Alchemist's Kiss

by AR DeClerck

  He nodded at Cora's low threat. “Yes. We are.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “I've done what I can.” The apothecary removed his spectacles and rubbed them on his shirt. “He will need all his considerable strength to recover.”

  I looked up from my place by Archie's bed, his mangled golden hand still in mine. “He's not in pain?”

  The man shook his head. He was neither young nor old, not fat and not precisely thin. He picked up his bag with a groan and a crack of his back. “No pain. Let him sleep as long as he will.” He pressed a packet into my hand. “Tea, three times daily with this root. In a week, ten days, he will move without cursing.”

  “And the burns?”

  I'd watched the apothecary smooth a dark black paste over the burns, easing the redness almost immediately. Archimedes had slipped into a more comfortable rest as soon as the cream had touched him.

  “Aloe, dandelion and a few, more obscure, items.” He pointed to the bowl of black paste on the table. “Three times daily, after the tea. There will be scarring,” he looked at Archimedes with a frown, “but I don't think it will limit him in any way.”

  “Thank you, Bastion.”

  He took my hand and shook it neatly, two firm pumps. “My pleasure, Cora. Archimedes is a good man. I hope whomever treated him thusly will be punished.”

  “Harshly.” I assured the man. I tucked Archie's hand under the blankets and escorted the apothecary to the door.

  From the hallway he turned back to me. As with most powerful wizards I'd come across, his appearance belied his true strength. But I could feel how strongly he was connected to the aether, and his limpid blue eyes burned with anger. “Do not hesitate to call on us, Cora. Icarus has loyal friends. People he put his life on the line to help when he first returned to London.”

  “He's going to need us all.” I smiled at the apothecary. “When the time comes he's going to need all the magic and all the loyalty we can give him.”

  “Then I pity the man who crossed him.” Bastion's beard twitched with a smile. “Icarus Kane is not a man to be trifled with.”

  I closed the door and leaned on it, my nose assaulted by the smell of the rubbish still covering me. In a flash Icarus had transported Archie back to the hotel and his own bed, but we'd had to make the long trek back on tired legs. I shivered and moved to stoke the fire, stopping as the laboratory door opened behind me.

  “You're knackered.” He took the poker from my hand and turned the logs.

  “I'm angry, Icarus. And dirty,” I felt tears prick my eyes, “and yes, I'm knackered.”

  I turned away and slumped onto the settee, covering my face with my hands. I'd tossed my ruined gloves into the fire, but I knew my pretty day dress would have to follow. It, like the world I'd spent the last six years building, was now tainted. I couldn't help the streaming tears.

  “Cora.”

  I ignored his pleading, not giving a damn if he was uncomfortable with my tears. I was allowed to cry. Archimedes was the second most important man in the world to me. What had been done to him was unforgivable.

  “Cora.” This time strong arms wrapped round my shoulders. I leaned into his chest and turned my face to his shirt.

  “I'm horrible, Icarus.” I shook with my rage.

  “You're wonderful.” he assured me.

  I pulled back, looking up at his face. God had carved it himself, I was sure. Every line, every angle and every plane, was perfect. I shook my head. “I'm not. I'm a bad person, Icarus. I am!”

  “Stop this, Cora.” Even the lines between his brows was perfect. “What's got you going?”

  “All I could think, when I saw Archie in that refuse heap ...” I trailed off and looked away, afraid that if I finished the thought it would make him see me as awful too.

  “What did you think, Cora?” He tipped my chin, lifting my eyes to his.

  “I was glad it wasn't you.”

  I buried my head in his neck, the tears coming faster and harder now. I clutched him to me and prayed I'd never have to let go. He held me close and stayed quiet until I was done. I hiccupped once and wiped my eyes.

  “So you see, I'm a terrible person.”

  “You're not.” He leaned forward, kissing my forehead. “You, Cora Mae Jenkins, are that which every woman should strive to be.”

  “A glocky nemmo?”

  He laughed out loud, the sound shaking through my bones where he still held me against him. “Where do you learn these words, Cora?”

  “Jimmy, the chimney sweep's son, told me what it means.”

  “You are not a half-witted woman. I promise.” He stared down at me with intense blue eyes and I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted it so much that I even told the aether swirling around us. He didn't move, so I pulled him to me, pressing my lips against his.

  I've talked with Jimmy more than a few times. He was always a fresh font of information, including what it felt like to kiss a woman you wanted to lie with. Just as Jimmy had promised, Icarus increased the pressure on my lips, his hands holding me as close as we could get. I closed my eyes, lost in the sensation of his skin on mine. It was as close as we'd ever been in all the six years we'd traveled together. I felt his tongue sweep across my lips and it was natural to open to him, as I'd always done.

  The taste of him was cinnamon and musk. I kissed him until I was lost in the feeling, my head spinning with the magic between us. It was a shock to feel him pull away. The air between us was colder without him; a slap to my face. It brought back some semblance of my sanity.

  We were both breathing hard, and I covered my mouth with my hands, hoping to hold the feel of his lips on mine there forever.

  He had a lost look on his face. It was some parts longing and some parts excitement like I'd only ever seen when he was working with magic.

  “Cora---”

  I covered his lips with one hand, still covering my own with the other. I shook my head and moved away from him, even though it physically hurt to do it.

  “Good night, Icarus.”

  “Good night, Cora. I believe I'll sit with Archimedes a while.”

  In some ways I wanted him to fight with me. To demand I stay and say all the things that hung so delicately on the air between us, just as I'd confessed to Archie. Another part of me, the part that was still tumbling end over end without cease, wanted to run away as fast I could.

  I settled for walking away at a moderate pace. I pulled the bell by the window and sent down the message that I needed a hot bath. I opened my door and turned back, but Icarus was already gone.

  ***

  “She vexes you so.”

  Icarus pulled his eyes from the fire and smiled at Archimedes. He'd retreated here to his friend's bedside so that he could resist the temptation to tear Cora's door from its hinges and join her in her bath.

  “She does.” he admitted. He leaned forward and propped an elbow on his knee. He looked squarely at Archimedes, whose face was still swollen and mottled with bruises. “How much pain?”

  “Some.” Archimedes' wince as he shifted belied his nonchalance. “Tell me why you won't simply tell Cora how you feel.”

  Icarus maintained their stare by sheer will alone. “Tell me what happened.”

  Archimedes narrowed his eyes and Icarus knew that he was on the short road toward stubborn.

  “Like for like, then.” Icarus offered. “Answer my query and I'll answer yours.”

  “A proper answer.' Archimedes demanded, moving up gingerly on his pillow. The seams between his living skin and the metal plate on his chest bulged with the movement.

  “As you like.” Icarus leaned back, crossing his ankles and folding his hands over his middle. Archimedes was pale against the starched white poplin of his sheets, and a hank of dark hair over his forehead only served to heighten his lack of color. A twisting sensation in Icarus' gut had him shifting. He'd come so close to losing his friend forever. “You went to the apothecary for mandrake.”

  “I did.�
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  Icarus saw the way Archimedes' hands tightened on the duvet.

  “I purchased the mandrake and a box of chocolates, hoping to ease Cora's ill temper toward you.”

  “She does like Belgian chocolate.” Icarus said with a grin.

  Archimedes answering smile was brief. “She does. As I exited the shop I turned the corner toward the market square and a spell of immense power bound me. I fell, unable to move or to access my magic. I was lifted and placed inside a tanner's cart.”

  “Did you see the wizard casting the binding spell?”

  Archimedes shook his head. “No. The spell was so tight I must have gone unconscious from the pressure. When I awoke I found myself in a wares house of some sort, by the river.”

  Icarus raised an eyebrow. “Did your attacker reveal himself then?”

  “We were introduced.” Archimedes said dryly, and from the twist of his lips Icarus gathered the torture had then commenced. “Much later I awoke again to see Baiandelio had arrived.”

  “A proper reunion, I take it.”

  “Indeed.” Archimedes let his head fall back to the pillow. “He was much put out when your father denied him my death.”

  “You saw Victor?” Icarus sat up, every sense sharpening.

  “He's your father, that much is clear. Only darker, spoiled inside by blood magic.”

  “He's not changed, then.” Icarus' gut churned harder, his fear for Archimedes mixing with the resurgence of his fear of his father.

  “Victor demanded I be returned to you, as a show of good faith. He swore he's not in London to harm you.”

  “Bollocks.” Icarus shook his head, his heart pounding and the palm of his hand on fire. “The man's done nothing but harm me.”

  “He was adamant. The only reason I'm alive now is because Victor demanded it.”

  “What could he possibly want in London, then, if not to heap more fatherly torture on his only son?”

  Archimedes sat forward, his face growing paler with the effort. He reached for Icarus, and clasped his hand tight. “He left me with a message for you, Ic.”

  Icarus moved, pushing Archimedes gently back to his pillow and sitting beside him on the bed. He kept the man's hand clasped in his. The metal was cold through his gloves, the gold warped and bent from his torture. He would need a new hand, Icarus thought.

  “There's to be a war between magic and science, and London will be the epicenter. Victor is here to destroy the opposition to magic.”

  “My father's never cared a whit about science. Why, now, would he take a stand against it?”

  “He's going to destroy them all, Icarus. Women, children, and anyone who opposes magic. The blood he will spill.....”

  Icarus felt his mouth go dry. A wizard as powerful as his father, with access to that much blood? He could destroy the world with the power he would gain.

  “Orrin warned me.” Icarus looked at Archimedes. “There will be no escaping this war now.”

  Archimedes' hand tightened over his. His eyes began to flutter as he struggled to stay awake. “You're not getting away that easily.” he warned, even as he yawned mightily. “You must answer my question, Icarus.”

  “Ah, yes.” Icarus released his hand and pulled the blankets over him as he fought to stay awake. “Your question.” He paused and smiled when Archimedes growled low in his throat. “I hesitate to confess my feelings to Cora for many reasons.”

  “A proper answer.”

  Icarus' smile grew at Archimedes' sharp scold.

  “The most pressing reason is this--- I can never have the life Cora deserves. I will always remain in the service of my magic and the people of London. I fear I cannot give her the devotion and stability she needs.”

  “Lie.”

  Icarus raised his eyebrow.

  “The most pressing reason is that you believe you do not deserve happiness.”

  Icarus smoothed the blanket over Archimedes and shook his head. “Perhaps that as well. Those who have fallen from grace cannot return to Heaven.”

  “You were never an angel.” Archimedes' voice was slurred with exhausted humor. “But you're not a demon, Ic.”

  Icarus stood, not realizing that he was rubbing the mark on his hand. He could hear the screams of his mother and sister as he was dragged from his bed to the fires of the forge. Feel the press of the red hot brand on his tender young skin and smell the burning of his flesh. The electric exhilaration of the magic as it greeted every particle of his being. Cries of the people his father murdered in pursuit of blood and power. He had their blood on his hands, too. He had much to atone for in this life, and surely he was not worthy of a woman like Cora.

  “I feel my mother and my sister may disagree.” He turned down the lamp and moved to the door, but Archimedes' voice made him look back.

  “Save London. Save science and magic. Then tell Cora you love her, Ic. Promise me.”

  “If I live long enough to see the end of this war, old friend, I'll shout it to the rooftops.”

  Archimedes laughed, and Icarus grinned as it became a long snore. He closed the door and leaned against it, staring across the shadowed parlor to the sliver of light that beckoned him from beneath Cora's door. He could go to her now and she would accept him in her bed and in her heart, just as he was. But what he was would never be good enough for a woman like Cora Mae Jenkins. The Devil's Hand sought her company, and the aether spoke to her. He would have to do something to redeem the mark on his soul in order to be worthy. He took two steps toward her door and stopped, moving instead toward the laboratory. His redemption, he feared, might come only with his death. He looked to his hands, covered in dark leather. This was his legacy. Never to touch with these hands, lest the rune strip the soul from the body and destroy it forever. He clenched his hands, the thought of Cora's hair spilling through his fingers enough to set his teeth on edge. The idea of her skin against his.... He could never touch her, not the way she needed– Not the way he craved.

  He closed the door to the laboratory gently behind him. This was his space. His haven. The acrid smell of various and sundry potions invigorated him. Always his mind was sharper, more focused, when he worked here. Once the door was closed the rest of the world was pushed out.

  The bourbon slid down his throat, curing his ills better than any magic the apothecary could muster up. He twirled the amber liquid in the glass and watched it swirl. Like his life it whirled out of control, whizzing ever downward and threatening to slosh from its confines to splash over everything around it. He looked up sharply at a noise from the window. He squinted in the dim light to see the shadow of a large black bird upon the window sill.

  “Machiavelli, you devil.” Icarus set down his glass and lifted the window sash, letting in both the bird and the chill of the night.

  He held out his hand and the bird stepped onto his forearm, staring at him with its intelligent dark eyes.

  “What brings you here at this time of night?” Icarus murmured. He ran his gloved palm over the feathers still wet with condensing fog. The bird leaned into his touch and then shook him off.

  “I take it your man was returned to you.”

  The voice that issued from the throat of the bird was Lucan Orrin's.

  “He was.” Icarus allowed the Grand Master's raven to step off his arm and onto the mantel.

  “You sound less than enthused.”

  “He was tortured cruelly by men in my father's employ, but he will live. My father sent him back to me as a gesture of good faith.”

  “He always was one for dramatics.”

  Icarus folded his arms and looked at the bird. Lucan Orrin sat somewhere in the private residence of the Grand Master, watching him through the eyes of his most favored familiar. “His plans are more upsetting than I'd originally believed them to be.”

  “Tell me.”

  Icarus explained his father's plans and his motivations to the Grand Master as the raven paced the mantel. Every so often the eyes would snap to Icarus
and then the head would bow as the Grand Master continued to listen.

  “You believe he is in pursuit of a massacre to fuel a blood magic spell?” the Grand Master asked at last.

  “I do.”

  “What kind of spell would require a sacrifice of this enormity?”

  “My father has always lusted after one thing. Power. He wants to strip the barrier away between the world and the aether.”

  “Suicide.”

  “Not if he possessed enough power,” Icarus argued, pacing. The scar on his palm itched. “Hence the blood he will need to spill to protect himself. We all know that the aether is cushioned from this plane by some kind of protective barrier. No magic has ever pierced it, but that won't stop him. With an unobstructed access to pure aether my father could conceivably control the universe.”

  “Several of my wizards were attacked tonight by men carrying orbs that nullified their magics. Is this a weapon your father hopes to obtain?”

  Icarus narrowed his eyes. “I don't think so. I, too, have come into contact with such an orb. Though it is powerful, it can be destroyed. My father is looking for something much more powerful, but the man responsible for creating the orbs could be the key. My father would not hesitate to use any means to get what he wants.”

  “The mobs are far too confident, and their ability to physically harm my wizards is drawing notice. Find this man of science, Adept Kane. I cannot allow him to continue to create weapons such as these.”

  “Indeed.” Icarus held out his arm as the raven ducked its head to him. He took it to the window, and as it stepped onto the windowsill it looked to Icarus again.

  “London is in dire straits, Adept Kane. I cannot openly assist you without drawing more anger onto my wizards. Be careful.”

  “Thank you, Grand Master.” Icarus bowed to the man who watched him from the raven's eyes. “I would ask one thing, if I may.”

  Icarus was certain the glint in the raven's eyes grew suspicious. “Ask.”

  “Leave my father to me. When he is destroyed I must be the one to do it.”

  The stare of the bird was heavy on Icarus, but he kept his chin up and his gaze steady.