Forbidden Alchemy (Elemental Book 7)

by Rain Oxford

  When he did and threw himself at Henry’s legs, Henry picked him up. Rita stopped smiling when she saw my chest. “You’re bleeding.”

  Blood had seeped through my bandages. “Shit. I need to get a healing potion from Dr. Martin.”

  “Let me look at it. I’ve talked to your doctor, and I have serious doubts about his credentials.”

  “He’s more of a chemist,” I admitted. I let her look at it because she was a vet and could recognize if something was wrong.

  She grimaced. “Well, I don’t know about healing potions, but you need stitches.”

  “A potion will help it heal, and the tape should hold it in place.”

  “The tape can’t hold it right because of the location. Let me stitch it up at least so that you won’t have a huge scar.”

  “I don’t think that’s---”

  “Do I need to have your girlfriend hold your hand because you’re afraid of needles?” she asked.

  Henry laughed.

  Her teasing was lighthearted, so I didn’t take offense. Not wanting to risk injuring myself worse, I decided to let her stitch me up.

  When we got to the infirmary, Dr. Martin looked extra nervous. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “They’re missing.”

  “Something is always missing,” I said lightly, trying to cheer him up. Despite being a powerful necromancer and a genius with potions, he was a bit spacy and lost things all the time. “What is it this time?”

  “The four unconscious kids.”

  My siblings were missing. Fucking great.

  * * *

  I had a mountain of paperwork on my desk, which would have to wait until after I defeated Veronica. Darwin’s substitute was relieved of his return because his advanced students were smarter than her and bored with her unchallenging material.

  I took a few hours to decide on a plan, but I knew what I really needed to defeat Veronica. I needed training.

  Vincent couldn’t teach me how to push my mind control. Veronica was likely trained by John, so I needed someone stronger than him to teach me. Unfortunately, there was no one alive except for Ahz who was superior, and Ahz couldn’t teach me. I called Ghost and he appeared. “I need to know where Arthur Knight lived or something of his. I need to learn anything I can about his mind control ability. I need to know his secrets and weaknesses.”

  Ghost vanished. For a few minutes, there was no response, so I worried I had asked too much of him. Then, finally, the shadows converged and Vincent appeared. “You will not find answers from my father.”

  “Why not?”

  “My father was a dangerous man.”

  “He stopped John from killing people.”

  “John was deranged, but my father did his own share of damage to the paranormal community.”

  “I knew he tried to kill Hunt, but he couldn’t have been as bad as John.”

  “No, he wasn’t evil like John. He was powerful, though, and power corrupts. You are better off not following in his footsteps.”

  “I don’t want to become his sidekick. I want to know his weakness so that I can fight Veronica.” He frowned. “Turns out she’s my sister, just a few years younger than me. John might have trained her.”

  Vincent cussed in German, which was uncharacteristic. He didn’t hate his father like Hunt hated his father, but he was cautious.

  “I’ll be careful.”

  “This is my fault. I wish…” He sighed. “I wish I had killed John when we were kids. I had the chance, and I didn’t take it.”

  I grabbed his arm on instinct to offer comfort. I didn’t realize my mistake until it was too late. In a split second, I was standing over a sleeping two-year-old baby boy. I was seeing through my uncle’s eyes, and his thoughts were open to me. He was frightened. He pulled a dagger out of his pocket and held it poised over the toddler’s heart.

  “You’re evil,” Vincent said to his brother. Vincent wasn’t even a teenager yet. “You have to die. I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I can’t stop you from spreading your evil. I can only see one way. It’s not your fault.” His voice shook, but before he could stab his brother, feminine hands closed around his and stopped him.

  She stood behind him, her warmth a comfort he couldn’t resist. Vincent cried. The woman took the knife from him and kissed his cheek. “This isn’t your responsibility,” she said. “He can still be saved, but if you kill him, you’ll become worse than him.”

  “I have to,” he said.

  “No, Vincent. You have to live. We need you to survive because you have to cure his plague.”

  * * *

  I snapped back into reality with a physical jolt that sent my heart racing. I’d broken into a sweat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

  “I thought you had more control than that.”

  “I thought so, too.”

  “I wish you hadn’t seen that.”

  “I wish I hadn’t, either. Who was the woman?”

  “My mother. I don’t think John really remembered her, but I did. She left when I needed her the most.”

  “John remembered her trying to take you both with her. You didn’t let her take either of you, and he was glad. You saved her from him.”

  “Our mother couldn’t handle John. She couldn’t control him like our father could. John had to stay and she had to go. I chose to help my father. It was a mistake. I’ve made many mistakes over the years.”

  “Maybe I can learn how Arthur stopped John.”

  “He controlled John by being brutal.”

  “Okay. I get your point. I’m not saying I want to become like him to defeat John. I just need to find out if John had a weakness that I can exploit in Veronica.”

  “His home in the U.S. was renovated and sold because I couldn’t stand to keep it. There were too many bad memories of John. His books that weren’t confiscated by the council… the ones I protected… are back in my childhood home. I can send you there, but heed extreme caution. Under no circumstances are you to use your ring.”

  “What if my intuition tells me to?”

  “Ignore it. Have you forgotten that it was my father’s vision ring?”

  I had forgotten that. Vincent had mentioned it when he was first training me to use it so that I could control my visions. I pulled it out of its pouch and wondered if I could use it to induce a vision of Arthur. Even if I could, that didn’t mean it would help. Despite my repeated use of it, it was still a spooky ring. The band was ordinary, but the silver curved outward in a strange tangle of emeralds.

  “I care about you, Devon, so I hope you respect my privacy. I want the memories in that house to go to the grave with me. You haven’t seen John like I have. I’ve done things you would hate me for. You will never be able to unlearn the real me.”

  “I will try not to have a vision.” Of course, I didn’t know why I had a vision when touching him. It hadn’t even been skin contact. When I said this, he nodded.

  “Because we both have this ability, our magic will automatically react when we’re close. My mind is blocked, so the effects are minuscule. However, as you grow more powerful in your ability to break through my defenses, the effect becomes more drastic.”

  “So, we need to keep our distance from each other?”

  “That, or you need to get better at controlling your powers. I will send you to my father’s home, but I will not go with you, so have Henry return you.”

  “I understand.” I didn’t, though. He would have been a great help in identifying books and artifacts that would answer my question. Despite everything John had done to him, I hadn’t realized that Vincent truly feared his brother until then. I thought that he would want to help me take down John’s legacy.

  Or maybe there is more to them than I know.

  * * *

  Henry, Darwin, and I gathered supplies and met back in my office. Vincent offered another warning in vain before sending us through the shadow pass to his childhood home.

  It was a st
range combination between Quintessence and the wizard council. Although the rooms were grand and the furniture was antique and overly rich, the décor was gothic and esoteric. There were dark and depressing paintings of Arthur and his sons, as well as paintings of mythical monsters and vicious creatures. Potions, skulls, crystals, daggers, and other magical instruments were left on tables and shelves, as if the inhabitants of the house would decide to do a spell anywhere and everywhere, at any time.

  For some reason, I thought it would make a lovely daycare/training center for monsters and psychopath kids.

  “Whatever you do, don’t touch anything valuable, especially gold,” Darwin warned. “There’s a reason this place hasn’t been ransacked. Wizards like Arthur are known for leaving cursed treasures out to tempt thieves.”

  “Thanks for the heads up. Let’s get to work. I really hope we don’t meet any ghosts here.”

  “What about Arthur? He could be useful,” Darwin said.

  “Maybe, but only if he’s cooperative.”

  “I’ll start in the library,” Darwin said.

  “I’ll sniff around for anything strange,” Henry volunteered.

  We split up and I wandered the house, looking for anything useful. After searching every bedroom, I knew I had seen John and Vincent’s rooms, yet all the bedrooms looked unlived in. There was nothing personal or comforting that suggested children ever lived there. The house was cold.

  I took in the expensive statues and furniture and knew that he never played in the house. He never chased his brother in a game of tag or leapt from the couch to a chair because the floor was lava. He never played board games with his family.

  That wasn’t to say he had a stunted childhood, however. He was born in the forties, and I imagined kids in his day spent most of their time outside, playing with other kids. At least World War II was over by the time he was old enough to be alone outside.

  Although I found an abundance of magical paraphernalia, I found nothing leading to clues on John’s magic. After a couple hours of searching, I was pretty sure this had been a waste of time.

  I ended up in the study with Darwin. Two walls of the study were covered with built-in bookshelves with glass doors to protect the books. The south wall consisted of a large fireplace with bookshelves on either side. There was a couch and two high-backed chairs in front of it. Centered on the West wall was a large window overlooking a lake surrounded by a forest with mountains in the distance. In front of the window was an old Hammond organ. A writing desk was in the middle of the room.

  Darwin was reading and didn’t bother to look up when I entered, so I decided to search the desk. On it was an antique typewriter, a few books, stationery, and a few candles. I searched the neatly organized desk and found half a dozen letters written in German addressed to a woman named Elizabeth, but Darwin assured me they had nothing to do with John or Vincent.

  It took me a while to realize my intuition kept drawing me towards the organ. It was about the size of an upright piano with a double keyboard and bass pedals. As soon as I ran my fingers over a couple of keys, I knew there were answers here. I searched it for secret compartments.

  “What’s up?” Darwin asked.

  “There’s something about this organ. Can you play it?”

  “I’ve never tried. I’ve played the piano, but I’m more interested in computers.”

  “Give it a go and let’s see if something happens.”

  He sat at it and studied the pedals for a moment before testing out a few notes. “Oh, cool. It’s not a percussion instrument.”

  “I don’t know what that---”

  “On a piano, the keys cause a hammer to hit strings and the note fades, but on the organ, it can run indefinitely until you let go. I had never done much looking into instruments, but maybe I should have.”

  “How does this help us, though?”

  “You’re the wizard; you tell me.” He played a few more notes and then settled into an Egyptian melody.

  When he hit a particular note, my intuition fired again. “Wait,” I said. “I think playing it is the answer.” I pulled my ring out of its pouch.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Darwin said. “You told Vincent you wouldn’t do it.”

  “I’m not going to induce a vision of anyone else. I just want to see what this organ is hiding.” I put the ring on and hit the key again.

  I wasn’t thrown into a full vision. Instead, I saw the impression of someone playing a combination of ten notes on the organ. I slipped off the ring and gestured that he move. When he did, I played the ten notes in the order I’d seen them.

  A scraping sound came from the fireplace. We went to it and found a hidden shelf under the lip of it that slid down. On it was a set of fifteen identical, black, untitled books.

  Darwin grabbed the first one and flipped it open. Not surprisingly, it was written in German. What was surprising was that it was handwritten. “This is it! If there are answers to be found, they’ll be in these books!”

  “Great. What’s the answer?” He glared at me and I sighed. “Fine. I’ll give you a few minutes.” I wandered the house for a couple of hours, wondering what life was like for my uncle. When I realized Henry was nowhere to be found, I mentally called to him.

  Instead of answering me mentally, he found me. “I stumbled upon a secret passageway to a basement.”

  “Good.”

  “Not so much. Remember the original hunters’ compound?”

  “Of course.”

  “This is worse.”

  The basement was huge and included multiple rooms. None of them had windows, all of the walls were gray concrete, and there were gruesome stains on the floors and walls throughout. One of the rooms looked like a dirty, crude hospital ward with two beds that had restraints attached. There was also a room with five kennels— like people would put dogs in. There were three closet-sized two-by-two rooms that were completely dark with the door closed. It didn’t take a vision to know they were for isolation.

  Most disturbing, however, were the two kids’ rooms. They had carpet over the concrete floors, toys, beds, and outdated television sets. They also included large mirrors, and the dark room between them revealed that they were one-way mirrors. Someone would sit in the chair and watch the kids, who probably had no idea they were being watched. This wasn’t how a concerned parent would keep an eye on his child while he worked.

  “If this is how Arthur controlled John, I don’t want to know more,” I said. Henry agreed, so we closed the basement and returned to Darwin in the study. Darwin was skimming the sixth book. Not wanting to interrupt him, we both waited in silence.

  Finally, he said, “Wow. This guy could kick Hunt’s ass. He’s got to be the most powerful alchemist I’ve never met.”

  “Alchemist? He turned lead into gold?” I asked.

  Darwin laughed. “That’s so funny! Good one, bro.” When I gave him my best blank stare, he stopped laughing and frowned. “Wait, you are joking, right?” He groaned and rubbed his temple. “How do you people string a sentence together?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Get on with it.”

  “Alchemy is the purification and perfection of objects, which includes the transformation of base metals into noble metals. However, the true purpose of it is to make a wizard perfect.”

  “Perfect how?”

  “Immune to any and all illnesses, intelligent, powerful, and most important… immortal.”

  “So alchemy is a branch of magic that achieves immortality?”

  He scoffed. “Every branch of magic aims to achieve immortality. Wiccan, elemental, Egyptian… all magic strives to better the person. What were you doing in class when you were supposed to be learning this shit?”

  “Saving the school and the lives of its students.”

  “Oh, right, you’re a dropout.”

  “I did not ‘dropout’! I was offered a job.” It bothered me more than I cared to admit. Even though Remington promised I could learn t
he information privately, Quintessence was my unfinished business. “Besides, you dropped out, too.”

  He scoffed. “Because Remington had to take a number of students to work at the sapling, Hunt arranged summer classes.”

  “He didn’t tell me about it.”

  “No, he asked me to tell you.”

  “When was this?”

  “A month or so ago. Anyway, you should have learned alchemy in your fifth semester. Some choose to specialize in it.”

  “Is it like potions?”

  “It involves potions and all elements. It combines the four elements to improve the soul.”

  “So that’s a magic book?”

  I reached for it and he jerked it back like it was a live grenade. “No. It’s a record and journal of his research and experiments. With your visions, this book could kill you.” I stepped back. “I was totally wrong about your magic.”

  “It tells you about my magic?” He nodded. “Great! Was my grandmother some kind of fae or something?”

  He shook his head. “It’s way more than that.”

  “What was she?”

  “A wizard. And so was your grandfather… at first.”

  “That sounds ominous.”

  “I was going for terrifying, so hold onto your panties. Arthur was not much better a man than John. He was born in 1860 in a small German town. His mother died, his father was a conman, and his childhood pretty much sucked.”

  “Sounds typical for wizards in his day.”

  “Exactly. Nothing impressive there. He wasn’t even a remarkable wizard, but he excelled at alchemy. In 1900, he became a member of the council and tortured and experimented on paranormals and magical creatures. Super sick stuff, too, almost necromancy.”

  That explained the purpose of the basement. It occurred to me that the kids’ rooms might not have been for his sons but for paranormal children that he took.

  “The council supported him because he found weaknesses they could exploit and designed weapons they could use against other paranormals. He used their blood and body elements to steal youth, too.”