Dove’s gentle looking face turned a shade pale; her mouth set in a grim line. “She…she’s gone. She disappeared, after a fight with a rogue alchemist. I haven’t seen…or heard from her for over two months now.”
Any light Dove had in her eyes vanished when she said that sentence. The bright blue eyes seemed to sink in despair as she cast them downwards onto the bedspread. I noticed her clutching folds of the bed between white knuckled fists. Trembling fists.
“I’m sorry,” I said, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. This situation felt oddly familiar, but seeing her trembling like a child in front of me…it made my heart hurt. I knew first hand what it was like to have someone just vanish from your life all of a sudden. But in Dove’s case… “If this is too painful—”
“No!” she blurted so suddenly it sent my heart skipping, “I mean, no, it’s fine. This needs to be said. All you really need to know is that she’s just…vanished. I believe that whoever she encountered beforehand is after the Elixir. And I know that she would want me to locate the shard nearest here and move it far away from the hands of a dangerous alchemist.”
“But what makes you think a shard of the Elixir—if it even exists…” For some reason, my brain couldn’t wrap around the fact of some amazing, magical substance that had been broken into pieces could be scattered all over the world—and even here, in Savannah. “What makes you think there’s a shard here at all?”
Dove lifted a shoulder. “A year or so ago, Guinevere all of a sudden decided to recollect all the shards and move them to completely different locations. She wouldn’t say why, but I suspected that there were some alchemists she had become acquainted with were hot on the trail of discovering them. Better to be safe than sorry, correct? She had told us the general locations of all the shards here in the country—and Savannah was the closest one to where she disappeared…”
I blinked as she trailed off, her voice getting softer. “Us? There were more apprentices of Guinevere?”
Dove’s already white-knuckled grip on my comforter tightened, so much so I thought she would rip the sheets just with her iron grip.
“You don’t need to explain this if it’s hard,” I finally mustered after a long period of awkward silence.
Dove shook her head furiously, as if she was mad at herself for being weak. But even if she is—was—an alchemist, she’s still human…right? “No. I need to explain, because—”
I filled in the gap for her, “Because its compensation for what happened to me this morning isn’t it?” I stretched my limbs before climbing off the bed. “Look, I’m still pretty confused at what happened, but I know it’s real. You don’t need to explain things that are too hard or personal for you just because I was nearly killed. And newsflash: you didn’t really kill me, did you? Really, you saved me, so there’s no need to spill your guts out, okay? I’m the one who owes you for saving me. Even if I have to go out and find this mystical, probably non-existent Elixir, right?”
I flashed her a quick grin, even though on the inside I didn’t feel so confident in my little speech, before retrieving both drinks and placing them back in the fridge. My fingers itched to do more so I busied myself reorganizing my already organized desks and drawers, hanging up my school jacket and rearranging my bag. Dove simply sat on the bed, wrapped in a heavy cloak of silence.
Only the rummaging of papers and books, and the occasional clicks of a closed drawer passed between us until I really couldn’t take it anymore, “Look, it’s getting late, and I do appreciate you wanting to answer all of my questions—and believe me, I have tons of them—but why don’t we call it a night?” I glanced at the digital clock as I spoke. Bright neon colors glowed 12: 13 am. Had we really stayed up so long talking?
Dove nodded hesitantly, “Yes,” she said, “Alright, we’ll talk more…tomorrow. No, I need to do something tomorrow, I—”
I waved a hand at her again, “Tomorrow wouldn’t work anyway. It’s the first day of school, and fake heart or not, I’m going, so why don’t we just, uh, figure out a time and place to…continue our talk or, uh, to start my ‘training’?”
“We’ll start it tomorrow night,” she stated, “The sooner, the better. We’ll practice every night in the woods near the Old Chapel to harness your powers.”
Every night? Was she kidding?!
Then again, I really didn’t have much of a choice, did I? I kept my mouth shut.
“I’d suggest you research the concept of alchemy. It will probably be easier to see it through your own eyes than having me try and explain it to you.”
Great. More homework. Just what I needed. Shoot! I just remembered that horrible, completely unfair detention sentence I received from this morning (or afternoon? I’m not sure). God, what a work load for the start of a school year.
Would I even be able to manage all of this? Not to mention being on guard in case my stupid fake heart decided to just stop and caput in the middle of science lab or a date?
Dove jumped off the bed with the grace of a deer and headed towards the window, “Then I will see you tomorrow night…Emery.” she said, sliding the window open, letting a blast of hot summer air filter through the room. She was half way out the window (was she seriously going to jump?) before she turned to face me, “And just a warning: if you see him again, you must stay away. You need to stay far, far away from him at all costs. You aren’t in any state to take him on. I’m certain you will be safe here in this school—he wouldn’t dare attack you in broad daylight, but just…keep caution whenever you are alone.”
And before I could even ask who “he” was, Dove leapt from the window. I gave a startled yelp of surprise and raced to the open window just in time to see her climbing down with much ease and swiftness…on the vines that curled around the old walls of the dorm. A couple more feet down, and Dove jumped, landing gracefully on the grass and darted into the woods. Her shimmery blonde hair gleamed a pale white in the moonlight, making her look like a fairy or some sort of goddess.
It took me a while, long after I had shut and locked the window, pulled the drapes, changed into my night clothes and had settled into the lumpy bed before I realized who she was referring to.
The man with the black sword.
The same man who had killed me.
If Dove was so worried about him, then I knew that he was an alchemist too.
And considering how Dove had no powers anymore, that made him the strongest—and most dangerous—alchemist here at St. Mary’s.
This had to be the worst way to start a school year. Ever.
CHAPTER 8
Despite the shock of the first (unofficial) Monday at St. Mary’s, the official-official first day of classes seemed to be like a long lost dream that ached within me. It was almost as if everything that had happened yesterday didn’t even occur.
Ha. I wish. If it wasn’t for this bizarre tattoo, I probably could have spent the rest of my…frozen time…in perfect and utter Denial with a capital D.
Everywhere I looked, I saw prim and proper students, dressed in wrinkle free crimson jackets, deep black skirts or pants pressed to perfection; and instead of dirty footballs or fashion magazines or makeup kits, every one carried…books. Books, bags, and lots of paper. And they actually talked about school instead of bad football games or lame arcade game scores or the latest scandals of the previous weekend.
It was as if, once St. Mary’s had officially started, all the rich party goers had snapped to attention faster than new recruits at a military boot camp.
I was in an ocean of crimson and black, wealth, and education. It was way different from my old school.
Schedules had been sent out to the students a week before school had actually started, but because I had missed orientation (to which I would oh so love to remind the Headmistress that it wasn’t my fault) I had missed any introductions with all my professors (the professors that could very well guide me in the right path—or crush me with the soles of their perfectly polished heels),
as well as which room my classes were being held in.
I had been pretty ecstatic when I had found the crisp white envelope in my personal student mailbox with my name written in the most beautiful flowing cursive, as if its mere presence allowed me to brag, “Yes, yes I am a student of this Academy, thank you for asking!” Every student had their own mailbox—sort of like a P.O. Box—(unless you were mega rich and had your mail delivered to your room personally) and we had a school e-mail account, but I didn’t really use it much except to keep in touch with my friends. I wish I could send my Dad daily emails instead of weekly phone calls, but he had no access to a computer. It was rough, and the conversations hardly lasted five or ten minutes because of the charge, but any way I could hear his voice was good enough for me. (It was a comforting needle in this alchemic haystack of misery).
When I had opened the schedule some time ago, I had expected to be stuck in whatever class that had an open spot (courtesy of being a last minute fill in), but the courses I had where way more advanced than I could imagine! Composition II, Biology, Economics, Gym (referred here as Physical Education), and History III. Call me crazy, but these classes made my old school pale in comparison!
St. Mary’s wasn’t a typical 8-3:30 kind of school. Sure, all classes started bright and early but it was pretty much like a pre-college kind of school, with classes only an hour long, but the schedules were never overlapping or right next to each other (so you don’t have to dash from the English hall all the way to Gym which was across the campus in five minutes flat).
I was pretty fortunate to get many hour long gaps between most of my classes. Maybe it was karma’s way of saying I had suffered enough (what, with the whole near death experience and stuff), but I went the entire day finding the right classrooms and lucking up with brilliant and (somewhat) friendly teachers. Heck, even my classmates actually cared about their education, unlike the sad lot back at my old school in New York.
Surrounded by the crisp smell of newly cracked textbooks and dusty chalk, I remembered why I had thrived to come here in the first place. I temporarily forgot all about Dove and alchemy and the Elixir and just escaped into my studies. If there was one thing I was confident about it was doing perfect in my school work.
Because that was the one thing I could finally control.
◊◊◊◊◊
I slid in the last remaining seat of History III just as the warning bell rang. My bag fell in a heavy thump on the floor, filled with the required textbooks and giant load of homework. I was exhausted, and it didn’t help I hardly slept a wink last night. I had been too busy tossing and turning, playing Dove’s words over and over in my brain.
“Good afternoon, class,” a tall man said, walking up to the front. His hair was shaggy and black and his chin had a hint of stubble. Behind his thick, framed glasses, his eyes twinkled in excitement. Judging from his posture and his broad smile, I had a feeling I would really like him, unlike my stern Economics professor Mr. Wesley, who immediately kicked out two students for coming in right as the bell rang. Instead, they were forced to wait in the hall the entire hour as he lectured about our first assignments.
But I loved history, so I was pretty sure, mean teacher or not, that I would have a blast either way.
“Welcome one, welcome all,” he said, writing his name in big, bold letters on the chalkboard. “I am Mr. Hogan. No, you may not call me Mr. Hoggie or Mr. Ho, you kids and your hip slang.” A ripple of light laughter came from the students, and even the ones who pretended to be bored had their lips curled in a smile.
“Ready for a pop quiz?”
Instantly the laughter disappeared, replaced by a chorus of groans. Mr. Hogan lifted his hands up, “Hey, it was just a simple question, no need to get so eager! And no, there is no pop quiz, but at least I know how I can get on your good sides.”
I laughed with the class as he passed out papers on what we would be learning and information about the clubs he ran. The class rushed by in a blur, and it turned out that Mr. Hogan was a favorite amongst my peers. He was light hearted and an occasional prankster, but he really put his foot down when somebody was misbehaving, unlike the professors that issued Detention cards or where too scared to anger their students.
Mr. Hogan respected his kids, and it was returned. I liked that about him.
As the final bell for the day rang, everybody sprang from their seats and rushed out the doors, gym bags and purses flapping against their uniforms. I wandered up to the chalkboard, eyeing the assortment of papers that read “Join the Presidential Club!”, “The Debate Club Needs You!”, or “Classic and Historical Literature Club.” Until my eyes caught a list with large, childish handwriting. “Come Join the Humanities Club!” it read:
Like History? So Do we!
Like Mythology? This is The Place to Be!
Don’t Really Like Either but Want Some Free Food? Then Come to the Library Room 206 on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays After School at 4:30 pm! Don’t miss out! If You Have any Questions, Ask the Hoganator or Mrs. Clarke for Information! Or Contact Miss President Karin Foster at [email protected]!
I giggled at the term “Hoganator” and “Miss President”. There were colorful swirls and smiley faces all over the paper that looked playful and inviting. It seemed like a good, fun club to be part of, and one that didn’t look too time-consuming either.
Mr. Hogan came up behind me and laughed also, “I keep telling that girl to stop calling me the Hoganator, but after she found out my love of Arnold Schwarzenegger movies she just hasn’t let it go!”
I laughed along, pulling the sleeves of my coat down over my hands from the chilly air conditioned room. “It sounds interested. I think I’ll give it a try.”
“Ah, you’re Emery Miller, aren’t you?” he asked, “I saw you in the back of the classroom. Very attentive. I think you’re going to make a fine student here, Miss Miller.”
I beamed, bidding him a goodbye as I pushed through the door. My heart thudded excitedly against my ribcage, and for a brief second I felt that I had not a care in the world.
◊◊◊◊◊
The first day rush came in an exciting spurt and died out when night fell. I had just finished a roughly ten to twelve page outline of Macbeth when I heard the sound of something sharp hitting my window. My desk was exactly right of the window, and even with the drapes pulled apart and the blinds up I could see, even from this angle, the magnificent view of the outside.
And the rocks thrumming against the windowpane, shining against the dusk light.
I knew it was Dove coming for our “training”. I sighed, looking at the clock. It was way after eight o’clock, with just enough light left outside to make your way through the patch of woods.
My legs were still throbbing from the one mile lap we had to do in gym, and my hand was cramping already from copying pages and pages of biology terms and writing that Literature outline. I had already spent the remainder of the afternoon hanging out where the Humanities club visits (and then spent the rest of my time lounging around the library to catch up on this overload of studies) and finished most of my homework as well.
Karin Foster was indeed as eccentric as the piece of poster board she had advertised on. A junior just like Jack, she said she started the Humanities Club to bring history lovers and haters together. And there was indeed free food and drinks, with light hearted talk about what the club does. She said there weren’t many members, since St. Mary’s was more of an academics school; after that most of the attention went to the sports or arts, so clubs like the Humanities Club had to struggle to find members on their own. From what I heard, there were less than ten actual members and three or so (including myself) that seemed interested in joining. We exchanged emails, promising to give me the latest updates of the clubs activities.
She was just like Rachel back home. Bubbly and sweet and adventurous. Karin was all of those things, plus super confident and a natural born leader, and I liked that about her. And, despi
te her obvious wealth (she personally paid for the pizza’s and drinks at every meeting), she treated everyone on equal ground—scholarship or not.
The pitter-patter of pebbles continued and I slammed my notebook close in defeat. I really only had half of my Biology homework to complete, and push come to shove I could just finish it up early the next morning. I rubbed my sore hand and opened the window. Dove was standing in plain sight and froze in mid throw. It was actually kinda funny, seeing someone as graceful as her about to break my window.
She motioned for me to hurry down, and I mouthed “five minutes” before closing the window again and pulling the curtains. I grabbed my favorite pair of worn out sneakers (I didn’t need to worry about damaging my uniform; it was hanging nice and neat and freshly clean, courtesy of the small laundry room in the basement level of Moore Dormitory, in my closet) and I quickly assessed myself in the mirror. My comfiest pair of faded denim jeans; a black and blue striped polo shirt; and my dark hair brushed in a tight ponytail. I brushed the bangs away from my face, contemplating on putting some hair clips to keep my vision clear, but decided against it.
Thinking it might get cold, I grabbed a light jacket and a flashlight I kept in my emergency kit and dashed out before I could regret this.
But despite the gloomy and pessimistic thoughts…I knew I needed to do this.
And, oddly enough, I was pretty excited about beginning my training as an “alchemist”.
CHAPTER 9
“To put it simply, alchemy is about studying the basic four elements: fire, water, earth, and air. It isn’t limited to just these four elements, but every alchemist’s own special core somehow links back to at least one of the basic elements.”
I nodded as Dove continued her talk. Leaning my back against the nearest tree, I wrapped my jacket a little tighter around me, shivering in the night air. Being September, the nights were usually warm and sticky, but tonight seemed to signal a fast winter approaching.
The Fake Heart (Time Alchemist Series) Page 6
