Alchemy of Secrets

by Stephanie Garber

local legend or urban myth, and we’d have to swear never to share them. One of the Professor’s legends is about someone called the Watch Man. Supposedly, there are signs that lead to him around Los Angeles. If you follow the signs and you manage to find him, you can ask him the time, and the Watch Man will tell you when you’ll die.” Jake’s expression shifted, a tiny worry line forming between his brows. “It’s not as morbid as it sounds,” Holland hurried to say. “The Professor also said that you can make a deal with him to get more time, to live longer than you would have.”

“Fifteen years ago, one of my clients leased a safety deposit box. Shortly after, this person passed away. The box was already bought and paid for, and therefore it has sat untouched. But its lease is now about to expire.” Mr. Vargas paused to check his watch. “The lease will end in twenty-four hours. If the box is not claimed before this time, then, per the original owner’s contract, the box and all its contents will be incinerated.” “And let me guess,” Holland said, “you’re going to tell me that I can claim this mystery box?” Mr. Vargas nodded gravely before wiping a line of sweat from his brow. “You know,” Holland said, “this is an excellent story.” And it was. It was just the sort of mystery Holland usually would have found difficult to resist. But suddenly she realized why she was feeling skeptical. It seemed like a hell of a coincidence that last night she’d given out her personal information to a stranger, after following one of the Professor’s urban myths, and then today, a different urban myth showed up on her porch.

“You do not find these cards, young man. There’s only one way to obtain one.” Finally, she launches into her story. “There are a number of haunted hotels in Los Angeles, and there is one in particular that the devil favors. It’s said he enjoys drinking their sidecars.” The person next to you whispers, “What’s a sidecar?” “I think it’s a drink,” you murmur. “It’s a cocktail,” the Professor says, looking right at you. “Made of cognac and citrus, the sidecar has been around for over a century, and if you buy one of these for the devil, he’ll give you one of his business cards. Each card may be used only once for an appointment with the devil, where you can make a deal for whatever you want, and then—” She waves her fingers in a gesture that universally means magic, as she explains that this is why the cards are all blank—they have been used for deals with the devil, and thus the writing has disappeared.

“What you’ve written is good.” “Really?” Holland asked, relieved. “You’re an excellent writer,” he said sincerely. “The Professor’s notes mention that you were briefly a Storytelling major in your undergrad, and it shows. You pulled me in right away with your version of Natalia West’s death. The way you connected her rapid rise to fame in the 1950s with her mysterious death was smart, and you did a clever job of drawing parallels between the strange details of her death and those of other celebrities who died under tragic or unexplainable circumstances.” Adam flipped through a few more pages. Holland tried not to grin. She was still upset by everything he’d said about the Professor. But she also couldn’t help thinking that maybe there was more nuance to Adam Bishop than she had given him credit for. He seemed to really understand what she was doing. And he’d called her smart. “Unfortunately”—Adam shut the folder and looked up at Holland with eyes that had lost their smile—“you can’t use any of this.” “But—wait—” she stammered. “You just said it was good.” “It is. Your theory that some of the most famous deaths in Hollywood were actually murders committed by the devil is extremely entertaining, for fiction.”

“How many of you have heard the Hollywood Rule of Three—that if one celebrity dies, two are certain to follow? I’m not sure when it began, but I can tell you it’s a lie. All three of these deaths are part of a cover-up, a bit of misdirection, to hide the real reason Isla and Ben were killed.” The Professor lowers her voice to a whisper that makes all of you move closer. “By now, I’m sure many of you have tried to find the devil at a hotel bar, and I probably should have said this before: Be very careful. Hollywood was not built on dreams, it was built on favors from the devil, and the devil does not handle it well when those favors aren’t paid back.”

“Ever since I walked in here tonight, I’ve had a bad feeling. I don’t know what’s going on, but do me a favor and just be careful.”

“I do not kid on these calls, and generally speaking, if you need to ask if it’s a joke, it’s not a very good one, which is another reason why I’m not known for joking.” Although, for a second, it sounded as if he was joking. The accent made him sound like a character from an old black-and-white comedy. “I tend to frighten people,” he went on, “but I assure you, I am not the one who wants you dead.” “Then why did you tell Jake to kill me?” More static prickled through the phone as the Watch Man sighed. “I did not tell him to kill you. I told him killing you would prolong his life. But I didn’t say it was a wise idea.” “Then maybe you shouldn’t have said it at all!” “He asked the time,” the Watch Man said patiently, but the static on the line was growing thicker. “It is my job to tell him what he wanted to know. And now I must tell you that you will die tomorrow, Halloween, at 11:59 p.m.” Tomorrow. It was more time than Jake, but not by much. The puddles of water on the sidewalk were making their way toward Holland’s feet, and now she could feel the wet soaking through her skin, into her blood. “Are you still with me?” the Watch Man asked. Holland wanted to hang up, or scream, or hang up and scream. This couldn’t be happening. “This might be a good time for you to ask how you can get more time,” the Watch Man prodded. “I don’t want to kill anyone,” she managed. “That’s good to hear. The world does not need more murderers. And it wouldn’t get you any extra time. The only way...

That’s when she saw it, on the underside of his wrist: an indigo tattoo of an antiquity eye, with the symbol for tin——on top and the symbol for sulfur— —below. Her breath caught at the familiar combination. Instinctively her fingers went to the chain around her neck. “You have the exact same tattoo as my sister.” “Who do you think asked me to come here?” he said, and he looked as if he regretted saying yes to the request. “I’m doing this as a favor to January, but I’m only staying thirty more seconds. Then it’s you and the cops.”

“In the Middle Ages, books were extraordinarily valuable, and it was common practice to chain them up to protect them from theft. About five hundred years ago, a large number of these chained-up books and manuscripts began to mysteriously arrive at the Hereford Cathedral. No one knew why, but so many of them appeared that someone decided to form a library. “Most people consider it a curiosity, a place to take pictures that can be posted with pithy captions. However, my dear students, there’s a reason all those chained manuscripts showed up at that particular cathedral. The Hereford Cathedral is dedicated to two saints, one of whom is Saint Æthelberht the King. I’d ask if any of you know who he is, but I don’t want to be disappointed again, so I will just tell you. Æthelberht was a ruler during the Middle Ages who was betrayed and murdered by the parents of his betrothed.” The Professor mimes a knife slashing across her throat. And you feel slightly disturbed by how animated she becomes whenever she speaks of someone’s demise. “Recordkeeping was abysmal in the Middle Ages, so Æthelberht’s life would have been forgotten by history, except that the events after his death are quite remarkable. As Æthelberht’s body was on its way to be buried, the stories say his severed head rolled out of a cart and restored the sight of a blind man. Even more miracles were reported at the location of his grave. “Rumors spread that the grave was magic. A church was built there, which turned in...

“To this day, no one knows who took it,” she continues. “But after it vanished, there were more stories of peculiar magics all over England. There were whispers of time stopping, of loved ones returning from the dead, of a young boy who could kill with his mere words. For one hundred years, there were stories of ordinary people receiving extraordinary magical gifts, until one day the stories stopped. The book that had been stolen reappeared at the Chained Library. Only now the volume was without chains, and it was completely hollowed out. The magical object inside was gone. All that remained was a slip of parchment with a series of numbers on it. I don’t usually share this next part with students, but let’s just say the time feels right.” The Professor begins to rattle off a list of numbers. It’s a long list. Finally you think she’s near the end, because she pauses and then she finishes with “One zero two zero two five.” You’re working on doing some math in your head when the person beside you says, “The numbers are dates. Months and years.” Someone else says, “The last one is this month.” The Professor’s expression is difficult to read with her giant sunglasses, but you think she sounds pleased as she says, “You’re both correct. The list is indeed a series of dates, and each of those dates has coincided with the reappearance of the object that was hidden inside the book.” “What was hidden?” asks the same student who first figured out the numbers were dates. The Professor ...

“Listen, Mr. Killing Cars and Kidnapping Women Is My Hobby.” “Don’t ever call me that again.” “I’m just trying to get you to listen to me,” she said impatiently. “Earlier tonight, right before you showed up, I was told that I have a little over twenty-four hours to find the Alchemical Heart. If I don’t, I’m going to die.” “Who told you that?” he asked. Holland considered telling him about the Watch Man, but the last person she’d told the story to was dead. “It doesn’t matter,” she murmured. “I believe him.” Gabe narrowed his eyes. “Did this person threaten to kill you, or did he tell you the time you’re going to die?” He put extra emphasis on the word time, and Holland wondered then if maybe somehow Gabe already knew the legend of the Watch Man. “The time,” Holland said. “One minute before midnight on Halloween—unless I find the Alchemical Heart.” “Fuck,” Gabe muttered. “You’re screwed.”

“This secret society is far older than either of those. It was formed at the start of the Middle Ages by a group who believed in a parallel world that contained magic. The story goes that after one of the members died and then came back to life in a ritual, they claimed to have visited this parallel world and brought back proof in the form of an object that later would become known as the Alchemical Heart.” The traffic on the freeway came to a halt. Gabe’s eyes darted around the neighboring cars, and then he checked all his windows and mirrors before saying, “No one knows what the Alchemical Heart looks like, but it’s said to be so powerful that any person it comes near gains an ability, and any object it touches fills with magic. The Sacred Order realized too late that once any form of magic was created, it could not be destroyed. The magic or ability would simply be passed on to another person or object. This is when the Sacred Order of the Parallel Dawn began to fracture. One faction wanted to destroy the Alchemical Heart.” “Wait,” Holland interrupted. “I thought you said magic can’t be destroyed.” “It can’t be,” Gabe said. “But the Alchemical Heart is said to be the source of all magic, and some people believe that if the Alchemical Heart is destroyed, all the magic it has created will be destroyed as well.” “This sounds like the most powerful object in the world,” said Holland. Gabe shot her a look that seemed to say, Thanks for stating the obvious, toots.

“No hospitals.” Gabe reached up and undid his tie with one hand. “You can stitch me up at my place.” “Oh, no—” Holland said. “I don’t stitch people. I don’t even stitch stitchable things very well.” “You’ll be fine. Just think of it as stabbing me with a needle.” “But I don’t want to stab you.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “You did earlier.” Holland couldn’t argue with this.

“You shouldn’t,” he said. Her fingers froze. “I shouldn’t what?” “You shouldn’t trust me. I’m not a good person.” “Have I given you the impression that I think you’re good?”

“Hey,” Gabe said. “Sweetheart, look at me.” “I don’t know if I can.” “Don’t look at my wound,” he said, surprisingly gentle. “Look at me.” She heard Gabe set down the gun, and then she felt his hand on hers. “You can relax.” His hand felt warm as he guided her fingers toward the wound. “It’s not my time to die.” “You don’t know that.” “Yes. I do.” His voice became even softer. “I know it, the same way you know the time you’re going to die.” Holland’s eyes cracked open. “You talked to the Watch Man?” Gabe guided her hand to set down the antiseptic cloth. “It’s not my time tonight.” Holland flashed back to the way he’d driven the car, as if accidents were things that happened to other people. “That’s why you were driving like a maniac earlier.” “No, that’s just how I drive,” he replied. And she swore she saw the edge of his mouth inch up.

“What else can you do?” Holland asked. From the look on his face, she could already tell he didn’t like her asking questions, but she couldn’t contain her excitement. “Did you also use magic to make the neighborhood go dark? Do you even need your hands to drive this car?” She watched Gabe press his foot on the gas pedal. But now she imagined it was probably because he enjoyed driving stolen cars like a maniac, not because he actually needed to. “First, we don’t use the word magic,” he said gruffly. “Second, it’s rude to ask people about their ability.” “Why?” “You just don’t. If you use the word magic, people will know that you’re not a part of this world.” “And by world, you mean the world of the Professor’s myths?” Gabe frowned. “The myths don’t belong to your Professor, but yes…” He trailed off as his eyes went to the rearview mirror. “Strange.” “What’s strange?” “No one is following us.”

“This isn’t a regular bank. When the Sacred Order of the Parallel Dawn split up, it fractured into three separate groups. One faction felt that the magic created by the Alchemical Heart needed to be destroyed.” Holland nodded. “One of the other factions felt the opposite. They wanted to continue to use the Alchemical Heart to create magic—” “Wait—” Holland interrupted. “I thought you said not to use the word magic?” “People have abilities,” he said, annoyed. “Objects have magic.” “So … I can use the word magic?” “Only when you talk about an object. But just … don’t.” “Oh, my gosh—you’re a snob!” Gabe immediately looked offended, but then his snobby expression returned, which only proved her point. “You’re a magic snob! You’re a part of this magical world, and you don’t want me saying the word magic because you’re afraid it will make you seem less serious and scary.” He scowled. “Do you want me to finish telling you about the Bank, or do you want to argue about magic?” For the record, Gabe was the one who kept saying magic. But Holland thought it was probably not wise to point that out. “Please, continue,” she said sweetly. Gabe’s mouth shifted into a crooked line, as if he wasn’t quite sure what expression to make. Murders, car chases, and ransacked homes were all just part of his average day, but teasing had surprised him. Holland watched his mouth twist uncertainly for a few more seconds before, finally, he said, “The third faction claimed that it didn’t think the Alchem...

“The Bank claims their goal is to maintain order and keep people safe, but what they really want is to control, manipulate, and possess all the power in the world. That’s why they want the Alchemical Heart, and if you go in there tomorrow, I promise you that before you leave, they’ll take whatever is in that box, and then they’ll take your memories. Not just of this conversation—they’ll erase everything you learned from your precious Professor, everything you learned about your sister tonight, they—” Gabe’s eyes were on hers, and for a second Holland imagined he was going to say they’d take every memory of him as well, but what he said next was far worse. “Just to be safe, they might even take the last several years of your life. You’ll become one of those people who end up in Griffith Park with no memory of how they got there or who they are.”

“What if my father’s box doesn’t have the Alchemical Heart and the Bank detains me?” “I won’t let that happen. You get in, I’ll make sure you get out,” Gabe said. But suddenly he no longer looked like Gabe. He looked just like Adam Bishop. Golden hair, golden skin, devil-may-care expression on his beautiful face. Holland blinked, but when she opened her eyes, she was still looking at Adam. Adam was in the beach house, right in front of her, real enough to touch, wearing the same ripped jeans and plaid shirt as before, only now the shirt was open and she could see a bandage wrapping around his shoulder. “Trust me, Bright Eyes,” he said, and he sounded like Adam, too. “I’m not going to let anyone hold on to you but me.” His mouth slowly tipped into a smirk as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Holland tried to pull free, but she felt helpless as he tugged her closer. All she could do was shut her eyes again. Tighter this time. “Holland—” This time the voice sounded like Gabe. He took hold of her shoulder, just as she felt something wet drip from her nose.

The Regal Perhaps the greatest myth of all, or at least the grandest. The Regal is the embodiment of why people spend their lives searching for magic. Must be a registered key holder, or on the official guest list of a registered key holder. Guests of registered key holders may stay up to 24 Regal hours. Key holders may stay as long as they wish, and some of them do just that. It’s rumored that a number of mysterious disappearances are actually people who checked into the Regal and never checked out. Behavioral and dress codes are strictly enforced. No naked animals (not sure if this is a joke). It’s said to exist outside of time. One hour in the Regal is one minute in the real world, making it the perfect place for those who never want to grow old, or those who wish to hide.

“Aren’t you hungry?” she asked. He shook his head. “Don’t really like pumpkin.” “Then why did you order all this?” He shrugged. “You seemed like someone who likes to celebrate holidays.” He walked away quickly, as if saying or doing something nice might cause him to break out in hives.

“I’m going to give you a quick lesson in sensing magical objects, just in case you don’t really understand what’s in your father’s box. Now put out your hand.” This time Holland obeyed. “When I set this in your palm, I want you to tell me if you feel anything or sense anything when you touch it. The tricky thing about magic is that it doesn’t always feel the same. Sometimes it makes goosebumps rise up on your arms, other times it might make the world around you go quiet for a second. It does things that people notice all the time, but they don’t really notice why unless they’re paying attention. So”—Gabe paused, and his dark eyes locked onto hers—“I need you to pay attention.”

“I want to know what it does.” Gabe looked at her seriously. “If I step into a bar, as long as I have this coin, I never have to pay for drinks.” “Are you joking?” “I’m not really known for my sense of humor, sweetheart.” But now Gabe was grinning. It might have been the first time she’d seen him properly smile, and it was a really good smile. Holland might have felt just a little bit dazzled, and Gabe seemed to notice. She expected his smile to immediately fade, but instead he reached out for her fingers and slowly peeled them back from the coin. “When you get out of the Bank with the Alchemical Heart, drinks are on me tonight.”

“This will all be over soon. Just make sure when you go inside you stay away from the Manager.” “Why? Who’s the Manager?” “I don’t know. They keep it a secret. But I’ve heard the Manager can read minds.” Gabe hesitated. “If you meet them, make sure you don’t think of me. If they find out I’m here, waiting for you, then I might not be able to get you out.”

“Usually new recruits only get minor ones, like the ability to always find a good parking spot. But I have something special in mind for you.” The Professor stepped back to her desk and patted a lovely golden box. Holland wondered if the ability was sitting inside. She didn’t know how any of this really worked. But the Professor looked ready to tell her. She looked ready to give Holland the keys to the kingdom as soon as Holland said yes. “What is this ability?” Holland asked. “Oh, you’ll love it,” the Professor said. “It will literally change your life. I just need one little tiny favor first.” She gave Holland another smile, a sly smile that made Holland think this favor was actually going to be quite far from tiny. “I know you’re here to open a safety deposit box, and when you open it, I need you to give me whatever is inside of it.”

“I don’t know how your path crossed his,” said the Professor. “But I dread what might happen if the Alchemical Heart were to fall into Gabriel’s hands. And I hate the idea of him using you and then killing you, just like he did with his wife.”

“The family who built this place is known for having abilities involving time and its manipulation,” said Eileen. “So every hour inside the Regal is only a minute outside. Right now, since we are on the Regal property, time has slowed to a crawl everywhere else. You could spend a month here, and only twelve hours would pass for the rest of the world.”

“You’re drunk,” Holland blurted. He grinned with an unfairly perfect smile. “It’s good to see you, too. I’m glad that mercenary didn’t kill you. And yes, I’m just swell. I didn’t almost die. Thank you so much for asking.” His hazy eyes sharpened, some of the intoxication slipping away and revealing a hint of something like anger. Then he was spinning her around in the middle of the dance floor as he drawled, “I’d offer to buy you a drink, but I believe you actually owe me, for all that taking-a-bullet-for-you business.” Adam waved down a server before Holland could object. She started to say, “I’m really sorry about the shooting. I made a terrible mistake and—” “Hello, sir, what may I get for you?” The server cut in with a deferential nod toward Adam. “Hi, yes, the lady would like to buy us some drinks. She’ll have a Shirley Temple with extra cherries.” He looked at Holland and winked. “And I’ll take a sidecar.”

“I don’t think you understand how this works. You’re my guest, which means if you want to stay in this hotel, you need to stay with me for the next twenty-four hours.” “Why twenty-four hours?” “It’s hotel policy. Official key holders can stay as long as they want, but guests are only allowed to stay twenty-four Regal hours. So, until then, I say either we get drunk at this bar, or”—Adam looked her straight in the eye, and every hint of charm and carelessness vanished—“you tell me what happened after I got shot and why you look as if you’re running for your life right now.”

“I want to find the Alchemical Heart.” Adam shook his head. “That’s a good way to get killed, and your sister asked me to keep you alive.” “In that case, you need to help me find it,” said Holland. “The Watch Man called me yesterday.” Adam froze. “What did he say?” “He told me I’d die at 11:59 on Halloween night, unless I find the Alchemical Heart.” Adam slowly ran a hand over his jaw and cursed under his breath. “So, let me get this straight. You’re going to die tomorrow and you still don’t want a drink?” Holland picked up a pillow from the sofa and threw it at him. “I’m being serious.” “So am I,” Adam said, but he’d stepped away from the minibar and now looked as if he was trying to sober up. “What do you need from me?” “I thought you just said looking for the Alchemical Heart was a good way to die.” “I did, but if I let anything happen to you, then your sister will kill me.”

“There are two types of people in this world: those who are born into it, like your friend Mr. Bishop, and those who find it at some point during their lives and then spend the rest of their lives trying to fit into it.” The Watch Man took another slow sip of tea. Again, he sat and smiled until Adam and Holland did the same. Still, Holland couldn’t relax. Sitting in a garden sipping tea was a luxury she didn’t have time for. She wished the Watch Man could go a little faster. “Your father was the first type,” the Watch Man continued. “And not only was he born into a family with magic, but he was born into a family that has possessed magic for centuries.”

“Your father gave me this before he died. He had decided to take my advice: He said the power of the Alchemical Heart was too much for anyone to possess, and he couldn’t give it to either of the devils.” “Wait,” Holland interrupted again, “please—what do you mean by either of the devils?” Quietly, he said, “There are two men who make up the devil. Two brothers.” The Watch Man’s eyes went back toward Adam, and this time, Holland had a sinking feeling that he wasn’t making sure Adam was asleep. “Are you saying—” “No—” the Watch Man cut in. “I’ve not said anything.” But once again, his gaze rested on Adam, and Holland knew exactly what he wasn’t saying. Lying beside her, eyes gently closed, golden hair strewn across his forehead, Adam definitely didn’t look like a devil. Maybe she’d thought so when she first met him, but now he just seemed like a reckless young man with a beautiful face. “Are you certain?” Holland asked the Watch Man. “I saw him get shot. I saw him bleed.” “I did not say he was God.” The Watch Man pressed his lips into a frustrated line. “Now, would you like to waste more time debating this or shall I tell you what your father said?”

“All right,” she admitted. “I lied. The Watch Man did tell me something while you were asleep.” She paused. “He said you were the devil.” She waited for Adam to laugh, or to grin, or to say he was flattered. She waited for his beautiful eyes to show a hint of surprise. She waited and waited and waited. He stood there for an eternity of seconds. Then finally, he said, “I’m not the devil.” “Then why did it take you so long to say that?” He looked at her for another impossibly long second. His hands had been warm but suddenly they were very cold. “I swear to you, I’m not the devil, but once upon a time, I was.”

What is life but a game? Everyone you meet is an opponent or an ally or sometimes a clue.

“What did you just do?” Holland asked. He shrugged. “It’s my charm.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not that charming.” “Says the girl who just spilled all her secrets to me.” Adam propped his shoulder against the door to keep it open. Holland felt heat rise up her neck. “That’s not why I spilled my secrets,” she said. But as she watched him, standing underneath the golden afternoon light, leaning against the door in a way that somehow made him look even taller, she feared that his charm might have been a little bit of the reason.

“I still can’t believe it’s gone. This one rarely gets checked out.” “What was here?” Holland repeated. “It was a book. An old, medieval-looking thing. The last time Ben came in here, he was holding a set of chains, and he asked if he could put them on it.” Holland shot a glance at Adam. His expression made her suspect he was thinking of the Professor’s Chained Library myth, too. Only he didn’t look excited. He probably thought a hiding place like this would be too obvious for the Alchemical Heart. “Can you find who checked it out?” Holland asked. If someone had actually checked it out. If it had been taken or stolen, if someone else had found it first, then none of her father’s clues for the Alchemical Heart mattered at all. Tom checked his watch. It was now nearly six. Then he pulled out his phone and made a call. “Hey Devon—real quick. Do you know who checked out the old chained-up book?” He murmured and nodded as Devon said something on the other end. “Thanks, man. Have a good Halloween.” Tom hung up and smiled at Holland. “I didn’t tell you this. But the book is on the set of Knife and Cross. Stage 10. Sounds like they wanted it for the season finale.” “Thanks for all the help,” Adam said.

“Hello, my dear,” the Professor’s familiar voice flowed through the phone. “Your friend Gabriel and I had an interesting chat, in which he gave me this number. If you could call me back, I would greatly appreciate it. But since I’m doubtful you will, I’m going to speak plainly. While I was conversing with Mr. Cabral, I became aware of your very alarming bleeding episodes. “I know what’s happening to you, Holland, and I know how to save you, but you must bring me the Alchemical Heart. You can find me tonight, at the Hollywood Roosevelt Halloween Ball—and I hope you do. Please let me help before it’s too late.”

I know you’ll make the right decision, kiddo. You already have everything you need. You just have to see it. I wish I could be there to tell you I love you. Dad

“I don’t know what they said to you in the Bank,” Gabe said, “but I didn’t murder my wife.” “Then how do you know they told me that?” “Because that’s what everyone believes.” “But—” “I didn’t kill her, Holland.” Gabe held her a little tighter, pulling her close enough to feel his pounding heart. His expression was impossible to read, but his rapid heartbeat told her he was far from unfeeling. “If you want to know what happened, come with me.” “You just pointed a gun at me.” “I pointed it at him. You can’t trust him.”

“Tell me about my nosebleeds.” “You’re feisty tonight.” Mason regarded her with a subtle cock of his head. “I like this for you.” “Why do you keep talking as if we know each other?” “Because we do. Or—” His mouth twisted as if he’d just bitten into something unpleasant. “I know you. You never remember me.” “Because of your brother?” “Sometimes. Not always.” Mason sighed and leaned a second shoulder against the bookcase. “It’s mostly because of you.” “Why would it be because of me?” “Because you die. You never find the Alchemical Heart, because it’s not hidden in this hotel. You die at one minute to midnight. Then at exactly a quarter after midnight, time turns back to Halloween Eve, and we do this dance all over again.” “No.” Holland staggered back. “I don’t believe you.” “You say that every time. Then you tell me that your father wouldn’t steer you wrong.” “He wouldn’t!”

“If you’re a ghost, why can I see and hear you?” “Because you’ve died.” Holland still couldn’t wrap her mind around this, but she wanted to know more. “How many times?” “If I told you, it would just depress you.” “I still want to know.” Mason leaned back against the bookcase. “You say that almost every time.” “How many times have we had this conversation?” “I don’t know. A lot. But it’s not always the same. It depends on whether you go with Gabe when he abducts you in the parking lot. Occasionally, you run away and find my brother. That usually means it’s Adam you betray to the Professor when you’re at the Bank, and then you somehow come in here with Gabe, and you and I don’t ever talk on those nights.” “But I still die?” Mason nodded grimly. “How?” “I’ll tell you on one condition.” Mason took a slow step toward Holland. Earlier, she’d thought he had an inch of height on his brother, but she’d been wrong. He had at least two, maybe more. Mason might have been a ghost, but he was still formidable. “If you do find the Alchemical Heart tonight, I want you to make me alive again and I want you to kill my brother.” Holland shook her head. “I can’t do that.” “You say that every time, too. But you can. Trust me. And when I tell you why you die, you’ll want to do it.” “You’re wrong,” Holland said. After everything she’d learned tonight, Adam definitely felt like the villain in her story, but she still didn’t want to kill him. She didn’t want to kill anyone. “I think it’s time for ...

“I need you to please pause time.” Instantly, the journal transformed into an hourglass. It was similar to the one in the Professor’s office, except this one was gold with beads of green sand. From the amount of sand, Holland surmised she had only a few minutes. Mason scoffed. “I told you, if you’re going to be successful at using magic, you need to be confident and decisive with your requests.” “Just because I’m being polite doesn’t mean I’m not—wait,” said Holland. “Aren’t you supposed to be frozen?” “Ghost,” he reminded her. “Time and magic don’t affect me the same.” His gaze shifted to the rapidly falling sand, his expression difficult to read. “There’s not much time in there. If you don’t want to kill my brother, ask the Alchemical Heart to have him take my place.” Holland hesitated. Turning Adam into a ghost actually sounded like a good idea. But she was less sure about making Mason human. He might have known her, but she didn’t know him. And while she no longer believed the stories Adam had told, she didn’t have any other information about Mason. “If I do that, how do I know you won’t kill me for the Alchemical Heart?” “If I wanted the Alchemical Heart, I wouldn’t need to kill you.” He said it almost casually, as if murder was so beneath him the idea wasn’t even worth entertaining. “And I’m nothing like my brother. I’m a man of my word, and if you give me my life back, I will not take the Alchemical Heart. I don’t even want it. I just want to be free of this place.”...

“I still think you should have killed my brother when you had the chance,” he said. “That was a lovely thank you. You’re welcome.” “I’m just trying to give you some advice. Adam won’t be able to do much now, but I became stronger over time and so will he. You need to be careful. And—” He took a step closer. Holland put her hand protectively over the hourglass. “Relax, St. James. I’m keeping my word. But others won’t hesitate to take this. You should get out of here while you can. That thing is just asking for people to come after you.”

That’s when she noticed the hourglass was gone, and he was sitting in its place. “It was you all along.” Holland remembered the intense bolt of déjà vu she’d felt when she’d first met him, and how he’d been the one who had handed her the package she’d mistakenly thought was from the Professor. But the package had never been sent in the mail. It had always been part of him, or maybe he was part of the package. Holland was a little fuzzy on how it all worked, but she was fairly certain there had never been a Mr. Vargas. Mr. Vargas had always been the Alchemical Heart. “Bingo!” it said animatedly. “I can take on any form I wish, and multiple forms if need be, but only if those forms are in close proximity.”

“Is this where we say goodbye?” “I’m afraid so,” said Holland. “It’s time for you to find a new home in the future.” “And where might that home be?” For a second, Holland didn’t know. Then she remembered one last thing her father had written. His special instructions on the hold slip. “I want you to go to the future, to someone who needs you, but doesn’t really want you. Someone kind, who will only use you once for their need and then never use you again.”

“You’re wishing you used the Alchemical Heart,” said Mason. Holland’s head snapped his way. He responded with another look that seemed to say, I know you, remember? “I actually did use it again,” she said. He raised an eyebrow. “You gave yourself an ability?” “I did.” Holland hoped that as she said this the magic power would finally appear, but she didn’t feel any different. And there was still no tattoo on her wrist. “Good for you,” Mason said. “But don’t tell anyone else.” “Why?” “People treat you differently when they know. If they think you’re ordinary, they leave their guard down a little more. People will figure it out eventually, but even when they do, don’t tell them what it is.” “Do people know what your ability is?” “No, and I prefer it that way.” “Will you tell me?” Holland asked. He gave her a look that said not a chance. “I’ll figure it out,” she told him. “Good luck with that.”

“Is there a reason you came here?” she asked. “Of all the beaches, in all the world, why did you choose to sit on mine?” “You could say this is my version of a thank you.” Mason shoved up from the sand. “You brought me back to life yesterday, and now I owe you a debt.” He reached toward his back pocket, just as Holland’s phone rang. Her heart gave a sudden jolt. She pulled it out and looked at the name: January. Her sister was finally calling. She looked up to tell Mason to just hold on. But apparently guys like Mason don’t wait. He was already walking back up the beach. Again, he didn’t say goodbye. But he had left something in the sand. A matte black business card with a gold art deco border.