TFRoot - The Elixer

by The Elixir (v1. 0) [lit]

  "Well hello, Tom! It's so good to see you again!"

  Tom could barely stop himself from gaping at the sight of what stood before him in the doorway: a tall, slender, young woman in a long, tastefully subdued yet undeniably sexy black dress, preternaturally beautiful, with very fair skin, long, lush black hair, and large, luminous blue eyes that left no doubt as to her identity. It was Lucinda Hobson, all right.But how was this possible? This woman can't be more than twenty-five years old!

  "Please, won't you come in?” She smiled invitingly.

  Tom, once again utterly bewildered, could only manage a nod and a quick “Thank you,” as he entered the house.

  "You're just in time for dinner,” Lucinda said pleasantly, quickly ushering him into the dining room. “Please sit,” she said, gesturing to the table, which now featured three place settings and a large cut-glass bowl filled with a tossed salad, and next to which was an ice bucket containing a bottle of pouilly-fuisse. “I've prepared my fish chowder, which I know you like very much."

  Tom sat down. “Thank you ... Lucy?” he replied, speaking her name as a question.

  Lucinda ignored his obvious confusion and sat down across from him. “Would you care for some salad to start?” she asked, reaching for the large cut-glass bowl that was already on the table and placing it in front of him. “Help yourself; we won't stand on ceremony."

  Tom stared at her intently. “Youare Lucinda Hobson, aren't you?"

  "Why, of course I am,” she replied innocently, taking a helping of salad. “Who else would I be?"

  By now Tom had gotten over his initial shock over her appearance and was growing impatient and a bit annoyed. “What have you done to yourself?” he demanded.

  "Oh, this,” she said with a weary wave of the hand, “merely an illusion, Tom."

  "An illusion?"

  "Tom, I invited you for dinner; were I to appear to you as I truly am, well, let's just say that would not exactly be conducive to your pleasant dining.” She smiled. “Besides, you can't blame a woman my age for trying to look just a bit younger, can you?"

  "So at the cemetery, that was real?""

  "Oh, that was all too real, I'm afraid.” Lucinda poured glasses of wine for everyone. “But then again, what is real, Tom? The physical world is all just an illusion in a sense. How I appear to you now is real enough too, for it reflects how I was at one time, and could be again, for that matter, were I to choose to take my elixir once more."

  "You haven't taken it, then? Seeing you now, I thought perhaps you'd changed your mind."

  "No, Tom, I haven't.” She lifted her wine glass. “Cheers.” She took a long sip.

  "So you still have a supply of it left?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "And you are still willing to help us, to help Carole?'

  "Yes, Tom of course I am."

  Tom breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Lucy."

  Lucinda nodded. “Now,” she began, getting down to business, “tell me again, exactly what seems to be the problem."

  "Well, apparently Carole is sick. Her doctor took some tests, and..."

  "I'm not interested in what some doctor thinks,” Lucinda snapped impatiently, “I want to know how she really is."

  Tom looked at her, uncomprehending. “I don't know what you mean,” he said helplessly.

  Lucinda smiled gently. “What did she see when she last looked into my mirror?” she clarified. “What did her aura look like?"

  "I told you, it was very weak, very thin, and it seemed to disappear at times."

  "Like mine? The way mine looked on the night of the summer solstice?"

  Tom nodded. “Yes, that's right, perhaps a bit weaker than yours, as I remember, but basically like that."

  "And is that all?"

  "No. As I told you, what we saw was very strange. The person in the mirror, well, it was definitely Carole, but not as she looks now. I mean, right now, standing next to her, she doesn't look sick, not at all, but the reflection...” He paused. “The reflection looked like a person who was very sick."

  "What you're saying,” she asked him, measuring her words very carefully, “is that her reflection was not as she appears to you now, but rather, you would imagine, as she would appear if she were very ill?"

  "Yes."

  Lucinda's expression grew very dark. “I've seen this before,” she murmured, barely audibly. “I've seen this all before,” she repeated to herself, “with Claire Wilson, and with Sammy.” She shook her head ruefully. “I can't believe this has happened again,” she said, her voice quavering.

  Tom did not like the sound of this. “What are you saying, Lucy?"

  "This is truly a nightmare,” said Lucinda, staring off into space, as if in a daze. “In over seven hundred years it has only failed on three occasions; four, now. How could my elixir, my wonderfully potent elixir, prove so utterly powerless for these poor souls? Was there a common denominator? I suppose that I will never know. Of course I had my reservations about Carole, because of condition, her RSD, but I was confident that my elixir could cure that. I am sure that it has, in fact, but that's really moot isn't it? Apparently, that was merely the tip of the iceberg. She must have had this other illness all along, and I'm afraid that that has just proven too much, even for me elixir. I never thought that it would happen like this, but it has."

  Tom's fear was fast becoming full-blown terror. “You're telling me then that there's nothing you can do for her?"

  Lucinda shook her head sorrowfully. “I'm afraid not, Tom. Her reflection in my mirror now shows her inevitable and immutable future, a fate that is set in stone. What you have described to me is exactly how it was for Sammy, and for Richard and Claire Wilson, just before...” Lucinda's voice trailed off, and she could not look at Tom.

  "I can't just accept that, Lucy, not now. You told me before that your entire supply of the elixir, all that you had of it, was for my use, mine and Carole's. Well, I need it, all of it."

  Lucinda chuckled lightly, a forlorn smile on her face. “Oh, Tom, giving her more of the elixir would merely be wasting it, throwing it away, as it were. I'm telling you, there is no hope."

  "But Iknow the elixir works,” he insisted,"you know the elixir works! I'll just have to give her more of it!"

  "You could give her every last drop available and it wouldn't do a bit of good."

  "How can you know that, for sure?” Tom demanded.

  "Because I've seen this all before, Tom; I'm telling you, it won't work!"

  "Maybe not, but at least it's worth a try."

  "No, it's not,” she said, quietly, but definitely. “To do that would be an exercise in futility and false hope, and would do neither of you any good."

  "So you're not going to give it to me, then? Tom asked challengingly. “You're not going to let me have the elixir?"

  Lucinda shrugged resignedly. “Take it, if you want; it won't do Carole any good, but you're welcome to take it."

  All right, maybe she's giving up, but I'm not!“The elixir is not your only herb, is it Lucy? I mean, you have other herbs, other things that you can give me, to give Carole.”Now I'm the one who still believes in this—guess I don't have any other choice . He shook his head, almost smiling at the irony of it all.

  "Yes, Tom, of course; everything that I have is at your disposal, as it were. I promise you that I'll do everything that I can to help Carole, and you, to make this situation more tolerable.” Lucinda paused. “But you must accept and realize that that's all that I can do,” she added, very firmly. “You do understand that, Tom,” she repeated, “Carole's ultimate fate cannot be altered."

  Tom nodded silently, not knowing for sure what he truly did believe.

  "You must also understand, Tom,” Lucinda continued, gazing at him intently, “that I am very sorry. When I first gave you and Carole the elixir, I did so in complete good faith. You must know that this was never my intention, that I never wanted this to happen."

  Sammy now came slinking in
to the dining room. He let out a soft trill as he bounded onto Lucinda's lap and began rubbing his head against her body. Lucinda gave him a few quick strokes; then, she took him in her hands and placed him on the chair next to her. “Are you hungry, my boy? I'll get you some chowder.” Lucinda rose from her chair and went into the kitchen, returning a few moments later with an earthenware crock. She set the crock on the table and sat down.

  "You must know how terribly sorry I am, Tom,” Lucinda repeated. “I never wanted this to happen like this."

  "I know that,” said Tom wearily. “Look, you're not the one who made Carole sick."

  Lucinda nodded in acknowledgement as she began to ladle out portions of the chowder to Tom, Sammy, and herself. “Oh, Sammy, you must have been starving!” she exclaimed as the black cat eagerly attacked his food. She looked across the table to Tom. “You must be very hungry as well."

  Tom nodded but said nothing. Although he had not had anything to eat since breakfast this morning, he was not particularly hungry; at this moment, food was the last thing on him mind. Not wanting to be impolite, though, he began to pick at the chowder.

  "Please, Tom,” Lucinda reiterated once again in an oddly urgently tone, “please tell me that you believe me.” She looked at him imploringly.

  "I believe you, Lucy,” said Tom placatingly.

  Lucinda nodded sadly and began to eat. “It seems that you are now doomed to face the same terrible fate as me, Tom."

  Tom stopped eating and looked up at Lucinda. He was now struggling to contain his anger; all that was happening, all of this was bad enough, but hearing it from this woman, whom he had initially disliked, had never really trusted, and of whom, at this moment, he was growing extremely resentful, was a bit more than he could bear. “I told you, Lucy, I'm not giving up hope,” he said defiantly. “After all,” he added with pointed sarcasm, “thereis such a thing as conventional medicine; it's not all a complete waste, you know."

  Lucinda waved her hand dismissively. “Don't delude yourself, Tom. In this case it surely is. My mirror doesn't lie. Actually, my advice would be to avoid all that. It would only prolong the suffering.” She paused for a moment, then suddenly, her blank countenance became vigorously reanimated, like a fragile flower that had wilted in the arid heat springing back to life after a refreshing summer shower. She looked up and gazed at Tom with the oddest expression, her cobalt eyes now burning intensely with an unnerving mixture of profound regret and wild anticipation. “I have one other bit of advice for you, Tom; a proposition of sorts, really."

  "A proposition? What does that mean?"

  "Carole is going to die,” she stated flatly, finally uttering out loud the implicit, terrible certainty.

  "We're all going to die, Lucy, sooner or later."

  Lucinda's face creased into an odd little smile. “Yes, Tom,” she continued, “but Carole is going to die sooner, perhaps this year, perhaps next, but in any case very, very soon. Butyou are not. You are going to live another one hundred years. One hundred years! How old are you now, thirty-six? Do you have any idea how long one hundred years is? That's almost three times as long as you've already lived, more than an entire lifetime ... all without the one person, the one thing that makes this living worthwhile! But not only that,you have the elixir.You have within easy grasp the power to continue living, in perfect health, for as long as you want, forever, in fact; a power almost impossible to resist, just as the tongue can never suppress it's inclination to probe the canker sore, but which will ensure you an agony more exquisitely profound than any you can possibly imagine. Trust me, I have wrestled with this dilemma for over three hundred years now, living every day with the overwhelming pain of loss, and yet unable to take the final step to end my sorrow once and for all."

  The horrible realization sunk in at this moment. For some reason, some bizarre quirk of divine will, the elixir had worked for him, but not for Carole, just as it had worked for Lucinda, but not for Richard Hobson. He faced the prospect of living the rest of his life, very long rest of his life, without Carole, just as Lucinda had lived hers. Thoughts began to bombard his mind, fast and furiously. Suicide! That's the most logical, isn't it? But then I'd be damned, wouldn't I? Don't I still have faith? Faith that I would be reunited with Carole, then, some day ... But how much faith do I have, really, and how strong? ... or weak! Lucinda was right. DAMN HER! Can I just give up, forego the elixir when the time comes, or will I cling pathetically to this life, as she has, even an empty, utterly joyless life, bereft of my true love ... without her, without Carole!

  Lucinda nodded her head. “Yes,” she said, as if reading his mind and answering his unstated question. “That is the solution, you know: for both of us to spend our lives, all of eternity, you and me, Tom. Together! She grinned evilly, her large blue eyes flashing with wild anticipation.

  Tom was utterly flabbergasted. “Are you insane?” He sputtered indignantly. “Why would I ever want that? Why would either of us want that?"

  "It may not be what we truly want, Tom, but it may be all that we have left. Our life experiences have been remarkably similar. We both found our one true soul mate, the one person we would happily spend the rest of our lives with, plus the ability to extend that life indefinitely, only to lose it, to have it snatched away from us by a cruel twist of fate.” Lucinda picked up her dinner fork and speared a large piece of lobster tail from her chowder. She held it up for a few moments, admiring it, before finally putting it into her mouth. She closed her eyes and smiled, fully savoring the sweet morsel.

  "Tom, don't you see,” she said finally, “you and I are joined now, in a way, perhaps, that no man and woman have ever been connected before. We have the power to live this life, in this world, forever, completely impervious to sickness, aging, or death, and all that this world has to offer, really, can be ours, for just as long as we want it. We are not so different after all, Tom."

  Tom demurred. “We have almost nothing in common, Lucy."

  Lucinda shook her head. “No? Well, I know that we both can appreciate the finer things in life, like literature, and art, and that we have a finely developed aesthetic sensibility. We certainly have an appetite for good food and good drink.” She brought another piece of seafood up to her lips, letting it linger lasciviously before finally taking it with her tongue. “Ooh,” she cooed, “that is so good!” She gestured at Tom's chowder. “You're not eating, Tom. Please—it's truly marvelous!"

  "I'm not really hungry right now, Lucy."

  "Well, that's not the only reason to eat, is it?” She smiled salaciously. “It wouldn't be so bad, you know ... to spend all of eternity, engaging in all manner of sensual pleasures ... with me. You know, Tom, I always found you quite attractive, physically.” She paused and lowered her head seductively, raising one eyebrow. “I'll ask you again: do you find me so utterly unappealing, now? For I can easily regain, and maintain this form forever, you know; all I would have to do is take my elixir again.” She paused. “Shall I?"

  "That's up to you, Lucy."

  "No, Tom, it's up to you. I am putting my, our fate, in your hands, as it were. It was never my intention to do this to you, to saddle yet another human being with my own burden, as it were, but that's what has happened. A grievous error, yes, but the time for ruing the past is past. What has been done is done. The only question that remains is how you shall deal with it."

  Lucinda abruptly rose to her feet and dashed into the kitchen. She opened the overhead cupboard and pulled out three large enamel tins, identical to one another, all white and decorated with hand-painted little purple flowers. She gathered them up quickly and re-entered the dining room.

  "This is it, Tom,” she announced with profound gravity. “This is my entire supply of the elixir, actually, the dried flowers of the herb that is used to brew it.” She placed the tins on the table in front of Tom with a dramatic flourish. “I'm giving it to you now, to use as you see fit. Its potency is still close to its peak. Whoever partakes of it now is almost
assured of living another hundred years, just as you are."

  "'Almost assured,'” Tom repeated, sharply.

  "Yes, there have been exceptions,” she snapped; “as we're both painfully aware,” she added, with obvious irritation. “But of course, I can assure you that I, for one, am not one of those exceptions.” Lucinda made her way around the table and stood directly behind Tom. She bent forward and reached across the table, ostensibly to pick up one of the tins, while at the same time leaning over very close to him, placing her left hand on his shoulder, as if to steady herself. She grasped the tin in her right hand while maintaining contact with Tom with her left, wrapping her arm around his neck. She turned her head toward his, their faces only inches apart, her blue eyes gazing into his. “Shall I brew up a pot of tea?” she asked softly, holding up the tin in front of him with one hand while simultaneously stroking his shoulder with the other. “Shall I brew it now ... for you ... and me?"