by Gigi Pandian
“How do you know?”
“That’s what I’m getting to.” The petulant boy was back. “It’s why I’m here. Even though I broke off contact with Lucien, he kept tabs on me. Several months ago, there was a change that caused our backward alchemy to become unstable. Lucien got in touch with me to see what I knew.”
“Wait, you mean he didn’t know what the change was?”
“I don’t know either. That’s the problem. None of us know. Several of us have already died.”
This wasn’t how I imagined things would go when I found a backward alchemist. They were supposed to know what was going on. “Nobody knows?” I echoed.
He shook his head. “I don’t have the answers. That’s what we’re looking for. The book I mentioned, it’s called Non Degenera Alchemia.”
I held my tongue, even though part of me wanted to confide everything I knew. I was so close to answers. But I was also close to an unknown danger. Could I trust Percy?
“The book spelled out the secrets of not untrue alchemy,” Percy continued. “It was lost or stolen ages ago, but it didn’t really matter, because we had other practicing not untrue alchemists to pass down the knowledge. Lucien and Olav created the book at Notre Dame, and after that, a small secret society followed their work, meeting at Notre Dame.”
That explained the book’s connection to Notre Dame. And how Dorian had been brought to life by accident. He’d been created specifically for Notre Dame. Life forces were linked.
“Why did Lucien need the information in the book if he’s the one who created it?” I asked.
Percy shrugged. “Maybe he forgot. That’s the reason he wrote the information down, right? So he wouldn’t have to remember it.”
“But you just said he, Olav, and others passed down the knowledge.”
Another shrug. “Maybe there’s something special about the book itself.”
“You don’t know what’s special about it, though?”
“I already said that, didn’t I?”
I called upon every ounce of my will power to avoid strangling, or at least slapping, the lazy man in front of me. “If you had this book, would it save you? Is there something in there that would stop the shift? Something that doesn’t involve another sacrifice?”
“It doesn’t matter, because how would we find it? It’s been gone forever.”
“Nobody looked for it?”
Percy shrugged yet again. “Why would we? We’d already gotten what we needed from it.”
I shook with frustration. Backward alchemists and their shortcuts! They didn’t see the power of true knowledge. I circled the table. Clockwise. Was I subconsciously trying to counteract the backward Death Rotation?
“But now,” Percy said, “our energy is fading. It’s fading at different speeds, but fading all the same. Even mine.”
“You could have saved yourself a lot of my skepticism if you’d come right out and said you wanted help. That’s your real motivation for coming here, isn’t it?”
“Lucien really did follow you here from Paris. I’m not making this up.”
“I didn’t say you made it up. I believe you want to help me too. But it’s not your main focus. You want to save yourself.”
“Is that so bad? For all of time, man has been interested in self-preservation.”
“I’m all for self-preservation. Just not when it involves murdering others.”
“I didn’t kill anyone on purpose, I swear. And I stepped back from it once I knew. I’m not a bad guy. I didn’t have it in me to do it again. It was only Lucien. After the inexplicable shift, he made another sacrifice—”
I gasped. “He killed someone else? Now? This year?”
“The sacrifice didn’t work, though. He’s still aging rapidly. All of us who are left have been aging quickly for the past few months.”
“That doesn’t make sense, Percy. That would mean you were, what, twelve years old last month? Or ten?”
Percy smiled. I couldn’t believe he actually smiled moments after telling me a man he knew had recently murdered someone. “It’s thanks to you that I’m spared, Zoe. I was a few years younger a few months ago, and because of my thriving potager garden, I’ve been able to keep myself relatively young.” His smile faltered. “But I’ve run out of plants. We’re all desperate to discover what changed. Lucien thinks the answer is in Non Degenera Alchemia.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
Percy stood up and crossed his arms confidently. Several inches taller than me, he positioned himself to look down his nose at me. “Why were you in Paris, Zoe?”
“I used to live there, you know.”
Percy stood so close to me I could feel his stale breath on my face. Yet I refused to back away.
“You went to Lucien’s bookshop in Paris,” Percy said, “asking questions about alchemy. You made him suspicious. Lucien now believes you have this book. That’s why he’s here. He wants that book, and he won’t stop until he gets it.”
Twenty-Seven
“It’s ridiculous of Lucien to think you’ve got the book,” Percy continued. “Zoe Faust in possession of a backward alchemy book?”
“Absurd,” I murmured. It was my turn to avoid his gaze.
I thought back on all of my interactions with Lucien. I couldn’t imagine him as the charismatic leader Percy had described. What had I said to Lucien to arouse his suspicions that I was a true alchemist, let alone that I had his backward alchemy book? It couldn’t simply be the interest I expressed in alchemy. There were many people out there like Ivan, who weren’t true alchemists but who had an interest in alchemy. That’s why there were so many modern books on the subject.
“Why would Lucien even think I have this book?” I asked as casually as I could.
Percy shrugged. “Something you said made him suspect it. He mentioned that you two talked about the Cabaret de L’Enfer, but I don’t know why that would mean you had Non Degenera Alchemia.”
I groaned. “I do. Or rather, I bet I know why he suspected me of being an alchemist. He saw me looking at a photo of a Hell-mouth door that led into the nightclub I once knew well—a hundred years ago. He asked if I knew it. I said I’d read about it, but I’m sure my face revealed the truth.” Caught up in those memories, I also might have slipped into colloquial French. Not a problem in and of itself, since many Americans speak fluent French, but my conversational French is from a century ago.
“Lucien didn’t realize you were someone I cared about,” Percy said, “or he wouldn’t have told me he was going to get the book by any means necessary. I didn’t like the tone in his voice when he said it. I didn’t like it one bit.”
“He admitted that to you?”
Percy’s eyes darted nervously around the house. “He, uh, might have thought I was on his side. Because I, uh, told him who you were. Don’t get angry! I didn’t mean to do it. He caught me off guard. I hadn’t seen him in ages, and he showed up on my doorstep with a photograph of you. He took it on his mobile phone while you were browsing at his crummy little bookshop. I asked him why he had a photo of Zoe Faust … He’d heard of you because you’re one of the few women alchemists taken on as apprentices with a master. You can’t blame me for that, can you?”
“It’s not your fault, Percy,” I said, half believing my words.
“I’m glad you can see that. Lucien said you left Paris abruptly. Otherwise I bet he would have stolen the book from you in Paris.”
“The book I don’t have, you mean.”
“I meant he would have attempted to steal it from you in Paris. I don’t know how he found you in Portland, though.”
I put my head in my hands. “I gave him my address.”
“I know he can be a charmer, Zoe, but giving a strange man your address—”
“For him to send me a book, Percy. He’s a booksell
er.”
“Oh.”
“How did you find me?” I asked.
“I knew the name of your apothecary shop.” He pulled out a cell phone and scrolled for a minute. He held up the web page to my online business, now an “antiques” store as opposed to an apothecary. Brixton’s friend Veronica Chen-Mendoza had overhauled the website. The bottom listed my home address. Veronica didn’t know I was hiding.
“I came to your house this morning but nobody was home,” Percy said. “I peeked into the recycling bin outside and saw a take-away cup with a stamp that said Blue Sky Teas.” He said it like riffling through someone’s trash was the most natural thing in the world. “I knew I had the right house, because you’ve got the oldest car on the block. Is it from the forties? I don’t know how you keep it running.”
“It’s called hard work.”
The dig was lost on Percy. “Aren’t you worried you might give yourself away with the alchemical artifacts you sell through Elixir and that old truck?”
“Apothecary wares are cool again, hadn’t you heard? Hiding in plain sight has been working well for me.” Until last week. “Let’s get back on track, Percy, since there’s a madman out there.”
“God, I could use a beer.”
“It’s ten o’clock in the morning.”
“It’s six o’clock in the evening in England. Seven in France.”
“No beer.” My phone buzzed. I ignored it. I’d forgotten Dorian was listening to our conversation through the pipes, but I knew perfectly well there was beer in the kitchen for a beer-battered vegetable tempura recipe. “I think it would be helpful for me to understand more about this book.”
“You’ve never come across it over the years, have you? You sell so many antique books. If you and I find it before Lucien, we could use it to help us. Not sacrificing anyone again, of course. But I’m already immortal; I only need to figure out how to stop whatever change happened.”
“We’re not immortal, Percy.”
“Speak for yourself.” He flexed his muscles, clearly pleased he had the toned body of a twenty-five-year-old.
“Your cells have stopped aging, but we can both die. You realize that, don’t you?”
Percy frowned. In denial, as always.
I weighed my options and made a decision on instinct. I trusted that Percy didn’t wish to harm me, but I didn’t trust him to keep my secrets under pressure.
“I came across photographs of the book you spoke of,” I said. “That’s what sent me to Paris to research alchemy’s connection to the cathedral of Notre Dame. When overlaid, the woodcut illustrations pointed to the cathedral.” Everything I said was true except that I possessed the original book, not only photographs. And that it was fire that had shown me how the illustrations fit together.
Percy nodded vigorously. “That’s where the not untrue alchemists used to meet. Where did you find the photos? Do you have them?”
“Not here. They’re at a friend’s house. He’s an alchemy scholar—” I swore.
“What is it?”
“Someone was seen spying on my friend Ivan—the alchemy scholar I mentioned. I’m sure it was Lucien. And you don’t know about the murder victim who may have been an alchemist, do you?”
“Murder?” Percy flipped his head around. Was he making sure Lucien wasn’t hiding behind the couch?
“It’s an old murder. A decade old, something like that. But the odd thing is that the body was found in a cabin in the woods with alchemy supplies, and I think Lucien was seen there too. What was he doing there?”
“He’s after the bloody book, Zoe. Your friend is in danger, as are we. Even though Lucien can’t kill you directly—”
“Of course he could kill me. Especially if he’s as bad a guy as you’re making him out to be.”
“You don’t know?” Percy blinked at me. “Of course you wouldn’t, since you’ve never killed anyone.” Percy shook his head and spoke as if addressing a toddler. “The Elixir of Life is a transformation of the life force. If an alchemist kills a living being directly, their own life force is taken away. That’s what I was talking about earlier, how the sacrifice has to be volunteered. You understand?”
Was he attempting to lecture me on alchemy? Not only was he condescending, but he was completely wrong.
“Percy, that’s an old wives’ tale. There’s nothing stopping anyone on earth from killing another person. Aside from their moral compass. Or fear of being caught.”
“No, it’s true. That’s why Lucien hasn’t killed the rest of us. He’s a very bad man, Zoe, but he’s afraid he’ll die if he goes too far. The sacrifices are different, because they’re willing participants. Unwitting, but it’s still their choice to sacrifice themselves.”
“Then why do you think Lucien is so dangerous?”
Percy bit his lip. “There are many things that can be done to a person without killing them.”
I shivered. It was an absurd theory, but if Lucien and Percy believed it …
“Give me a minute,” I said.
I stepped into the living room, keeping my eyes on Percy while I called Ivan. Thankfully he picked up the phone immediately. “This is going to sound strange,” I said, “but I need you to take what I’m going to say seriously.”
“With you, Zoe, I’ve ceased thinking of anything as strange.”
“There’s a man called Lucien who’s stalking people and places related to alchemy.”
“This man is harassing you? How can I help?”
“Yes, and he might harass you too. And he could be dangerous.”
“I’ll be careful. What does he look like?”
“He looks like … ” I closed my eyes and tried to think about how to describe such a nondescript man. “Average-looking guy, but don’t underestimate him.”
When I opened my eyes, Percy was gone.
“I can take care of myself,” Ivan was saying, “but I thank you for your concern. I’ll be careful.”
Percy was a bigger concern, so I ended the call with Ivan. The kitchen door swung open a moment later. Percy emerged with a platter of misshapen vegan pastries.
“God these are good,” he said. “Why didn’t you cook like this when I knew you? I’m starving after that long flight.”
“Where are you staying?”
“Nowhere yet.” He indicated the small satchel he’d dropped inside the door.
“That’s the entirety of your luggage?”
“I’ve never understood why people in this century feel the need to travel with so many possessions.”
“In some ways you’re very much your father’s son.”
“I’m so sorry about what happened to him, you know.” His face was filled with such sincerity that my eyes welled with tears. “I wish—I wish I could take it all back.”
I didn’t completely trust Percy, but I wondered … Could we help each other?
Twenty-Eight
Dorian stomped across the tiled kitchen floor. “How could you do it? How could you let him stay here?”
Percy had gone to a restaurant for lunch, so Dorian and I were alone in the house. As tasty as Dorian’s pastries were, Percy had insisted there was no way he would eat a vegan lunch. Dorian and I were in the kitchen with the curtains drawn, as always. I was making a summer salad with a bounty from the backyard garden that Brixton had been keeping up, and Dorian was slicing freshly baked French bread for sandwiches.
“You keep talking about the perfection of Julian Lake’s kitchen,” I said, “and the delicacies he’ll order for you. Why don’t you stay there for a few days—and take your book with you. I want to keep Percy close and the book far away.”
“Je ne comprend pas. Do you or do you not trust him?”
“I haven’t yet made up my mind. But he’s a backward alchemist. We need the information he can give us.”
“You do not need to pretend with me, Zoe. I heard every word. I know there is no hope. I will not stand for the sacrifice of an innocent to save me.”
“We don’t know that’s the only way.”
Dorian didn’t answer. Instead, he selected a paprika-infused sea salt and handed it to me. “This one will be good with the salad.”
Though I’m not the cook Dorian is, I’ve always been intrigued by how salt can bring out the flavors of the simplest foods. Unlike some unnecessary culinary flourishes, salt fulfills a body’s basic needs. Throughout history, salt has played an important role in society and culture because of how essential it is for the body. It’s why salt, along with sulfur and mercury, is one of the three essentials in alchemy. In that tria prima, salt represents the body, and is the child of sulfur and mercury.
As Dorian skillfully tossed a salad using only one hand, my phone buzzed. It was a text message from Brixton, asking if Dorian could prepare a feast for two dozen people—tonight. I called Brixton back to tell him it was bad timing. To my surprise, he picked up his phone.
“I got your message, Brix, but that’s awfully short notice. We can’t just—”
“Blue’s home,” he said. “She’s out of jail.”
I could hear the joy in his voice. It was so innocent and blissful that I nearly forgot the tragedies swirling around me. “That’s wonderful. I didn’t know she was being released so soon.”
“She didn’t want to tell any of us in advance. I guess she didn’t really believe it was going to happen, until she was actually out. Isn’t it wicked awesome news? Especially with Mom so upset about her dad maybe being dead. Blue’s sure to cheer her up. Have you noticed she has a way of doing that?”
I smiled even though neither the teenager on the other end of the line nor the gargoyle absorbed in his cooking could see me.
“She definitely does have a way about her,” I agreed.
“She showed up at her cottage today. Mom and Abel thought having a welcome home party for all of her friends would be even better than keeping her to ourselves. Is Dorian there? Can I talk to him?”
