July of 1921
The poor child has fallen into a lapse of sleep. Her skin is so gray she may as well be dead. But isn’t that what life is? Death…..oh, how I yearn for death myself, but I still cannot. I must finish what my Master had wished for me all of those years ago.
July of 1921
(Another scratch here) has found me once again. How long must I run, how long must he chase before this cycle ends? If I do nothing he will hurt them, but if I run, he will still kill them.
September of 1921
Oh, Master, forgive me greatly, for I have committed the ultimate sin against God’s will.
And that’s where it ended. I reread everything, scanning my eyes across the neat print, traveling back in time through Guinevere’s eyes and her short but warm stay here in Savannah. I learned that she had made good friends with the little girl named “K” and how she lived near the marsh, and played in their mansion-like home.
These short passages ripped my heart to shreds. It felt as if I were peeking into Guinevere’s own heart, and it hurt.
What had happened here in Savannah to make Guinevere change her views of the world? Was she suffering the side effects for being immortal…driven to be alone forever while the ones you love grow old and die? Did this young girl, “K”, have something to do with it?
Hearst…for some reason it sounded familiar. But I jotted down all of the names that were mentioned, planning to look them up. The city of Savannah was large, with history seeping into its very roots. The same could be said for many old families of such times.
It would be tough, going by just a last name, but it was a good enough start.
I spent the next hour going page by page through the translated notes, completely enthralled. It was like walking in Guinevere’s footsteps, trying to ignore the growing, aching pain in my chest when I saw a few of the words blurred by spots of water.
Tears. It must hurt Dove so much, I thought, And Leon. It hurts them both so much, yet they can’t see it.
Something fluttered out from the notebook and I picked it up, accidentally tearing a bit of the corner. I winced, smoothing it out carefully on the table. I glanced around, making sure nobody was watching, before I gasped at what I saw.
It was the same picture in Guinevere’s journal. Dove must have stuck it in there accidentally, but it wasn’t the picture that startled me, it was the small little girl that I had noticed before, the one who was clutching the baby doll. It was as if I was seeing the photo in a whole new light.
The little girl looked just like me.
CHAPTER 21
I trudged into the Humanities Club the next afternoon, stifling a yawn. I had spent practically all day in the library looking up the names in the computers, but barely found a thing.
The name “Hearst” and the little girl in the old black-and-white portrait that looked like a mirror copy of me wouldn’t leave my head, like an iron rod had seared the image into my brain. I had a deep, nagging feeling that I was way over my head in this, but I wouldn’t give up.
Something inside me was pushing to find the answers.
The chattering stopped as soon as Karin flew through the door, taking her place up at the front. She beamed at everyone as she greeted us in typical Karin Foster style, “Greetings, earthlings!”
Then it clicked—if anybody knew anything (or anyone) about Savannah, it had to be Karin! But how could I explain that I was trying to research a family that possibly didn’t exist anymore, or that I was on a wild goose chase to discover what happened to a sick little girl named “K”?
My mind raced as Karin went on about a reminder to bring food and drinks and plates to our last meeting of the semester next Wednesday. My foot bounced impatiently for club to finish so I could question her alone. My heart was pounding, even though I was grasping very, very thin threads.
Finally, the slow hour came to a pass as everybody gathered their things and shimmied out the doors. I lingered behind, waiting to catch Karin alone as she conversed with Josh (see? I remembered his name!) on a lasting discussion of Abe Lincoln’s assassination.
I bounced from foot to foot as I eyed the clock, watching the minutes tick by. Finally, Karin saw me waiting and smiled. “Need somethin’ Emery?”
Josh shot me a look of abhorrence, still in his position. His attitude was getting a little annoying, but I smiled at him anyway, “Actually, I have a question.”
“Well c’mere and ask! I don’t bite!”
I glanced at Josh again, “It’s kind of…personal. I can wait, though—” She waved her hands, brushing me off, “It’s fine, it’s fine! We’ll just pick up where we left off next week, alright Josh? Don’t forget to bring the plastic cups!” she called to him as he huffed away like a seething bull. What was his problem anyway?
She got up from her chair and grabbed her folder. Apparently she never carried a book bag or purse. Just a folder and the occasional book I saw her bring. “So what can I help ya with, Emery?”
I talked in a low voice as we left the rooms, her closing the door firmly shut behind us. “Well, it’s kind of hard to explain, but I’m, well, researching a family that probably used to live in Savannah.”
“You don’t say,” she said, nodding at my explanation, “And what do you need help with then?”
I laughed sheepishly, “Well, I just don’t know where to start. I have the family name—if that really is their name—but it’s kind of hard to do any research on the internet with just that.”
“And that is your problem!” she grinned, bouncing with each step as we made our way to the stairs, “Everyone relies too much on Google and Wikipedia to do their work! Although I do admit that the Internet is convenient, but it can never replace books. You should ask to look at family documents and historical papers on whoever it is you’re searching for. Our library has a huge selection of records just ripe for the picking. It’s the wonderful world of Genealogy!”
That would make it easier. My cheeks burned in embarrassment. I had been so wrapped up in using the libraries computers that I completed neglected the one best thing that every library in the world had to offer—books!
“Thanks, Karin,” I smiled, “I’ll do that!”
“You bet your butt you will! Now I’m curious, too. And hey! That’d make a fine idea for a presentation for the club! Heck! That would be an excellent way to get new members: we could become a living, breathing heritage club! I’ll mention it to the other members through email. Thanks a bunch, Emery! See ya next week!”
I waved as she tromped down the stairs and disappeared around the corner. I took a deep breath, filling my senses with hot tea and pumpkin pie spices from the coffee joint and began my plan of attack.
◊◊◊◊◊
Three hours later (or was it four? I haven’t the faintest idea, but it was still light out so it wasn’t that late) I had finally found everything I could on a family called Hearst. More specifically, I had found Guinevere’s mysterious “K”.
Kathleen Hearst an article of an old, brittle newspaper had read the miracle child. Daughter of the wealth Victor Hearst, Kathleen was born with a weak heart and a poor immune system. But on the eve of her thirteenth birthday, the mysterious illness that had her bedridden for more than half of her life suddenly vanished!
Even doctors are baffled by this miraculous recover. Kathleen’s grandmother claims it is the work of God, “The Lord has answered our prayers!”
When questioning little Kathleen herself, she simple replied, “An angel was watching over me.”
This had to be it. This had to be what Guinevere had done. She had saved Kathleen’s life with the Elixir—even though it was against her beliefs. Guinevere had seemed so upset over it. It was possible that Kathleen’s illness had…killed her, and Guinevere had used a shard of the Elixir to revive her.
“Her sin.”
There was little more history about the Hearst family. All I know is that Kathleen was the only heir to Victor’s company; sh
e grew and married and had one child, and eventually passed away at the age of eighty-three.
But…where was this shard of the Elixir? My eyes scanned the other documents until I reached the end of her obituary. There was a tiny section of it where they had interviewed Kathleen Hearst on the 50th anniversary of her recovery; a then sixty-three year old very healthy woman.
“My good luck charm that was blessed with the powers of God,” she stated in one article, “I’ll take it with me, even in death.”
There was one last picture of the old and healthy Kathleen Hearst. She had a kind, thin smile and snow white hair. On her neck was a small, silver chain that held a tiny silver locket.
A locket that had to hold a shard of the Elixir.
◊◊◊◊◊
“I can’t believe this,” Dove said, her icy eyes completely mesmerized by the documents. “I can’t believe this!”
“So…I was right?” I asked, as Dove also went over the copies of the articles and obituaries I had printed from the library (and paid a heavy price of nearly fifty cents per page. What rip offs!)
“Guinevere gave a shard of the Elixir to Kathleen Hearst, to cure her of some unnamed illness,” I said, “And now the Elixir must be wherever Kathleen’s grave is!”
“Bonaventure Cemetery,” Leon said over my shoulder as he read the obituary as well. His breath tickled my cheeks and I almost reached over and hugged him. Even Dove seemed delighted by his presence, “It’s not even that far from here. But the only problem is—”
“What? What kind of problem?” I asked, a knot of dread forming inside me. No, there couldn’t be a problem! We finally got this close!
“The size,” he explained, “Bonaventure is roughly one hundred and sixty acres. Even if we leaved now it would take us hours—or possibly days—to even find where the Hearst grave is. Plus we have to plan a time when we can…er, retrieve the Elixir when nobody is around.”
“But it’s still something,” Dove said. But unlike before, her voice was gentle with a hint of excitement. She wasn’t taunting Leon about his negativity—she was trying, at least to me, to find the good in the situation, “All we have to do is split the search. Guinevere’s journal mentioned Bonaventure a few times, so I think we can all say for certain that the Elixir is indeed buried in Bonaventure. It will be rough, but it won’t be a waste of time.”
He nodded, “That sounds good. I’ll ask Mr. Jones if I can run errands everyday—I’ll stop by Bonaventure and scout out a little at a time and see where it gets us.”
I jumped in, “But with such little time you would have every day, it would still be impossible to explore the entire grounds. What if I—”
“No.” both Dove and Leon said at the same time.
Silence. “What?”
They locked eyes—icy winter blue met summery ocean green ones. That was highly unusual. Normally they avoided eye contact all together, or sent each other glares as sharp as knives, full of hate and frustration when the other wasn’t looking. This time, it was like they had some sort of mutual understanding. Maybe it was a sibling thing.
“I, well, we’ve been thinking,” Dove said, closing the two books with a soft thud, “Maybe you should just stay here, Emery.”
“What? Why should I?” I blurted, feeling an unusual stab of betrayal in my chest. Why was this happening now?
“Because it’s going to be dangerous—” Leon started, but I cut him off with a withering glare.
“I know it’s going to be dangerous,” I snapped, but when his eyes drooped I felt a twang of guilt. But what right did they have to suddenly decide this for me? And how long had they been talking like this behind my back? “That’s why I want to come. Didn’t we all agree to do this together?”
“We did,” Dove protested, “But—”
“Nope. No buts!” I said, crossing my arms over my chest stubbornly, “We’re all in it together or we’re not.” We were so close—so close!—to finding the Elixir! Wouldn’t it be amazing to find it right before the Winter Formal, so I could dance and laugh and have fun without a care in the world, swinging in Jack’s warm and strong arms—without even worrying about dropping dead on the dance floor at a moment’s notice? And, most of all, this would bring Dove and Leon just a little more closer together. If they could see how well they worked as a team, maybe they would remember the times when they were with Guinevere. Maybe they would finally get along!
Wouldn’t that be the best Christmas present ever?
But unlike my bouts of stubbornness from before, neither of them looked phased by my refusal. Dove shook her head, “I’m sorry, Emery. But this is what we decided. We don’t want you to go to Bonaventure.”
I felt the knife of betrayal twist inside my heart. I glanced at Leon, begging him with my eyes to argue back, but he looked set and determined. “But—”
“You were right, Emery,” Dove said, placing a hand on my cheek, like a mother comforting their crying child, “This is our fault. We—Leon and I—we need to fix this ourselves. We’ve gotten you involved far too much.”
Leon nodded, squeezing my right hand. It was so warm and comforting. The silver band of my bracelet brushed against his skin and I felt a strange jolt from his touch. “We both agreed to do this. And we also agreed that once we found it we would come straight back to you—to save you.”
“I—are you two leaving me?” my breath tight in my throat. I wanted to scream, You can’t! Not just yet! What am I going to do without you two? But I held them in. This parting, it was going to happen someday, but I didn’t think it would be so soon…
Dove scoffed, “Of course not! There’s still that Ice Alchemist to worry about. We can’t leave you alone like that!”
Oh, right. Of course. I managed a laugh, but I couldn’t shake this empty, cold feeling inside me. Even if it wasn’t today…some day they would both be gone. Geez, how could I get so close to these two knuckleheads in such a short period of time?
I don’t even know if I could handle it.
Months earlier, I worried about fitting in at St. Mary’s. Well, that had certainly flown out the window. Three months ago, I had worried about dying, always dreading the exact second when my fake heart would give out. Now it was practically the last thing on my mind. But now…I felt like my heart, fake or not, was caving in whenever I thought of the day that Dove and Leon would leave.
Did I really want my normal life back, after all this hard work and fighting and laughing together?
CHAPTER 22
The hours slipped away, blending into days. Finals had come and gone, and every student on campus (attendee or not) was talking non-stop about the Winter Formal. Pretty soon St. Mary’s Academy had transformed into a glamorized, sparkling Winter Wonderland, as trees and bushes were decorated with lights that shone bright blues and whites, and thick round wreaths hung from every window tied up in perfectly knotted bows. The auditorium was sealed off from the world as the selected students on the Winter Formal committee decorated tirelessly for days (and by that, I mean they hired people to do it, of course). Everyone was giddy with anticipation for the Winter Formal and winter vacation soon to come.
Except me. I felt like a bitter old Scrooge.
The winter air felt harsh as the days became shorter and darker, but, like Dove and Leon insisted, I spent all my time with Jack. He was like a warm, tender flame in this stupid dark winter, and the stupid dark thoughts of my empty fake heart. With each day that passed, I could see in Dove and Leon’s eyes that they were just a little bit closer to finding the Elixir as they exchanged ideas of how to get into the cemetery, what times would be best, what to bring, etc.
All I could do was stand to the side and nod. No matter how much research I did on Bonaventure, despite it’s fascinating history and being a local famous spot for movie sets and the place where great artists and soldiers were buried, there was nothing else I could do. Not even looking up where the Hearst Family grave site was helped, because I found nothing. The only
way to really find it is to go out there and look myself, but A) both Dove and Leon would have protested heavily, and B) There was no way for me to leave campus for a reason like that anyway. It was absolutely prohibited for students to leave the campus unless they had a written note from a parent, a teacher and one of the administrative assistants to Headmistress Margaret.
Or unless you had money to flaunt, which I—unfortunately—did not.
Twice I saw Mallory and a few of her entourage being whisked away in a shiny black limousine through the gates for “Winter Formal” shopping and planning. Which would have been just dandy with me if they weren’t bringing armfuls of bags back up to their rooms every day (no doubt trying to find the perfect dress for the Winter Formal); “all for the good of Winter Formal” my left butt cheek.
I spent every free moment I could when Jack and I couldn’t hang together to research just about…anything! Nicolas Flamel, the Elixir itself, alchemy, I even tried finding some sort of history on Guinevere, but that was like finding a needle in a hay stack! I looked through her journals probably a hundred times and still found nothing.
I hadn’t really given the Winter Formal a second thought, except when Jack would ask me what my favorite colors were, or if I preferred a limo to a horse drawn carriage (seriously?! These people with their money! It was just being held in the auditorium—not in Atlanta! But I had been beyond flattered, even though I declined the horse drawn carriage), or when some of Jack’s groupies would pester me about what I was wearing and to not eat anything the day before so I could fit perfectly in my dress. Yeah, like that was going to happen. I didn’t even have a dress yet. Even though I had gotten Dad’s approval to order a dress off the internet, I couldn’t put my heart into it. I just picked a simple, but pretty, moss green prom looking dress and shoes that looked like they wouldn’t kill my feet from JC Penny’s and waited. I could just use my own foundations (as plain as they were) and attempt something with my hair at the last minute anyway.
The Fake Heart (Time Alchemist Series) Page 16
