The Fake Heart (Time Alchemist Series)

by Revelle, Allice

  “So every alchemist can…only control a certain element?” I asked. Dove nods, a small smile on her face as she realized I was finally getting all of this confusing mumbo jumbo. Wow. It was all so simple; I thought it would involve a lot of complex foreign languages, hocus pocus and circles, and incantations and stuff.

  “Every person,” she continued, “Has the power of alchemy within them. Nowadays, it’s hard to even realize what kinds of power you possess because society has started to forget the old ways of science and magic; it’s all technology and facts. To cut it short, alchemy is a dying art; you have a higher chance of tapping into your powers if you grow up in an environment that practices the laws well, but in certain situations—like, well, yours—can awaken somebody’s alchemic core. Thanks to saving your life, I’ve somehow tapped into your own alchemic core. You’ve felt it at some point, haven’t you? A sort of…pressure inside you that wants to grow out?”

  I placed a hand to my beating chest. It was true. Ever since then there was a faint strain on my heart, but it felt as warm as a tiny candle flame. It was both comforting…and scary.

  She paced the small clearing in the woods. It wasn’t the same spot where the attacks had occurred, but it was much closer to the old abandoned church. I could see the pale white walls of the church shine through the mirage of branches and leaves. Obviously it was the biggest party hot spot too, seeing a few scattered cigarette butts and candy wrappers askew in the area. I could just imagine the damage near the church.

  The Old C. The most popular party gathering on campus. It was perfectly secluded, nestled just so in the woods that, no matter how loud the music was or the shrieking of laughter, unless you were walking directly along the old pathway, nobody would be able to find...or hear…what was going on. Not to mention the fact that the “Old C” was the furthest building away from both the administrative hall and the teacher’s apartments.

  Who purposely wrecks such a beautiful piece of history like that? You’d think the Headmistress, being so proper and responsible for St. Mary’s influential image would have done something about it long ago.

  Maybe she was just too busy delivering detention to her definition of bad behaving students, and I could guess that it was only simple trashy scholarship students like me who got the short end of the stick. But a little part of me did see why she was angry—wouldn’t anybody have been if they found a wide hole practically sawed through a school fence? At least, judging from my spot on the ground, the church was relatively intact. Since the punishment in the library’s archives wasn’t that big of a deal, I just decided to suck it up and handle it.

  “The sooner we find your connection to one of the elements, the faster we can find the Elixir,” Dove said, “Although, the chances are slim of another alchemist attacking you here, we can’t be too careful. Not to mention that—since your alchemy is linked alongside your fake heart, it would be best to prepare in case of…the worse scenario.”

  I nodded quietly, shivering just thinking about the one and only alchemist that Dove was mentioning—how his eyes were just so deep and almost sorrowful looking, swirling with dark blues and greens. I really hoped Dove knew what she was doing…

  ◊◊◊◊◊

  I trudged through the grass on the way to the library, stepping around lazy couples lounging on plaid blankets and narrowly avoiding a group of guys hustling over a game of Frisbee until I reached the large, four-story building. The red, worn out bricks of the large building gave a warm and familiar vibe as I walked through its glass doors. The inside smelled the same as it had the day before: the scent of new pressed books, warm, gooey sweets fresh from the oven and coffee beans from the small Starbucks on the first floor near the doors, and the always lingering musty sort of smell that drifted out from the cracks the farther you dove into the library.

  Normally coming to the library made me excited to get my studies in; but today everything felt like a symbol of my failure. This punishment was completely and judicially unfair, but there was nothing I could do about it.

  Not like I could just march up to the Headmistresses’ office as tell her the truth, “Oh, the reason I missed for orientation was because I saw two alchemists fighting near school grounds. Blah blah blah, something happened and then one of the alchemists seemed to have accidentally stabbed me in the chest, thus rendering me unable to come to orientation. But it’s all good because the other alchemist saved my life.”

  Yeah, that was a great way to get the Headmistress even more on my case. That, or a one way ticket to the loony bin.

  So I tightened the grip on my bag and made my way over to Ms. Callaway, the elderly and sweet Head Librarian to get my punishment started. At least someone seemed genuinely happy about me being here.

  ◊◊◊◊◊

  “Alchemy….alchemy….” I stroked my fingers over the new and old bindings of the libraries books, scanning the titles. My dad said I always had this bad habit of sticking my tongue out when I was in deep concentration, but I usually didn’t bother to pay any attention.

  Until the very moment when Jack seemed have pop up next to me with a wide grin on his face. “Hey Em! How are you doing?”

  My heart jumped and I spun around, “Jack!” I exclaimed (okay, it came off as some shrilly squeak, but that’s not the point), realizing what an utter fool I looked (not to mention my tongue sticking out. Ew.) “Uh, hi! Good. Good, how are you?”

  I dropped my hands to my side, playing with the edge of my baby blue shirt. Man, Jack looked so…fine today, and I realized I haven’t seen him or talked to him since Monday when he helped me. And…when I had totally trash talked his girl…friend right in from of him. God, Emery, why not act like a moronic, selfish kid in front of him? But he didn’t seem at all concerned or fazed by my careless words with Mallory.

  Jack smiled and went on about how busy he was with his track, and I couldn’t help but notice how just so cute he was today. Ruffled blonde hair that looked so soft I just wanted to reach over and pet it. Even in a normal white tee and worn out jeans with a rip in the knee, he looked like he walked straight out of a magazine. I saw the glint of the silver chain clasped around his neck, nearly hidden underneath his shirt; its edges sort of prodding underneath. I wanted to reach my hand out and feel the warm metal next to his skin—

  “So how was your detention from hell?” he teased, and I saw the amusing twinkle in his almost silvery eyes, like Christmas bells. I blushed. Hard. Not to mention my heart was doing flip-flops in my ribcage like a trapped firefly in a jar.

  Not good, Em! I scolded myself inwardly; you need to calm down, okay? Calm down! God, how embarrassing would it be if my I just died from being love struck right in front of him?! I could see the headline now:

  Sophomore transfer student with strange heart disease dies on spot from love overdose! “I don’t know how it happened,” the girl’s crush stated, “One minute we were just talking and the next she just…collapsed at my feet!” “She must have been head over heels for you!”

  Oh. My. God.

  “Em?” Jack’s voice brought me back from my stupid fantasies. My eyes snapped into place before I lost it again, “Uh, yeah?”

  “I was just asking how detention went,” he said, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. Great. He must think I’m so…stupid now. Great, great, great. Just what I needed.

  “Oh, it was fine,” I said, “N-No big deal. Kinda fun, actually.” And it was sort of true. It was just two measly hours of sorting old files and documents in the basement. Despite the creepiness and the cold draft that seemed to come from the walls (and reminding myself I needed to bring a light sweater of sorts), it was relatively peaceful. Plus, it gave me a few personal moments to myself to think.

  That was when I had decided this whole alchemy business was something I couldn’t run away from. So I resolved to tackle it head on like I knew best—study the heck out of it. So here I was, browsing the reference section and started on the “A’s” for alchemy.

>   But…it hasn’t been that simple. I even tried under the “Fs” for Flamel, but I ended up with nothing, save for a dictionary definition (and Harry Potter reference).

  He gave out a bark of laughter that sent my heart racing. “You are the only person I know who would actually enjoy detention!” His head bopped up and down like he was wearing invisible headphones, “It sucks, man, but at least you’re taking it well. That’s pretty awesome,”

  My heart swooned again. Awesome! He had called me awesome! “Yeah, it is…awesome.” I added lamely, shifting my weight. I could hear my foot scrap the carpet and I struggled for something witty and cool to say again.

  “So, alchemy.”

  “Huh?”

  He nodded his head towards the shelves, “I heard you saying alchemy under your breath. Sounds fascinating.”

  “Uh, yeah!” I stammered, trying to come up with a legitimate excuse for looking up such a strange art. Beside the whole I-was-killed-with-alchemy-but-saved-by-it-and-now-I-have-to-be-an-alchemist excuse wasn’t going to cut it. “It’s for…my history class. Y’know, we have to, uh, pick pretty famous scientist and inventors and see how they’ve influenced history, and I thought, why not go out of the box and look up alchemy and stuff?” Wow. This lying was getting easier than I thought. But it sorta made sense…I mean, alchemy is kinda like science, right?

  He whistled, “Wow, sounds interesting! Need any help?”

  “I—help?” I squeaked, mentally slapping myself, “But don’t you have your own studying to do?” What I really wanted to say was: “Wouldn’t you rather hang out with your friends than some loser sophomore with baby hairclips like me?” But I bit my tongue.

  He gave me a crooked smile before turning away and heading to the far corner of the room, where a small couch and a few chairs had been pulled around it. He turned his head and winked at me before slinging his bag onto the nearest chair, “Yeah, but its more fun in a group, don’t you think? Besides, maybe I can help.”

  So that is how I, Emery Miller, found myself sitting practically knee-to-knee with possibly one of the hottest guys at St. Mary’s—no, probably of Savannah, but that was pushing it.

  Jack was amazing help. When I brought out my notebooks for studying (which was partially true—I was here to study for class, and not to mention keep up the whole “it’s for a (fake) project!” front), Jack had disappeared for a good ten minutes before he came back with an armload of old textbooks.

  They landed with a heavy thump on one of the chairs. I stared at them, floored.

  “These are—“

  “Books on science and alchemy,” Jack said, “Thought you could use ‘em. There’s not much in ‘em, but maybe they could help you a little bit?”

  I gingerly picked up the first one, admiring just how old it was—it was as if it would crumble to pieces if I held onto it too tightly, “How did you get these? Where did you get these?”

  “Let’s just say I know people who know people,” he winked again, “I already checked them out for you; all you got to do is just bring them back whenever you’re done.”

  “I—Jack!” I breathed, “This is amazing!” Wow. That had to be the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. I didn’t really get much credit back at home for being a “book worm” and a lot of the guys would rather use textbooks as substitute footballs or back-up lunch trays than reading material.

  But Jack was different. He was actually honestly interested in my studies, and that made me feel like my hard work meant something. You know?

  His grin widened as he settled down next to me, his knee touching mine. My body flushed, but I noticed he didn’t move it away

  And that’s how the next couple of hours went. Me, reading about the history of alchemy (which was, I admit, pretty amazing, if confusing), and Jack studying his own classes, jumping in now and then to help me. But it wasn’t just studying that got done. Every little touch sent a spark of excitement through my veins. Just the little things, like bumping knees, or our hands brushing made me feel eager.

  I could tell by the amusement flickering in Jack’s cool eyes that he felt the same way.

  I mean, he had to feel something, right? I smiled tentatively; his smile grew wider.

  Suddenly, everything was looking up.

  CHAPTER 10

  Training with Dove didn’t exactly go well the next night.

  Or any other night, for that matter.

  In fact, the term “training” might have been too light. It was more like verbal lessons instead, followed by epic failure on my part.

  “You won’t be able to harness your alchemy if you can’t understand it,” Dove said the first night, and every night afterwards. “Think of alchemy as a sort of…magic inside of you. Then you just have to find it, and control it.”

  “But,” I had protested loudly, “How am I suppose to know what to do if you don’t explain what exactly alchemy is?” Although it didn’t help that I hadn’t even begun to research the topic. The first day was so busy and I was so loaded with homework I hadn’t even though of checking out any books in the library or surfing the net for hints; even with Jack’s help on the subject, barely a word about alchemy had sunk in. Guilty as charged, I guess.

  Even when I had doubted all of this alchemy and Elixir stuff, I did imagine how cool it would be to use alchemy and make weapons and stuff appear out of nowhere. That would surely impress Jack (not that I was thinking about impressing him, or trying to outwit that Mallory girl. Nope, not at all.), but according to Dove that isn’t what alchemy is.

  “You can’t create something out of nothing. It’s not magic.”

  “But you just said it was like magic.”

  Dove had let out a groan of frustration, pinching the bridge of her nose, “This is going to be a lot harder than I thought.”

  Yeah. You and me both.

  My mood was already sour a following morning. It seemed that every night I would come home completely irritable and have restless nights filled with nightmares of a guy wielding a black sword, or suddenly collapsing in the middle of the forest dead, and nobody would be able to find my body.

  I always woke up in sweat, my fake heart always ticking with crazy nerves.

  Yeah. Ticking.

  When Dove explained how she had fixed my heart, she had to use an object to seal the gaping hole.

  A small, golden pocket watch that had been given to her as a gift.

  So if I concentrate really, really hard in a quiet room, I could hear a faint tick tick tick mixed with my normal heartbeats.

  It scared me. It really, really scared me because I was afraid that the ticking would stop in the middle of the night and then I would never wake up again.

  This was a situation I couldn’t talk to anybody about—not even my Dad. During our few calls I had a hard time convincing him everything was fine when all I wanted to do was cry and beg for him to come take me back home.

  But my biggest grief was my lost bracelet. I had searched everywhere—my dorms, the nurse’s office, the bathrooms, even the same spot where that had happened. All I found was a large gaping hole in the black iron fence with yellow tape across it and damaged trees and shrubs from the fighting.

  But no bracelet.

  And with all the homework contently piling up, barely any time to study for tests and almost wasting every precious night trying to connect to some ancient, magical alchemy…I always had this weird feeling of being watched. A kind…of tickling in the back of my head when I was outside or alone; a nagging feeling I couldn’t push down any more. So one night I finally mustered up the courage to ask Dove the question I’ve been dying (not literally) to know since…well, all of this happened.

  “Dove,” I asked, “I need to ask about him. That guy who killed me. Who is he?”

  She stared at me with ice cold filled with apprehensiveness. “Are you sure? The less you know the safer you’ll be—”

  “No! I want to know. I want to know everything,” my voice rose wi
th every word, “I need to know everything if I’m going to survive this. Please, Dove.”

  I must have looked serious (at least, I hope I was. Inside I was shaking like a leaf), but Dove finally agreed, settling down next to me. “It’s a bit of a long story.”

  “Hasn’t everything been a long story?” I tried to joke, but even though she smiled, it didn’t reach her pretty blue eyes. “C’mon, how bad could it be?”

  “His name is Leon.” Ah. Leon. I finally had a name to my supposed killer. I remained silent as she continued, my trembling fingers absentmindedly picking on a loose thread on my sweater.

  Dove looked uncertain, biting her lip. I inched a little closer and gave her a small smile. “We have a name; it’s a start.”

  She trained her eyes on me, but finally relenting to my persistence. “He was an apprentice of Guinevere also, just as I was. Though we both joined Guinevere around the same time…well, we both simply had different views of her ways.” I didn’t press on when she paused. The night was eerily still, as if the entire world was honing in, listening, hanging on to Dove’s soft words. “After she disappeared, we had some…difficulties with each other. And finally, we just decided to split up.”

  “But why exactly?” I asked. “What was so bad that the two of you are…fighting like this? To get the Elixir?”

  She said nothing, refusing to look at me.

  “Dove,” I persisted, clenching the hem of my jacket. “What is Leon to you?”

  “He was…my…no, it’s not important, alright? Let’s get on to your training.”

  She shot up faster than a jackrabbit and started tromping through the woods in the direction of the church. I scrambled up after her, my feet tripping over the roots and the weeds tangled in the grounds, ducking and dodging low tree branches that slapped my face.

  I was more angry than shocked at that reaction, but I held face until I emerged from dangling tree limbs and saw Dove walking up the side steps to the church. I was right about before: the property around the church was ten times worse. There were even beer cans, cigarette butts and crumpled, empty chip bags (and, oh, gross, was that a condom wrapper?!) littered all over the dry grass.