by Gigi Pandian
By the time we moved on to the main course—ratatouille, which Dorian had selected because it was a dish that tasted even better when prepared in advance since it allowed time for the flavors to transform each other—Ivan still hadn’t commented on the alchemical display in the living room. I’d even given him the seat with the most direct view of the items. Perhaps he wasn’t feeling well. I noticed his hand shaking as he picked up his fork.
“Where did you learn to cook, Zoe?” Sam asked.
“For someone so young, this is quite impressive.” Olivia smiled at her backhanded compliment.
“I’ve learned from people all over the place.”
“She traveled all around the country in her trailer,” Brixton said from his position standing next to the kitchen. He shuffled his feet back and forth. Being a proper butler must have been more difficult than he’d imagined.
“Really?” Olivia said. “Were you a college dropout?”
Sam elbowed his aunt.
“I’ve always been someone who learns more from experience,” I said. “I’ve traveled to most of the states in my trailer over the last few years. I’m a bit of a history buff. That’s why I got into collecting all the antiques I’ve got in the living room.”
“I recognize the brass medicine container,” Max said. “That’s got to be centuries old.”
I smiled. “That’s one of my favorites.”
“Quite an expensive hobby,” Olivia said.
“I sell them,” I said. “Most of them, at least. Never my favorites.” I caught Max’s eye and my heart fluttered a little. I cleared my throat. “I’ve got a business selling these things. That’s how I make a living. I find old things like alchemy laboratory supplies that some people find interesting.” I looked at Ivan as I spoke.
“That’s what brings you to Portland?” Sam asked.
“My online store is called Elixir. I can run it from anywhere, but when I got here, I—”
“Fell in love?” Olivia finished for me. It was an innocent enough statement, but her eyes darted between me and Max as she said it.
“So,” Max said, clearing his throat. “The house is looking good.”
“There’s still a lot to be done.”
“If I didn’t already have two jobs,” Sam said, “I’d offer to help.”
I hadn’t counted on them all being so polite. Even Olivia’s normally snarky tongue wasn’t especially bitter that night.
“Dessert?” Brixton asked, clearing the ratatouille plates.
While plates were cleared and the chocolate soufflé brought out, I excused myself. Maybe I wasn’t evoking the right response from Ivan because I hadn’t put the right kind of items on display.
It took me a few minutes to find the books I was looking for, two old alchemy texts that I’d unearthed from deep in my crates. By the time I came down the stairs, the group was finishing dessert.
“What do you say, Max,” Ivan was saying. “Shall we break out the Becherovka?”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Ivan,” I said, returning to the table with the books. “I thought you might be interested in these books.”
“The soufflé was delicious,” Heather said. “But I thought you were a vegan.”
“This is a vegan soufflé,” I answered curtly. My focus remained on Ivan, watching to see his reaction to the books. The problem was, he didn’t seem to have any reaction at all.
Heather and Olivia took their wine glasses to the living room while I cleared space on the table to set the two books.
“You’re not supposed to leave the table,” Brixton said, his eyebrows pressed together.
His mom gave him a questioning look.
“It’s okay,” I said. The sentiment was Dorian’s doing, no doubt. To be a proper English manor house mystery, all the suspects had to remain sitting around the table, or sitting in a circle in the drawing room, or some such artificial circle.
“Ah!” Ivan said, as soon as he’d opened the first book to its title page. “I did not realize what this was. My eyesight is not as good as it once was.”
“I thought I saw you looking interested when I mentioned alchemy,” I lied. “Have you studied the subject?”
“My field of study is chemistry, but you must know from your love of history that alchemy was a precursor to chemistry.” His eyes lit up as he spoke.
Max shifted uncomfortably, then got up to open and pour the Becherovka. What was going on?
I nodded. “I’ve always thought these old books are so much more beautiful than the laboratory items on the mantle.”
Olivia scoffed from the couch, then resumed a conversation with Heather.
“Those are alchemical vessels on your mantle?” Ivan asked.
“I believe so,” I said, trying not to show my confusion at Ivan’s reply. Surely he knew what they were. But unless he was an extremely good actor, his surprise was genuine.
“I have only seen woodcuts and museum re-creations. Your pieces are much smaller than I imagined alchemical vessels would be.”
“These are alchemy books?” Sam asked.
I nodded.
“Max!” Ivan called. “You would be interested in this.”
Max returned to the table with the open bottle of Becherovka.
“You’re interested in alchemy, Max?” I asked. I knew this party had been a bad idea. Nothing was turning out like I wanted.
“There’s a similarity in the tools of alchemists and apothecaries,” Max said, loosening his collar.
“Such a fascinating subject,” Ivan said, resting the book on the table and flipping through the pages. “I never realized it until I began research for a chemistry book. Ah! This book, now I remember why it is familiar. I have seen a copy only once before, in the Klementinum in Prague. If I recall, it provided historical context for the work of John Dee. It is not widely available. Wherever did you find it?”
“I spend a lot of time at estate sales and flea markets,” I said, mulling over Ivan’s answer. He wasn’t expressing interest in the aspects of alchemy that I would have expected for my theory. He seemed genuinely interested in the historical figures of alchemy, not the practical aspects of the alchemy. And why was Max so nervous? I had to do something to find out what was going on.
“Shortly after I began my research for my book on the history of chemistry,” Ivan said, “the focus changed. I discovered connections to alchemy I hadn’t realized existed.”
I grabbed my cell phone and pulled up one of the photographs I’d taken of Not Untrue Alchemy. “Have you ever seen this?”
He studied the screen for a few moments. His face contorted, moving from interest to confusion to awe. His voice changed too. “Where did you find this?” The soft-spoken man was gone, a fiery zealot in his place. I wasn’t the only one who noticed the change.
“I knew it!” Brixton shouted.
Everyone stared at the fourteen-year-old butler.
“It was you,” Brixton said, pointing at Ivan. Tomato sauce covered the cuff of the sleeve. Everyone turned to stare at him.
“Brixton,” I said, glaring at him and attempting to stop myself from throttling him, “this isn’t what we—”
I caught a glimpse of Max out of the corner of my eye. He looked every bit as angry as I felt.
“You’re the one,” Brixton said, “who hurt Blue and took Do—I mean, took Zoe’s books!”
“What?” Ivan sputtered, looking from Brixton to Max. “I don’t understand. You think I had something to do with Blue’s accident and what happened here?”
“Brixton,” Max said sharply. “You need to stop.”
“Nobody else had reason to steal Zoe’s books,” Brixton said.
Ivan turned to me. “You have more alchemy books, and they were stolen?”
“Including a very rare bo
ok that I’m betting isn’t in the Klementinum or any other library—it’s the book that includes this page you’re so interested in.”
Max ran his hands through his hair and took a large swig of his drink.
“If the page on your phone is like the rest of the book,” Ivan said, “this is a phenomenal book. Max, have you any leads to get it back?”
“I’m not on the case, remember?” Max’s jaw was set so tightly that it affected his speech.
“Max,” I said. “What’s going on? What aren’t you telling us?”
“You really think I had something to do with these tragedies?” Ivan asked. He gripped the edge of the table. Sweat coated on his forehead.
“Well this is interesting,” Olivia said. “Pray, do tell, Max. What are you keeping from us?”
“Are you all right, Ivan?” I asked.
“The excitement …” He wheezed as he spoke.
“Maybe you’d better—” I began, but it was too late. Ivan slumped over, dead to the world. I only hoped he wasn’t truly dead.
thirty-one
The tincture I’d given to Blue was in the pocket of my raincoat, hanging on the back of the door. Was it possible there might be a few drops left?
“Call 9-1-1!” Max shouted as he loosened Ivan’s collar.
Before anyone had time do so, I pressed the liquid to Ivan’s lips. At that moment I didn’t care about what my guests might think. I had to try and save Ivan. I knelt down next to him, feeling relief as I felt him breathing. Confusion quickly followed. I hadn’t detected any poison. How could I have missed something?
Ivan awoke with a gasp, causing Max to stumble backward.
“What the hell?” Max said. “Ivan, are you all right?”
Ivan groaned. “Did I faint? Please, everyone, put your phones away. This is nothing to worry about.”
My attention had been focused on Ivan, but now I noticed that everyone except for Max, who’d been attending to Ivan, had their phones out to call the paramedics. They stood staring for a few moments; then everyone began to speak at once.
“We should still call—” Max said.
“It had to be that liquor—” Olivia whispered to Sam.
“Brix, honey, go see if he needs help,” Heather said.
“You want help standing up?” Sam asked.
“Enough!” I said. “Party’s over. Ivan says he’s all right. It’s his decision if he goes to a hospital. Ivan?”
“Thank you, Zoe. I’ll be fine. This happens to me sometimes.”
“Rest here for a bit, Ivan,” I said as I picked up my guests’ jackets. “Thank you all for coming.”
“You can’t kick us out,” Brixton said. “I haven’t even served tea and coffee yet!”
“Come on, folks,” Max said. “Zoe’s right. Let’s give Ivan some space.”
Olivia pursed her lips. While throwing her shawl over her shoulder, the tassels hit Max in the face. I didn’t think it was an accident.
I felt safe with Max, no matter how suspicious he was acting. My instincts had served me well over the years, but I hadn’t encountered many murders either. I put my hand on Max’s elbow, holding him back before I showed Sam, Olivia, Heather, and Brixton to the door. Brixton didn’t want to leave. His mom seemed disinclined to force him, so I insisted. I didn’t want him there for what was going to follow either.
“What the hell did you give him?” Max asked as soon as I closed the door. “I can’t just pretend I didn’t see that.”
“You think I gave him an illegal drug?” That was too much.
“Ivan,” Max said, “how do you feel?”
“It’s a simple herbal remedy,” I snapped.
“Then why did it work so quickly? That’s not how things work.”
“If you hadn’t noticed, I’m good at working with herbs.”
“Then you won’t mind if I see what you gave him.”
“This is ridiculous!” I said.
“Leave it be,” Ivan said. “My recovering quickly has nothing to do with anything Zoe gave me. This happens to me sometimes. I’m fine. I want to know what you were all talking about before I fainted.”
Max shook his head and looked up at the cracked ceiling. “You, my friend, have been a person of interest in this investigation. Personal feelings aside, I had no choice but to look into your movements while I was the investigating officer.”
“Me?” Ivan said. “Even if you think this of me, how could I? These past weeks, my health has been worse, as you can see evidence of tonight. That’s why I haven’t been at Blue Sky Teas as much as usual. I can barely hold a cup of tea these days. My doctor will confirm this.”
“Why didn’t you say anything when I saw you?” Max asked.
“I didn’t know it was an interrogation! It’s embarrassing, Max. I’m only in my fifties, but my body has other ideas. It thinks I’m an old man.”
“I put a call in to your doctor,” Max said. “He was out of town and we couldn’t reach him to—” He broke off with a start.
“What are you staring at?” I asked. “Find something else you think is illegal and you want to report?”
He rubbed his eyes. “I could have sworn I saw the gargoyle statue move. That Becherovka must be some strong stuff.”
“Why don’t you two come into the kitchen.” I gave a sharp glance at Dorian as I held open the swinging door for Max and Ivan. “I’ll put the kettle on and make us all some tea.”
“Zoe,” Max said softly as he stepped through the doorway, “I’m sorry I reacted automatically when I saw you give something to Ivan. I’m trained to notice these things.”
He was so close to me that I smelled the subtle scents surrounding him. He must have gardened in his yard earlier that day. His large brown eyes were downcast. I believed he was truly sorry, but that didn’t mean I trusted him. Or that I trusted myself around him.
“How about I make the tea you brought, Max.” I busied myself filling the kettle.
“Ah,” Ivan said, “that’ll make me good as new. In the meantime, Max can continue explaining why he thought I was involved in this madness.”
“I was afraid,” Max said, “when Zoe told me that one of the valuable books of hers that was stolen was an alchemy book, that you might have been involved.”
“That’s why you’ve been acting so odd this whole time?” I asked.
“I hated that I had to investigate a friend, but it goes with the job.” He paused, looking at the espresso maker Dorian had purchased. “I thought you said you didn’t drink coffee.”
“It’s for entertaining.”
He nodded, but his eyes lingered on the open bag of coffee beans and the folded copy of Le Monde underneath it. He was a detective. It was natural he’d be observant. He could tell someone had made coffee recently and that someone who wanted to read a French newspaper was comfortable around my house. My lie about a French “friend” to cover up for Brixton was building on itself. Max now suspected my “friend” stayed over. My attempt at a simple life was nowhere in sight.
Max remained curt for the rest of our short conversation, clearing up that neither Ivan nor Max had any reason to want Dorian’s stolen alchemy book. By the time I saw the two of them to the door, I wondered why I thought I could ever have a normal life.
———
It took longer than I would have liked to awaken Dorian from his stone pose. I had to shake his shoulders so vigorously that I was afraid I might break off a chunk of stone. Finally, he stirred.
“Mon dieu. I cannot believe we were wrong about the Czech professor! It was a perfect theory. Perfect!” He tried to flap his wings. It took a few seconds for his wings to respond to the flexing of his shoulders.
“Not exactly perfect,” I said. “We were desperate, which blinded our better sense. We convinced ourselves about a far-fetched t
heory because we desperately wanted to find your book.”
Dorian wriggled his toes and fingers. He continued to have difficulty moving his left foot, but the reversal of his life force hadn’t yet progressed further. He looked from his claws to me. “Where does that leave us?”
“I don’t know, Dorian. I wish I knew.”
“I will clean up,” he said, not meeting my eyes.
“You don’t have to—”
“I am stiff from standing still. Washing dishes will be good for me. You will work on the book pages?”
Though I had come to the conclusion that I would need the full book to unlock Not Untrue Alchemy’s secrets, what the gargoyle needed was hope. Even if there wasn’t anything else I could do, at least I could give him hope.
“I’ll study the pages,” I said. “Maybe if I read them right before bed, my subconscious can work something out that has eluded me so far.”
I brought the printed pages with me to bed, along with a glass of water with lemon. I couldn’t concentrate, but it wasn’t because of my fatigue. Knowing Ivan was most likely not a killer or thief, I now wondered if I could ask him for his help. Though I’d studied alchemy for a longer period of time than Ivan, my focus was less academic and more specialized. His interest in alchemy was the exact opposite. I had no doubt I was better at turning plants into tinctures, salves, and balms than Ivan, but there was a good chance he was better at understanding alchemical texts.
Once I’d made the decision to contact Ivan the next day, I fell into a restless sleep. I dreamt of alchemists in Prague.
A man with a long, pointed white beard appeared before me in the dream. I recognized him as the great scholar John Dee. The man had lived before me but was a legend to alchemists. We stood on the Charles Bridge in Prague, which in my dream was crowded with merchants from an earlier century in place of the hordes of tourists of today.
Dee beckoned to me. I followed him across the stone bridge. The fog became thick, swarming around us. I called out, but no sound came from my throat. I tried to run, but although my feet moved, I made no progress crossing the bridge. The fog overtook me. I could no longer see Dee or anything else. Fog had never frightened me, but in my dream, I had the strongest sense that I should be very afraid. Something dangerous lurked in the fog.
