“Man that was suffocating,” Rick blew out a breath, stretching his arms over his head.
“Yeah…”
“You got the number?”
I nodded, stopping when Rick placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
I blinked back tears. “It just doesn’t seem fair, you know? He was only four when his mother tried to kill him, and now his father, stepfather, whatever, is gone, too. Could you imagine what that’s like?”
“No, I can’t,” Rick said bluntly. “But…” he drifted off and started walking, and I followed blindly like a lost puppy. “If it were Ash…then yeah. I could.”
I said nothing, just wrapped my arms around me as if that could offer me the comfort I wanted. I was always lucky to have my dad in my life. My mother walked out on us when I was five, but it’s thanks to him mainly that I’m where I am today. His love and guidance and absolute faith in me. If I lost him now…
I shook my head and took out the paper. The writing was a little sloppy, probably from such haste, but it would work. I flipped my phone back on and dialed Oliver’s number just out of curiosity.
And heard muffled ringing close by.
I let it play out until the voicemail then snapped my phone shut.
The ringing stopped. Rick seemed to notice too, and motioned me to call again, so I did. The chirping sound came back again, and we started walking in the direction of the noise until we found a ditch only a block away from Rosie Benton’s home. The voicemail clicked on and I shut off,
hastily pressing the call button again.
Rick pointed at the ditch and slid down, with me following. The ringing got louder, and sure enough, after pushing away stray branches, we found a dark green phone ringing. The screen on top showed it was an unknown number. I turned my phone off, and the shrilling stopped mid ring.
Gingerly, I scooped it off, brushing some dirt off, and opened it.
There were six missed calls: two from his roommate, one from his aunt timed barely ten minutes ago, and three from my number.
“Check this out,” Rick called to me. He was ten feet away, peering under a gap in the ditch, and in his hands was a mud covered, somewhat soaked dark blue hoodie; the same hoodie I had seen Oliver wearing.
And it was splattered in dry blood.
CHAPTER 14
“We were too late…” I barely heard the words the slipped through my lips. Why had my hunch have to be right? Why couldn’t I just leave this alone—maybe Oliver wouldn’t have gotten hurt! Or…
I heard Rick spit out a curse, then kick a discarded branch in frustration. I was crouched in the mud, cradling Oliver’s phone in the palm of my hand. The last call he got was from his roommate—yesterday afternoon, roughly around the time we were snooping around his dorm, probably calling him to warn him of the crazy lunatic that was searching for him.
And Rick had burned Alyssa’s choker—so how had he been captured so quickly afterwards?
“Hey!” Rick snapped, jolting my senses. He had moved in front of me so fast I couldn’t even blink, placing his hands on my shoulders as if to steady me, he looked deep into my eyes. “Snap out of it! You think this is your fault?”
My mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish out of water. “I—
but if I hadn’t—we should have—how—”
“This wasn’t your fault,” Rick murmured, eyes sharp. “No doubt
Alyssa could have gotten him, or some other thugs working for White.
What matters now is that we know where he is. All of us were ordered to take alchemist like you back ‘home’. I know where he is—and we’ll find him with Ash and get him the hell out of there. Alright? Okay? ”
I nodded, feeling my lip tremble. How could Rick say such words so sharply but they felt…right? It was like he was giving me the confidence I had lost. I shook my head, slapped my cheeks for effort, and felt a new determination rise inside of me—anger. For Oliver.
“Let’s go.”
○○○
The bus was packed so tightly, like sardines in a can. I was practically squeezed against the window with Rick pressed against my side. He let out a snort of protest because we were forced to share three to a seat because of overcrowding. But he mumbled under his breath, directed to me, “Should be better by the next stop.”
I could only nod, and look out the window. We were on a bus heading straight up north.
To New York.
When Rick had told me that White lived in New York I almost laughed at the irony. Rick had explained that White never really moved, though he had multiple homes around the country: but his home up in
New York was his main “headquarters”; Rick and Ash’s “home”. That was the home that Rick had escaped from, and had traveled by hitchhiking back down to Georgia to get help.
The bus ride would probably take the rest of the day; we wouldn’t get to New York until nightfall, and then we’d have to get a cab or walk the rest of the way. According to Rick, the home was in a secluded area of woods, near the borders of New York and Pennsylvania.
I nodded off before I even realized it.
This time, the dreamscape was blurry, like a person who had misplaced their glasses, and I had to squint my eyes just to make out Chrys’s petit form. “Oh thank goodness!” she gushed, but made no move to come closer. “I haven’t heard from you—everything okay—
we’re—”
“You’re breaking up!” I had to shout, my voice bouncing of invisible walls.
“Emery!” Chrys cried out. “What’s—are you—”
The distance must be too much for her, so I shouted as loud as I could until my throat burned. “New York! I’m heading to New York!
White has a home there—somewhere in an area of the woods, near the border of Pennsylvania!” This, coming from the information Rick had given to me. “He’s got another alchemist there—we’re going to go save him!”
Chrys seemed to hear my words, yet she grew fuzzy with every passing second. “Tell—Crown or—what should we—”
“I’ll be fine! Trust me!”
“Emery, wait! I—” Chrys’s voice cut off, and like a loud pop from a cannon the dreamscape broke, severing any connection and warning that had died on her tongue.
○○○
It’s dusk by the time we get off the bus, and my muscles are so stiff from sitting for so many hours I felt like I was going to collapse. Rick and I hadn’t said much during the trip, and the closer we got to New York the stiffer he seemed to be, as if the realization that he was coming for Ash was setting him on edge. I couldn’t blame him: if Dove was the one trapped I would feel itching to go, but worried all the same.
Rick snagged a cab and we piled in. My head was fuzzy from the uncomfortable sleep and the few granola bars I had munched on (felt like I hadn’t had a decent meal since yesterday), as Rick pointed directions, I was only vaguely aware of how far we were really driving.
Until we reached the edge of some woods, Rick stopped the driver, tossed him some money and scrambled out fast. I followed suit, almost catching the strap of my bag in the door with my hasty exit.
The cabbie didn’t even seem to care that two teenagers requested
to be dropped off in the neck of the woods. He zipped off without another word and I saw the yellow bumper fade down the road. “C’mon,”
Rick grunted.
I squeezed my bag tighter and followed him. There was a small, well worn path that we followed, our feet snapping dead branches or kicking rocks along the way. Occasionally an owl would hoot, or something would scurry in the shadows, causing me to jump.
After about fifteen minutes we came to a clearing, and I could only stare in awe. The mansion was four stories tall, resembling an old Victorian-style gothic architecture. But despite its beauty it looked as if it hadn’t been kept clean in years—the walls were covered in ivy so thick you couldn’t make out the house’s actual color. The chimney was crumbled to pieces
, some of its stones scattered around the base of the manor.
Rick spoke up softly, but his voice still startled me. “Apparently this house is White’s favorite: it was built sometime in the 1700’s. It’s the seclusion he likes most; nobody around this area even knows this place exists.”
“So what’s the plan?” I whispered.
His brows furrowed as he thought. “The plan is to find Ash first.
And Oliver, of course, and get them out.”
“And then get the Elixir.” I protested.
“Well, excuse me for wanting to make sure my brother isn’t on his death bed just yet!” He shot back, leveling me with a glare that I could match.
“Then how about this,” I tried, “You find your brother and Oliver, and I find the Elixir. If I find the Elixir first, I’ll help you find them. If not, we’ll meet back here and then run. How does that sound? You know that houses layout better than me—where should we start?”
Rick didn’t like the idea, but answered my question. “There’s a door in the back that used to be a servant’s door; it leads to a hidden stairwell that the old servants used to use back in the day. There are four floors, but the forth one is blocked off. It’s been like that long before I even came. We’ll alternate searching every story: you take the second—if you’re looking for the Elixir, White should have something related to it in one of his offices. I’ll look on the third floor and then we’ll search the first and basement together. Got it?”
I nodded vigorously. “Got it. Lead the way, Rick.”
Heart pounding, I followed Rick along the shadows of the woods until we reached the back of the house. Scanning the area, Rick ran and hid behind what looked like an abandoned garden shed before motioning me to follow, and then raced to the door practically covered in vines. All he had to do was place his gloved hand over the plants and they instantly burst into flame, shriveling to nothing and revealed a dirty
brown door. It took some shoving, but Rick managed to knock it down without drawing too much attention.
I closed the door softly behind me, but even the tiny click seemed to reverberate through the entire home. The servant’s stairwell was dusty and smelled of mold, and I had to choke in a breath to keep from filling my lungs with the dirty air. Rick continued on, circling around the staircase until he found another door that lead into a closet of sorts. I saw different kinds of cans of soup on the shelves, even fruits in jars and strange pickled things that looked like pig’s feet.
Rick pushed open a door and I realized we were standing inside a walk-in pantry. The kitchen itself was old-fashioned, with flowery wallpaper, but it was spotless and clean, smelling faintly of lemon cleaner.
We crept along, finding a long hallway that lead through a dining room—equally squeaky clean—and then a parlor. There was no TV, but a large fire place was in the very center, surrounded by worn, but comfortable looking red plush couches and chairs.
It was empty. And quiet. Deadly quiet. Was anyone even home?
Rick tilted his head and I saw the stairs that lead up to the second floor. But just as he was about to ascend we heard a faint moan, coming from below our feet. Rick’s entire face went milk white as the moan continued.
“Go!” I whispered. “I’ll be quick. Just go save your brother and try to find Oliver, too.”
Rick’s eyes flashed with hesitation, and I had to gesture for him to leave. “Just get them out of there, okay? I’ll be fine.”
His mouth formed in a grim line, he finally nodded. “When I get them out, I’m coming back for you.”
I was startled at those words, but Rick had already turned around before I could say anything and was heading to a door at the other side of the room I had missed. He practically ripped it off its hinges and I watched, shaking a little, as he disappeared into the shadows that lead to the basement.
I shook my head. I had no time to dawdle. As fast, but quietly, as I could, I took the steps two at a time until I reached the second floor landing. The hallway was cold and dark, and I took out my phone for some sort of light source (my flashlight went missing thanks to those goons who attacked me at the park).
Reaching my hand out, I grasped one of the golden colored doorknobs and turned. Locked. A tick of annoyance, but I couldn’t waste any time trying to pick any locks or knock down any doors. I just continued down the hall, trying every door I could until I lucked up about halfway.
A small wave of joy burst in my heart as I opened the door,
scanning the small room for any sign of a person, but there was none.
The curtains had been tied back, letting soft moonlight filter through the room so much that I could make out that it was a small library.
I stepped in and shut the door behind me, just in case, and headed towards the small mahogany desk near the window. The desk was covered in different colored folders, stacks of papers, and books with foreign titles. There was even a pair of glasses sitting on top of a black book, making me wonder what kind of person sat here. Was this White’s office?
Muffled footsteps tromped down the hallway and I bit my tongue in surprise. My entire body froze until my brain was screaming, “Hide!”
In such haste, I bumped the edge of the desk, knocking a folder and some papers over the side. Muffling my own squeak of annoyance and fear, I scooped them up in my arms, then ducked around the desk and nestled myself under it, waiting.
The footsteps grew louder, beating in time with my heart. When they stopped in front of the library door I thought I would die from the suspense. But after three slow heartbeats, they moved on. Only when I counted to fifty that I let out a long breath, cooling my stifled nerves and gave myself a mental high five on such a hasty hideaway.
I hadn’t realized I was clutching the papers and folder so hard.
Still under the desk (you never know), I quickly moved them back in
some sort of order, until the face of someone familiar caught my eye.
Oliver Benton’s face. My eyes almost popped out of the sockets, and I scanned the page. It listed everything about Oliver, including his family, like his stepfather, Patrick Kirkland Benton, a former Wood Alchemist, his aunt Rosie…a copy of certified adoption papers when Patrick Benton officially took Oliver under his own name…even Maria Benton’s obituary and newspaper clipping.
Underneath the page, I saw a loopy kind of handwriting. It read: A. D. Assignment; Active May 18th.
May 18th…that was only a week ago. Less than. And ‘A. D.’ must be Alyssa’s initials.
Next to Oliver’s name were big questions marks, as if White (or whoever’s office and handwriting this was) wasn’t sure if Oliver was a special alchemist or not.
A cold sweat pricked over my skin as I shuffled through the stacks of papers that had fallen out of the folder. There were less than ten pages, containing pictures of children my age or younger staring out at me with blank eyes. Many of the pages had large red block letters that read things like, WHEREABOUTS UNKNOWN, HIDDEN, DECEASED.
Their faces blurred together until I found Chrys’s pictures, and my insides felt like I had swallowed ice.
Just like Oliver’s, this one listed Chrys’s parents—both her
biological deceased family and the Chima’s, especially Melissa Chima, listed as a former Air Alchemist. Ru’s father, Dean Chima, wasn’t an alchemist, but worked with the Black Crown as a Tracker.
I flipped the last page, and all the air I had in me escaped my lungs. There, staring at back at me with dark green eyes, but longer, auburn colored hair…wearing a sharp, crisp burgundy colored jacket with the St. Mary’s golden emblem sewn over the right breast pocket, was me.
CHAPTER 15
A wretched scream comes from somewhere down the hall and I jolt so fast I knock my head against the desk. I tasted blood in my mouth—I must have bitten my tongue. But it wasn’t the ghost-like wailing that made my body numb with fear…I recognized that scream.
It was Rick.
Scrambling, I f
olded the papers and stuffed them into my bag—
maybe on some weird instinct or what, but I felt like we would need these papers later—and raced to the door, heart stuck in throat. I push the door open with such force it bangs against the wall and step out—
And find myself lifted off the ground and flung down the hallway.
I gasped in pain as I slid on the carpet, feeling the flesh of my arms welt in pain from carpet burns and my knees and elbows banging against the floor, no doubt covered in unseen bruises.
I was on my stomach, coughing. My body was paralyzed in pain, and it was as if a hot wind was pressing down on me, pushing me into the floor with such force I felt it was going to crack. I struggled to lift my head, but it felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds. Something creaked and moaned to my right.
I could barely turn my head just in time to a large round vase rocking uncertainly on its post, then toppled over with just another breath, landing with a crack on my head. The next thing I saw were black stars, then nothing.
○○○
Ugh….my head…
It felt as if it my skull had shrunk twice its size and was squeezing the life out of my brain. Every time I opened my eyes it was like the world was melting; all the colors blending together in some weird, but pretty, kaleidoscope. I couldn’t even be sure how many times I had bubbled to the surface before blackness consumed me again.
Hours must have passed….days even…it felt like years, really. My sense of time was out of whack—haha, funny, considering I was the alchemist of Time.
“Are you okay?” A voice, thick with southern drawl, asked me from somewhere in the shadows. I struggled to focus, to blink and to breathe. My head felt so hard and heavy, but I pushed the pain away and lifted it. I felt around—I was…in a chair. It was a hard chair and my butt felt numb. My wrists were tied to the arms of the chair, and my feet to the floor. No matter how much I struggled they didn’t budge, only succeeded in scratching at my torn skin.
The Fake Voice (Time Alchemist) Page 9
