Elixir

by Hilary Duff

  His fault … he had told the Society’s secrets and this was what happened … all his fault …

  Those would be his last thoughts, he imagined. Good. It was a message he’d take with him down to hell and deliver to the devil himself, so he could be properly punished for all eternity.

  But hell wasn’t a place he’d see Olivia. He had to say his final good-byes to her right now. With herculean effort, he dragged himself across the floor until he was only inches away from her face. His strength was fading fast; there wasn’t much time. He made a final lurch, but never made it. Harsh hands grabbed him, and a jeering voice shouted, “Look at this, boys! He’s alive! Should I finish him off?”

  “No!” said the leader. “I have a better idea.”

  His plan was to test the Elixir on Sage, to make sure it was real and not some kind of poisonous trick. They forced an entire vial of it down his ruined throat, then bundled him into a carriage and fled out of town.

  They almost didn’t make it.

  The Elixir’s healing powers were amazing. They couldn’t save Sage from the terrible pain of his wounds, but within an hour the pain had faded, and his strength had begun to return.

  Had he been more patient, things might have turned out differently. But the men in the carriage with Sage had killed Olivia. There was no hope for patience, only revenge. The second he could, Sage lunged for the nearest man, wrapping his hands around his throat and squeezing his windpipe.

  The other men in the carriage were so shocked by Sage’s impossible recovery that they almost didn’t move in time. Finally they returned to their senses and grabbed Sage, pulling him from their friend and beating and stabbing him until he again fell into unconsciousness.

  He woke faster this time, but his wrists and ankles were already tightly bound to each other behind his back. The attackers took no more chances—if Sage struggled the littlest bit, they ferociously let loose with their weapons.

  Later, hiding out at an abandoned farm, the gang of attackers worked out their next steps. The murder of so many wealthy Romans wouldn’t go unnoticed. The plan was for the attackers to split up with their newfound riches and fan out over Europe, once the fervor to find them had died down.

  The only hitch in their plans was what to do with the Elixir … and with Sage. It seemed clear by now that the Elixir wasn’t a hoax. They really had given Sage eternal life, and they all wanted the same for themselves. But was that even possible? Sage had downed an entire vial. That one was gone—the empty vessel had been lost in the scramble to get out of the house.

  Two vials were left … but if it took an entire vial to achieve eternal life, only two of them could have it. It was possible less was needed … but what if they split the rest of the Elixir eight ways and it wasn’t enough to give eternal life to any of them?

  The gang agreed that no one would touch the Elixir until they reached a consensus, but the problem was, none of them trusted one another. They fought constantly, and watched each other so carefully, they barely slept. Those who did sleep jockeyed subtly for spots closest to the Elixir, so they’d be sure to wake up the second anyone tried to move the vials.

  The situation left the gang tired, angry, and frustrated, and they took their emotions out on Sage. If they were really going to drink the Elixir, they reasoned, it only made sense to test how well it worked. After drinking a whole vial, would Sage really live through anything, or were some things too dramatic for even the Elixir to fix?

  It was quite an outlet for them, coming up with new and creative ways to kill Sage. It also removed Sage as a threat, since each torture left him so weak that he couldn’t possibly attack them again. They threw Sage off cliffs, they tied him to rocks and let wild animals attack him, they lit him on fire. Sage always recovered, but the pain was so incomprehensibly horrible that he prayed for the mercy of death.

  Then he heard the gang plotting their next test: dismemberment.

  Sage didn’t know for sure, but he had a feeling about what would happen. He wouldn’t die, but he wouldn’t magically reassemble himself either. He’d live, his consciousness somehow split into whatever random pieces the captors carved him into.

  He had to escape. Immediately. Despite the tightly bound restraints they kept around him, he had to find a way.

  He saw his chance one night. It was very late. Five of the bleary-eyed gang were still awake, all of them armed, all vigilantly watching one another to make sure no one tried to steal the Elixir for himself. Three men stood far from Sage. Two huddled closer, plotting wild schemes to grab the Elixir and split it between them.

  Yes. This would be perfect.

  Sage got the attention of the closer two men. He spoke quietly, so the others wouldn’t hear. He offered them a deal. If they released him, Sage would swear allegiance to them. He would help them go after the others, and make sure only they received the Elixir.

  “Why should we believe you?” one asked.

  “Yeah—what if we untie you and you come after us?”

  “Why?” Sage countered. “I do that, you scream, and everyone comes after me. I wouldn’t have a chance. I don’t want to be tortured anymore. I need your help. If I have to help you to get it, so be it.”

  The two men looked at each other, clearly tempted. If Sage wiped out the others, not only would the two of them get the Elixir, but they’d also get to split all the stolen riches.

  “Okay,” the first man whispered. “We’ll do it.”

  Swiftly and silently, one cut loose the ropes ensnaring Sage, while the other kept watch to make sure no one else noticed.

  “There,” the man said when he’d sliced Sage free. “Now you go after the others. We’ll grab the Elixir.”

  Sage didn’t answer. Instead, in one fluid movement, he whisked the knife out of the man’s belt and sliced the throats of both his co-conspirators. They were dead before they realized what was happening.

  The sound of the bodies hitting the ground got the attention of the men who were farther away. When they realized what had happened, their shouts woke the others. They were closer, and raced toward Sage, ready to attack.

  Sage welcomed the challenge. He let his rage boil through him. He could dominate an army now; three men were nothing. He brandished the knives of both his victims, and screamed as he ran to meet his attackers. He didn’t even notice the few blows they landed, but his daggers hit their marks again and again and again. He reveled in their blood.

  The remaining three attackers—the friends Giovanni had first told about the Elixir—weren’t stupid. They saw how the battle was going. The odds were not in their favor. While Sage was still occupied with the others, they quickly gathered as much of the stolen riches as they could carry and took off in the carriage.

  Sage was still locked in battle, on fire with adrenaline and laughing maniacally as he unleashed his fury. He didn’t even notice the three men racing away.

  “Those men survived,” Magda’s voice croaked, narrating over her vision, “but they lived cursed lives, as has every one of their descendants throughout the centuries. Those descendants, now spread throughout the world, have become Cursed Vengeance. The Saviors of Eternal Life are the descendents of the Society members—husbands, wives, and children who passed stories about the Elixir from generation to generation.”

  I heard Magda’s voice, but my attention was still glued to the image in front of me. Sage stood like a wild animal among the corpses of the five men he’d killed. His blood-splattered body heaved as he tried to catch his breath. The job was done, and now, all alone, in the middle of nowhere with the rest of eternity stretching out before him, Sage’s soul snapped. He dropped to his knees and screamed.

  The image changed. It was later that day. I saw Sage pour out the remaining Elixir, destroying it. He buried the two vials in the dirt … where my father’s team would dig them up centuries later.

  Next I saw Sage back in Rome, his head bowed in front of Olivia’s tombstone. An older man placed a hand on Sage�
��s shoulder. It was Olivia’s father. I searched the image, wondering if my father had been this man, but I didn’t feel anyone familiar there. Sage was surprised to see the man, but he looked at Sage kindly, and pressed something into his palm: Olivia’s iris charm necklace.

  When the image changed again, Sage was smiling. He rode a horse across what I immediately understood was the English countryside in the late seventeenth century. Though his eyes still held depths of misery, he seemed happy, and I soon understood why. He was with Catherine, her red hair loose and wild as they galloped together.

  Catherine and Sage lounged by a stream as their horses drank and recovered their breath. Sage reached down to touch the iris charm around her neck. “It always amazes me,” he said. “I can’t believe I’m really here with you.”

  Catherine smiled and kissed him, but he gently pushed her away. “Be careful,” he said. “Your father promised you to someone else.”

  She rolled her eyes. “He’ll change his mind.” She curled back into Sage’s arms, and he happily wrapped his arms around her.

  They had no idea they were being watched. A man stood among the trees. He was built like a bull, with a thick neck, small eyes, a pug nose, and nostrils that flared with fury.

  I knew two things immediately: This man was Jamie, Catherine’s betrothed … and this man was Ben. Magda’s vision was a window into his heart, and I saw the terrible plan hatch from his hurt and anger. He’d accuse her of witchery. She’d be shamed, just like she was shaming him by taking up with another man when she was supposed to be his. That would teach her.

  I wanted to scream to him not to do it, that things wouldn’t go the way he expected, but I could only watch as the scene changed again.

  Catherine was tied to the stake, flames licking at her feet. As the smoke rose around her, she saw Jamie in the crowd. He was pale and gaunt, as if he hadn’t eaten or slept in weeks. He rocked back and forth muttering prayers, but it was too late to take back what he’d done. Catherine shook her head sadly, then sought out Sage in the crowd. He had her necklace clutched tightly in one fist. Five guards held him back, and he struggled against them, tears streaming down his face as he watched the fire grow.

  I hadn’t realized I wasn’t breathing until the image changed again. I saw Anneline, the famous French actress. She and Sage had made it to their wedding day, and Sage had finally relaxed, positive that this time he had dodged tragedy.

  I saw them at home, the picture of domestic bliss. Then a package arrived. Roses from an anonymous fan, just like the ones in my dream. I understood that this was only the latest in a long stream of bouquets. The attached notes had gone from sweet, to a little overbearing, to threatening. This one said, If I can’t have you, no one can.

  Sage threw a fit. He’d demanded help from the police, but he felt they’d done nothing. He was sure this man would kill Anneline.

  She thought Sage was overreacting, but he grew so distraught that she caved. She agreed to put her career on hold for a while and get out of town. Sage warned her not to tell anyone where they were going, and she mostly listened. She told only a few of her closest lifelong friends about the bungalow in the Greek isles.

  Julien was one of those friends. After a few months, he leaked Anneline and Sage’s location to the newspapers for a large sum of money. I recognized Julien when I saw him … not only because he’d appeared in my dreams, but also, of course, because he was Ben.

  With Julien’s information, the stalker found Anneline and killed her with multiple stab wounds: one for each red rose he’d ever sent.

  Then I saw Delia. She’d gotten involved with the notorious gangster Eddie because she thought he’d make her a star. Then Sage—the new piano player at the speakeasy—showed up. I could feel his turmoil. He didn’t want to get involved with Delia. He didn’t want another tragedy.

  But he couldn’t stay away.

  He told himself that this time he’d find a way to change the story. This time he and Delia would live a long and happy life.

  Though Delia and Sage’s relationship was a secret, Delia had told her closest friend Richie. Richie worked for Eddie, and he tried to help her by fixing Eddie up with lots of other women, but Eddie caught on. He started watching Delia like a hawk, and when he finally caught her with Sage, he expressed his discontent with a single bullet between the eyes for both of them.

  Sage could heal from this. Delia could not.

  Richie, once again, was Ben.

  “They’re tied together, this man and your daughter, in a tragic circle that continues throughout eternity.”

  The voice was Magda’s, but the image had shifted, and it was too dim to make out at first.

  When it came into focus, I realized it was right here in this room, in Shibuya 109.

  Magda was holding someone’s hands … a man’s hands …

  Oh my God, they were my father’s hands. I saw him now, and he was so real that I thought I could reach out and hug him. It felt so good and hurt so much that my whole body ached.

  Magda let go of him, and Dad opened his eyes. He looked pale and shaken, and I knew he’d seen the same visions we had. “He’ll find her in this life,” Magda said. “It will end the same.”

  “How do I stop it?” Dad asked desperately.

  Magda smiled. “I thought you came here to find the Elixir of Life.”

  “That was before I knew. I don’t care about all that. I want to save my daughter. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  “It will take Sage’s final, irrevocable destruction. He must come for it willingly. All you can do is try to convince him.”

  “I’ll do it,” Dad said.

  “Without telling him about me,” Magda said. “I’d like that part to be a lovely surprise.”

  “Fine. Where do I find him?”

  Magda’s smile spread wider, and the image in my head changed again, to another spot I knew: Sage’s house. Dad and Sage were talking, but Sage hadn’t told us about this part of their conversation.

  “Here are your options,” Dad said. “Cursed Vengeance thinks they need to destroy you, but they don’t know how. If they get you, your life will be nothing but torture as they try. The Saviors of Eternal Life see you only as a vessel for the Elixir. In their hands you’ll live as a museum piece, displayed under lock and key. One of these groups will find you. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “So you’re offering death as an alternative,” Sage said wryly. “I’m not sure I see the upside for me.”

  “I have one other thing that I very much hope will convince you,” Dad said. He pulled out a picture of me and handed it to Sage. It was just a snapshot, nothing special, and nothing that featured a mysterious presence. “She’s my daughter, Clea.”

  Sage looked at the picture, a little confused, and nodded, then handed it back. “She’s lovely.”

  “You don’t recognize her.” Dad said. “Interesting. I think you would in person. You’ve met her before. Olivia was her name the first time.”

  The name hit Sage like a punch to the stomach. He was shaky and frightened … but also elated. His soulmate was alive and in the world again. It was only a matter of time before she would call to him, and he would find her. Could this time be different? Sage didn’t know. Part of him didn’t care. Just to be with her and be happy, even for a little while, even if it ended horribly …

  No, that wasn’t fair to her. He would find her, but it wouldn’t end horribly. He wouldn’t let it. He’d be vigilant this time, more vigilant than all the other times …

  Dad saw Sage’s thoughts in his eyes, and he shook his head sadly. “No, Sage. It won’t end well. You’ll be fine; you always are. But she won’t. She’ll die. Horribly and painfully.”

  Agony warped Sage’s features. “You don’t know that, not for sure.…”

  “How many times are you going to let this happen?” Dad asked. “How many times are you going to rip this woman away from her life and everyone in it who loves her? You might be able to
wait and get her back in another hundred years, but we lose her forever.”

  Sage pursed his lips and clenched his jaw. “So I’ll stay away from her.”

  “You won’t be able to. Don’t you understand? There’s only one way for Clea to live, and that’s for you to break the circle. Let me take you to the Dark Lady. She can release you. The cycle will end. Please … if you truly love her, you’ll do this.”

  Sage considered it. He wanted so badly to hope, to try once more to find happiness with the woman he loved more than anything … but to see her—to see me—destroyed again … nothing was worth that. Not even his own life.

  “I’ll do it,” he told Dad. “I’ll go with you.”

  Finally Magda’s hand slipped out of mine, snapping me back to reality so quickly I felt like I had the bends. I understood it all now, more than I wanted to understand. I knew why he ran when he first saw me, why he acted like he didn’t really care. I knew why he pulled away after our night at the hotel.

  “You didn’t want to come here to find the Elixir at all,” I accused Sage. “You came to kill yourself.” I shook my head as the enormity of what I had seen continued to sink in. “He asked you to kill yourself.”

  “He was right,” Sage said. “It’s the only way to save you.”

  “It’s true,” Magda lilted. “The cycle will continue until the Elixir is properly returned to the universal powers that created it. That can only be done with a soul transfer. Sage … be a dear and tear open the canvas on the wall.”

  She looked toward an oil painting. Sage ripped the corner of the canvas and peeled it back to reveal a golden scabbard. The blade he pulled from it gleamed.

  “Careful,” warned Magda. “It’s very sharp. It’s made to rend not only flesh and bone, but also the soul.”

  “So that’s all it takes,” Sage said, eyeing the dagger. “Something so easy …”

  “Not that easy,” Magda cautioned. “There are considerations for the universe before it grants release. You must build a fire, and by its light you must demonstrate an understanding of your time here, and all the earthly pleasures you willingly sacrifice to set things right. At exactly midnight—this is the challenging part—you have to shove that blade into your heart. You have to do it—no looking for other willing volunteers.”