Flipping through it quickly, Guinevere ripped a small bundle of pages out, then replaced the book in its wrap, sliding the brick into place. She crossed the room to Leon, who was still lying unconscious, and tucked the papers into his jacket, kissing him on the forehead too.
She mumbled something, but I couldn’t make it out.
And then…power rippled through the room. Both Dove and Leon glowed with a soft light. I saw the scene replay itself, as if it had been rewound like a tape, and I saw the fight Guinevere had with White replay once again—except this time, White had the upper hand. He easily knocked Guinevere off the second floor balcony.
This different Guinevere tried to fight back, but White was on top of her, crushing her chest with his boot. She let out a strangled cry, and was enveloped in flames. White howled, stumbling back, and wind picked up, as if the inside of the library was a hurricane. In a flash of fire and wind, Guinevere was swept away, and disappeared.
White screamed obscenities at Guinevere and raced after her.
Dove was awake again, staring wide eyed at White’s retreating form and tried to rise to her feet, to aid her mentor, but collapsed into a heap, crying…and the scene went black.
CHAPTER 9
I jolted awake, a scream stuck in my throat. Chrys’ hand was clamped tightly to mine, soaked in sweat. At the same time, Chrys and Dove shot up, as if they were both simultaneously struck by lightning. Dove pressed a hand to her heart, and no doubt I knew it was beating rapidly just like mine. It felt like I had been woken up from a deep, deep dream only to come face to face with a living nightmare.
Nobody said a word. Our labored breathing—as if we had run a ten mile marathon without break—filled the suddenly stifling, hot room.
A thin slit of yellow light showed through a crack in the curtain, and I saw to my surprise that it was almost seven in the morning! It felt like only minutes had passed—not hours.
Dove hunched over on the bed, pulling the sheets around her and rocking back and forth. I slowly slipped my hand from Chrys and walked over, tried to comfort her, but she flinched at my touch and curled up into a ball.
“Please…just leave me alone…”
I could only bite my lip and nod in response, but Dove had already
pulled away, turning to face the wall with the blankets piled over her body. I caught a faint, whimpering sound coming from underneath the layers.
I slowly got off the bed and went over to Chrys, who was as pale as the sheets. She was trembling so hard and her skin was clammy and cold, but she still managed to give me a wavering smile.
“Do you want some water?” I asked.
Chrys nodded, and fell back onto the bed. Before I got her drink, I fished around in the shared closet and pulled out a clean sheet and pulled it over her, bundling the dirty linens into a ball to be washed. I’d have tried to give Dove a newer blanket but I didn’t want to press. I tiptoed to the kitchen, relieved to see nobody awake at this hour just yet, and filled a glass with water. It took me three times to get it right; my hands were shaking so bad that I dropped the cup in the sink and almost on the way back to the room.
I didn’t bother to wake her up, just set the glass on the side table.
I was too jittered to try and fall back asleep. It was as if a thousand ants were marching under my skin, or like I had drank too many sodas or energy drinks to even pass out. Blood shot through my veins like an acid trip.
I needed some air.
Back outside, the sky was a pretty, dusty pink with hints of gold.
Birds chirped in the air, skittered around the tree in search of seeds that had fallen from the plastic bird feeder. I sat on the bench, and in seconds Butterball scooped himself out from under the shed, gave me a strange
‘What took you so long, human?’ look and pounced on my lap before I could utter a word of protest. He was covered in cold dirt and dust, but he purred like an engine as I rubbed his chin.
Funny how just one little act like a cat’s purr could sooth your heart.
Which left me to my thoughts, swirling and churning like a bad storm.
Why would Guinevere alter Dove’s memories? Obviously to protect her and Leon, from White. He was the type who would make good on his threat, and if he wanted something he would get it, no matter what. But why go to the trouble of making herself look bad in front of her students?
I thought long and hard about the possibilities. And there was only one answer I could muster.
To make them fear White. To realize that there was a force that could take out the Guinevere De Blanc, seemingly indestructible alchemist of all time. Leon was, if anything, hotheaded. If he knew that Guinevere was easily defeated by someone else, would he try to find the bastard responsible? Or would he realize that it was impossible?
Guinevere knew Dove and Leon better than I did, but if I were in her shoes…I would be willing to bet that they would have to be forced to work together to “find” her again. Their relationship was strained as it is…
And that might be why she gave Leon the torn pages instead of Dove, who could translate them.
She wanted them to work together, to find her!
Did she alter Leon’s memories too? Leon had claimed that Guinevere had given him the pages before the incident, but what if that’s fake too? And that’s why Dove didn’t believe him? Guinevere went off to pursue White, to stop him from doing…whatever he was planning to do…but made it look as if she was running away to protect Dove and Leon.
And it probably would have worked if Dove and Leon had tried to work it out. But how could I blame them for not realizing what Guinevere might have thought? They both blamed each other for her disappearance, arguing until they were forced to split up…and they both made their way down to Savannah…
And met me.
Maybe the pages that Guinevere gave Leon were just a coincidence—when we happened to find the location of the Elixir—but was really a “map” to guide Dove and Leon to her…destination? Hiding
spot?
What if Guinevere was right under our noses?
I shot up so fast, causing Butterball to fall to the grass with a hiss of protest. Blindly, I grabbed at my silver bracelet—my family heirloom—
feeling the familiar etchings on the hard surface. My thumb pressed into the empty slot where the Elixir once resided…the jewel that had been passed down from my family for generations, thanks to Guinevere.
If it wasn’t for her…I wouldn’t be alive. One selfless act had saved my great-grandmother. That was a debt no one could repay.
But I could try.
I shot up the steps and ran into the laundry room, narrowly missing a basket of folded clothes, and shut myself back up in the room.
I fished around in the dark until I found my suitcase from inside the closet. Underneath a jacket, a large manila envelope appeared, containing the very pages—plus the translated notes by Dove—inside. I scooped it up, gently squeezing out of the room, and locked myself in the bathroom for quick privacy.
As I shuffled through the pages, I couldn’t get Dove’s memory out of my head, seeing her crumpled form…and Chrys, who had exhausted herself just to help…and felt more determined.
Especially when I looked back, and could swear up and down that the Guinevere in Dove’s memories—her real memories, not the fake
ones—had caught my eyes.
And seemed to know I was there.
And that she would be waiting.
CHAPTER 10
It took almost an entire week to get my plan into motion, but I couldn’t just set off on a hunch without proper preparation. Just because I thought Guinevere might be in a certain place didn’t mean it was true.
After all, it’s been over a year since she vanished—she could have moved on, tired of waiting…or….
So I do what I excel at in school: I study. I research. I aim for the A+, and since this was real life, it sort of counted, right?
I couldn’t chance using
Frankie Ann’s computer—it might be tracked—but I was fortunate enough to see that the Black Crown had an impressive library, though it contained mostly alchemic-related textbooks and things like that. When pressed on why I wanted to spend my free time at the library, I did say honestly: “I want to learn more about my family history.”
After all, it was thanks to Guinevere that I was alive today. It all started years ago, when my great-grandmother, Kathleen Hearst met Guinevere when she was only a child. Kathleen had a very rare, unnamed illness that threatened to kill her. And Guinevere, who had
traveled to Savannah as one of her first destinations to the “New World”, was taken in by Kathleen’s family, had bonded with the young girl, and had even sacrificed her belief and used a piece of the Elixir to heal Kathleen’s sickness.
The fragment of the Elixir had been fashioned into a necklace that Kathleen always wore. However, I had been under the impression that she would “take it to her very grave”, and completely missed the rest of her—our—family tree. From the clues of Guinevere’s notes, Dove, Leon and I had narrowed the search for the Elixir to Bonaventure Cemetery, where Kathleen rested along the rest of the Hearst family.
What I didn’t realize was that she gave the Elixir—in her eyes, and the rest of the world, a simple piece of jewelry left behind by Guinevere
—and passed it down to her daughter—my grandmother, Patricia—who was going to pass it to my mother…but instead gave it to me on my eight birthday. The shape of the stone had changed over the years, decreased in size until it was barely bigger than a dime.
And I had had it with me the entire time. It was ironic how easily the memories of the family heirloom had come to me, just as I was near death, but I managed to break the Elixir off and use it to save Leon’s life.
A decision I have never regretted. Not once. But if I had known there was a sliver of Ivan’s soul inside of him…
What would I have done? Let him die? No! I would have done
something to prevent it. I could have used the Elixir to kill Ivan’s soul.
I mean, if the Elixir can give such amazing power, it could take it away…right?
So for the rest of the week, while Oliver and I trained at Black Crown—Chrys had been put to bed rest after our venture into Dove’s memories, though she claimed to Frankie Ann it was just a bad flu—
every spare moment I had in the vicinity I spent in the library, researching all I could about the Hearst family. My family.
One day, Oliver decided to join me. He spooked me so badly at the computers that I knocked my knee against the desk.
His laugh was soothing as he took the chair next to me, but he apologized. “What are you doing?”
I shot him a sheepish smile and told him. He seemed unusually curious from my sudden interest in my family history, but then I had to remember Oliver hasn’t been around to know all the full details about Guinevere and Dove and Leon…he’s only been filled in on the bits that really concerned him. Though I’ve told him how I’ve become an alchemist, I never bothered to go into details on the little things regarding Dove’s personal life. I felt it wasn’t my place.
He did know about Leon, how I had expressed wanting to save him. But Oliver, true to his gentle nature, never pressed about it. He was a good guy. He didn’t need my added drama to his own. Oliver was here
willingly to learn, so what right did I have to burden him with my problems?
“I want to learn, too,” he said, and I realized I had zoned out on what he was saying. I shook my head, apologizing, and said, “What?”
“I want to know about my dad,” Oliver said softly, picking at a bandage on his left forearm. “I mean, all these years, he’s just been my dad—not an alchemist. I want to know more about him.”
“Well…” I tried. “This is the Black Crown. They have to have records of other alchemist, right? I’m sure your dad is in here, somewhere…”
His smile grew. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“Do you want some help?”
“Nah, it’s okay.” He brushed it off. “This is something I gotta find out for myself, you know? Aunt Rosie didn’t know much about my dad, even though they were brother and sister, but I just wonder what his parents were like. Did he have any other kids…before me? What kind of life did he live before he met my mother…things like that.”
I nodded. “I understand. Really.”
He got up, but paused, meeting my eye. “Emery?”
“Yeah?”
“You know that if you need any help, you can always ask,” he said.
“We’re friends, aren’t we?”
I was a little flustered, but managed a small smile. “Of course we are.”
“I mean it,” he pressed. “You saved my life before. There’s no way I can really repay you, but if you need anything just ask, okay? No matter what.”
I waved a hand in the air, feeling a little embarrassed. “I didn’t do anything except get caught myself!”
Oliver laughed, the lines around his eyes crinkling. “Still, you saved my life. And I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”
He walked off with a wave. As I saw him disappear around the corner, his tall frame barely obscured by the bookshelves, I couldn’t help but think I might have to ask him for a favor a lot sooner than I wanted…
Thursday morning was a heavy downpour. Warnings of a bad storm hitting the coast cancelled practice today. The rain fell so heavily that you couldn’t see two feet in front of you. It would be dangerous to drive around in it.
And it was the perfect day to get out.
I had gathered as much information about Kathleen and her family as I could. She came from a family of wealthy traders, so popular that Kathleen’s own husband had to take her name to be a part of the
business. They apparently moved around a lot, especially once Kathleen got better, but always stuck around the Savannah area.
And I finally managed to find their first house—an address that belonged somewhere called the Isle of Hope; basically where a lot of fancy families lived. So that was obvious, and it would actually make a perfect place to take cover—like hiding in plain sight?
Now that I had the address (Google is a wonderful thing), all I needed was a free day to leave without getting in trouble.
I was peering out the shades, watching the rain drench down on earth and keeping an ear out for Frankie Ann as she flitted around the kitchen, preparing candles in case of a power outage. I heard Rick make a snarky comment of how convenient it would be to have his gloves back and then hear him yelp in pain, no doubt because Frankie Ann probably swatted him with a towel.
Chrys and Dove remained locked up in their room. It was easy to tell Frankie Ann that maybe they both had the same bug, so I slept in the parlor the last couple of nights alone. Chrys could barely get out of bed to take a sip of water, her body was that weak, and I felt so guilty for making her push herself beyond her limit. But every time I saw her, she would give me that same small, sweet smile, as if to tell me, “It’s not your fault!” and close her eyes, lost in a peaceful slumber.
Dove, though, was another case. She was like a zombie, going
through the motions. Shell shock. That’s what it was. It was as if Dove couldn’t wrap her head around the idea of Guinevere purposely messing with her memories…and that kind of thing could really hurt. Dove must feel weak, or worse…betrayed.
At night, when she thought nobody was awake, Dove would sneak out back and continue her own alchemy training. But she never got far.
She was still learning all over again. She’d only be out there twenty minutes tops before she would tromp back in, a heated look on her face and lock herself up in the bathroom, taking an hour long shower at two in the morning.
As I checked out the blinds for the tenth time, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned, surprised to see Ru standing behind me, his white lips pressed in a thin line. His hair was shimmering a little, like he had just stepped out
of the bath, but even then I could still see the black earring studs in his ears, no doubt holding his Runes in place. Ru was a Lightening Alchemist, and it kinda made me wonder how he could take a shower without shocking himself.
But ironically, even though is alchemy was very…jolting…Ru was, to a point, a very blank person. He rarely spoke, if at all. And when you saw him dressed in his dark, paint splattered clothes, with his hair brushed over one eye, and pale skin, you immediately thought of him as some wannabe goth kid looking for attention. But that’s just how he
was, a man of very few words who didn’t give two shits about what people thought. After all, he could zap them as easily as Zeus if he wanted to.
Underneath those layers was a guy with a soft spot for Chrys.
Those two were as close to being brother-sister as the real things. After all, it was Ru’s own mother who sacrificed her alchemy to save a small Chrys. She was basically adopted into their family, and I always saw the way Ru silently fused over Chrys, or how she would scold him for being too moody or sullen in public. The two of them stuck together like glue, never too far apart. But now that Chrys was sort of growing her own wings and training privately, that left Ru pretty much stuck here alone.
Yet, he would never mention if he was lonely or not.
“Planning another escape?” he said, and it was the first words we had exchanged since my night back.
I opened my mouth to protest, but he placed a finger to his lip, signaling me to hush. He glance over his shoulder, in the direction of the girl’s bedroom, and eyed me coolly. “I know you two did something.
Chrys hasn’t slept this long since she first became an alchemist.”
I could only nod, feeling the guilt weigh me down like stones pressed onto my shoulders.
“She wanted to help Dove. And me,” I confessed. “I’m so sorry. I know that she’s still learning, she’s not as strong as the rest of us are,
but…”
“But she wanted to,” Ru murmured, closing his eyes. “That’s how she is. A little stubborn.”
The Fake Mind (Time Alchemist) Page 5
