The Transparency Tonic

by Frank L. Cole

  “Perfect!” Aunt Priss tossed the flask into the air and caught it in her hand before tucking it away for safekeeping. “I want the recipe too. You can’t imagine how handy this potion will be in the Swigs.”

  “The Swigs?” Gordy asked.

  Priss scooped a chip filled with salsa into her mouth and munched noisily, crumbs falling from her lips. “Swigs are areas where B.R.E.W. has zero jurisdiction.”

  “What do you mean? I thought B.R.E.W. had control everywhere.”

  She laughed. “Your mother and other Investigators do their best to take down the nastiest Scourges when possible, but B.R.E.W. is understaffed, which allows a whole slew of sludge to slip through the cracks. ‘Swigs’ is just the term we use to indicate a gap within B.R.E.W.’s governing borders.”

  “So it’s like the Wild West.” Gordy imagined a saloon with robed criminals ordering drinks and tossing Vintreet Traps at each other’s feet.

  “Not exactly,” she said. “More like several shady trading posts. Most of the B.R.E.W. elite will go their whole careers without stepping foot in them.”

  “How’s that possible?” Gordy asked. “If they wanted, couldn’t a Lead Investigator just walk right in and start arresting people?”

  Priss nodded. “If they wanted to spend all their time and energy hunting them down. But the location changes randomly, and an alarm is triggered when anyone blood-linked to the Vessel, like your mom, for instance, comes within a mile of the entryway. What Wanda wouldn’t give to gain access to the Swigs.”

  Gordy narrowed his eyes suspiciously, finding it hard to believe his mom had yet to discover their location.

  Priss smiled. “Besides, not all who do business there are considered high-level threats. Many of them just choose not to be governed by B.R.E.W. Take me, for example. You wouldn’t want to see me go out of business, would you?”

  “So what we just did right now—me and you potion swapping? Is that what happens in the Swigs?”

  Priss crinkled her nose. “Better watch yourself, Gordy Stitser. You’ll end up like me before you know it.” She opened a can of soda, sending a light spray of carbonation into the air before she took a sip. “Trading, I’m afraid, is not all that takes place there. There are quite a few unsavory dealings as well. My most recent purpose was to get information. I was listening to the chatter. Seeing if your name would get brought up by anyone on my watch list.”

  Gordy brought a chip up to his mouth but paused before biting. Aunt Priss’s watch list was undoubtedly made up of menacing characters. Scourges who stirred up plenty of trouble for B.R.E.W. “I guess, judging by what happened today with Esmeralda, it did.”

  Priss opened another can of soda and handed it to him. Instead of taking a drink, Gordy held the cold container in his hand, rubbing the condensation off with his thumb.

  “But I’m okay, right?” he asked. “You caught Yeltzin and Bawdry. Does that mean I don’t have to drive to school with Bolter every morning?” Estelle was seriously starting Gordy’s eighth-grade year off on a sour note.

  “We need to make sure before we decide anything. There could be others who rally to Esmeralda’s cause, and your name is now at the forefront of every discussion.”

  “Why me?”

  “Why do you think?” Aunt Priss cracked a smile. “You’re the troublemaker who foiled their grand plans. But you’re also the grandson of the legendary Mezzarix Rook. That carries weight in all sorts of nasty circles, for better or for worse.”

  Gordy couldn’t understand how it could be for the better. Gordy liked his grandfather, though the only conversation they’d had occurred several months ago. Still, Gordy knew his Grandpa Mezzarix was possibly the most dangerous Elixirist alive.

  “Who tells you these things?” Gordy asked.

  “I have a reliable source. Someone I trust who can get information for a cost. Believe me, I’ve paid a pretty penny to stay informed on matters that involve you.” She reached over and tousled Gordy’s hair.

  For the second time that afternoon, Gordy’s mom came home from work. Only this time, she wasn’t just a figment of Gordy’s imagination. He barely had time to hide his carton of potions beneath his chair before she stormed into the kitchen. Aunt Priss casually spun around in her seat, watching Gordy’s mom as she moved about the appliances. Her footsteps were heavy, and she rattled the cupboards, her breathing labored and erratic, as though she had raced all the way home from work on foot.

  “Hi, Mom.” Gordy smiled at her as innocently as he could. “Aunt Priss and I were just—”

  “Swapping. Yes, I know.” His mom began moving several dirty dishes into the sink. They clattered noisily.

  “I can wash those,” Gordy offered.

  “No, I’ll do them.” His mom closed her eyes and smiled, but it looked strained.

  “Are you okay?” Gordy asked.

  “I’m fine. Now, up the stairs you go, and take your box of contraband with you. Priscilla and I have important matters to discuss.”

  “Do we now?” Aunt Priss asked. “Here I thought we had done everything of importance already.”

  After sliding his carton of vials out from under the chair, Gordy began walking slowly toward the hallway, hoping to hear a morsel of the conversation.

  “I had a meeting after depositing the convicted,” his mom said to Priss. “I thought it was just a standard one-on-one, but . . . Gordy, please don’t try to listen in!” she snapped. Gordy froze in the doorway, his shoulders creeping up toward his ears. “I have a million things to do before our guests arrive, and I don’t need you distracting me right now.”

  Gordy turned around and cast a sideways glance at Priss. “Who’s coming over?”

  His mom dug her fist into her side and ran her fingers through her hair. It was then that Gordy noticed her smudged makeup and the faint streak of mascara trailing down from the corners of her eyes.

  “You’ve seen better days, sis,” Aunt Priss said, breaking the silence. “And you might as well spill the beans. Gordy’s a smart kid. He’ll find out soon enough when people start knocking on the door.”

  “Bolter and Zelda are coming,” Gordy’s mom said, controlling her voice. “They’ll be here in less than an hour. Your father’s already on his way.”

  “What’s going on?” Gordy could sense the tension. Bolter and Zelda were two of his mother’s most trusted friends at B.R.E.W., and they had been over a number of times. What made this meeting so different?

  Gordy’s mom pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and dropped into the seat. “I had to attend a disciplinary hearing this afternoon.”

  “A disciplinary hearing?” Aunt Priss asked. “For whom?”

  “For me,” she answered, massaging the crease between her eyebrows with her fingers. “The new Chamber President asked for my resignation. As of this moment, I no longer work for B.R.E.W.”

  “She can’t just fire you,” Bolter said later that evening when he was seated on the living room couch. His satchel, a handmade bag of pieced-together automotive upholstery, rested in his lap. Normally in good spirits, Bolter’s demeanor was somber, his brow furrowed, his voice steady and deep.

  “You are a decorated Investigator with countless arrests to your name,” Bolter reasoned. “Half the exiled world owes their imprisonments to the great Wanda Stitser!”

  “That’s not making me feel better.” Gordy’s mom sat next to him with her elbows resting on her knees, her face buried in her hands. She wasn’t crying, but the conversation seemed to be sapping the energy from her body.

  Gordy sat in the recliner across from the couch and had been quiet for most of the evening. All he had been told was that his mom had been in a lot of hot water recently because she and the new Chamber President, the senior member of the B.R.E.W. Chamber of Directors, did not see eye to eye. Gordy couldn’t imagine a life where his mom wasn’t B
.R.E.W.’s Lead Investigator anymore. What would she do now?

  Bolter flashed an embarrassed smile. “All I’m saying is that no one in their right mind will go through with this.”

  “It has already happened, Bolter,” she said.

  “Then you’ll file an appeal,” Bolter said. “I will testify in your behalf. That should be sufficient to clear you of this bogus verdict.”

  A chirping hiccup rose from the floor. “You act as though your opinion matters, dear,” squeaked Zelda, her natural voice sounding as though touched by helium. A squat woman with bright-green hair and white eyelashes, Zelda couldn’t have been more than four and a half feet tall. She sat cross-legged next to the couch, her nimble fingers weaving two crochet hooks through a purple-threaded tea cozy.

  “My opinion carries some weight.” Bolter puffed out his chest with purpose.

  “Yes, in Machinery.” Zelda nodded.

  Bolter slapped his knee. “Precisely!”

  Zelda giggled, which sounded like a baby goat being tickled. “You’re the only one who works in Machinery anymore.” She never looked up from her crocheting.

  “You don’t understand,” Gordy’s mom said. “If I hadn’t hidden the Eternity Elixir in Chixculub or involved my father in this whole ordeal, perhaps I wouldn’t have faced these charges.”

  “Oh please, Wanda,” Aunt Priss said from her spot by the fireplace. “You act as though B.R.E.W. deserves to know everything. You risk your life protecting them, and what do you get in return? There’s a reason you kept the Eternity Elixir hidden for all those years, remember?”

  Gordy’s mom glanced tiredly at her sister. “At the time, I didn’t trust the Chamber President would take care of it.”

  “And you trust the current president?” Priss asked.

  Wanda exhaled forcefully in exasperation. “I don’t know her well enough to condemn her.”

  Priss sighed in disappointment. “Head wrongfully placed in the stocks, with the axe barreling down, and you take the side of the executioner! Pardon me if I don’t go boohooing along with the rest of you. From what I hear, the Chamber of Directors has started ExSponging criminals. Did you know that?”

  “That’s just a rumor,” Bolter said. “We don’t know that for sure.”

  “I do,” Priss said. “My source has kept me plenty informed.”

  “Let’s discuss that source, shall we?” Zelda asked. “Can we trust him?”

  Priss stiffened. “Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

  Zelda licked her lips. “We can’t very well launch a full-scale investigation into Chamber matters without verified information. That might be how business gets handled in the Swigs, but not within B.R.E.W.-governed boundaries.”

  “What does ExSponge mean?” Gordy asked.

  Zelda cleared her throat. “It’s the process of removing an Elixirist’s ability to brew—permanently.”

  Gordy flinched in surprise. “Isn’t that considered cruel?”

  “Precisely!” Priss snapped her fingers and pointed at Gordy. “The youngest one of us can see the sadistic nature of the practice. Why can’t the rest of you?”

  “It’s not against the law to ExSponge a dangerous criminal,” Gordy’s mom said. “The new president is just trying to maintain a measure of order.”

  Priss threw her hands up in disgust. “I need some fresh air!” Snatching up her satchel, she stormed out the front door.

  “Refreshments are ready!” Gordy’s dad entered the living room, carrying a tray of glasses that swirled with a variety of colors. He raised an eyebrow, smiling awkwardly. “What did I miss?”

  “Nothing, dear,” Gordy’s mom replied. “It’s what we’ve already discussed.”

  “Well, then, here’s a root beer for you and one for Bolter.” He carefully plucked two glasses from the center. The tray wobbled, but he managed to keep the rest of the beverages from falling.

  “Lovely, Gordon!” Bolter accepted the drink. Gordy didn’t know how Bolter had lost his fingers, but by the way he held his glass without spilling a single drop, he would’ve never guessed they were missing.

  Gordy’s dad puffed out his cheeks as he handed Gordy a lemonade. Then he turned to Zelda. “And last but not least”—he furrowed his brow—“a cup of hot-and-sour soup and a glass of milkweed nectar for Ms. Morphata. I’m assuming I added everything correctly, because I just tossed in whatever Wanda had left in the Tupperware dish on the counter.”

  Zelda’s eyes twinkled, and she carefully cradled the porcelain teacup in her hands before dipping a pinkie in and tasting the steaming liquid. The green-haired woman was momentarily subdued with satisfaction, her eyes drifting wistfully closed. “Hope it wasn’t any trouble,” she said.

  “Not at all,” Gordy’s dad replied. “I’ve been wanting to try out my new beverage dispenser. It’s one of the many perks in my line of work, you know?”

  Zelda’s mouth fell open slightly. “Your beverage dispenser has hot-and-sour soup on tap?”

  The corners of Mr. Stitser’s eyes crinkled. “No, it doesn’t actually.”

  “Well, this is quite delicious.” She flicked the side of her cup with one sparkly fingernail.

  “I guess Gordo and I will head upstairs and watch a movie,” Gordy’s dad said. “I picked up a rental. Lots of blood. Lots of gore.” He waggled his eyebrows and made his voice sound angry and British. “At least as much blood and gore as to be expected in a PG-13 horror movie.” He grinned sheepishly at Gordy’s mom. “We’ll leave you all to your meeting.”

  Mrs. Stitser reached out and squeezed her husband’s forearm. “Actually, I’d like Gordy to stay.”

  “You would?” Gordy leaned forward in the recliner. He had been wondering if there’d be more to discuss that evening but knew better than to ask too many questions.

  “This subject deals with you directly, Gordy,” his mom answered, and she looked up at her husband. “You should probably be a part of this too.” She slid to one side of the sofa, giving Mr. Stitser a place to sit in the middle. After a sip of her root beer, she placed the drink on the end table next to the couch. “I’ll get right to it,” she said. “Because of my termination, I will no longer be allowed to continue Gordy’s training at headquarters.”

  Gordy slumped back in his chair. He hadn’t thought about that, but it made sense. If his mom didn’t work for B.R.E.W. anymore, there was no way they would allow her to train him.

  “What happens to me?” he asked.

  “I wasn’t given an opportunity to press the issue while I was being escorted from the building,” his mom answered. “Having said that, I believe it’s safe to assume your testing will continue, but under the watchful eye of someone else.”

  “Who?” Gordy wondered.

  “Someone appointed by the Chamber President,” Bolter suggested. “Someone she deems a fitting trainer.”

  “That’s good, then,” Gordy’s dad said. “Gordo will still be able to advance.”

  Gordy’s mom took in a deep breath and held it. “There’s something we need to consider. Gordy was very much involved during the attack on B.R.E.W. Headquarters. I had been able to keep his abilities somewhat hidden from the Chamber’s knowledge up until that point, but now that has changed. They know that Gordy is . . . unique.”

  Gordy didn’t like being talked about as if he were some sort of lab animal in the living room. In a way, it was cool having a reputation for being unique among the upper echelon of the B.R.E.W. elite, but then again, lab animals tended to be dissected from time to time.

  “The Chamber will want to see if Gordy poses a threat to their way of governing. His testing will certainly be extensive,” his mom said. “The good news is that they should see the potential in him that we already know exists, Gordy will most certainly graduate to the level of an Elixirist.”

  Gordy liked the sound of that. H
e already felt as though he were operating at an Elixirist level. He just needed the training to become full-fledged. “Sounds good to me.”

  Zelda clicked her tongue. “I, myself, wouldn’t want all that attention.”

  Gordy stared down at the small woman who sat twirling one of her crochet hooks with a tiny finger. “Why not?”

  “What if they don’t see the potential in you?” she asked. “What if they see you as a hazard? I’d say you have a fifty-fifty chance of either impressing them or confirming their fears.”

  Gordy’s mom nodded. “That’s what I’m worried about. With me being fired for nearly causing the downfall of B.R.E.W., I suspect they’ll wonder if Gordy is in danger of ending up like his mother.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Gordy’s mom was his hero. He’d be lucky to end up just like her.

  Zelda giggled. “Oh my, this could be disastrous.”

  “I don’t understand,” Gordy’s dad chimed in. “What exactly will they have him do during these training sessions?”

  “Nothing,” Gordy answered. “Last time, I just Deciphered ingredients and brewed a handful of easy potions.” He could have done that all night without breaking a sweat.

  “That’s because you had your mother there controlling the session,” Bolter said.

  Gordy looked at his mom and saw her deeply concerned expression, and something clicked in his mind. That first training, when she had been so strange, had all been an act. His mom had purposely made Gordy perform easy brewing techniques because she didn’t want the people watching on the other end of the camera feed to know what he could actually do.

  “Can I just skip my training?” Gordy asked.

  Zelda giggled again, which was becoming quite annoying. “If you want to delay becoming an Elixirist for many years, or never become one at all, sure! Why not?”

  “That’s just the way the new Chamber President works, I’m afraid,” Gordy’s mom said. “She has a passion for older methods. Stronger and more-lasting punishments. She won’t tolerate anyone deviating from the Chamber’s orders.”