty sure she had aimed at its head. As it fell, Vassalus jumped onto it and tore its throat out.

Arthur rushed up to the others. “Is everyone okay?

“I would have to say no, chap,” Vassalus groaned. He licked at a wound on his side that was leaking silvery blood. “I have most certainly been better. This feels worse than it looks. Wraith claws are
far
from pleasant.”

“You can say that again, Buster Chumps,” Lexi said, panting. A jagged wound ran down her back. She flicked her head one way, then the other, trying to reach it, but it was no good.

“Who, Alexis, is Buster Chumps?” asked Vassalus.

“You don’t know?” she replied.

“How could I? I have only been alive for a day, and the knowledge imparted to us by the Lady Ylliara is far from complete.”

“Well, Buster Chumps is … well, you see, he’s …” She sighed painfully and lay down. “You know, I really don’t have a clue who Buster Chumps is. Maybe I just made him up.”

“Well,” Vassalus added, “you did get hit on the head a few times …”

Arthur squatted beside Lexi, examined her wound, and winced — this was his fault. If he hadn't let the warlock distract him for so long, they wouldn't have gotten hurt. “Lexi, this looks bad. What should I do? I don't know any first aid.” He shot a panicked look at Morgan. “Do you?”

With a worried expression on her face, Morgan shook her head.

“It's nothing a spot of tea and a nap wouldn't fix in a right jiffy,” said Lexi. “But seeing as how I can’t have tea before my nap … it might take a little longer than I’d like.”