The Seeking Serum

by Frank L. Cole

  Gordy trembled with excitement. “Shut up! For real?”

  “Highly illegal, though,” she said, nodding. “Should you be caught with even a couple ounces of those seeds in your satchel, you’ll land yourself with a six-month-long Sequester Strap from B.R.E.W.”

  “How much are they?” he asked. His mom shot him a deadly look, and Gordy cringed apologetically. “I’m not going to buy any. I’m just curious.”

  “Your curiosity can be dangerous here,” his mom said and then glared sharply at Priss. “Stay on task, please. This is not a grocery store.”

  Priss snickered. “At ease, Akerberg. Kadupul seeds are two hundred dollars each, and you need at least eight to concoct an effective Terramoto Tonic. So unless you’ve significantly upped this boy’s allowance, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

  “Sixteen-hundred dollars!” Gordy’s mouth dropped open. Who had that kind of money to blow on seeds? Still, he had been dying to brew a Terramoto Tonic since he first read about the rare and dangerous earth-shifting potion more than a year ago.

  Gordy’s mom pushed through the throngs of people, fixing almost everyone with the deadliest stare Gordy had ever seen. Even without the appearance of Akerberg, she would have looked ruthless.

  “Probably not the best time to go shopping.” Tobias slapped a hand on Gordy’s shoulders. “Your mother has spent the greater portion of her life as B.R.E.W.’s Lead Investigator, trying to find her way into the Swigs. What she wouldn’t give to take down most of these establishments.”

  “But they’re just selling ingredients. Is it really that big of a deal?” Why wouldn’t his mom be happy for the chance to purchase these items? It seemed that the Swigs acted more as a shopping mall for Elixirists. What could be the harm in that?

  “You wouldn’t think so,” Priss said. “But the Swigs have always stood in opposition of what she has been taught at B.R.E.W.”

  Once away from the exit and farther down the road, the initial wave of overlapping smells transformed into something more appetizing. Aside from potion booths and shops, vendors peddled food items. Several large Polynesian men turned an entire skewered pig on a spit. But instead of a fire or coals, a luminous substance coating the animal’s flesh glowed rosy in color as the spit rotated.

  “They’re using modified ogon oil,” Tobias muttered. “Cooks in half the time but leaves an aftertaste of musk-deer tongue. I’d rather wait for a proper roasting myself.”

  One of the Polynesian men wearing a grease-stained apron, his hair pulled back in a bun, sifted a large saltshaker over a steaming wok of what looked like roasted nuts. A butane torch blazed beneath the bottom of the wok, and the nuts started popping and cracking open, their insides sizzling against the hot, oiled metal.

  “Garlic-buttered phasmid eggs,” Priss said, noticing Gordy’s interest. “They’ve purposely made them bigger, otherwise you wouldn’t have much of a bite.”

  Upon hearing Priss, the man glanced up from his wok and motioned them over. He pointed to a tray of white paper sacks, each one filled to the brim with the glistening, blackened nuts.

  The oil and garlic smelled wonderful; Gordy’s stomach gurgled.

  “Six dollars and seventy-five cents,” he said. “Or two bags for ten.”

  Priss waved him off politely just as the vendor starting lowering his prices. “Trust me,” Priss said to Gordy as they walked past. “Those aren’t something you’d want for a snack.”

  “What are phasmid eggs anyway?” Gordy had never heard of them.

  “You ever seen a giant walking stick before?” Tobias asked. “You know—the ones in Asia?” He held his hands a foot apart to show the size and grinned. “Some are as big as your arm.”

  Gordy shuttered, the gurgling in his stomach ceasing almost at once. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  Tobias licked his lips and rubbed his belly. “They have the same effect as a five-hour energy drink.”

  “Joslat Juice here!” A woman who could have been Gordy’s Grandma Stitser’s twin had her hair been slightly grayer sat on a stool next to the phasmid egg vendor. A tray containing vials of opalescent liquid rested in front of her. “There’s a strong brute for you.” She nodded at Gordy. “But all those muscles can’t stop what’s coming. Better to know than to not.”

  Muscles? Strong brute? Gordy wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but then he remembered how he looked in his Scheel disguise and it all made sense.

  “You have enough money,” the woman said, eyes twinkling. “I can sense it. And if you feel you’re a bit shy on coins, I’m sure you’ll know how to get some.”

  “Not interested,” Gordy answered, though he felt drawn to the strange vials. Joslat Juice? Had he read about that in one of his mom’s manuals? If so, he couldn’t remember.

  The woman’s eyes twinkled with delight as Gordy stepped toward her stool. “Want to see your future in a dream? Sip this on an empty stomach at midnight and your vision is guaranteed to come true!”

  No way! Gordy thought. Less than twenty yards into the Swigs and Gordy had already discovered something his mom had never told him about.

  “I told you this place is dangerous.” Gordy’s mom glared at the woman, who met her gaze with a puzzled expression. “We’re not interested in purchasing your wares.”

  “Strange talk,” the woman said, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Do I know you? Done business in the past?”

  “That’s bogus, you know.” Gordy’s mom jabbed her index finger at the vials. “There are no such things as prophetic potions. That myth was debunked years ago. You should be locked up for even trying to sell them.”

  The woman shrugged. “Locked up? As in taken before a B.R.E.W. tribunal and Banished, maybe?” She cracked a smile, and Gordy could see through the gap in her front teeth to her tongue. “That’s no way to talk to an honest peddler.” She held up a finger, a thought striking her. “I do know you,” she said, and waggled the finger at Gordy’s mom. “But not this you.”

  “You’re not making any sense,” Gordy’s mom replied. “You’ve probably ingested too much of your own product.”

  “Come on, guys. Let’s make way for paying customers.” Tobias nudged Wanda with his elbow, the tension rising. Gordy was eager to get away from the argument as well and felt relieved when Tobias finally succeeded in pulling his mom a few steps away. “How quickly you forget who you are, Akerberg.” He squeezed her arm. “You can’t talk to people like that here.”

  “I don’t know how many Scourges I put away who believed they were destined for greatness because of some ridiculous Joslat Juice prophecy.” Wanda shook her head in frustration. “This is a horrible place. Don’t you see how it can alter reality? Some poor, down-on-his-luck Elixirist drinks a Tainted potion and goes on a rampage. B.R.E.W. has laws specifically to protect us from this nonsense.”

  “Oh, Wanda,” Priss scoffed. “That woman’s selling a dream potion. That’s all. And you’re turning her into some criminal mastermind.”

  “I see straight through that façade, dear,” the older lady called out from behind them. “You and the man!” Her loud voice cut through the commotion of chattering vendors and made Gordy’s skin crawl. She was still holding up her finger, shaking it as though she had realized the truth. “Fairly decent disguises, I must say. Someone is gifted at brewing Disfarcar Gels, but it makes me wonder.” She tapped her finger to her pursed lips. “Why would someone need to hide their identity in this place?”

  Tobais turned around and took the few steps back to her table. “Settle down, now. No one’s disguising themselves.” He passed her several crinkled bills and selected a vial from her tray. “You swear by this mixture?”

  Eventually she broke eye contact with Gordy, then turned and tendered Tobias’s transaction. Both she and Tobias spoke in hushed voices, and after some coaxing, the woman smiled and thanked him for his pu
rchase.

  “Just ignore her,” Priss said to Gordy under her breath. “Everything’s fine.”

  “Are you sure?” Gordy asked, feeling a nervous jolt in his stomach. Had the woman really seen through their disguises, or was she just babbling nonsense?

  “Nothing to worry about.” Tobias ambled up with a new potion in tow. “Folks here will say anything for a sale. But just to be safe, you should probably get off the main road. Let the mood soften a bit.” He slipped the bottle into his satchel and clapped his hands. “Okay, this is where we go our separate ways. Come along, friend.” He nodded at Gordy. “We have business elsewhere, and bowls of creamed ham to consume.”

  “Yuck,” Gordy muttered.

  “Don’t knock it until you try it.” Tobias pointed to a spot less than thirty yards away where an enormous multicolored pig had been painted on a sign above an entryway. “See you two in an hour.”

  Gordy thought about hugging his mom but then changed his mind. They were already treading lightly. What would people think if Scheel suddenly embraced Akerberg out in the open? Tobias would have to buy the rest of that woman’s fortune-telling potions just to shut her up. Instead, Gordy extended a hand to his mom, and she squeezed it warmly, her calloused hands scratching his palms.

  “Stay out of trouble,” she whispered. “But if trouble finds you . . .” She looked pointedly at Tobias. “You leave right away. Don’t wait for us.”

  “Got it.” Gordy let go, and Tobias nudged him into the flow of traffic. Before he had time to consider changing his mind about separating, his mom and Aunt Priss were gone.

  It had been at least two years since Adilene had sat on the swings in the park at the end of her neighborhood. Life was busy for an eighth-grader, and even busier for one who was best friends with Gordy Stitser.

  Her swing creaked as she dangled, the vinyl seat digging into her hips. The smell of rusted chains mixed with the crisp scent of pine needles brought on a hint of nostalgia. She used to love to ride her bike to the park after school and read a book while she occupied a swing. Tonight was the first time she had ever come to the park so late, and though she didn’t have an actual paperback book, she was trying to read something but struggling mightily.

  “Come on,” Adilene muttered, squinting in the dark.

  The words on her phone jumbled together, her eyesight blurring, as she held the screen up close and blinked. Why was she having such a hard time reading it? Adilene’s head ached, and she gnawed her lip in frustration. She had increased the size of the text on her e-reader app by fifty percent, and it still looked like someone had smudged grease all over her screen.

  Adilene wiped the glass with her sleeve and flipped through another couple of pages, which took way longer than it should have. She closed the app and lowered her phone into her lap.

  A snapping twig announced a visitor, and Adilene shot an anxious glance over her shoulder as Sasha emerged from the wooded area behind the park, wearing a long-sleeve T-shirt and blue jeans. She carried a flashlight, narrow beam homed in on Adilene, and a leather satchel draped over one shoulder, which swished back and forth as she strolled up to the swing set.

  Adilene stood, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “Were you followed?”

  “Oh, yes, they’re right behind me,” Sasha Brexil replied sarcastically. “I wasn’t followed, and even if I was, I know how to lose a tail.”

  “That’s good,” Adilene said. “I wasn’t followed either. I don’t think.”

  Sasha snickered. “Yeah, no big shocker there.”

  “Why do you say that?” The park may have been less than a quarter of a mile away from Adilene’s house, but that seemed an adequate amount of time to be followed. “There could be B.R.E.W. investigators anywhere.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not important enough to B.R.E.W. to warrant following. They have no reason to tap your phone lines or to ransack your room. It’s not like you’re Gordy’s girlfriend. Or are you?” Sasha asked.

  “I’m Gordy’s best friend,” Adilene fired back.

  “That may be true, but they don’t see it that way. Now, Max, on the other hand, might want to stop drawing so much attention to himself.” Sasha gestured to Adilene’s phone. “What were you reading just now? Was that a message from Gordy?”

  “No, it was just a book. Only Max can receive texts from him, remember?”

  Sasha huffed, turning up her nose. “Some best friend you are.”

  Adilene shifted her weight to her other leg and pursed her lips. Trying to be cordial to Sasha was requiring all her energy. She’d agreed to come here to help Sasha, so why was she always being so difficult?

  “Do your parents know you’ve snuck out?” Sasha’s eyes darted over to the road as a car drove past the park. The vehicle’s headlights illuminated Sasha’s face, and her golden earrings sparkled.

  “My dad’s asleep on the couch in front of the television, and my mom is at her book group,” Adilene said. “She’ll be there for a while.”

  “And when your dad wakes up and goes to check on you in your room . . .”

  “He won’t,” Adilene answered. Why did it matter? It’s not like Sasha had to worry about the Riveras being angry with her. “What about your parents?”

  “I gave my mom one of my special sleeping potions an hour ago, and she downed the whole thing. My recipe is way better than the ones they teach you during training.” She glanced arrogantly at her fingernails as if to showcase the hands that had expertly brewed her potion, but Adilene could tell it was just an act. Sasha had talked a mean game from the moment Adilene had met her, and a few weeks ago she may have meant every word of it, but not anymore. Now, every harsh thing she spat out was another block trying to hide her sadness.

  “My father’s still at the school,” Sasha continued. “He had a meeting with the superintendent earlier this afternoon that lasted like four hours. He just texted me to say he won’t be home until after midnight.”

  “On a Saturday?” Adilene asked. “What was the meeting about?”

  Sasha glared at her. “That’s none of your business.”

  Adilene held up her hands apologetically. “You don’t really think he’s getting fired, do you?”

  “Who did you hear that from?” Sasha demanded in a clipped tone.

  “Uh . . . no one!” Adilene retreated a step, nearly tripping over the swing behind her. “I mean, it was some kids in the cafeteria. I overheard them, but they were just talking.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but he’s not getting fired.”

  “That doesn’t disappoint me. I like your dad.” That wasn’t a lie. Mr. Brexil was friendly and almost always remembered Adilene’s name when she saw him in the halls.

  “Yeah, whatever.” Sasha shrugged. “Anyway, he told me in his text that everything was fine. The superintendent was just going over some policy changes for the schools. That’s all.”

  Adilene nodded and looked away from Sasha’s glaring eyes. “That’s great. I’m glad.”

  “But if he does get fired or we’re forced to move away, you’ll know why, right?”

  “Because of B.R.E.W.?”

  “That’s right. Because B.R.E.W. wants the Brexils to disappear. They want to wash their hands of our family. And if you don’t think they have ways to make that fat superintendent fire my dad, then you obviously have a lot to learn about B.R.E.W.”

  Adilene swallowed. Even if Sasha was hiding her sadness behind a mask of arrogance and anger, she still wasn’t someone Adilene wanted as an enemy.

  Another car drove by, slower than the first, and Adilene ducked her head so that her ears crept between her shoulders. Was it a police car patrolling the neighborhood? Adilene braced herself to hear a sudden siren and see flashing lights, but the car drove on, leaving the two of them in darkness.

  Sasha w
aited until the car was gone, then said, “I need to get back in case my dad decides to come home early, so let’s hurry this up.”

  “Oh yeah,” Adilene replied, but there was no enthusiasm in her voice. She had been hoping Sasha would change her mind. “How do we do this?”

  “I brought a lancet with me,” Sasha answered.

  “A what?”

  Sasha showed Adilene something that looked like a syringe, only one with a thicker tube. It was what Adilene had feared—a sharp object. Sasha intended to cut Adilene.

  “Hold out your finger,” Sasha said.

  Adilene frowned. “Will it hurt?”

  Sasha looked down at the lancet and shrugged. “Probably. Like a beesting. If you hold perfectly still, it will hurt less.”

  Adilene didn’t like the idea of having her finger pricked. Was that device even sanitary? But she knew there was no way around it. Surrendering, she braced herself as Sasha wiped her fingertip with something wet that smelled strongly of rubbing alcohol. Adilene refused to look as Sasha touched the rubber end to her skin and firmly pressed down.

  “Ouch!” Adilene winced, but though it did sting, it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. Sasha even dabbed her finger with a cotton ball and placed a bandage over the wound.

  “Are you crying?” Sasha mocked.

  “No,” Adilene snapped. “My eyes are just watering a little bit.”

  Sasha checked the contents of the tube with her flashlight. Adilene could see the red glowing in the light. “This should be enough,” she said. “But if I need more . . .”

  “Forget it,” Adilene said. “You’ve poked me one time too many.”

  Carefully returning the lancet to her satchel, Sasha started to zip up the pocket.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Adilene asked. “We’re trading, right?”

  “You weren’t serious, were you?” Sasha scrunched her nose. “Haven’t you been humiliated enough?”