Raphael and his mother had been able to read each other’s minds. Not like people who joked about being able to do such things. They really could do it. As in know exactly what each other was thinking from the small things like what they wanted for breakfast to the big things like that his mother hadn’t trusted the Murderer and his stupid twitching nose.
Raphael hoisted himself into a tree and slid across one of the branches until he found a safe nook where he could rest his back and swing his legs.
He could still feel his mother with him, although her light wasn’t as bright as it used to be. She was fading. Just like Jazz and all the other women in Cypress.
His father had faded right out and was gone now too.
Why was he the only person who could see what was happening? And now that Jazz had signed the apothecary over to the Murderer, what did he have planned for them next? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.
Raphael scrunched up his face and closed his eyes to hold back his tears. Only babies cried and he’d been working so hard to prove to everyone that he wasn’t a baby anymore. Crying would only set him back.
But closing his eyes sharpened the image he had of Jazz on the window seat with the Murderer, and he didn’t want to think about that. He’d been eavesdropping on them for far longer than he knew was polite. And he’d seen them kissing in a gross kind of way he’d never seen before. Was that how grownups kissed? Because if that were the case, then maybe being called a baby wasn’t such a bad thing after all. He’d never kiss anyone like that, not even if he got the chance to grow up. Never, not ever.
Then the Murderer had used his magic to fool Jazz into signing everything they owned over to him. The real Jazz would never have done that. She’d have laughed in his face, torn up that stupid piece of paper and thrown it in the fire. The real Jazz was smart and brave and loving, not this strange girl with glazed-over eyes whose feelings failed to reach her heart. She was still in there somewhere, he knew that for sure because sometimes he’d get a glimpse of her, usually when she was busy and forgot to smell her salts. Whatever combination of oils were infused in that sachet of evil was to blame for all of this. He was sure of it.
It wasn’t right. None of this was.
Raphael pulled himself upright and climbed several branches higher, until he could see the blue of the sky.
“Mother!” he cried out, hoping she’d hear him and tell him what to do.
He was on his own now, he knew that. Unless he could find a way to wake up Jazz. Would being thrown out of their home be enough to jolt her back to reality? Because surely that’s what the Murderer planned to do next.
Raphael wasn’t sure why he was immune to the Murderer’s magic. Being a boy may be what was protecting him from whatever was being used to turn the females into empty shells, but he should have contracted the plague by now. All the other boys in Cypress had. His father had been one of the last men left alive, apart from the Murderer himself, who’d either worked out some way to protect himself or he had a vaccine he wasn’t willing to share.
He climbed back down to a lower branch and closed his eyes, blocking out images of Jazz, and trying to conjure his mother before him. A breeze ruffled his hair and for a moment he was certain it carried the smell of cinnamon, his mother’s favorite scent.
An image of a man with a scruffy beard came into his head. A handsome man, with eyes so black they looked like midnight and hair that was just as dark. He had the aura of someone of status yet wore the clothes of the poor. He was smiling at Raphael and holding out his hand.
Raphael’s eyes sprang open and as he gasped, the image of the man vanished.
This wasn’t the first time something like this happened. Instead of fighting it like he usually did, he decided to close his eyes once more and see if the man would return. He didn’t, but the feeling of him remained, making Raphael certain that he was coming to help him. He was a good man. Kind. He was the answer to all of Raphael’s problems. So, who was he?
Raphael swung himself out of the tree and back down to the ground. He shook his head and told himself he’d imagined the man. It was the only sensible explanation. Desperation did that to you sometimes. It haunted you with hope. Nobody was coming to save him. The opposite was happening. Everyone he loved was being taken away.
He needed to remember what his mother used to tell him about the Evernow. It didn’t matter what pain he’d felt in his past or what pain he had to come. If he could just find something to bring him happiness right now in this moment, he’d be okay.
He looked around the garden and back up to the sky, wondering what could bring him happiness and saw nothing. Maybe his mother was wrong.
JASMINE
THE NOW
Jasmine could hear the women singing in the workshop, as she set about arranging the small jars on the shelves in the emporium. She picked up the tune and sang along.
“We are lucky, oh so lucky, we are lucky, we have luck.”
The brass bell on the door tinkled to let her know she had a customer, and she turned to see who it was, offering a welcoming smile.
Despite her good mood, the smile slid from her face when she saw the stranger before her. Not so much because it was a stranger—it was common for people to travel from afar for one of the Alchemist’s elixirs—but because it was a man. Traveling to Cypress was seen as too dangerous for the males of Wintergreen, so normally the women were sent to collect their supplies. Either this man already had the blue plague or he was exceptionally brave. Or stupid.
He was young, maybe only a few years older than Jasmine herself, tall, with a beard and a tattered hat. His clothes were old and torn and she could see that he was well-built underneath them. A man whose stomach had plenty of food to build muscles and give him strength.
Jasmine brought her sachet of salts to her nose and inhaled, certain that this man must be in the early stages of the plague.
“How can I help you?” she asked, meeting his eyes and hoping for a fast transaction to get him out of the emporium.
The man opened his mouth to speak and closed it again, seeming to lose his words.
“Yes?” she prompted, wondering what was wrong with him. He didn’t have the bluish complexion worn by men with the plague who’d reached the stage where their words were lost. And he wouldn’t be standing up either if that were the case.
He cleared his throat and drew in a breath. “My … umm. My name is Doctor Abner.”
“Doctor?” She arched a brow and crossed her arms. It was rare to see a doctor in Cypress. They had no need for them, able to treat ailments far more effectively themselves.
The man nodded. “I’d like to see your Alchemist.”
Jasmine was used to these kinds of requests. Everyone wanted a piece of the Alchemist. It was her job to protect him. He needed to work on elixirs for the good of all, not solve the problems of one person.
She brought her salts to her nose and felt her impatience float away on a cloud of calm. “He’s very busy.”
“I’m prepared to wait,” the man said, the intonation of his words giving away that he most certainly wasn’t born to poverty. The only people Jasmine had heard speak with that particular quality to their voice were people born to money. He was intriguing and obviously highly untrustworthy. The Alchemist had been very clear that they weren’t to trust anybody, except for him.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” she said, looking up at him. “It could be days. What ailment is troubling you?” She forced a smile to her lips, hoping once more to be able to move him on with some speed.
“Then I’ll wait for days.” The man crossed his arms and planted his feet. “Or perhaps you could tell me where he lives? I believe his wife may be able to help me instead.”
“His wife doesn’t take visitors.” Jasmine reached for her salts again to shake her feeling of unease. “She doesn’t help anyone.”
“Perhaps I can tempt you with an incentive for directions to her house?” The ma
n held out a gold coin, confirming Jasmine’s suspicions that he was a man of money, despite his appearance. She didn’t know anybody in the village who carried around coins of that worth.
She shook her head. No amount of gold could tempt her to go against the Alchemist’s instructions. His privacy must be protected.
“Very well, then I must insist on seeing the Alchemist himself.” The man leaned on the counter in such a way to let her know he was prepared to stay until she complied. “Please tell him that Doctor Abner is here to see him. I’m certain he’ll want to speak to me.”
She wiped her hands on her dress, frustrated at being cornered like this. At this rate, she was going to need to glue her salts to her nose in order to keep calm. “I’ll tell him you’re here. But I can’t promise he’ll see you. Like I said, he’s very busy.”
The man nodded, still leaning on the counter. “Make sure you tell him my name.”
“Please don’t touch anything.” She stepped away from the counter and out through the small door at the back of the emporium that led to the apothecary.
“Valeree, would you mind watching the shop for a moment?” she asked one of the women tending a flame. “There’s a man there and I don’t trust him.”
“A man?” Valeree looked just as surprised as Jasmine had been.
Jasmine nodded. “Please just make sure he doesn’t touch anything.”
Valeree held her sachet of salts to her nose and scurried into the emporium to see this man for herself, while Jasmine knocked lightly on the door to the Alchemist’s workshop.
When there was no answer, she opened the door, cautiously.
The Alchemist was bent over a table with his back to her, studying a beaker filled with blue liquid as he tipped another liquid into it, one drop at a time. He set the beaker down on the table and reached for another oil. His movements were frenzied, as if he was in the world’s greatest hurry. He really was working hard on finding a cure for the plague.
“Excuse me, Alchemist,” said Jasmine, feeling a rash of heat race up her neck. It’d been two weeks now since that kiss and she was starting to wonder if she’d imagined the whole thing. He’d barely spoken to her since, except to ask her to start packing her belongings as he was going to need to move into the main house to make it easier for him to work. She and Raph were to move into the Alchemist’s house in town, which had made perfect sense when he’d explained it, although right at this moment she was struggling to remember what that sense was.
The Alchemist saw her and startled. “Jasmine!” He reached in his pocket and retrieved a small bottle and sprayed a mist into the air, his nose twitching in response. “I didn’t see you there.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, inhaling the floral scent and feeling her rash creep away. He was such a good man, always thinking of others.
“What is it?” he asked. “I’m very busy.”
“There’s a man in the shop who insists on seeing you.”
“A man?” He shook his head. “Send him away. I don’t have time for this. I’ve told you before that I don’t dispense personal advice to customers.”
“He says his name is Doctor Abner.” She hoped she’d remembered the name correctly.
The Alchemist took a step back and reached out to steady himself on his workbench. “Doctor Abner? You’re certain of this?”
“Yes.” Jasmine nodded. It seemed the doctor had been right. The Alchemist clearly knew his name. “He offered me gold in exchange for directions to your house.”
The Alchemist pulled himself up straight. “Did he now? Right. Please ask this man to meet me outside in the gazebo. I’d like to see him for myself.”
“Of course.” She reluctantly turned to leave, disappointed that he was finished with her so soon.
“Oh, Jasmine, one more thing,” he said, stepping closer to her and smiling.
Willing her hammering heart to slow down, she lifted her head to look at him and waited for what she hoped would be his mouth upon hers. The scent of his perfume was lacing its way through her core.
He cleared his throat. “I’ll need to move into the main house tomorrow. Please have your things ready by morning. And let your brother know.”
“Yes, Alchemist.” Jasmine smiled, reminding herself that he knew what was best. She’d take the stranger to the gazebo and return to the house to pack. Perhaps once the Alchemist was settled in his new home, he’d want to kiss her again.
“Hurry now,” he said.
“Of course.”
She closed the door behind her and caught the scent of cinnamon from a nearby basket, which made her think of her mother. If only she were here to tell Jasmine if these feelings she was having were normal.
Focusing on the women singing at their workbenches, she joined in the tune as she lifted her salts to her nose and returned to the emporium.
The Alchemist would deal with this strange man. He’d know how to get rid of him. Always looking out for them. He was such a good man.
ARI
THE NOW
Ari scratched at his beard while he waited for the young woman to fetch the Alchemist. It was most uncomfortable having this layer of coarse hair on his face. But his disguise was important to give him the upper hand. He’d used the name of the palace doctor to lure the Alchemist out, certain that if he was who he thought he was, then his curiosity would be piqued. But Ari didn’t want to be recognized immediately. Or perhaps at all. He had a far better chance of identifying the Alchemist if he could do so before he was identified himself.
If everything went to plan, he’d befriend the Alchemist and find out where he lived. Then he could see for himself this wife he kept hidden. Perhaps he’d even charm the Alchemist into admitting he had the vaccine for the men of Wintergreen and could learn of its ingredients.
The woman who’d first greeted him in the emporium was taking her time to return. She hadn’t been what he’d been expecting when he’d stepped through that door. He’d thought he’d be greeted by someone far older. And plainer. He hadn’t anticipated being robbed of his ability to speak when she first met his eyes. She was, without doubt, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, which was saying something given the number of women who’d been paraded in front of him by his mother as potential brides.
But her beauty wasn’t what had stolen his breath. It was the look in her eyes, like she was present in the room, yet at the same time she was somewhere else. She wore a sachet around her neck that she kept bringing to her nose in some kind of odd habit. It was fascinating.
As much as her mind hadn’t been present, she’d fiercely protected the man she worked for, making Ari all the more certain that he’d come to the right place. The Alchemist had to be the man he was looking for. Why else did he keep himself hidden in his workshop? The woman had said that his wife didn’t take visitors either. So far, everything was adding up. It was just as well he’d defied his father to come here. The King didn’t always know what was best. His mistress was proof of that.
Another woman had come out to keep an eye on him, making sure he didn’t slip one of these strange bottles in his pocket and walk away. She wasn’t beautiful like the first woman, but she had the same vacant look in her eyes and a familiar sachet tied with a ribbon around her neck.
The woman watched him with both curiosity and suspicion as she drew in the scent of whatever was in that sachet.
“Excuse me,” he said, deciding to see what information he could glean while he waited. “The woman here before you gave me directions to your Alchemist’s home and I’m confused. Would you mind running over them with me again, or I’ll end up wandering the streets until nightfall.”
She crossed her arms and glared at him, a glimmer of life sparking in the back of her eyes. “Jasmine will be back shortly. She can tell you herself.”
Jasmine. So that was her name. Even if he hadn’t gotten the information he’d been digging for, at least he had something of value now. A name to go with the long dark hair, esc
aping from that clasp that had no hope of holding such an impressive mane captive.
He watched the woman behind the counter breathe in the aroma of the sachet and the vacant look in her eyes returned. What was in those sachets? Could they be responsible for the trance-like state these women seemed to be in? He’d seen the impact that various elixirs could have on someone’s mood before, but this seemed a little extreme. Just how powerful had the Alchemist become?
Jasmine stepped back into the emporium, a pink rash on her neck and her breath running short.
“Please come with me,” she said, seeming to be on a mission to get him out of her emporium as quickly as possible. But so long as she took him to the man he’d come to see, he didn’t mind how quickly she did it. The sooner the better and the less chance he had of contracting the plague. Although, the less time he’d get to spend in Jasmine’s presence…
“Stop it,” he scolded under his breath.
“Sorry?” she said.
“Oh, my apologies. Nothing,” he said, shaking his head.
She motioned for him to follow her through a side door and down some steps that led into the garden that he’d caught sight of from the road. It was of an astonishing size and bursting with every plant he’d ever seen and more. All growing and blooming as if the earth here had been infused with some kind of magic. It reminded him of the garden at the palace, without the formality of the plantings. The haphazard nature of this garden was what made it so inviting, leading Ari to believe that there was nothing haphazard about it at all.
“This is a beautiful garden,” he said, trying to engage Jasmine in a conversation as they walked.
“My father planted it,” she said, bringing the sachet to her nose. “My mother called it the Garden of Evernow, but it was his garden really.”
The Kingdoms of Evernow Box Set Page 25