Double Alchemy: Climax

by Susan Mac Nicol

  He sat down at his desk and slowly pulled the silver cord holding the bunch of letters together, freeing them. The paper was a pale blue colour, quite thick and creamy, with distinct gilt edging on the outside. It looked like very expensive writing paper and had a small symbol of an eagle with outstretched wings in the top right corner. Quinn slowly unfolded the top letter and looked at the date. Eighteenth July 1981. A slow chill crept up his spine. Just two months before his parents had been killed. They had died in September of the same year, the month after his sixth birthday. The writer’s handwriting was florid and it looked as if there had been a lot of emotion in their words as they wrote, so deep was the ink etched into the paper.

  Darling Angela,

  Quinn frowned. These were letters to his mother.

  You have still not given me an answer and I’m afraid I need to insist. I can wait no longer. I have told you how I feel about and I have every expectation that you should do the same. Christopher will never know about us, I will make sure of that. He is so busy with his Consortium work that he will scarcely know you are gone. Quinn is more than able to look after himself—he is a bright boy and has Rolly to care for him.

  Rolly had been a nursemaid that Quinn had been very fond of when he was a child. She’d been let go when his parents were killed and Quinn had moved in under the guardianship of Daniel and Moira. He couldn’t believe the words he was seeing. His mother had had an affair? The next words put his mind at ease.

  I know you have told me that you love Christopher and would do nothing to hurt him. But he does not deserve one as lovely and as warm as you and I love you deeply, Angela. I understand your reluctance to accept my affections but would ask that you reconsider.

  Your loving suitor

  Edward Mistral.

  The world spun around him. Edward Mistral had been in love with his mother? That was something he would never have suspected or even considered. He laid that letter to one side and opened the next one, which was dated 31 July 1981, a couple of weeks later.

  My dearest Angela

  I confess I find myself quite out of sorts at your reply. I understand your fears about leaving your husband, although I confess I cannot see the reason you would choose to stay with someone who treats you so badly. How many times have you seen him in this past week? Perhaps a few hours? I would always be there for you, and you would be the most important thing in my life.

  Please reconsider your answer.

  Warm wishes

  Edward

  Quinn shook his head in amazement at the gall of the man who was pursuing his mother so ardently. He’d no issue with someone showing their passion for another but reading between the lines, these letters almost bordered on stalking and obsession. He picked up the next one, the third of the four he had. Twenty-second August 1981. Three days after his birthday.

  Angela

  I am most displeased with your attitude. I fail to see your reasoning and feel that I must insist on seeing you in person. Christopher is a buffoon, a man who cares nothing for you or the boy but thinks only of the Consortium and his work. How can you love a man such as that? I must insist that you see me immediately so I can talk some sense into you.

  Edward.

  Quinn remembered his father as a warm, loving man that had always made time for his family, regardless of his commitments to his title of Grand Master and Head of the Fairmont family. Christopher had always had time for him, despite his unusual upbringing.

  Quinn could remember his last birthday party quite clearly. His father had refused to attend a Consortium meeting to be there for his son. He still remembered the birthday present he’d received—a construction kit containing what would eventually be a shiny blue Meccano aeroplane. As a boy, Quinn had a passion for aircraft and construction kits. His father had spent tedious hours with him helping him put it together and it was a memory Quinn held dear. He had no idea who the man was that Edward Mistral was ranting about, but it certainly hadn’t been his father.

  He opened the last letter and his face paled when he saw the date. The fifth of September 1981. The day before his parents had been killed.

  Angela.

  I am hurt at your action to involve your husband in our affairs. Christopher has been to see me and advised me in no uncertain terms to stay away from you and never to contact you again. I am devastated at your betrayal. You have my promise that I cannot let this lie. My integrity and affection for you has been questioned and I will not condone that from either you or Christopher. You shall pay for your indiscretion, both of you.

  I imagine I will be seeing you both soon to resolve the situation.

  Edward.

  Quinn put the letter down, noticing his hands trembling slightly.

  God! Edward Mistral sounded like a crazy man. Obsessive and sounding as if he had a screw loose. I knew him for a long time after my parent’s death and I never saw that side of him.

  A slow trickle of fear tickled from his stomach to his throat. Edward Mistral’s last words about deserving to die and Quinn having the right to kill him echoed in his mind with a much more sinister tone that before given what he’d just read. He stood up, pacing around the library with an agitated stride.

  “Taliesin?”

  His Withinner was silent and Quinn had the feeling he was being ignored.

  “Taliesin. Answer me, you sulky bastard.”

  What is it you want?

  He sounded irritated but Quinn didn’t care. “Remember I’ve always asked you to use your powers to unlock my memories of when my parents died? And you wouldn’t because the risk was too great and I’d probably die?”

  I remember.

  “Well, I’m happy to take the risk. I want you to do a mind probe and take me back to that time.”

  I cannot. The danger to you would be too great.

  Quinn scowled as he paced around the room, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “I’ve just found out something that may unlock the key to my parent’s murder. I need you to do this. I have to know the truth.”

  You know I cannot. The probe could destroy your memories and whatever is left in your brain.

  His Withinner’s sarcastic tone irked Quinn and he slammed his fist down on his desk.

  “I can take whatever it is you need to do. Besides, we’ve had a Unity. If I can withstand that, surely I can manage you squirreling around in my mind to get me some answers?”

  Taliesin was silent and Quinn could feel he was onto a winning argument for his case. “With Unity we melded together at a much greater force than a mere probe—you know you can do this. I trust you.”

  He heard the pleading in his voice and hated himself for it, but he had to know.

  “I’m begging you. Please let me get some answers about that time. I deserve that at least.”

  His Withinner was quiet then he sighed in resignation.

  Fine. But again, it will hurt. I will try control it as much as I can. I would suggest you call someone to be with you in case you are left gibbering like a madman on the floor of your basement.

  “Cheers, Taliesin.” Quinn muttered as he took out his mobile phone. “That’s a bloody comforting outlook, you miserable sod.”

  He dialled a number. Percy answered.

  “Percy? It’s Quinn.”

  Percy’s voice was guarded. “Quinn. You’re still around. I haven’t heard from you in three weeks.”

  Quinn sat down in his chair, leaning back and closing his eyes as a sense of guilt overwhelmed him. “I know. I was dealing with it. I’m still dealing with it. I’m sorry I’ve been incommunicado but I needed to be alone.”

  “For three weeks?” Percy’s voice was quiet. “Neglecting all your duties and avoiding me like the plague? Forgive me if I sound a little bitter. I thought we were friends.”

  “We are friends.” Quinn heaved a shuddering sigh. “Look, I’m sorry. I imagine I’ve been a bit of a prick.”

  “A bit? Try total.”

  Quinn chuck
led, despite himself. “Fine, I’ve been a total prick. I need your help. I know I don’t deserve it but I do. If you could get over to my place now, to the library, I’d appreciate it. Then we can talk about my level of prick-ness and you can give me a telling off, like everyone else is doing.”

  Percy was quiet. Quinn waited. Finally Percy spoke. “I’ll be there in a few moments.”

  The call was disconnected. Quinn walked up and down impatiently and finally saw Nicholas materialise before him. The Withinner looked at Quinn out of eyes that weren’t particularly friendly.

  “Quinn, before I am revoked, let me tell you how displeased I am at you for your bad treatment of Percy. He has been a miserable soul and it has not been easy for me either.”

  Quinn flung up his hand in exasperation as Percy appeared. “Fuck me, it’s not enough having my own Withinner telling me what an arsehole I’ve been, now I have yours doing the same thing!”

  Percy shrugged. “If the shoe fits…”

  Quinn walked over and laid a hand on Percy’s shoulder. “I’ve been a tosser not talking to you. It’s been difficult for me, losing Cade like that.”

  “You blamed me, but do you know the worst thing? I blamed myself. If I hadn’t convinced you to spare that man’s life, Cade would still be with us. So I can’t blame you for thinking the same. But I just wanted to speak to you to tell you how sorry I was for that and you losing Cade. That’s all.”

  Percy’s voice choked up and Quinn saw the man’s grief alongside his. He reached out and hugged his friend tightly.

  “I know, I’m a bastard and I’m sorry. Shit, I’ve never said that bloody phrase as often as I have tonight. But I mean it.”

  Percy pulled away and looked around the room. “So what am I here for? What do you need?”

  Percy wasn’t totally forgiving him but Quinn thought at least it was a start.

  “I found some letters on the top shelf that Edward Mistral wrote to my mother a few weeks before my folks were killed. The tone of the letters suggests Edward had an axe to grind with them both. You can read them if you like.”

  He passed the letters to Percy who scanned them quickly, pursing his lips at the contents in consternation.

  “Taliesin’s going to open my mind and see if he can bring back the memories of the night my parents died. He’s refused to do it before but I’ve managed to convince him. He’s the only one with the power to unlock my memories and I’m hoping I might find out a bit more.”

  “That could kill you!” Percy exclaimed. “Or destroy your mind altogether.”

  Quinn nodded. “And that’s why you’re here. If I do become a drooling idiot, or die in the process, at least you’ll be able to take care of the mess.” He smiled slightly. “You are my Executor after all and you have my Power of Attorney.” He hadn’t gotten around to changing it over to Cade yet. He made a mental note to do so the minute Cade came back. He had to believe that would happen, that Cade would return.

  Percy looked at him in horror. “That’s as may be, Quinn, but I never thought I might get to use it!”

  Quinn shrugged. “I’ve been through a Unity with Taliesin. Unlocking my memories after that experience should be a piece of cake for him. At least that’s my hope. Are you ready?”

  Percy shook his head. “No. But I won’t be able to stop you if you’ve made your mind up.”

  “Taliesin, I’m ready,” Quinn said quietly.

  I will see what I can find, but be warned this will hurt. Those memories are deep and may even be enchanted to make you forget if your suspicion of Edward Mistral is correct. You do believe he killed your parents, don’t you?

  “I beginning to think that’s a possibility, yes,” Quinn said grimly.

  Remember the last time we tried to undo an enchantment? It nearly cost you your life.

  “Just do it.” Quinn gritted his teeth as Taliesin began to search his memories, his magyck boring deep down into Quinn’s subconscious. He held a clump of tissues in his hands for the nosebleeds that he knew would come. Percy watched anxiously.

  Quinn started, his eyes closing as the pain grew worse. Taliesin was an invasive presence in his mind, and the Withinner’s careful probing caused sharp currents of agonising pain to radiate across his temples and the back of his head. He saw flashes of the past, like a film reel running in slow motion. Blood dripped from his nose and Quinn hissed in pain as Taliesin dug deeper, seeing fragments of his past life laid bare like photographic negatives.

  I think I have reached them. Are you ready?

  “Just show me.” Quinn hissed as he struggled to speak with the pain he was feeling. There was a sudden flash of light in his head and he fell to the floor, his legs unable to sustain him. He sensed Percy move across to him in concern.

  Quinn saw his six-year-old self playing with a small, red tin plane in the lounge of their apartment in Chelsea. It was as if he was watching an old movie, slightly faded but still visible. His magyck book was spread out beside him, but the young boy that was him was paying no attention to it, being more interested in flying the little plane in the air, watching as it swooped up and down toward the ground, guided by his hand. Quinn heard his mother’s soft laughter, and his father’s amused voice at something she was saying. Suddenly the boy turned as if startled and a dark figure come flying past him, through the door, the man’s long pea coat flicking against him as he sat with his toy plane.

  There was the sound of shouting and the boy stood up, moving toward the lounge where the noise was coming from. The child reached the door and stood looking into the room. Quinn watched in horror as the tableau in the lounge played itself out. His father stood protectively in front of his mother, who was shouting, her eyes filled with tears, her hands holding his father back. The dark-coated figure moved forward, raising his hand. He had a curved dark object between his index and middle fingers and brought it down in a long sweeping motion that left a deep-bloodied scratch on his father’s neck. His father reeled away to land a few feet away from his mother. His mother screamed and lunged forward at the figure, her face white but determined, and the figure swung his hand again, slicing a deep red cut across her cheek and then stepping back as she collapsed beside his father.

  The figure turned and Quinn saw the twisted face of Edward Mistral standing there.

  He’d killed his parents with a dragon’s claw dipped in dragon’s blood.

  Mistral noticed the boy and made a move toward him.

  Quinn saw the child move forward and launch himself at the tall figure’s legs, his small hands flailing in anger at the man who was harming his parents. Edward Mistral violently hit the boy against the head with a fist, knocking him down to lay dazed and bleeding. Quinn lay there, not far from his mother and father, watching as they jerked and gasped in their final death throes, as Edward Mistral stood beside the boy and watched his parents die.

  When it was over, the Warlock bent down over the prone form of the child, laying his hand on the boy’s head and muttering some words. The boy cried out in pain then lay still, quiet and submissive, until Edward Mistral picked him up in his arms and disappeared out of the apartment. Everything went grey and the scene faded to nothingness.

  Quinn’s body was heaving the exertion of what he’d just seen. Coming back to the present, he saw Percy’s feet standing before his face, as he lay on the floor, his body shivering with the pain he now felt, hearing Percy’s voice as if from far away.

  It is over. You saw what you needed to see.

  Quinn struggled up with Percy’s help, getting to his feet and staggering to the side of his desk, where he grabbed a pile of tissue to mop up the blood streaming from his nose. The pain in his head slowly receded and he turned and was violently sick on the floor. It was mostly bile, as he hadn’t been eating, but it scalded his throat with acid and made him gag.

  “Hell, Quinn, you need to sit down.” Percy guided him to the chair and Quinn collapsed thankfully into it. His hands were shaking so badly, he could barely ho
ld the tissue where he wanted it to go.

  “I saw him. I saw that bastard Edward Mistral kill my parents.”

  Percy’s face was white with shock. “God, I don’t care what you bloody saw! That was a terrible thing to watch. I thought you were dying with all that blood. Here, let me hold that. Yours hands are bloody useless in their current state.”

  Percy grabbed another wad of tissue and held it under Quinn’s nose. Quinn closed his eyes, his chest tight as he struggled to breathe.

  “Mistral killed your parents? Because of those letters?”

  Quinn nodded. “It was a crime of passion. Edward Mistral was in love with my mother and wanted my father out the way. But in the end he killed her too. They trusted him and he got close to them and murdered them both. They had no reason to think he would harm them like that. They were bloody friends, for God’s sake.” His voice was anguished.

  Quinn. Are you all right?

  The worried voice of his Withinner echoed in his pounding head. Quinn nodded tiredly. “I’m alive. Feeling like shit but alive. Thank you, my friend. Thank you for that.”

  You are welcome. I am glad you survived. I was not looking forward to finding myself another Warlock.

  Quinn chuckled tiredly. “Nobody else would put up with you, you reprobate. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

  That pleases me. Even if you have been a complete horse’s arse of late.

  Quinn smiled and leaned back in his chair, exhausted by the events.

  Percy laid a soft hand on his shoulder. “Is that it? Have you finally found closure on this part of your life?”

  Quinn nodded. “The words Edward said to me when he died make perfect sense to me now.” His voice hardened. “I lived a lie my whole life thinking he’d saved me. I’m glad he’s dead and I’m glad I got to kill him. I just wish now it had been a more difficult death for him. Not only did he kill my parents, he killed all of Taliesin’s memories of my dad, memories I could have shared in.”