The Fake Voice (Time Alchemist)

by Allice Revelle

  The room was small and dim, but there was a tiny window that showed off pale rays of the moon, but at times, as if a cloud were drifting over it, the room would turn a startling black that took my breath away.

  There was nothing else in the room—no furniture, no shelves, no pictures. Just me.

  And the other boy tied up in the chair opposite of me.

  Oliver Benton.

  He sent me a small, half smile, and I returned one, though it felt like my face had taken a beating. Oliver looked as bad as I felt—there were deep bruises on his face, a black eye and his upper lip was busted.

  His black hair was messy, and I think I saw bits of twigs in it. The same clothes I saw him in a day earlier were rumpled and covered in dirt and blood.

  “Where are we?” I asked, my voice cracking.

  “You’re guess is as good as mine,” Oliver replied, though his voice was painfully soft, and I had to strain my ears to listen. Though it was a whisper, I could make out his southern accent; it was thick and warm.

  Slowly, I pieced together the events as my head thumped painfully with every passing second. “Yeah we’re at…his…home…” I winced. Every word sent a stab of pain in my cranium.

  Oliver’s brows knitted together in confusion. In a tired voice, he asked, “Who’s ‘he?’ Did you get captured by that crazy witch too?”

  “I—know. I mean, yes. I mean…it’s complicated.” I stuttered.

  “How did you get here?”

  “Some crazy chick in a black dress…” Oliver shuttered, and I saw him flinch in pain. I wondered what kind of beating he got while he was locked up in here. It must have been terrible. “I saw her the first time yesterday morning, and she started doing this…crazy magic on me. I couldn’t breathe. Like she was sucking all of the air out of me and then…

  wait….”

  He blinked slowly, as if lost in the recollection. “You were there, too. You stopped her.”

  I nodded. “I did.”

  Oliver tilted his head. The light shining from the window really made the cuts and bruises on his pale face stand out and I felt sick to my stomach. “Then you know who she is?”

  “Kind of…” I tried. “But tell me what happened next.”

  “Well, I just…ran home. She scared me shitless—I thought I was going to die. I wasn’t even thinking—I didn’t know who you were yet I just ran—”

  I cut him off. “Really, it’s okay, alright? I’m fine.”

  He looked hesitant, but continued. “I was almost to my aunt’s house, and that crazy witch ambushed me a couple blocks. No, it wasn’t just her—there were these two goons with her. One of them did this

  weird thing, and the ground suddenly went soft. I landed in the ground, and felt like I was sinking in quick sand, and then I just…blacked out.

  And the next thing I knew I was in this room, tied up. A couple times that girl would come in and try to make me talk but I kept quiet….” He broke off with a soft laugh. “I’m not mucho f a talker, but this has to be the most I’ve said in a long time.”

  I smiled. “Oliver…do you know why we’re here?”

  “I don’t…” he paused. “Wait, how do you know my name?”

  “Well, in truth,” I replied, “I found your student ID card. You dropped it after Alyssa—that’s the crazy ‘witch’ who was after you—

  attacked us. I—we, I mean. My…friend and I…have been looking for you after that.”

  “But why?” he protested. “What does that witch want with me?

  With us?”

  My grip on the chair hardened until my knuckles turned bone white. Would it be a risk to really explain to him what’s going on, or wait until we escaped?

  If we escaped?

  No. I had to take the chance. Nobody deserved to be left in the dark, no matter how insane the truth was. I inhaled a breath, then forced my eyes to look straight at Oliver’s, unblinking. “I’m an alchemist.”

  He said nothing. His lips parted, as if he were struggling mentally

  to say something back, so I jumped the shark. “And you are, too. Those people who captured us? They’re alchemists also.”

  “That doesn’t…” he trailed off, but I shook my head roughly, even though my skull pounded with blinding pain.

  “It’s true,” I insisted. “Maybe you call it something else—magic or whatever—but the thing is, we’re both alchemists. Special alchemists, and there’s this insane man named White who’s been trying to capture alchemists like us for some…purpose. Probably some power-obsessed or take-over-the-world purpose, but everything I’m telling you is one hundred percent true.”

  I had to stop and suck in a breath, but tried as best as I could to motion towards my chest. “Last September I didn’t believe any of this either…until I was killed.” Instantly the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Oliver’s Adam-apple bobbed, as if he were trying to swallow something uncomfortable. “I was killed—accidentally—

  by an alchemist, but my life was saved by another alchemist. My best friend. But that chain of events made me an alchemist. You can’t see them, but over my heart? There are these…patterns. Tattoos, almost.

  They’re called Alchemic Runes, to channel your alchemy.”

  My knees felt like rubber and I was glad to be sitting down (though against my will—not so much). Oliver shook his head, staring at me like I was crazy and I felt my insides go cold until he spoke up.

  “What’s your name?”

  I coughed. “Emery Miller. I’m…the alchemist of Time.”

  He nodded in response. “Oliver Benton. But you knew that. I’m the…”

  The door slammed open so fast we both jumped in our chairs, as much as we could thanks to the confinement. And from the shadows came Rick—unharmed. I felt tears sting the backs of my eyes and I almost cried in relief that he was okay…that everything was going to be okay…when another Rick followed behind the original. And I recognized him too easily: minus the white scar on his lip, Ashton looked eerily identical to Rick, though his head was all red, unlike Rick’s black ended tips.

  And his eyes were colder, and I just knew, without any doubt, that this wasn’t a time for celebration. Rick hadn’t rescued his brother.

  And he wasn’t here to rescue us, either.

  A smaller, slender figure stepped through the doorway following the twins, and I immediately recognized Alyssa. This time, she was wearing a stark white Lolita-style dress with black trim. She wore large white ribbons in her hair, giving her a childish, innocent look. But the poison dripping from her cool eyes and the sinister smirk on her black painted lips made her look like a devil disguised as an angel.

  All three of them blocked the door, staring down at us with cold,

  hungry eyes. Except Rick. He refused—absolutely refused—to meet my scorching stare.

  It wasn’t disappointment that I felt—I didn’t deserve to feel that—

  what I felt was pure, raw anger. At me. For being so damn gullible once again in my pathetic sixteen-year-old life. Mixed with that anger, however, was a small piece of ice cold guilt. I had walked, stupidly, blinding, into Rick’s trap. And thinking about it, everything made sense: the goons that attacked me (and Oliver), how Rick suddenly seemed to come to my rescue whenever things went wrong, and that damn sob story that was sure to rip my heart out.

  Why didn’t I see everything was too convenient? Him being…him.

  Everything I saw about Rick was a lie.

  And I only had myself to blame.

  A taller figure appeared, and Alyssa and Ash, the ones closer to the door, stepped back to let him through. It had to be a male from his wide shoulders and stiff figure. Alyssa gazed at him with sparkling eyes, like a puppy waiting for her owner to come home. Ash also looked onto the stranger with pure admiration. But Rick kept his eyes cold, and away.

  The man wore old fashioned clothes that seemed to have come from the same era as this house: black trousers with polished dres
s shoes, a loose fitting white button up shirt with flowing sleeves and a dark blue vest strapped over. His hair was a very pale blond, almost

  white; it seemed to match the color of the moon.

  His eyes, though, were covered with a thin masquerade-like mask.

  It actually looked as if it were decorated in white or clear gems, making faint swirling patterns around the edge. Though there were two slits for the eyes, I couldn’t see the man’s orbs, or even know if he could even see.

  But I knew who he was. Without a doubt. Heck, the mask itself gave him away. And when he turned my way, his pale lips twisted into a ominous grin.

  The White Alchemists was finally here.

  CHAPTER 16

  “Leave us, children. Now.”

  White’s voice was as smooth as the finest silk, and I almost swore I could see Alyssa and Ash just trembling, nodding like eager little children, willing to do his every bid. It was almost as if his words held them captive; I could see their eyes wide in delight, as if they had just been given their fix. It was like they were addicted to him. It was strange to see how much they “admired” White, but it looked more of a human-slash-pet relationship. Compared to what I’ve heard and seen, Dove and Leon admired Guinevere to a fault, but her presence never seemed to control their thoughts.

  They loved her and appreciated her, because she saved her life.

  But she didn’t have invisible collars strapped around their throats.

  This felt more like White was treating his “children” as pets.

  Nothing more.

  Though the mysterious man’s voice sounded young, it was like there was history beneath his layers. He looked and acted and gave off a presence that just felt wrong—as if he had lived far longer than any normal human should have.

  Is he immortal? I couldn’t help but think. It wasn’t impossible, if he had the Elixir, like Rick claimed. But Rick claimed a lot of things, and I know he could feel my eyes burning a hole into the back of his skull as he followed after a giggling Alyssa and his brother.

  The door shut with a soft click that felt to me like the key to our freedom locking us in this cage for good.

  We were alone with White—one of the most dangerous alchemists out there, so much so that even the Black Crown feared him.

  White, the same alchemist who was responsible for Guinevere’s disappearance, and she was, hands down, the most powerful alchemist in the entire w orld. Heck, she might even be the most powerful alchemist of all time. If he could make her run into the shadows licking her wounds, what else was he capable of?

  Fear gripped my insides, wrapping around my gut like barbed wire. It was a different type of fear, one I’ve forgotten. Something I hadn’t felt until the moment Jack’s perfect face had fallen, and the true evil had emerged. Back when my heart felt like it was going to shatter into a million fragments.

  It was pure fear for my life, even though I had faced death countless times. Maybe it was the fear of being trapped that sent my blood pumping, made a cold sweat prick over my skin.

  White grasped his hands behind his back, like a general prepared

  on giving orders. He smirked as he spoke with a clear, domineering voice. “It must be my lucky day. Two of you under my roof in only the span of two days. You little ones don’t even realize how important you are. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a very, very long time.”

  Neither of us said anything. I caught Oliver’s eye, but he was as frozen as I was.

  “You two must realize by now that you aren’t ordinary children,”

  White said, pacing the space between us slowly, walking from one side of the room to the next like a professor giving a lecture. “You two are just one of the many out there who possesses such incredible—

  extraordinary—power.”

  “Then why are you trying to kill us?” I interrupted, feeling anger swell up inside of me; threatening to burst like a balloon.

  White simply shook his head, clicking his tongue. “It was a mistake on my part, but now that I know more about you, I realized what a grave error I would have made. When I realized what sort of untapped potential you both have—and the little Dream girl, of course—I thought it was best to… eliminate and sort of threat that would pop up.

  You understand.”

  Well, at least he was honest with his dastardly evil plans up front.

  “But after some research, and coming up to some surprising results,” White continued, gazing at us both with hungry, hungry eyes

  like a wolf, “I realized that this was a blessing in disguise. Why let such mysterious, wondrous power be destroyed? What made it so? Should I tell you? I’ve done a bit of research; I’d be more than pleased to show you my results.”

  I bit my lip, and saw Oliver do the same, refusing to look at the monster that held us prisoner all for the sake of his “curiosity”.

  “Do you know how long I’ve spent studying special children like you?” White asked. “Almost sixteen years. You two—pardon, three, if we include young Chrysanthemum Blackwell—are the only recorded alchemists in existence that have surpassed the very laws of our kind.

  And it all connects to two things:

  “All three of you come from a family that is not, in any so way, connected to any lineage of alchemists. There aren’t even traces of alchemists in your ancestries. Your alchemic core should have stayed hidden and locked up forever as it does with the rest of the human population ignorant about their powers.

  “The second, and most important fact, is that you three were killed. Even if just for mere moments, you brushed with death. And someone—an alchemist—ignored their own laws and the consequences of what was to come, and revived you. This, somehow, triggered a core that was never meant to awaken. I was puzzled as to why your alchemy branched away from the basics, but it even surpasses a Blood-Borne’s

  ability. I believe this is somehow connected to your death.

  “Yet, you both, with proper training of course, could hold enough power to surpass even the greatest alchemist out there. You are unique simply because you were ignorant about our world, and you are unique because you have defied the very laws of alchemy.” He stopped in front of Oliver, peering down on him with unseen eyes. “Fifteen years ago, Oliver Benton, you would be dead if not for your stepfather Kirk Benton.

  Chrysanthemum Blackwell was fortunate that a Good Samaritan happened to be passing by, and even more so that she was an alchemist, more than eager to give up her alchemy to save the life of a stranger.

  And you,” he turned to me, and I felt my bones turn into ice. “Emery Miller, nine months ago…well, your case is a little different, isn’t it?

  You’re death was a pure accident, but nonetheless, you were supposed to die if not for Dove Raysburg…who remains in a coma, doesn’t she? Poor thing. I’d better send my regards for Guinevere’s poor pupil. What a shame her brother turned out so…wrong.”

  I felt a volcanic rage build up inside of me and I snapped, thrusting forward with all my might to just get at him. I wanted to bite him and tear his hair out and scratch him. Though my head throbbed painfully, I couldn’t concentrate at all. I just kept seeing Dove’s blood covered face in my mind, like a curse. I wanted to cry.

  White purposely ignored my outburst and went on with his stupid

  speech.

  “Do you two see the pattern here? You were revived from the very edge of death by alchemy—and in some mystical way, a core that was never supposed to be activated suddenly bloomed to life, like a flower in the snow. Maybe your alchemic core doesn’t come from your heart like others—it comes from your very soul. The soul is a very powerful, but mysterious thing, and if your alchemy comes from such a raw place teeming with unseen power, it’s no wonder that the alchemy you two hold inside of you extend beyond the four elements—even further. Even the purest Blood-Borne would pale in comparison to you two.”

  “What do you even plan on doing to us?” I hissed out.

 
“Why, study you two, of course,” White chimed in, a hint of glee in his melancholic voice. “If I can research the power of your soul, think about the possibilities. Don’t you realize how rare alchemists are in the world? The Blood-Borne’s are slowly dying off, or forced to breed with Self Taught, or even—heaven forbid—normal, weak humans. Alchemy is a dying art, Emery Miller. Nowadays, everything is solved with science and technology. Nobody believes in magic. Those fools at the Black Crown can barely keep track of their own alchemists, and the more they try to stick to the old ways the more they lose the battle.

  “With you two as my subjects, I’ll finally unlock the secret of the alchemists. In short: I will be able to turn any human in the world into

  an alchemist. With your help, we can revive the race of the alchemists once more—we’ll be able to once again proudly stand on top of the world, worshipped like gods as it was in the thirteenth century!”

  “But it doesn’t just work like that,” I shouted. “You can’t just think about going on a mass murdering spree and start ‘reviving’

  innocent people in the hopes that they’ll wake up and become an alchemist.”

  “I know that, you stupid girl,” White spat out, and I flinched. “Out of all the special alchemists I’ve been studying, I have yet to solve the true question: why are there only three of you? Clearly it doesn’t work with just any person. Is it the young age? The death? The power level of the alchemist that revives a human’s soul?”

  He rambled on, and my brain recalled the files I had found on his desk. The assorted children White was studying that had all brushed with death, only to come out alive once more. Was it just pure luck? Or were there children just like me out there—and some that didn’t survive the transition?

  “I can’t risk losing the few precious alchemists I have now to revive new ones. However, I have already thought that far ahead. I just need to locate the finally piece to this puzzle and my mission will take flight. I only need one particular alchemist to make this happen: an alchemist as old as time itself, an alchemist who could revive and

  recreate hundreds—no, thousands—of newly born alchemists. An immortal alchemist. With her help, we’ll be able to revive the dying line once again.