Alchemist's Kiss

by AR DeClerck

  “I thought that was all political propaganda.” Cora spoke up. Icarus shot her a look, but she ignored him and focused her bright smile on the Grand Master. He preened under the attention as Icarus ground his teeth together in frustration. He'd had enough of the magic and science argument. There was no way humans would be able to survive without magic.

  The Grand High Master was in the process of telling Cora exactly the opposite.

  “It's entirely possible that we will be obsolete in the span of twenty years at this rate.” He cast his puppy-dog eyes in Icarus' direction. “Though I see that Grand Adept Kane would beg to differ.”

  “Not at all, Grand Master.” Icarus kept his face impassive. “I defer to your judgment in all things.”

  Orrin's smile was cunning. “Is that so, Adept?” He raised his eyebrow in Cora's direction. “I can't bring myself to believe that.”

  She barely contained her own smile, making Icarus feel like the butt of their joke.

  Orrin lost his grin and straightened and the most powerful mage in the world was back. “Nevertheless, Adept Kane, the truth cannot be denied. Non-magic users outnumber us by millions. Though they rely on us at the moment, they will strive to break those bonds and forge ahead without magic. We cannot allow your father, or any dark wizard, to break those bonds before we are ready.”

  “So your worry lies not in the lives that will be lost, but in the political upset my father's return might cause.”

  “Do not push me, Adept.”

  Icarus felt the heavy press of Orrin's displeasure on his shoulders. The weight of the Grand Master's magic bore him to his knees in the mud.

  “Though you are strong, you are rash. Emotional. We are trying to salvage what we can of our way of life. A piddly strife with your father would normally not draw my attention, but that it happens at an inopportune time.”

  Cora's eyes were wide as she hurried to Icarus' side and put her arms around him. “Stop it!”

  Orrin's eye grew wide as she commanded him.

  “Stop it, I say!” She shook her parasol at the Grand High Master. “That's quite enough posturing from you, Lucan Orrin!”

  Icarus knew the color drained from his face. He struggled against Orrin's magic, hoping to shield Cora from the punishment he was sure Orrin would send her way.

  He was flabbergasted when the Grand Master broke into a sunny smile and released him instead.

  “I do admire your ability to draw interesting people, Adept Kane!” Orrin bowed low to Cora as she pulled Icarus from the mud. “Miss Cora, I am forever at your service.”

  She made a face at the man. “Really!” She shook her head. “There's to be bloodshed in London, and the two of you are strutting about like roosters!” She folded her arms over her chest. “Will the Grand Coven assist us in dealing with Victor Kane?”

  “We will.” Orrin matched her pose, folding his arms. “Despite Adept Kane's belief, we are on the brink of a war between magic and non-magic users. We must end this problem of dark mages in London as quickly as possible.”

  “I need wizards in the streets.” Icarus gripped Cora's elbow, quieting her as she started to speak again. “I need them patrolling the neighborhoods, keeping the people safe while I search for my father.”

  “Done.”

  “Thank you.” Icarus bowed to the man and sighed in irritation as a drop of rain hit his cheek. Orrin pulled up his hood and grabbed Cora's hand, kissing her knuckles. He turned away and waved to his escorts to follow.

  He turned back a few steps later. “And Adept Kane?”

  “Yes, Grand Master?”

  Orrin's voice was grave, his face shrouded by his hood. “You will come when I call for your service in this war.”

  “I will.”

  “I hope it doesn't come to that.” Cora said, and Orrin's chuckle was less than humorous.

  “As do I, Cora dear. As do I.”

  The rain came down in a torrent and the Grand High Master disappeared into the fog.

  Cora popped open her umbrella, holding it over them both. “That went better than I'd hoped.”

  “You walk a fine line between sanity and mental illness, Cora Jenkins.”

  She shot him a sour look. “He's a powerful mage, but he doesn't scare me.”

  “Not many things do.” Icarus put his arm around her shoulders. She'd scared him with her reckless disregard for her own life. She leaned into him, for the moment quiet.

  “You won't fight if it comes to war, will you?”

  “I've promised I would.”

  She looked up at him. “I know how much you hate it. Killing and violence and bloodshed.”

  “Unfortunately it's all I know.”

  Her eyes were sad. He didn't allow her to soften him further. Instead he tugged on one of her loose curls and squeezed her shoulder.

  “I'm soaked and covered in mud. Let's go home.”

  She smiled, but the sunshine was clouded by worry. He led her back toward the hotel, his mind on many things. Cora. His father. A war. He sighed as he looked up at the blank gray canvas of the London sky. No matter where he went, how far he ran, he could never manage to leave his past behind him. Even now it was barreling down on him like a train car in the Underground.

  “We won't ever leave you alone, Icarus.”

  He looked down at Cora as they stepped up to the door of the hotel. Rain dripped from her nose and splattered over her pale pink morning dress.

  “Every man is alone in the end, Cora. To think otherwise is folly.”

  Her lips tightened. “Folly is to believe that you have to be alone when you don't.” She closed her umbrella and pulled open the door, turning her back on him before he could answer. She left him standing in the rain, a troubled frown playing over his lips.

  “I take it you had an eventful meeting with the Grand High Master.” Archimedes looked up from his paper with a frown at Icarus' muddy pants.

  “He's agreed to post men around the city, leaving us free to pursue my father.” Icarus winced as Cora slammed the door to her room. He held his hands to the fire, aware that he was dripping mud onto Cora's favorite Parisian throw rug.

  “And Cora?” Archimedes closed the paper and crossed his legs. “What have you done to her now?”

  Icarus shrugged. “What haven't I done? I can't speak to the woman, Archimedes! Every word I say is misconstrued or serves to make her angry.”

  “You aren't talking to her, Ic. You're talking at her. An unfortunate trait you can't seem to shake.”

  Icarus glared at his friend. “She means well. Her heart is too soft for the work we do.”

  “It's not. She's stronger than us both.” Archimedes argued. He twitched his foot as he stared at Icarus. “You're frightened for her.”

  “I am.”

  Icarus had no trouble admitting his fears. He knew what his father was capable of. Had seen first-hand the kind of horrors dark mages could bring on good people. People who were bright and sweet and full of life like Cora. The thought of their darkness touching her made the hairs on his neck stand on end.

  “You're afraid you'll lose her.”

  Icarus narrowed his eyes. “You go too far, friend.” he warned.

  “You're a coward, Icarus Kane.” Archimedes stood as Icarus strode toward him.

  “You push me, Archimedes.” Icarus clenched his fist as his anger flared.

  “You need to wake up!' Archimedes grabbed Icarus' shoulder, well aware that no matter how angry he got, Icarus would never strike out at him. “This is the time to embrace your feelings, Icarus, not hide them! If tomorrow does not dawn, what will Cora know of you? Will she know how you feel?”

  Icarus broke away and headed for his laboratory. He could feel Archimedes staring at his back. He knew his friend was right. He cared for Cora far more than he'd ever allowed her to know, and he feared she harbored the same feelings for him. He could not imagine ever losing her, and the thought of it made him almost mad. Archimedes, a usual, knew him better than
he knew himself.

  He stopped at the door to his laboratory. “When this is over I will tell her.” he vowed without turning back.

  “Let us hope it's not too late.”

  Icarus shut the door behind him and said the words of warding that would lock it against all intruders. He waved his hands for the lights and his office emerged from the shadows. He strode to the window and looked out at the skyline of London. It was growing, his city. Even now the non-magic users were building factories and using science to better their world.

  Science. He hated the word. He knew magic and science were really cousins, but magic came from the soul and science came from the mind. It was cold and without understanding of the world around it, unlike magic. Magic users were connected to the very fabric of the universe.

  Soon the non-magic users would be able to power their homes and transport their goods without magic. Steam was a growing trend, and he knew that humans, in their incessant questioning, would discover ever more efficient ways of doing without magic.

  He looked out over the buildings that grew taller every year, and watched the teeming masses move like ants through the narrow city streets. In time the sky would be darkened by smoke and the water undrinkable.

  He swore, turning from the window. Everywhere he looked he saw uncertainty in his life. His city might only be his for a few more years. His life, too, could be cut short if his father won this contest of wills. Cora, his darling Cora, might be taken from him tomorrow. He slumped into his chair and removed his glove. He stared hard at the magical rune scarred into his palm. He rubbed it and frowned. Though he hated the events that had brought him his magic, and had often times vowed to be rid of it, he would need to rely on it now more than ever. He poured himself a glass of good bourbon and tossed it back with a grimace. A man with too many worries was a horse with too heavy a burden. Eventually what he carried would bear him to the ground and to his death.

  He wasn't fool enough to believe that he would ever have a normal life. No wife to cook his meals and care for him in his dotage. No children to laugh with and pamper. He would be lucky to love Cora from afar and die in her arms.

  He poured another drink and watched the sun peek from behind the clouds. Though he knew he couldn't have those things, he nevertheless dreamed about them every night. His Cora in her wedding dress, and heavy with their child. Smiling at him with love in her eyes instead of anger. He grinned against his glass. That might truly be a dream, but it was still worthy of wishing for. He poured his bourbon down his throat and let it numb the stark white pain that was reality.

  ***

  “He's locked himself away again.” I ground my teeth in frustration as Archimedes looked up from his newspaper.

  “He carries a heavy burden, Cora.”

  I narrowed my eyes at the muddy footprints marring the beauty of my Parisian rug. “He's too stubborn to allow us to help.”

  “He's scared, Cora. Give him time.”

  I sat on the arm of Archie's chair, dropping my arm around his shoulder. It was a truly unladylike gesture but the man was one of my closest friends. “You're far too wise for your years, Archie.”

  He looked up at me with a grin. “Someone has to mediate your squabbles. I fear you'd have maimed each other years ago if I didn't.”

  “True.” I laid my head against his. “He makes it so hard to love him.”

  “Don't give up yet, Cora.” He patted my hand where it lay against his shoulder. “He's worthy of the time.”

  “I know.” I kissed his cheek and stood with a sigh. “I just wish he'd realize it sooner rather than later.”

  “Nothing can be achieved by antagonizing him.” Archie winked at me and I laughed.

  “It's far too easy.”

  “What do you want him to do, Cora?”

  I stopped and turned around with a frown. “I want him to burst into my room and tell me to stop being angry. I want him to be passionate for once. He's so cold that I don't know how he feels most of the time. I want to know he wants me, Archie.”

  “Then you need to tell him.” Archie stood and folded the paper. He slipped on his coat and kissed my cheek. “As powerful as he is, he doesn't read minds.”

  “I.....” I trailed off as Archie laughed.

  “You can't.” He shook his head. “You two are just the same.” He clapped his bowler to his head and opened the door. “I'm off to the apothecary for mandrake.”

  “Be careful!” I called, and he nodded. I moved to the sofa and sat, picking up my tea. I dropped in a cube of sugar and stared into the flames.

  “When this is over,” I swore to myself, “I'll tell Icarus exactly how I feel.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Cora.”

  I opened my eyes to find Icarus bending over me. He'd changed and his hair had dried in ringlets around his ears. He shook my shoulder as I blinked and stared at him.

  “Cora. Where is Archimedes?”

  I sat up with a yawn, pulling my shawl over my shoulders. I'd fallen asleep and the fire had burned low. Shadows crawled across the floor. I looked at the clock.

  “He's not back?”

  “Where did he go?”

  “The apothecary. For mandrake.” I grabbed Icarus' hand as he moved away. “That was hours ago, Icarus.”

  He squeezed my hand, but his lips were pale white slashes. “I'll find him.”

  He left me and went into his laboratory, only to return a moment later with his map and scrying glass. I moved aside the forgotten tea service as he spread out the map. He reached for my hand again as he knelt by the table.

  “No.” I pulled my hand away. “I always block you.”

  He pulled my knuckles to his lips, shocking me with the sweetness of the gesture. “I need you, Cora. If Archimedes is in trouble, he will need us both to help him.”

  I reached for The Hand and held it tightly. It amplified my connection to the aether, and Icarus removed his glove and placed his scarred palm directly on the corner of the map. He placed the scrying glass, a clear marble with one flat side, onto the map at the spot that indicated our hotel.

  “Close your eyes and concentrate on Archimedes.” he instructed. I breathed deeply and slowly, exactly as he'd taught me. I felt myself open up to the aether, and the ribbons of sentient power washed over me and all around me.

  “It's working.” Icarus whispered. “Ask the aether where Archimedes is.”

  I asked, and the aether swarmed around me, brushing against me as it whispered in my ear. I struggled to make out the words, but Icarus hissed as our palms grew hot where they touched. As he broke our connection I was pulled away from the aether.

  I blinked. “What happened?”

  He picked up my hand and showed me the red irritation where our skin had touched. “There are wards blocking Archimedes from us.”

  “We could have kept going.” I felt the fear churning in my gut. My head grew light and I leaned against Icarus.

  “No.” He smoothed the hair from my cheeks and shook his head. “Archimedes will need us both healthy. The longer we scryed for him the more dangerous it would become.”

  “What can we do?” Icarus was warm next to me, and I let go of The Hand to clutch him closer. I wrapped my fingers in his shirt.

  I expected him to push me away, but he wrapped his arms around me. “We find our friend.”

  “How?”

  He pulled back to look at me. “Am I not the warden of London? The wizard responsible for the safety of all the people in this city?”

  I nodded.

  “I taught you about magic, did I not?”

  “You did.”

  “Well, dear Cora,” he rose and held out his hand to me, “it's time we put that magic to work for us. We have more at our disposal than a mediocre scrying spell.”

  “What do we have?” I asked, taking the hand he offered. He pushed open the laboratory door and I followed him inside. He waved his hand and the lights rushed to greet us. I gasped at the rows and r
ows of spells he had bubbling merrily on the counter. Every inch of the room was covered in books and magical equipment.

  He grinned at me as he looked around the room. The last time I'd been allowed inside all of his equipment had still been packed away from the journey from America.

  “We have me.”

  ***

  Archimedes was no stranger to torture. Every moment of every day of his life was torture. Every time the clockwork ticked he knew pain. What he had never known was fear. Even unto the moment of his death in that alley he had not met the reaper with fear in his gut.

  Now, though, Archimedes was afraid. He'd come around the corner from the apothecary shop with his mandrake root and a box of chocolates to ease Cora's ill temper when a spell of great power had wrapped around him. Unable to move he'd been hauled away in the back of a dirty tanner's wagon to this place.

  He opened his swollen eyes and looked at his surroundings again. It was a wares house of some kind, near the water. He could hear the river lapping at the walls to his left. They'd taken his coat, and gods damn them, his bowler, and he shivered in the wet fog off the Thames. The floor was covered in moldering hay, and the stink of it made his stomach turn. He sniffed. Come to think of it, that might have been the smell of his own flesh burning that made him nauseous. His captors had little imagination when it came to pain.

  He raised his head as one of them came toward him. The skinny one with crooked brown teeth and an evil grin. Archimedes vowed to kill the man as he spied his bowler sitting over top the man's greasy, unkempt hair.

  “He's awake.” The man's voice still surprised Archimedes. It was low and smooth, in stark contrast to his visage.

  “Leave him be, Gecko.”

  As much as Archimedes wanted to kill the rat-faced man for wearing his hat, he was doubly invested in killing the other man who stood in the shadows.

  “Show yourself, Baiandelio.” he demanded.

  “Oh dear, Archimedes. I'd hoped you would be surprised to see me.”

  Archimedes stared at the man he'd once served. No longer was he young or handsome. He wasn't clothed in his customary silk and velvet and his perfectly manicured hands were now wrinkled, twisted claws.