“Then I think you should just do what you’re heart is telling you.”
A dying laugh hissed out of my lips. “Yeah, that would only count if I actually had a real heart .” Almost a year ago my real heart had been
skewered by a sword…bur replaced with a fake one; a pocket watch used as substitution. By some miracle, this fake heart I held in my ribcage was still beating-slash-ticking, and after I had awaken my alchemic core, it sort of seemed like this fake heart had become one with my alchemy, making it easier for me to control Time.
But it came with a little bit of a setback: my physical body had stopped aging and growing the moment Dove had saved my life. My fingernails had stopped growing (making it one less hygienic thing to worry about); though the bits of fat around my thighs and these splattered black heads on my nose wouldn’t disappear no matter how much I trained or scrubbed my face day and night. And my hair—it was nice and long, well past my shoulders; and I always took great pride it in. But now it barely reaches my chin, giving me a boyish look that only makes my face look even more babyish than usual.
“W. W. E. D.” Chrys chirped a sweet, bright smile on her face as she laughed. “What Would Emery Do?”
That was a good question. What would Emery do? What would the Old Emery have done versus the new one?
The Old Emery would have looked at this like an equation; something that needed to be fit into a box, but something she could work around. But in all honesty, Old Emery wouldn’t even be in this kind of situation.
But Old Emery didn’t have someone’s life on the line at this decision.
“We can’t meet here every night,” Chrys spoke up, her voice sounding distant, as if she were being swallowed into shadows. “It’s exhausting just trying to force myself up every morning without anyone getting suspicious. I’m sure Frankie Ann’s noticed but she won’t say anything. Yet”
I felt a swell of horror in my gut. Chrys was loosing power, and with such distance between us, it was surprising we were able to even talk about what had happened without interruption. I had gotten so lost in thought about Rick that I neglected Chrys’s own strength.
Physically, she was as weak as a china doll, and just as fragile.
Mentally, she was like a stone wall. Lately, her alchemy—her Dream Alchemy—that lets her wander through a person’s dreams or memories had become more and more unstable with every night since I ran away.
But it was the only way the two of us agreed to keep in touch. I couldn’t chance the Black Crown tracking my phone, and Chrys couldn’t risk sending a text or call to me.
I crawled forward, holding Chrys’s pale hand in my own. Even though this was a dream, I could almost feel the warmth and softness of her skin pressed against mine. “I’ll do what I have to. So let’s stop this
—just for a few days, so you can regain your strength. I’ll turn my
phone on when I leave Atlanta. Hopefully, the Black Crown won’t think I’m here at all. I should be safe from them for at least another day.”
She gave me a cute little smile that always made my heart melt.
She was a foot shorter than me, even though we were both sixteen years old, but the bond we both shared over our alchemy made me feel like the two of us were more than just allies, friends…maybe sisters. But Chrys just naturally had that sweet, “Please protect me!” aura around her. At least I knew she was in safe hands. Ru wouldn’t even let the Black Crown get to her without putting up a fight, and I’m even more sure that Ru’s parents, the Chima’s (who were currently overseas), and also acted as Chrys’s foster parents, wouldn’t stand for it either.
Chrys nodded, then held up her free hand, extending the pinkie finger. “If something really, really bad happens and you can’t get to me through here, send me a blank text. Anything. I’ll have to tell the Black Crown where you are, but…I don’t want you to get hurt, Emery.”
I nodded, feeling tears sting my eyes and linked my pinkie with hers. That would be the agreement, even if it meant risking getting to White.
○○○
The dreamscape faded so quickly it took me a full five minutes to realize I was awake in the real world. My neck hurt from the awkward position I
was sleeping and my hair got tangled with the silver bracelet I always wore—Grandma’s memento. Oddly enough, this very bracelet held the Elixir; an heirloom passed down through my family for generations.
The blinding lights of the digital clock read that it was past eight in the morning. Though my body felt aching, I forced myself up and took a quick shower, washing the grogginess and Chrys’s worried eyes out of my memory.
How long would any of this take? Two, maybe three days tops.
And I was right when I guessed the Black Crown wouldn’t find me here so soon. When I ran away, I had purposely left a note behind, telling Frankie Ann (specifically) that I was going to find my dad up in New York. Not only would this give the Black Crown a false lead, but they’d have to deal with the fact that they couldn’t exactly reveal why I was missing to a “non-alchemist” like my dad.
It was the Black Crown’s doing that my dad was in New York in the first place. Though Ru was the one who placed the call, so I don’t believe at all he had ill intent, but the Black Crown needed me to stay in Savannah—no matter what. And that meant making my Dad move back up North for the summer for a job that just “happened” to pop up the exact moment I needed him gone.
The Black Crown’s powers stretched farther than I imagined.
They were the self proclaimed police force of the alchemic world, after
all. They had connections everywhere, like the mafia, sort of. And many of their members weren’t even alchemists. For example, they had Weavers: regular people who could hypnotize a person’s memory, making them forget about any incident related to alchemy. Along with that, Sweepers, who were in charge of cleaning up and evidence of alchemy, sort of like a strange CSI team. The Healers were the majority of the Black Crown, but they weren’t alchemists—they were actually normal people who used Artificial Alchemy to heal superficial wounds, like cuts and burns.
It was almost scary what they could do, even though they were supposed to be the “good guys.” Minus Frankie Ann, I couldn’t bring myself to trust any adult in the Black Crown, because I had a feeling that they weren’t putting me under house arrest for my own protection.
Sometimes, by the looks I had gotten from some of the anonymous members—including the head honcho, Christopher Nettles, who was responsible for everything—I felt more like a test subject that a human.
In all honesty, Rick’s offer sounded much safer than anything the Black Crown could give me.
And that thought scared the hell out of me.
CHAPTER 8
At some point between finishing the lukewarm shower, reorganizing my clothes, washing last night’s shirt in the sink (because it smelled like rotten eggs mixed with garbage), and hustling down real quick for breakfast, I decided that I was going to take Rick up on his offer. In exchange for saving his brother, he would help me find—and take—the Elixir.
I had back up. Kind of. Once I knew for a fact where we were going to go I would tell Chrys—by dreamscape or by text—in case anything went wrong. I would use him; just like he was using me to save his brother.
Okay, “use” is a harsh word, but I couldn’t force myself to trust Rick. I needed to be cautious, no matter what. This was my only lead to saving Dove’s life.
I forced myself to settle on the bed. Rick would be waiting sometime around noon, and I three hours to spare. No point in getting myself riled up. I still needed to wait for my shirt to dry, so to waste time I repacked my belongings twice that morning, realizing that if I was going to take Rick up on his offer I would be leaving the motel for good.
I’d have no “safe place” to go to if this all messed up; I couldn’t risk coming back the same day as checking out.
As I unzipped my messenger bag, my phone fell out with a thump a
gainst the carpeted floor. I almost forgot about it as I turned it on, cradling the black phone in my hands. It was ice cold. When the screen brightened, I was surprised when a text notification popped up. Thinking it was from Chrys, my heart went into panic mode; a million “What If’s”
swirling in my head like a bad tornado. Did something happen to her?
Did she get caught by the Black Crown? Is Dove okay? Is she even still alive?
No! I shook my head, pinching my leg to wake me up. Do not think that thought! Not ever. Dove was a fighter—I know she wouldn’t just roll over and die; in her own way, she was just too stubborn.
A small sigh of relief that I didn’t realize I was holding escaped when I read that the text wasn’t from Chrys, or even my father…but from Samantha Grove. Which was odd. I felt exhausted, relieved, and a little…disappointed. But the fact that my own dad didn’t bother to call or text the past two days—especially when I hadn’t called him in almost a full week—tell me that the Black Crown was clearly hiding my “absence”
from him. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.
The screen blinked, so I brushed my anxieties off my shoulders and opened the text up. It was short and simple, but I could feel
Samantha’s exuberance radiate even through the phone.
OMG! U wont blive who got x’d! Mals!
I blinked once, twice. I had to rub my eyes and reread the message again. In all honest, I was so confused it was like my mind went blank, and my hands started typing before my brain could say “Stop!”
Are you serious??
I fell back against the bed, the mattress digging into the small of my back. I must have misread it, right? But then, two seconds later, my phone bleeped, and I glanced at it anxiously. Samantha had just responded!
4 real! She got kicked out!
Why?? How??
The sumr clning crew found stuf in mals dorm! Lke, fire crckers +
gas, weird stff. Wrd is that mals fessed up 2 the hm that she was the 1
who lit up the tnnls in apr.
I can’t believe it!!
And I honestly couldn’t! I was so sure that that fire wasn’t natural—I was almost positive it had to have been the work of Rick and Ash. Only a Fire Alchemist could ignite a fire in such a damp, dark tunnel.
But…if someone had firecrackers and gasoline…it’s possible that you couldn’t control it exactly, but it would be easy to spread. The
tunnels were long, stretching underneath St. Mary’s grounds and right to Bonaventure. I had used those tunnels last Christmas to sneak off campus, away from a killer Ice Alchemist, and make my way to the cemetery to find the Elixir. And back in April, Samantha had (accidentally) confessed that the tunnels would be used for the next trials of the Magnolia Bells—a secret girls-only “sorority” on campus.
My mind flashed back to April, when things had been stress-free as much as a secret alchemist’s life could be stress-free. All I had to worry about was keeping up with Leon’s sparring training, Dove’s meditation, and studying for finals. But then I had been blindsided when Karin Foster, one of my first friends at St. Mary’s, had nominated me to be a candidate for the Magnolia Bells.
But me, being not only a transfer on scholarship, and not being a legacy like a majority of the other students…and not to mention my father was the janitor…that had really pissed people off.
Including one Mallory Wells, the meanest girl in school.
Just like some overly clichéd drama, Mallory had been dead set against me since my first day. I didn’t really hate her, but she always got on my damn nerves. The thing is, though, she only hated me because I had, at the time, dated her ex-boyfriend: Jackson Alexander.
Who wasn’t Jack at all, but Ivan Novak. When I had killed Ivan—
or thought I did—in the Bonaventure Cemetery last December, Jack’s
body that had been taken over by Ivan’s soul had turned into dust. The police had dubbed Jack a runaway, because the real truth would have been too insane to believe. I’d have wound up in a mental hospital.
But I had been forced to paint Jack as an abusive boyfriend, giving police and family a “solid” reason why he may have run away in the first place. I had the bruises and lumps and cuts to prove what “he” did, when it was really Ivan. Mallory never forgave me for that. I suspected she thought I had something to do with his disappearance.
And she was dead on.
So when I was a potential to be a Sister, Mallory had a hissy fit, going so far as to rig certain trials so that her favorites would win, and I would be left in the dust. I had first believed she was the result of the Old Chapel burning down (with me almost stuck inside of it!), or thought she had been trying to frame me for a crime I didn’t commit.
But after Samantha, another potential Sister, had gotten caught in the underground tunnels on fire, I brushed off all suspicion regarding Mallory and thought it was the Fire Alchemists.
Well, apparently I was half-right. And I was pissed. So Mallory was willing to go that far to get rid of any candidate she hated?
Samantha used to be Mallory’s friend—lackey, I mean—until Samantha grew her own wings and left Mallory’s group. For the better, if you ask me.
But the result of that “attack” had put Samantha in the hospital, with luckily only minor scrapes and bumps, and forced her to leave school and head home up in—
Atlanta. Oh. How could I have forgotten that?
Are you okay? I asked.
Not even a second later, her reply popped up. It makes me rly sad 2 thnk she wud do that.
IKR?
Thnk u
4 wht?
4 savn me! I nvr got 2 thnk u aftr that. Sry.
Warmth spread through my body, eradicating any lingering hate towards Mallory. Samantha was good, fine, and alive. She was happy, and she was herself. And Mallory had gotten caught, confessed, and wouldn’t be coming back to St. Mary’s anymore.
I owe u, e.
I laughed out loud, tossing my head back. For some reason, my life felt so damn chaotic, like a hurricane was coming to sweep everything away and I hadn’t prepared anything in defense. But this one little—victory?—thing from my “normal” life made me want to shout in joy.
It made me glad to be…me. Emery. There wasn’t an “old” Emery
or a “new” one. I couldn’t change the past—I could only go towards the future. And now one of my friends was happy, and it was up to me to save my other one.
I typed out a reply; a typical thr’s no need, when my eyes caught a lump in my messenger bag. Wrapped up in a light sweater was Guinevere’s journal.
Rick’s white flag. His symbol of trust.
The gears in my mind went churning, and I erased the message and swiftly typed in a new one, heart pounding. Samantha said she would “owe me” but anyone can say that. Right? A minute later, Samantha’s response chimed, and I scanned the words slowly, letting them sink into my brain. A slow smile spread on my face. Glancing at the time, I realized I had only two hours to meet Rick.
That was just enough time for me to get to work.
○○○
Outside was blazing hot. It felt over a hundred degrees. But dressed in a rumpled tank top and light cardigan over jeans and flats, with a heavy bag’s strap digging painfully into my shoulder, I couldn’t help but smile as I walked out of the post office. It was like my happiness over my ingenious idea was contagious—even my heart felt light and fluttery!
And…I was starting to think that things were going to go alright, for
sure.
I walked on, humming a tune as I headed back to the same streets I wandered on last night. The sidewalk was super crowded for a Monday.
I almost walked right into a stroller and had to give the mother a sheepish smile despite the glare she sent my way. I paused at the corner, waiting for the signal to cross, when my eyes caught a figure on the opposite end of the street, facing away from me.
And my heart a
ll but crashed into the concrete.
Every fraction of common sense flew out the window as I raced into the street. A truck’s horn blared in my ear like a gun firing, but I kept going. Maybe it was pure luck, but I made it across the street with my limbs still attached to my body. Ignoring the crazed looks of pedestrians, I squirmed through the crowds to follow that boy in the brown, tattered jacket. From the back, he looked just like I saw him last.
The last time we fought.
The last time we spoke as Emery and him.
The last time we kissed.
Leon was right in front of me—only twenty…ten…five feet away!
He was this close! I didn’t even bother to think, I kept pushing my legs to run, my lungs to hold even though it felt like I was swallowing knives.
His messy brown hair looked just as always did: like he rolled out of bed three minutes before the bell to class. Though it was stifling hot, he
wore that same brown leather jacket that was two sizes bigger than his frame, and I swear when he let his left hand swing at his side I thought I caught a glimmer of something silver; metallic—
I didn’t even see the bike as I crashed into it, sending it and its poor owner sprawled into the hot pavement. Books and papers flew in the air, and some stray paper flew away in a wind that came on from a passing car. The guy I ran into, obviously in college considering his load, cursed under his breath, shooting me death glares.
I apologized hastily, scooping up as many things as I could, constantly looking back and forth, up and down the streets where I saw Leon. I practically shoved the kid’s things in his arms, blurted out another apology and raced off. I rounded the corner I swear I saw Leon turn, but when I got there all I came across was a dingy alleyway.
An empty alleyway.
The Fake Voice (Time Alchemist) Page 5
