“What do you want with me? Why have you taken Paul?”
“We want you, Mr. Smith,” a voice I did not recognize said from the shadows. “We want you to agree to join us.”
I took a step closer to Paul.
“That will be far enough.”
An arm, clad in black, entered the circle of light that surrounded Paul. The arm held a dagger, which the owner of the arm pressed against Paul’s throat.
Cold clutched at my heart. Paul had been the first person I had allowed myself to get close to in many years. With the new frontier it would be simple, once my extended youth became apparent, to move on into the backwoods. I could stay with Paul for so long as he would have me.
Then the note. Come to the gentlemen’s club at noon or my affair with Paul would be revealed, and both of us would be hauled before the magistrate for violation of English law regarding unnatural acts. The penalties we might face ranged from whipping, to branding, to hanging.
With my elixirs I could mend our broken bodies from anything less than hanging, and hanging, to be honest, was unlikely. Nevertheless, I could not bring myself to subject Paul to that torment.
“What do you want with me?”
Another voice, colder than the arctic wastes, spoke. “We want you to agree to join us, to accept us within you.”
I did not understand the thing then.
A tendril of shadow, a darker darkness within the darkness, reached out and brushed my cheek. My first experience with Shadows.
I screamed. The cold burned down to my very soul. That featheriest of touches suffused me with agony greater than any I had ever known. I, who had been broken on rocks in a shipwreck, who had had half the flesh burned from my bones, knew those had been but gentle caresses compared to this pain.
I would eventually learn that their touch could either numb and paralyze, or pierce through with pain.
I fell to my knees, breath paralyzed by the agony. With an effort of will I made hand clutch for my emergency vial, a sealed glass ampoule containing the Elixir of Life. I cracked the neck of the ampoule and poured the contents down my throat before letting my head fall forward to rest my forehead on the wooden planks of the floor.
Shock. The pain continued unabated, only receding slowly with the withdrawal of the tendril of shadow.
“Whoreson,” I said, emulating a defiance I did not feel.
The cold voice chuckled softly. “Perhaps it is not your own pain that moves you,” the thing, which I no longer thought could be human, said. “Perhaps you are moved more by your love?”
I lifted my head. Again, the darkness moving within darkness. A swirl reached out. It touched Paul.
My scream had been nothing compared to the horror that emitted from Paul’s throat. I forced myself to my feet. I staggered forward one step. Two. Three.
“Stop!” I cried.
The swirl withdrew. Paul’s screams turned to moaning sobs.
Through the echoing in my ears I heard a thumping. It took me a moment to realize that it was coming from outside. Someone was pounding on the door to the clubhouse.
“Deal with that,” the cold voice said.
Johnson nodded. He went past me, in the direction of the door. The room brightened slightly as Johnson opened the door a crack.
“Your pardon, Squire Johnson,” a voice I recognized as belonging to Sheriff Adams, “but that was some powerful screaming. Terrifying. I have to inquire who is being tormented in there?”
“My apologies for the disruption,” Johnson said. “But a wound on Mr. Henry’s leg has mortified. I am amputating with the assistance of Mr. Smith.”
“I did not know that Paul Henry had suffered an injury. Perhaps, I had best...”
I opened my mouth to cry out, to call for help, but again the Shadows swirled around Paul and I dared not.
“That’s not really—” a scuffing sound interrupted Johnson’s reply to the sheriff. “No!” he cried.
Light flooded into the clubhouse as the door behind me opened wide. The light chased the shadows back into the corners of the room, including the Shadow that was not a shadow, that was a tangible thing.
I turned. The sheriff and Doctor Johnson scuffled in the doorway. The candle had fallen to the floor where it lay still burning.
I looked back to where Paul sat bound into a chair. The Shadow thing had retreated from the light. Light. I needed light. More light.
Pain still clouded my thinking but I reached into the pocket of my waistcoat for a stoppered vial, a powder I use when starting fires, extract of pine oil. A mere pinch will encourage the wettest wood to burn even in a deluge. I removed the stopper and hurled the vial at the candle.
Flame erupted, a bright flame that dispelled all shadows. With an ear-piercing screech, the shadow thing vanished. I thought then that it was dead. I would later learn that I could not so easily kill these things, if indeed I could kill them at all.
Sheriff Adams managed to back through the door before the fire touched him. The flames, however, ignited the tails of Johnson’s coat before he fled the building in the direction of the river.
I looked from the doorway, now blocked by flame, and back to Paul. I staggered over to the chair, taking my penknife from its pocket. A poor choice for the task but it was all I had. I sawed at the ropes that bound Paul, who hung senseless from them.
The front half of the building was an inferno before the last rope parted. My jacket smoldered from the heat. And though the elixir still ran through my veins my lungs burned with every breath. I dragged Paul to a window at the rear. Over the roar of the flames I could hear hissing, people outside fighting the fire.
The shutter over the window refused to open. I blasphemed and rammed into it with my shoulder. I felt the wood give slightly. Again and again I drove myself into the shutter. The wood cracked, then the shutter burst open.
I crawled through the window, half dragging, half carrying Paul. Outside, I gulped in air. The elixir could protect me from the smoke but it could not restore freshness to the air.
I pulled Paul away from the building. I saw none of the townspeople on this side but past the building beyond its front side I could see the line of people passing buckets slopping with water.
I stretched Paul out on the ground and bent down to place my ear against his chest. He still breathed. His heart still beat. I removed the empty ampoule of elixir from my pocket and stared at it. Perhaps a drop or two still clung to it? I pried open Paul’s mouth and shook the ampoule above it. I thought I saw a drop break free of the glass to land on Paul’s tongue.
I heard a hiss from behind me. I turned. A cottage stood there. I heard the hiss again, and looked down to see the darkness of a crack in the foundation.
“You will not escape,” the cold voice I had come to loathe said. “We will have you.”
I looked down at Paul, and then at the crack, and then I turned and fled.
Later I told myself I fled to protect Paul. If the Shadow things were after me, they would have no use for Paul once I had left. They would have no cause to harm him. But that is only partially true. In truth, the Shadows terrified me on a primal level that I still do not understand.
I stopped by my own small cottage and gathered up a few things, some tools and supplies. And then I fled to the west, into the wild.
I avoided people for a long, long time.
CHAPTER FOUR
Since that time I had kept my affairs brief and casual. I did not dare give the creatures I came to call Shadows such a weapon to use against me. Each time I encountered the Shadows over the years, I learned a bit more. I learned the extents to which they would go to bring me to heel. What they wanted, however, I never learned.
Over the past several days, I had furnished my apartment. Simple furnishings, most acquired from thrift stores or other discount outlets as a student of modest means might possess. I did not participate in the frequent hall parties that young men and women, away from home for the first time, indulged
in. Instead, I strove to present as a studious young man, working hard to earn good grades and mostly succeeding.
My alchemical equipment was coming along nicely. I lacked only a proper furnace and a fume hood. None of the local venues I’d checked had carried the tabletop units I needed for such a small apartment. I would have to order them. But before I could do that, I needed to set up a proper hobby that would explain their presence. Jewelry crafting, working with copper and bronze, made a good cover story.
I sat at my small kitchen table carving a dragon figure in wax, slated to be a pendant. A large plastic serving tray, picked up from a dollar store, caught the shavings of wax as my fingers worked the fine-bladed craft knife.
The doorbell rang. By reflex I looked back over my shoulder at the door. I set the partially completed figure down. The doorbell rang again. I stood up and walked to the door, scooping up my calculus book from the counter on the way.
Through the peephole I saw Becki standing in the hallway with a notebook and textbook hugged to her chest. I opened the door.
“Yes?”
“Adrian, do you understand this calculus assignment? Because I’m completely lost.”
I smiled. “Why don’t you come in and we can figure it out together.”
I stepped back, clearing the doorway.
“Thank you!” She entered the room, then let go of her book with her left hand to lift it to shield her eyes. “Wow. You keep it bright in here.”
I shrugged.
I led her to the kitchen table and set down my textbook. I needed no more than a quick review for this course, but a young student just starting out could not shirk on his studies. Thus, the book in hand as though Becki had interrupted my study.
I reached for the tray to move my carving project aside but before I could lay hands on it Becki’s hand darted past mine and scooped up the figurine.
“What’s this?”
“Oh, that?” I said. “I used to do carving back home. I read up on lost wax casting and thought I’d try it. Maybe make some pendants I could sell.”
“Oh, jewelry making?”
“Sort of. I’m thinking of copper and bronze. Gold and silver is too rich for my blood, at least for now.” I suppressed a smile. Gold, of course, was not difficult, merely tedious.
Becki held the wax figure in front of her face. “This is gorgeous.”
“I’ve been doing it for a while,” I said. “Just takes practice.”
“I think it takes more than practice.” Becki set the figurine carefully back on the tray. “You’ve got to let me see it when it’s done.”
“Of course,” I said. “Now...” I moved the tray from table to counter. In the small kitchen that required little more than turning and a slight lean to reach. I pulled out a chair and beckoned Becki to sit.
I sat in a chair next to her.
“What’s been giving you trouble?”
#
The first couple of bars of a popular song came from Becki’s handbag, one of those sappy love songs. She reached into it and pulled out her phone.
“Hey, Chuck. What’s up?”
While Becki listened to the person, Chuck, on her phone, I got up and opened the refrigerator. I pulled out a pitcher of tea and held it up for Becki to see.
She tipped the phone away from her face. “Sweet or unsweet?”
“Unsweet,” I said.
“Bless you,” she said. “Please. No, Honey, I wasn’t talking to you. Look. I told you, I had to study tonight.”
Recognizing that she wasn’t talking to me, I turned back to the cabinet and removed two tall glasses. I filled the glasses with tea then put the pitcher back into the refrigerator.
“Sure, probably, but I can’t just pass. I’ve got to keep my grades high if I’m going to keep my scholarship.”
I set the glasses on the table, one in front of her and one in front of my seat, then returned to the refrigerator.
“Of course I want to spend time with you, sweetie, but this is important to me.”
On top of the refrigerator I had a plastic container of trail mix. I opened it and set it on the table. Something to munch on as we continued studying.
“Oh, come on, Chuck. You know better than that. Of course I think you’re important. We’ll spend time together this weekend. I promise.” She rolled her eyes.
I returned to my seat.
“Love you too, baby. Talk to you later.” She hung up the phone.
I suppressed a smile. “Boyfriend?”
“Since freshman year in high school. Even though several other schools made offers for him he decided to come here so we could be together.” She sighed. “But sometimes he gets a little clingy.”
I shrugged. “He’s probably afraid. Here you are in a new environment.” I tapped the book in front of me. “Classes are harder. You don’t have as much time for him as you used to. Then there are all the other college guys, many of whom would love to go out with you.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Including you?”
I held up my hands. “Whoa! I didn’t mean...”
She's attached, I told myself, and like Tom back at the restaurant, she deserved better than a casual fling. I'd been finding lately that most of the people I'd be willing to spend time with deserved better than a casual fling.
She chuckled. “Relax, Adrian. I know you didn’t.” She took a handful of the trail mix. “You’re a nice guy. You know what they say about nice guys.”
“What’s that?” I raised the glass to my lips and took a drink.
“He who finishes last, finishes best.”
Her timing was perfect. I snorted iced tea out my nose.
“You are a cruel, cruel woman,” I said, once the coughing stopped. “So, I guess I’ve just been friend-zoned?”
She shrugged. “‘Fraid so. Are you terribly disappointed?”
I laughed. “To be honest, I wasn’t looking for anything else.”
“Oh? Got a girlfriend of your own?”
“Not at the moment. Let’s just say I’m...between relationships.”
“Oh? Player?”
“What? No. Look, this really isn’t a comfortable topic for me. Can we get back to calculus?”
#
Some time later Becki closed the book.
“Thanks, Adrian, I think I understand it now.”
I smiled. She stood up and I stood with her, helping her gather her notebooks and pens.
“Glad I could help. Any time.”
“Thanks,” she said again. “I’ll take you up on that. You seem to really understand this stuff.”
What could I tell her? So I said nothing as I escorted her to the door.
“See you in class,” she said as I opened the door.
I nodded. “Take care.”
And then she was gone and it was time for me to go to bed, the dragon figurine sitting forlornly, half-finished on the kitchen counter.
#
The next two weeks went the same way. I attended class every day, worked on figurines or other things that provided an excuse for my furnace in the evenings. I continued producing my elixir, adding salts of various herbs at the right times, I could describe the process in detail but it would do you no good. The key ingredient, the one thing that makes the elixir a healing potion and not merely a noxious mix of ashes and distillates is my blood. Not just any blood, but my blood. The philosopher’s stone that alchemists sought? Somehow in all the various experiments my master Albertus performed on me, he had changed my blood so that it was the philosopher’s stone. What he did to extend his life before my parents bought me an apprenticeship with him, I do not know. I only know that he was centuries old before I ever met him, and that I never saw him again after we went our separate ways so many years ago.
Two or three days a week, Becki came up to my apartment for help with her calculus. On one of these I gave her the little dragon figurine, cast in copper with a pin on the back turning it into a broach, establishing myself as an ama
teur jewelry maker and justifying the small furnace that sat in the kitchen.
Calculus had ended for the day and I was on my way to my introduction to engineering class when something hooked my right foot out from under me just as I started to put weight on it. I tumbled to the floor, my book bag sliding across the floor, bouncing off people’s legs in the moderately crowded hallway. I took enough of the impact on my hands to prevent my nose from colliding with the tile but my chest hit hard, driving the breath out of me.
I rolled onto my back and sat up. Tripped? Someone had tripped me? This was supposed to be college, not grade school.
I saw Becki exiting the class. She saw me and started over.
“Adrian, are you okay? What happened?”
Before I could answer I saw a wall of flesh appear next to her. Somewhere around six foot three inches tall and in the vicinity of two hundred fifty pounds. Short-cropped light brown hair and wide-set green eyes. His nose had a crook in it that suggested it had been broken at least once.
Becki looked up at the walking wall and grinned. “Hey, Chuck.”
She looked back at me. “Adrian?”
I rolled to my feet and collected my backpack. “I’m fine. I just tripped.”
The walking wall, Chuck, put a hand on Becki’s waist. “Who’s your friend?”
“Chuck, this is Adrian.” She held out a hand in my direction. “Adrian, Chuck.” The turned the hand toward Mr. Wall. “Adrian’s been helping me with my calculus.”
“Pleased to meet you.” I held out a hand.
Chuck hesitated a moment then took my hand which seemed to disappear into his. “Hi.”
I half expected him to try to crush my hand but he simply gave it a firm squeeze and shake, then released.
Chuck stood looking at me, his expression unreadable. He wore a jeans and blue sports jersey that I recognized as endorsing the local football team. He broke eye contact and stooped to pick up the backpack sitting by his feet and sling it by one strap over his shoulder.
“See you, ‘round.”
With his hand on Becki’s waist he ushered her away.
I watched them go. So that was the jealous boyfriend? I smiled. He really had no reason to be. I had no interest in Becki as anything but a friend. She was too nice a girl for a casual affair and after Paul and—my mind shied away from the other—I never dared become any more involved than that.
Alchemy of Shadows Page 3