Alchemist's Kiss

by AR DeClerck

  “Time has not been kind, Thomas.”

  The man's eyes were filled with hate as he moved from the shadows. “To say that I was surprised to hear you'd survived our last meeting would be an understatement.”

  “As much a surprise to you as it was to me.” Archimedes answered dryly through the throb in his jaw. The rat-faced bastard had a mean right hook.

  Baiandelio kept to the shadows, his face hidden. Archimedes could smell the stench of the dark magic rolling off the man.

  It wasn't the fear of death that churned in Archimedes' gut. He could die at any moment and he might go with some regrets but not much else. It was the fear that what was coming for him would force him to betray his friends that tasted like ash in his mouth. The magic that restrained him was festering with power and dark intent and it had to belong to a very dark wizard. Victor Kane; he would have bet his absent bowler on it.

  “What awaits you is much worse than Georgio's afternoon delights.” Baiandelio slithered from shadow to shadow, avoiding the light.

  Archimedes could feel blood on his face from the smaller man's beating. His teeth were loose from the repeated blows to his head. His back was raw from the burns the other man had inflicted upon him. Those afternoon delights would have killed a weaker man. As it was, Archimedes could not access his magic, and his mechanical arm was held fast by his magic bonds.

  His head came up as the oppressive stench of black magic grew heavier. It shrouded him, clouded his mind. His thoughts went fuzzy around the edges as a tall man swept past Gecko into the room.

  “I see you found him.”

  “Kane.” The words were thick like gruel in his mouth.

  The handsome face was angular and sharp. His hair was blonde like Icarus', but had already grayed at the temples. He kept it long, pulled back from his face. It could have been an angel's face, Archimedes thought, except for the fires of hell that burned in his dark eyes. He carried his strength on the surface, but the true depths of him were a roiling black void. He leaned close to Archimedes and smiled.

  “I didn't know snakes could smile.”

  The grin did not falter. “My son has done well in his apprentice.”

  “I won't let you hurt him.”

  Kane laughed. It was a foreign sound to him, it was clear, and it burst from him in rusty guffaws. “What makes you think I want to hurt my only son?”

  Archimedes fought the press of Kane's magic. “Why else come to London?” he ground out. He could feel the dark bastard draining his magic. When it was gone he would have no defenses against them. His wards would go down, and Cora and Icarus would be vulnerable.

  “Oh, no, dear mechanical man.” Victor leaned close with his mouth to Archimedes' ear. “Don't leave us yet.” He pressed his thumb into a particularly painful blistered burn on Archimedes' neck. The sizzle of electric pain made his head clear. Victor chuckled.

  “I'm not here to harm my son. When science is destroyed, and magic is all that's left, the people of London will need a wizard like my son to turn to.”

  “Science cannot be destroyed.” Archimedes felt the tunnel of darkness closing in on him again, but Kane's finger on his wound made him hiss in pain.

  “Wrong.” Kane pressed harder, grinning as Archie held back a scream. “It can, and it will. And when it's gone, we will be left to pick up the pieces.”

  Kane released him and Archimedes slumped forward, the relief as intense as the pain.

  “Dump him.”

  Baiandelio hissed. “No! He's mine!”

  Archimedes had the bleary impression that Victor was smoke on the air as he lifted Baiandelio in the air with one hand. The man flailed in Victor's grip as the stronger mage squeezed his throat.

  “He is mine!” Victor shook Baiandelio. “They are all mine! You are mine!”

  He dropped the man to a heap on the floor and turned to Gecko, who bowed low and nodded. “We'll dump him in an alley.”

  “Take care with him. I want my son to know that I still care for him. I'll return his apprentice to him as a show of good faith.” Victor narrowed his eyes at Gecko. “And return him in one piece.”

  He was gone as Archimedes struggled to hold on to his consciousness. Baiandelio gripped his hair and pulled his hair back savagely. “Our time will come, Archimedes. Be sure of it.”

  Archimedes couldn't help the smile that crawled across his lips. He was dying anyway, Victor's edict be damned. “I hope Icarus cuts off your balls and feeds them to you.” He managed a bark of pained laughter. “And I hope you choke on them.”

  He couldn't hold back a scream as Gecko's white-hot brand hit a fresh patch of skin on his back. Baiandelio pushed him over and kicked him, kicking him harder and harder until the world finally went black.

  ***

  It was a rare dry night as Icarus held up the bowl. The smoke drifted left and right, writhing.

  Cora was shivering next to him, her breath fogging in the air. She gripped his arm, her eyes wide with fear and worry.

  “Ostende mihi platearum.” he whispered to the bowl. The smoke curled around his arm and then darted away down the street.

  “It's going to take us to him?” Cora asked as they followed.

  “It will.” He reached between them and picked up her hand. Her fingers curled so trustingly around his. He found it easier to touch her, show her affection, when she was too distracted to notice. Too distracted to question it, or him. To want to talk to him about what it meant.

  The smoke took them weaving down streets and through alleys. He saw, here and there, the tell-tale signs that the High Coven's wizards were about. Their wards and the lingering smell of their magic let him know that the Grand High Master had not lied to him about his support.

  Cora was quiet, her eyes watchful as they moved through the crowds of night dwellers. London had its share; those who were more comfortable in the dark of the approaching midnight that in the light of the sun.

  Icarus rounded a corner near Henrietta Street and steadied Cora as she stumbled. He felt her fingers tighten on his when she saw the crowd before them. A group of dirty non-magics, covered in coal dust from the steam mill, were blocking the mouth of the alley.

  “Well, well. What do we have here?” The speaker was a young man, nineteen or twenty and brash in the way of the young. He swaggered up to them to bow a low, exaggerated bow. “It's our grand adept himself.”

  “What's going on here?” Icarus kept his voice even as he moved slightly in front of Cora.

  “We were just meeting to discuss our problem.” the young man said, looking over his shoulder to snicker at the men behind him. They shuffled. A few seemed scared, their eyes wide as they edged away from the main group. Those would live, Icarus decided. These others, perhaps not. They had violence on their minds, and they were severely impeding his search for Archimedes.

  “And what problem is that?”

  The brash man's face grew hard with hatred. This is what the Grand Master had tried to warn him about, Icarus realized. Every problem or perceived injustice these men had ever faced would forever be the fault of magic. And of magic users. There was nothing they could say to change it.

  “Our families starve while you wizards live in your palaces!”

  The crowd roared with approval as the man raised his fist.

  “We pay every penny we earn for the privilege of allowing you to light our homes and protect our families!”

  Cora moved close to Icarus' back. He felt her trembling fingers curl into the back of his coat.

  “We want freedom! We want science! We want steam!”

  It became a chant, the air of menace growing as the men surged toward Icarus and Cora.

  Icarus held up his hand, holding them all back with a simple shield spell. They beat on the barrier he had created.

  “Icarus, don't hurt them.” Cora pleaded behind him.

  “And what, Cora?” He looked over his shoulder at her, exasperated by her soft heart. “Allow them to come across the ne
xt unsuspecting wizard and have their way with him?”

  She shook her head, her eyes wide and boring into him. “You're a powerful mage, Icarus. We don't have to resort to violence.”

  He groaned in frustration but turned back to the mob with a sigh.

  “Go home!' he called out, amplifying his voice so that it boomed over the roar of the crowd.

  Some went silent and backed down, but, as he'd feared, the others grew more enraged.

  “Parlor tricks!” the leader cried, trying to bolster the others. “Don't be afraid!”

  “No.” Icarus kept his tone soothing. “I don't want to hurt you. Go home now.”

  The crowd pounded against the barricade, ignoring him. He glanced at Cora. “What would you have me do now?”

  “Cast a spell. Make them forget. But don't hurt them. Please.”

  He sighed. “We're wasting time. Archimedes is out there waiting for us.”

  “Icarus.”

  The leader reached into his pocket and Icarus wanted to laugh. Guns wouldn't pierce the barrier, but what the man took from his pocket was not a gun. He held up a round spherical ball in the palm of his hand.

  “Icarus, what is that?”

  He didn't answer.

  The crowd did quiet as the young man held the ball out triumphantly toward Icarus.

  “You had no idea we had one, did you?”

  “I can honestly say I did not.” Icarus answered dryly.

  He felt Cora tug on his coat. “Icarus, I think we need to run.”

  He ignored her. The young man held the ball out toward them. A bright purplish glow began to emanate from it. Icarus grimaced as he felt an awkward pain envelope him.

  “Icarus, please!” Cora tugged hard on his hand. He shook as the purple light reached out, bypassing the barrier. Icarus could feel the aether screaming as the light moved through it.

  He couldn't move, or stop her, as Cora stepped in front of him and held up The Hand.

  The talisman gave off a bright white glow in the palm of her hand as he staggered against her. It grew so bright that the crowd began to cry out and shield their eyes. When the light of The Hand came into contact with the purple light of the strange orb the resulting shock wave threw Cora into Icarus. He managed to hold her up with sheer will.

  The orb shattered, the shards raining down as the crowd ran in opposite directions. Icarus felt his magic begin to grow in strength again once the ball was destroyed.

  He reached for Cora but she shrugged him off as she approached the leader of the mob who lay on the ground, covering his head as the others trampled over him to run away. She knelt down beside him and tapped his shoulder.

  “Just kill me.” Icarus heard him wail.

  Cora smothered a smile as Icarus leaned weakly on the wall, his legs shaking. Never had he felt the kind of disturbance in the aether that the orb had caused.

  “That was supremely balmy idea.” She shook her head and tapped the man again. “Icarus could have killed you.”

  “The Dielectric was supposed to have stripped his magic!”

  “Dielectric?” Icarus moved to crouch next to the man. He cringed at the muddy boot prints covering the man's coat where the crowd had stomped on him to escape.

  “They swore it would stop the magic. Even yours.”

  “Not hers.” Icarus reached for the man and helped him to his feet. He pulled money from his pocket and pressed it into the man's hand. “Find an apothecary and get yourself healed.”

  The man stared down at the money in his hand, probably more than he'd ever seen at one time, and then back to Icarus with wide eyes. “But...I tried to kill you.”

  Icarus smiled. “Many have. You're not the first, and you won't be the last. But tell me, where did the Dielectric come from?”

  “A man, a scientist, was selling them at Columbia Road.”

  “Be off, then, young man. And the next time you wish to incite a riot, remember how those boot heels feel on your arse.”

  The man scampered away as Icarus sighed and rolled his shoulders. He could still feel the alien emptiness that had invaded him when the purple light of the orb had touched his magic.

  “Shall we continue?” he asked, offering Cora his arm. She took it but sniffed at him. “Angry at me again, Cora?”

  “I warned you to run, and you ignored me. Someday you will learn to listen when I tell you something.”

  “I admit that I let my machismo run wild.”

  “The Dielectric is dangerous.”

  He frowned as the smoke appeared before them again at the end of the alley.

  “Indeed. That's an avenue of investigation we shall pursue once we've found Archimedes and have gotten my father out of London.”

  She leaned into him and for a rare moment she was his soft, sweet Cora again. “We're trying to get out of this alive, Icarus.”

  “Then we'd best find Archimedes quickly. He's always been the more level headed of us all.”

  She laughed and he cherished the sound. Instead of moving away from him she moved closer, and he could swear he felt the heat of her clasp through his coat.

  “Promise me we'll find him.”

  He patted her hand and pointed to the smoke, which wavered in the direction of the steam mills. “I believe we are on his trail already.”

  Icarus was used to fear. He'd often found that he worked best when his heart was racing and his mind was in the grips of deadly terror. He became calm, the world around him slowing just enough that he could out-think or out-maneuver whatever danger lay in his path. As Cora clung to his arm he began to understand that what he felt now was not fear, but dread. The smoke would indubitably lead them to Archimedes, but he'd begun to worry over what state the man might be in. He had no doubts his father, or the men that followed him, was behind the taking of their friend. His palm burned with the memory of just how terrible his father's wrath could be.

  The stacks of the steam mills rose above them, casting moonlit shadows over the cobbles. The streets became narrower, the buildings closer together as they approached the center of the city. There were no flowers here, no joyful sound of children in their mother's arms. This was the darkest part of London, and these witless non-magics had chosen this tainted ground to build their silly factories.

  Cora shivered hard, all the way to her fingertips. He reached for her, putting his arm around her shoulders and drawing her closer to his body heat. His coat was protected by magic, warming him and her in turn.

  “You've never been here?”

  She shook her head. Her perky velvet hat, trimmed with all the nonsensical oddities that women liked, brushed his nose.

  “Why is it so cold?”

  “Long ago, before the city of London even existed, a spell of great power was worked here. It left a magical residue that will never be erased.”

  “A dark spell.” she guessed.

  “It was not meant to be,” he squinted as the smoke darted around a corner and he quickened his pace to keep up with it, “In fact, it was supposed to be a protection spell.”

  “It must have gone very, very wrong.”

  He felt his lips twitch as amusement lit up his dark thoughts. His Cora was always so perceptive to the aether.

  “It did. For hundreds of years people avoided this place. But as time grows long memories grow short.”

  “Non-magics can't feel it?”

  “Not the way we do. But it's no wonder this place has always been associated with poverty and grief.”

  They turned the corner and Cora covered her mouth against the offensive smell of the refuse pile that occupied the space between the tall buildings. The smoke hovered over the pile, spinning like a top.

  Icarus began to rush forward, but Cora grabbed his arm. “No. Wait.”

  “He's here, Cora.”

  Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “It could be a trap, Icarus.”

  Icarus brushed aside a tear and smiled ruefully. “What would I do without your clear head, Cora Je
nkins?”

  “Most likely die.” The words were weak and muffled, coming from the refuse pile.

  Icarus raised his head sharply. Cora released his arm and he hurried forward, stumbling over the rubbish piled high around them. He slipped in something and went to a knee, but he saw the glint of gold in front of him. Uncaring of the muck he began to dig with his gloved hands, pushing and pulling the piles of garbage away from Archimedes.

  He looked up when Cora joined him, uncaring of the way the rubbish clung to her heavy, full skirts. She dug into the pile with her immaculate white gloves, finally uncovering Archimedes' face.

  A sob escaped her as the extent of his ordeal was revealed. Icarus mashed his lips together to hold back the curses that gathered on his tongue. Incredibly, Archimedes' least swollen eye was open and staring at them. He blinked and tried to smile past the damage to his face.

  “Hello.”

  Cora pushed more of the refuse back, exposing the horrors that had been done to his body. Icarus raised a hand and shoved the muck back with magic, splashing it over the walls in his anger. He reached for Archimedes' hand and took the broken fingers into his. “Hello, old friend.”

  “I might live.”

  Icarus nodded. “I'm afraid so.”

  Cora touched his swollen nose and split lips gently with her fingertips. “Don't talk, Archie. We'll take you home and make you all right again.”

  She looked him over with the frown that told Icarus she'd moved into her nursing mode. “Broken ribs. Fractured jaw.” She ran a hand over Archimedes' legs. “Nothing too damaging to the legs.”

  “My back.”

  Icarus helped roll him over, hissing at the sight of the raw red brand marks covering the flesh. They were already festering from their contact with the wet rubbish.

  Tears rolled freely down Cora's cheeks as she bit her lip. “Oh, Archie.”

  “Nothing home won't....help.” He slid blessedly into unconsciousness as Icarus held him.

  “We're going to kill them all, Icarus. Every last one.”