The Accidental Alchemist

by Gigi Pandian

  At a computer terminal, I looked up the library’s alchemy books yet again. They were scattered across different sections of the library. It took me some time to track down the relevant tomes and surround myself with them on a long table. I was parched and hungry, but I had to figure out what was going on.

  I searched through the books for hours, but only found the vaguest of references to backward alchemy and the death rotation. Whatever I was going to find out about Dorian’s book, it wasn’t going to be through library books.

  ———

  I hadn’t realized how much time had passed. By the time I reached home, it was after dark. Dorian was busy cooking dinner. I wasn’t sure why; the fridge was already overflowing.

  I wasn’t yet ready to talk to Dorian about what I’d learned. Without the book, what I’d learned wasn’t going to do us any good.

  Brixton was having a hard time dealing with Blue’s arrest, so I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone, getting rid of some of the food while checking on him. Max had said Brixton didn’t want me to see where he lived, but I thought it was worth the risk to see him. Brixton hadn’t been returning my text messages, but I found his address easily enough online. I was glad for that immediate result, but scared for what this level of online information meant for my future.

  Heather opened the door of the apartment. Wet green, brown, and white paint covered large swaths of her arms.

  “I thought you two might like some pie,” I said, holding up two sweet potato pies of the six Dorian had baked.

  “That’s so sweet of you! Abel is out of town, though. I couldn’t possibly eat so much pie. Do you mind if I give one to the neighbors?” She welcomed me inside and took the pies from me, setting them on a rickety card table that served as the kitchen table and grabbing a paint-stained towel to wipe paint from her hands and arms.

  The apartment wasn’t what you’d call spacious, but they had made good use of the space. In a corner of the living room next to a large window, an easel held the canvas Heather had been working on. I was surprised by how masterful it was. A sea of trees filled the canvas, the perspective so close that neither the sky nor the ground was shown. As I looked more closely at the trees, I saw eyes looking out.

  “Feel free to share the pie with anyone you’d like,” I said, “but I meant you and Brixton.”

  Her eyes narrowed in confusion.

  “He’s not home?” I asked.

  “He told me he was staying over at your house tonight.”

  I froze. It was one thing for Brixton to be late coming home from school. That was bad enough with a murderer on the loose. But lying to his mom about where he’d be all night was something different altogether. Brixton was desperate to save Blue from a murder conviction. We hadn’t been right about Ivan being guilty. What would Brixton do to save Blue? Where was he and what was he up to?

  “Heather,” I said slowly, feeling the full extent of my worry creep through me, “Brixton isn’t at my house.”

  Heather frowned. “He told me he was working on a gardening project for school, with Veronica and Ethan. He said you were helping them so they’d all be staying over at your place.”

  “You didn’t think to call me to confirm?” I asked.

  “I trust Brix.” But as she said the words, her body tensed.

  “Maybe you misheard him,” I said, “and he’s at Veronica’s or Ethan’s house?”

  Heather’s shoulders relaxed. “That must be it. He knows I don’t approve of Ethan.” She rooted through an oversize handbag, not bothering to wipe the remaining paint from her hands. She pulled out an old-model cell phone and scrolled through the contacts. Putting the phone to her ear, she tapped her foot while she waited. The seconds dragged out.

  “Voicemail!” she said. “Ethan’s phone went to voicemail. I guess I’ll have to call his parents. I’ve got their number here somewhere …”

  While Heather rooted through a stack of papers in a secretary desk next to the door, I stayed out of the way on the other side of the room, again looking at her painting. It was as if the eerie eyes in the middle of the impressionistic trees were watching me.

  I pulled my eyes away from Heather’s alluring painting and watched her speak on the phone to Ethan’s father. She flipped the phone shut and stared at me.

  “He said the boys were at your house.”

  “Same lie,” I murmured. “They coordinated. Why didn’t you tell Ethan’s father they weren’t at my house?”

  She bit her lip and shrugged. “Let me try Veronica. There has to be a logical explanation for this. Maybe they’re over there.”

  Veronica’s cell phone went straight to voicemail. Heather called her parents, who were under the impression that Veronica was staying at Brixton’s apartment, as she frequently did when she was younger. They hadn’t thought anything of it when she said she was going to do so to work on a school project.

  I could hear the voices of both of her parents on the line, their voices growing louder as they realized their daughter wasn’t where she said she’d be. I couldn’t make out their words, but Heather cringed. “Yes, but—no, I don’t think—I really don’t think—” She was barely getting a word in between the two irate parents. Her eyes grew wide in horror before she snapped shut the phone.

  “They said they’re calling the police,” Heather said, biting her lip.

  “Because some teenagers aren’t where their parents think they are?”

  “They’re like that.”

  “I doubt the police will take them seriously,” I said, pulling out my phone.

  “Then who are you calling?”

  “Max,” I said into the phone. “It’s Zoe Faust. Yeah, I’m sorry to bother you, but is Brixton hiding out at your place? He told his mom he’d be at my house, but he’s not. He’s been avoiding me. I know he’s upset about Blue.” I listened to Max for a moment. “I’m sure he’ll turn up. I’ll keep you posted.”

  I hung up and looked to Heather.

  “It’s only eight o’clock,” Heather said. “Maybe they’ll be home soon?”

  “What worries me,” I said, “is why would they make up the story about staying over at someone else’s house, if they were planning on coming back at all tonight?”

  Normally I wouldn’t have been too worried about three teenage friends lying to their parents. There were any number of things they could have been doing that they didn’t want their parents to know about. But with how worried Brixton was about Blue, I had a bad feeling about what they might have been up to. Dorian had been giving Brixton ideas about investigating. What if he had enlisted the help of Veronica and Ethan to help him clear Blue?

  I suggested to Heather that she check Brixton’s usual haunts and headed out to do my own investigating. It was after nightfall, so it couldn’t hurt to pick up a creature who could see in the dark to help me search.

  ———

  Dorian agreed with my assessment. So much so that he wanted to search without me, thinking I would slow him down.

  “I’m going with you,” I said. “I think I know where they might be. Remember that spelunking hat Brixton had?”

  “You think they are in the tunnels.”

  “I do.”

  “I know a back way to get there, going underground close to here. Why are you looking at me like that? I have been exploring this new city. The tunnels here do not have the same morbidity as the catacombs under Paris, but there is a certain je ne sais quoi.”

  Since I wasn’t capable of sleeping in, these late nights were getting to me. I made myself a simple yet energizing smoothie elixir in the blender with lettuce, ginger, chia seeds, and chocolate.

  Knowing I’d be climbing up and down ladders and through who-knows-what, I left my long coat at home. To combat the effects of the chilly night, I opted instead for bundling in a wool turtleneck sweater, thick
wool socks, and matching green hand-knitted gloves and hat a woman in Houston had made me after I helped her start a vegetable garden.

  I knew that small sections of the tunnels were accessible to the general public on guided group tours. Tourists and history buffs met at a Chinatown restaurant, outside which an innocuous metal door in the sidewalk opened up to reveal a ladder leading to the tunnels below. But that was far from the only entrance to the tunnels. We entered through a metal grate I would never have noticed if Dorian hadn’t pointed it out. It turned out the bundling wasn’t necessary. As soon as we were underground, the temperature was in the sixties.

  The tunnel we entered reminded me of caves I had once hidden in: nearly complete darkness with only a tease of light, a low ceiling to bump your head on if you weren’t careful, and the smell of dust and desperation.

  I was about to flip on my flashlight when the tunnel was illuminated from above, casting eerie shadows across the jagged stone walls, thick wooden beams, and dusty floor.

  “I found the light switch,” Dorian said. “This section of the tunnel is used by some tour companies.”

  We followed the lights a few dozen yards until the tunnel ended in two rooms.

  “I think this is a dead end,” I said.

  “Mais non. I have been this way before.”

  He pushed gently on what looked like a section of rock just like the rest of the wall. It was, in fact, a wooden door covered in a false coating of rock.

  There were no lights strung up in this section of the tunnels. We clicked on our flashlights. In the harsh glare of the flashlight beams in the darkness, every rock transformed into a malevolent creature.

  A light up ahead flickered. It wasn’t from our flashlight beams.

  “Dorian,” I whispered, grabbing his arm and shutting off my light. “Do you see that?”

  “Oui.” He switched off his flashlight.

  In the darkness that surrounded us, the light up ahead shone brighter than ever. The light came from around a corner, and it wasn’t a solid light. It flickered, as if from a fire. Had homeless people snuck in here for a warm place to stay and lit a fire? I didn’t smell smoke, though.

  We crept closer, staying out of sight. People were speaking, but I didn’t recognize the muffled voices.

  I let go of Dorian’s arm so I could feel my way along the wall without tripping. In the darkness, I couldn’t see him. I knew he was smart enough to stay out of sight, so I wasn’t worried about that. But it would have been nice to know he was close for whatever we might find.

  The stone walls were strangely warm under my fingertips. I stepped closer.

  Something was off about the voices.

  Music began to play. It didn’t drown out the voices. This wasn’t the random sounds of people talking and playing music. I groaned to myself. It was a movie.

  I peeked around the corner.

  An old-fashioned movie projector beamed a James Dean movie onto a relatively flat wall. Sitting on blankets on the ground were Brixton and Ethan, with Veronica in between the boys with an additional blanket resting on her shoulders. In front of them were three open bags of popcorn and several old-style glass bottles of soda I didn’t know still existed. Three spelunker hats lay askew next to the blankets.

  “Good movie,” I said, stepping into the room. “But everyone is looking for you.”

  Veronica screamed and jumped into Ethan’s arms. Popcorn scattered across the floor. Ethan scowled at me—and Brixton scowled at Veronica, who wasn’t moving from Ethan’s arms.

  “OMG!” Veronica said. “You gave me a heart attack, Ms. Faust!”

  ———

  Once the kids were safely at home, I had time to think about what I’d seen. The kids hadn’t merely found an old, boarded-up entrance to a section of tunnels once used for transporting goods. The door had been purposefully disguised. Whoever had done that wanted not only to keep people out, but to make it look like that section of tunnel didn’t exist. I began to wonder why someone would want the tunnel to remain hidden.

  thirty-four

  The next morning I was so groggy I was sure that even a strong green tea and a fruit smoothie wouldn’t fully rouse me. I was wrong. Shuffling down the stairs, I was given a fright that raised my senses to a state of high alert.

  Dorian’s body contorted at an unnatural angle, his head hanging upside down with his hands and feet stretched out. I rushed to his side.

  “Are you all right? Can I help?”

  “You can position my hips,” he said.

  “What?”

  “The lady on the video says my hips should be the highest part of my body. But since people do not have wings, do you think wings count?”

  My laptop computer sat open on the coffee table, the screen displaying a video of a yoga class.

  “Yoga?” I said, relaxing. The gargoyle wasn’t dying. He was contorting.

  “I thought it might help keep my body moving.” He moved from downward dog to cobra pose. “Zut. This is quite unnatural.”

  I burst out laughing.

  “Yes,” Dorian said, righting himself. He stretched his shoulders as he stood up straight. “I can see you agree.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sleep deprived. Is the yoga helping?”

  He shrugged. “I can still shrug, so it is not hurting. At what time does the library open? Can you get me more books before you meet with Ivan today?”

  As we fixed breakfast, the phone rang.

  “Zoe, it’s Heather. Brixton has run off again. He, Veronica, and Ethan didn’t show up at school today.”

  “What is it?” Dorian whispered, watching my reaction to the phone call. I shook my head.

  “Since they ran off last night,” Heather continued, “and were just goofing off, the police think they’re just ditching school. But … I don’t know. I don’t like what’s been going on. I have a bad feeling.”

  I did too.

  I thought back to that false door we’d gone through. The one that was clearly there to disguise the fact that anything was beyond it. While the kids were having their movie night, had they seen something they weren’t supposed to see?

  After I got off the phone with Heather, I tried Max. He didn’t answer his cell phone. I didn’t see him at Blue Sky Teas, either, which Cora was keeping open. As I headed to his house, wind whipped around me, blowing dark clouds overhead. I turned up the collar of my silver coat.

  My repeated knocks on the door went unanswered. I was almost back to the sidewalk when I heard a noise behind me. Turning, I saw a bleary-eyed man standing in the doorway.

  “Max?”

  He wore a bathrobe and looked like he hadn’t shaved in days. And what was he doing asleep at nearly nine o’clock? The wind was picking up. A gust blew open his bathrobe. I found myself surprisingly disappointed that he was wearing pajamas.

  “This better be important,” he said, cinching the belt of the robe.

  “It is. Put the kettle on. I’m coming in.”

  ———

  Twenty minutes later, Max was showered and shaved and we stood together in the warm kitchen, a storm raging outside. Heavy rain beat against the kitchen window box that contained his indoor herb garden.

  “I should call this in,” he said.

  “Call in what exactly? That we have a bad feeling? The kids went missing last night and they were fine.”

  Max looked out the window, his jaw firmly set. “Tell me again what you know.”

  “I suspected Brixton and his friends might have been exploring off-the-grid sections of the tunnels when I saw Brixton’s spelunker hat.”

  “Why couldn’t they be a little older so their dares involved sneaking into each other’s bedrooms,” Max said mostly to himself.

  “When I found them last night, they weren’t in a normal section of the t
unnels.”

  “You mean they’d gone past the tourist section, through one of the boarded-up doors.”

  “That’s what I thought at first.”

  “What do you mean that’s what you thought at first?”

  “The door I went through wasn’t a boarded-up door. It was a hidden door. It had been made to look like it was stone, to blend into the rest of the wall.”

  “How did you find it?”

  I hesitated. It was Dorian who had found the door. “I heard the movie playing. I followed the sound.”

  Max nodded. “Could you find it again?”

  “I think so.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  ———

  After several wrong turns, we found the hidden section of tunnel.

  Max swore. “I’ve searched here so many times … I never found this.”

  “You’ve searched here?” I pushed open the door in the same way Dorian had done.

  Max shook his head at the fake stone.

  “What were you—” I continued, but Max held up his hand for me to be quiet.

  We walked in silence for several minutes, falling into step beside each other. Max set the pace, alternating between walking slowly and hurrying. Whenever he saw an object like an old wooden chest or a break in the walls that might have been a door, he stopped to examine it, then quickly moved on. I understood the unspoken motivation. If the kids had been taken against their will, we needed to find them quickly. Only when we reached the dead end room where the kids had been watching the movie did Max speak.

  “Damn,” he said. “There’s nothing here.”

  “What did you think you’d find?”

  “You asked me earlier why I was searching the tunnels. Remember I told you I fell through a trap door chasing people I thought were involved in a girl’s death?”

  “When you saw the monster.” I shivered at the memory.