The Fake Heart (Time Alchemist Series)

by Revelle, Allice

  Not even a hair was out of place as she came forward and kneeled on the frozen ground in front of us, taking Jack’s free hand in between her pale white ones and kissed it over and over. I saw shining blue swirls from the tips of her nails traveling down her hand. No wonder she hid her hands behind those lacy gloves I thought. It all made sense now. But—

  “Marjorie,” he whispered, framing the older woman’s face in his own hands, “We’ve finally done it.”

  “Yes, my Master, my love,” her words barely above a whisper as her eyes closed shut, “We have.”

  I bristled, annoyed and terrified. Just hours ago, that was my face that Jack had cradled in his warm hands. Just hours ago, it was his eyes that bore into my own, it was his hands that held mine so tenderly, and it was his lips that whispered sweet and encouraging words in my ears.

  And it was all a lie.

  Everything.

  I felt like somebody had stuck a hot knife in my heart and twisted it left and right as I watched the two in front of me. Was it possible to die of a broken heart, fake one or not?

  My eyes trailed over to where Dove and Leon were—limp and unconscious on the grounds. I wanted to just run, scream, do something—but I couldn’t. I knew there was no way I could get away from Jack and the Headmistress. They would kill me.

  But I had to make sure they didn’t kill my friends. I wouldn’t let that happen. Never.

  I was shaking so hard my bones hurt. Jack had used me, since the first day we met. How much of this was a lie?! I needed to stall them from going to Kathleen Hearst’s site. “What did you do to Jack?” I demanded, pointing a finger at the Headmistress. Maybe if I tried finding some answers, this could work. I needed to act like Jack was still the good guy, even though everything about him—his eyes, his lips, his words—were complete lies. Even though my heart was screaming for me to trust him—I couldn’t. I couldn’t, I couldn’t, I couldn’t.

  Jack, or Ivan, didn’t take his eyes of the Headmistress—Marjorie. Instead, she looked my way, sending a stare so deadly I flinched. Pure and utter hatred swirled through her eyes. “You!”

  I took a step back from the acid in her voice, wishing I had something, anything, as a weapon. I raised the clutch in my hands as a sort of weapon but it was easily knocked away as a powerful, icy wind blew through. I nearly lost my balance, until Jack held my shoulder to keep me up. I wish he had let me fall.

  “Marjorie,” Jack’s voice cut her short as she stood up, raising her hands toward me. The air instantly plummeted, sending my heart racing and large clouds of air puffing from my lips. “There’s no need to kill her. Yet. Just wait.”

  “But why, Master?” she turned to him, “We already have the location, why shouldn’t we kill her?” God, she sounded like a hapless teenager. Did I sound like that when I was with him? Oh good Lord, somebody just shoot me already!

  He smirked, black eyes gleaming like a cat’s as dark clouds shifted over the moon’s ray, shadowing his face in a hauntingly beautiful frame. “Because I have plans for her.”

  A chill ran down my spine. I so didn’t like the sound of that.

  ◊◊◊◊◊

  We walked in a single file line—like little kindergarteners parading to get to their afternoon snack of juice and cookies. Marjorie led the front, her usual tight bun let loose, letting her long, wavy brown hair billowing behind her like a princess. Jack was behind me, keeping a hold on my elbow as we walked.

  Our boots and heels crunched in the gravel and dirt as Marjorie shone her own flashlight, casting it over the lonely, large stones that jutted out of the earth. I had no idea where we were going, but I knew it was farther away from where Dove and Leon were. Please be okay I thought, praying so hard, please get up and get out of here before it’s too late!

  “You’re unusually quiet,” Jack murmured in my ear, sending hot flashes up my skin; both from fear and excitement, and I wanted to hit myself for even thinking that. His grip tightened at my silence and he chuckled. Even now his voice felt like a warm cotton blanket wrapping around my body. I bit my lip.

  “I’m sure you have plenty of questions.”

  “I do,” I said, not wanting to anger him just yet. Maybe if I could try and get him on my side—make him remember all the good times we went through—he might just snap out of…whatever the hell he’s going through and we could get out of this together!

  Well, a girl could dream, right?

  “Then ask away,” Jack yawned. He yawned as if this were all just some sort of day at the spa for him. I clutched my fist tighter, feeling my nails—once neatly trimmed and polished with a clear, sparkling coating, now ragged and broken and bloody—dig into the skin of my palm.

  There were too many. Where would I even begin? But I said nothing, keeping my eyes on the back of Marjorie’s white fur coat. I shivered, wishing that they fleece blanket hadn’t blown away from Marjorie’s icy breath or rage. My bare arms were covered in goose bumps, but the burning hate I felt towards Jack and how his little actions and words still sent my fake heart spiking made the cold seem like nothing.

  “You’re usually such a talker, Em,” he said, brushing his hand over my skin. My heart jittered at his touch. I knew what he was doing. God, it didn’t take a genius. Maybe if this had all happened weeks, months ago, I would believe every word he said.

  But there was still a part of me that wanted to believe—until I saw Leon’s bloodied body and Dove’s broken form flash in my mind. And Jack’s horrid smile as he tossed Leon in the air like it was absolutely nothing.

  I hated him. I hated him so much. He thought I was wrapped around his finger, and—my heart squeezed—he had. I was his perfect, clueless puppet.

  I just had to make him think I still was.

  “This is just…all too much to take in,” I croaked out. My voice felt unusually dry as tears that didn’t need to be faked started to bubble up. “What have you done to Jack?” I still refused to look at his black, vacant eyes. Instead, I let my head fall to my chest, staring at my feet as we walked.

  “Jackson Alexander has already….” He clucked his tongue, forming the words. “Well, you can say that he’s already departed this world.”

  My heart froze. That wasn’t an answer I was expecting at all. “W-What do you mean?” I didn’t need to win Greatest Actress of the Year award at that moment. “What do you do—”

  “Master!” Marjorie’s voice was filled with fury as she spun around on her heel towards us, “If we tell this girl everything, she’ll—”

  “She will do nothing,” Jack/Ivan said, eyes narrowed, “It is I who will tell her, and it is I who will deal with it. Now turn around and lead the way, my dear. At once.”

  Jack’s tone was like a slap in the face. Even Marjorie felt it, her mouth curled into a tight frown before she harrumphed and paraded on. These two certainly had some sort of connection between them—judging from how harsh Jack was being and how Marjorie’s eyes shifted from pure hate to pure admiration.

  Stall him. Keep asking questions.

  “How did you know that I—we—were going to be in Bonaventure?”

  “Your boyfriend of sorts,” Jack said, “Isn’t very bright. He was the easiest to follow. When we finally found word of the general location, I was already planning on bringing you here tonight anyway, as bait. But you just happened to fall into my lap. I was worried, for a moment my dear Em, when you ran away from our dance. But I knew what you were planning. All I had to do was sit still and wait.”

  I saw Marjorie turn and send me a cold glare, and then it all clicked. She had attacked me in the woods during Thanksgiving—when Jack was away during break—and after the dance. She wanted to get rid of me, and whatever plans Jack had for me.

  It was so painfully obvious by the way she looked at him. It was the same sort of expression when Leon reminisced and hurt himself over his late Master. Marjorie was in love with this man claiming to be Jack Alexander.

  “So if Jack…isn’t around,” I s
wallowed, heart humping crazily and trying to resist the urge to beat his stupid face, “Then who are you?”

  “I,” he gave me a wicked grin. It took all my willpower not to roll my eyes at his dramatic effect when he paused. “Am Ivan Novak—the greatest alchemist of all time.”

  My thoughts finally came back, as if the information was still being downloaded.

  Ivan Novak…Ivan Novak?!

  My mouth dropped open, giving away my thoughts. He gave a low laugh, eyes twisting with glee, “I see you’ve done your research. No thanks to that woman’s idiotic apprentices. One who so bravely jumped in the line to save you and the other who lost her own alchemy! Truly, a flock of imbeciles!”

  “Don’t you dare talk about them like that!” I snapped, yanking my arm away from his sweet grasp. “Who do you think you are?!”

  A hand slapped across my face so fast I blacked out for a second. Raw pain flashed across my body, but it was like the adrenaline I needed. I gritted my teeth, clenched my good hand in a tight fist and sent it flying.

  My fist collided with somebody’s cheek. A satisfying crack echoed around us, followed by a muffled screech of pain. I smirked, even with my lip split open. Blood trickled down my chin and onto my beautiful black and green dress.

  But my brief moment of victory didn’t last long. My weight shifted suddenly, like my right foot had just sunk into the earth, and I was pushed backwards. There was a horrifying snap that cracked in the air as my ankle exploded with pain and I flew backwards. I let out a startled yelp as I flew back, trying to find my balance, until my shoulder knocked against a stone grave. Stars suddenly exploded in front of my eyes like the fourth of July, and for a brief moment it was as if nothing happened. And then the pain sunk in. Burning pain exploded up my arm and my leg. Tears leaked before I could stop them and a pathetic whimper escaped my dry throat.

  “Serves you right, you sniveling little bitch!” Marjorie hissed, a red welting spot hidden behind her laced covered hands. A soft, bluish light illuminated from her hands as gray eyes glared at me. Served her right, I thought, although it must be very convenient to be a walking ice pack.

  And they say people with cold hands have warm hearts. She made Mallory Wells look like a Girl Scout.

  Jack simply stared, eyes void of any sort of emotion. My heart skittered a bit; disappointed. But what the hell was I expecting? For him to leap over and defend my honor? It wasn’t until I looked at my ankle. It was half buried in the soft ground, bent at an odd shape that sent bile burning in my throat.

  It wasn’t Marjorie’s control of ice that sent me falling—it was Jack’s control of earth.

  My mind flashed back to when Leon was sent airborne from Jack’s powers; how he made the rock jut out like a knife, how his stone necklace shone bright when he used his powers. Jack had just used his alchemy on me—not to show off but to put me in my place.

  A sinking feeling of dread settled inside me.

  He truly was powerful.

  His expression never changed, although there was a hint of something—Annoyance? Disappointment?—in his features; his lips formed a frown, but the corners were tight, like he was stopping himself from saying something. But with no words, he walked forward, yanking me up by my bad arm and moved on, ignoring my howl of pain. The earth that had trapped my foot loosened its grip with a faint flash of black light and I struggled to keep up.

  My ankle felt numb from the cold, something I was grateful for. But it also felt like my fake heart—numb, broken, and dead.

  CHAPTER 27

  Karin had often boasted about one of Bonaventure’s greatest stories—Little Gracie; the tale of a young girl who had died of an illness and was so loved by everyone that her father had a statue of her commissioned for her gravestone. The tale was so legendary that people sometimes came to Bonaventure just to see Gracie’s statue—as if she were just a girl playing a game, perched on a little stone bench waiting to play. People left cards and flowers, dolls and even candy near and around the fence that now kept her locked away from the prying eyes of the public.

  It wasn’t the sweet yet sorrowful tale of a Father’s love for her daughter that made Little Gracie famous—it was her ghost.

  I caught my first glimpse of the ghost girl’s statue as we passed her. Little Gracie’s face was beautiful and peaceful, a smile plastered on her face and empty eyes that almost seemed to light up. Dozens of offerings (cards and flowers, stuffed toys and dolls) were mounted all around her fence, blowing in the icy wind.

  My heart thumped extra hard with every step that we took, past Little Gracie and her sweet little smile; every step farther away from where Leon and Dove were.

  Every step closer to my death.

  I was beyond scared. I was completely and utterly terrified.

  Because if Jack wanted to kill me, he would do it in a heartbeat—without any remorse. That’s what terrified me so much.

  And it was my fault for being a fool. I played into his hands like putty. Didn’t anything that we did mean anything to him? I almost snorted at my stupidity—of course not.

  And finally after what seemed like an eternity, we found it. The Hearst Family graves, lined up in a small square of earth that was surrounded by a border of small white stones.

  And there was Kathleen’s grave, right in the middle. There was a small ceramic vase filled with plastic white flowers so old that they had turned a dirty gray and cobwebs that hung from the plastic leaves. I could faintly make out the words in the flash of the moonlight.

  Here lies Kathleen Patricia Hearst

  Beloved mother, daughter and wife.

  May the angels bless her once more, the Miracle Child of Savannah.

  April 2nd 1899—May 18th 1982

  My heart felt like it was being beaten by a jackhammer. I felt as if Kathleen was watching us from the heavens, disappointed in my actions. Tears pricked my eyes but I held them in as I gave her a silent prayer. I’m so, so sorry Kathleen, that I have to take away the one thing that saved your life all those years ago. That I have to defile your grave for this man’s selfishness. But…I have to protect my friends. I have to.

  Jack clicked his finger and, like a dog, Marjorie was right by his side. “Hold the girl.”

  The girl. I was just “the girl” to him now. I wanted to spit on his perfect face. Marjorie grimaced, but obliged, holding my bad arm with a vise like grip. Her hand was like a large block of ice; the cold seeping into my skin and through my very bones.

  I watched Jack circle the grave, his blonde hair almost white in the moonlight, making him look almost angelic. Almost. Finally, he paused right in front of it, kneeling down on the ground. He placed a large hand on the ground, his nails digging into the dirt as he breathed. There was a low rumbling all around us; my bones even felt like they were shaking. Then just as soon as it came, it was gone.

  Jack’s eyes snapped open, and a Cheshire-like grin appeared on his face, “This is it. This is the moment. I’ve finally found it.”

  My heart dropped to my toes.

  With a blinding white light that burned my eyes, the ground beneath us shook and split apart in front of Kathleen’s grave. Then a huge, gaping hole was left, revealing a black coffin.

  We were really about to dig up her grave. Panic flitted through me. Jack (for some reason, I just couldn’t seem to bring myself to call him Ivan) was going to take the Elixir. He was going to win.

  Jack knelt down again, the earth below her site sprung up, lifting the heavy coffin to the top. It was covered in scratches and dust, and a heavy stank of something wet and decaying filled my nostrils until I nearly vomited on Marjorie’s fluffy coat sleeve.

  He had the eyes of a mad man as he used his alchemy to shoot the top off, leaving the black cover dented and out of the way, lying on the ground like broken trash.

  I nearly cried at the sight before me. There was Kathleen Hearst’s decaying body, her skin already gray and ashy, revealing white bones beneath. The clothes she was buried
in, it looked as if it were a white silk gown, covered her like an oversized blanket.

  And on the hollow of her neck was the locket, shaped like a delicate oval—just like in her obituary picture. And inside it held the stone.

  “Retrieve it,” Jack said to me, “At once.”

  I almost laughed. Even the great Ivan Novak was scared of touching a dead body, but when Marjorie shoved me, hard, towards his direction I almost ran. The smell of death mixed with overturn earth was too much as I fell to my knees, dry heaving on the ground.

  “Get up!” he barked, kicking my side. I yelped, tears and snot dripping down my face before I crawled towards the grave, trying to ignore Marjorie’s giggles of delight at my pathetic state. Kathleen’s hollow eye sockets seemed to plead Let me rest, child, let me rest until I squeezed my eyes so tightly I thought my eyelids would tear. Quickly, but with shaking hands, I reached over and felt the ice cold necklace touch my fingers, and then with a quick snap I yanked it from her poor neck.

  The space between her collarbones looked empty as I held the jewelry in my palms. A wave of nausea hit me full force. I stumbled to my feet as Jack reached for the necklace, but I held it out of his reach.

  “Fix her coffin and put her back in her grave so she can rest in peace!” I yelled feeling hot with fury and nearly on the verge of passing out, “Or so help me I will break this stupid Elixir so you’ll never have it!”

  I raised it above a neighboring grave in a threatening manner. I knew I couldn’t do it, but I couldn’t just leave and have poor Kathleen’s body just left out like that. It was way too cruel and disrespectful. Marjorie stepped forward, raising her hand towards me. The air instantly plummeted, until Jack let out an ill-tempered sigh.

  “Very well,” and with a quick flash of light, Kathleen’s dead body was back in its site, the earth around it smooth as a blanket. It was like it had never been touched, although I’m pretty sure that whoever digs it up in years to come (if something like that ever occurred), I wonder how many would question a dented coffin lid?