Alchemist, Page 6

  “How so?” Rufus asked, curious.

  Mr Crombie looked to him, a greedy glint in his eye, “You should not be making armour and other strengthened materials. You should be building weapons.”

  ******

  The homeless man jumped back in fright. He had been sitting quietly in a back street, nestled between his trolley and some bins, drinking his whiskey and minding his own business when a body fell from the sky a short distance away. He leant forward, gazing at the body and then at the sky. He couldn’t see anyone on the buildings overlooking the street. Picking up the two bin bags closest to him, he shuffled over to the naked corpse. Squinting, he realised it was a young man. Knowing better than to hang around for when the police showed up, he took off along the alleyway. He did not want to be blamed for someone else’s murder, nor did he want to be involved. As his footfalls retreated, a shadow descended from the sky. It was large and dark, almost impossible to see against the night. Landing, it rolled itself up, resolving into the figure of a man. He crouched down next to the corpse, he the living reflection of the man who lay dead in the street. He smirked at his handy work. He had managed to steal the life force of this victim without leaving any marks of scars. “Thanks.” He whispered, before turning away and heading off into the dark.

  “Can I help you?” asked one of the two men standing at the door. He was heavily set, bald and built like a bulldog. His friend, just as large but just that little bit shorter looked as if he would snap Edward within a seconds notice.

  Edward raised a hand. Both men stiffened, their arms falling to their sides. They groaned as their eyes turned black and they lost all control. “It is me.” He nearly spat in impatience. Giving a sharp wave of the hand, he freed them from his grasp.

  One of the men stumbled as he landed heavily on his feet, coughing for breath. His mate was also gasping heavily, hand pressed against his neck as if he had just been released from a very tight noose. “Sir...sorry...” he gasped. Stepping back, he gave a half-hearted gesture for the man to enter. He was to out of breath to pay due reverence. Edward stormed past them without further word.

  Inside he found a young woman sitting alone, modifying a weapon. Seeing him her eyes widened – she knew who it was despite his recent change in appearance. “Where have you been?” she demanded as she stood, abandoning the weapon.

  He smirked, looking around the dank, deserted lair. “Feeding.” He replied bluntly.

  “You have been gone for three nights!”

  His dark eyes fixed on her. “Do not speak to me like that ever again.” He warned, “Or you’ll be next.”

  Visibly shaken by the threat, the woman lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry, but things have not been going well here and I had not heard anything from you, I was starting to get worried...”

  “I take it the two men we hired failed?”

  He glanced around the empty cellar as if it needed an explanation. “I don’t see any of them here nor do I see the head of Terryfallo or her uncle.” He said, his gaze returning to meet her.

  She looked down uneasily. “I think them.”

  He laughed; a hideous, humourless sound. “Well of course she did. She is an Alchemist. They were human.”

  The young woman appeared puzzled. “Then what did you hire them for?”

  The man straightened his collar in reflection of shattered mirror. “Distraction.”

  Chapter 8

  Confession

  A bitter metallic taste filled Terry’s mouth. She glanced at the stormy sky overhead. It had rained all morning. She peered up into the grey gloom overhead as a thick droplet trickle down the bridge of her nose and off.

  Her brown hair was plastered to her head and her ears were cold. She felt another bead of water trickle onto her skin, this time down the back of her neck.

  She twisted as a cold finger traced her exposed flesh. She knew where it was going and was not looking forward to it. A few more drops before had found its way under the armour on her neck, running down flesh and causing it to itch in a place she could not scratch. But despite her twisting, it still found its way in.

  She suddenly felt something wake; the ancient part of her mind – her real mind; the one that occupied her body in her true form. It reached for her, something large and powerful moving through the dark but she did not fear it. It brushed against her conscious mind, more emotion than thought. It was restless, angry, and hungry.

  Closing her eyes for a few moments she pushed it away; the thoughts, the powerful emotions, the hunger. Once she opened them again she was alone once more on the cathedral roof, save the rain and the cold.

  Terry glanced down at the twilight cathedral. The grounds surrounding the Italian architectural masterpiece were almost completely deserted due to the early hour and the elements.

  A pigeon landed next to where Terry perched. She gave the bird a sidelong glance as it bobbed its head indifferently to her deadly presence. She sighed. “Yes Lyle, what a great idea. Of course he’ll show up.” She mumbled to herself, repeating what her uncle had said a few hours earlier. But he hadn’t. She felt as gloomy as the weather.

  But as if fate had someone heard her she suddenly spotted who she was looking for. She squinted at him at first, unsure if it was him or not as he entered the courtyard from afar; no large than the size of an ant against the vast grey flagstones of the Cathedral grounds. But as he drew a little closer, running through the rain, she was certain.

  Standing, she sprinted across the cathedral roof on sure, soundless feet. The pigeon leapt into the air, vanishing on a few quick flaps of startled wings. In that time Terry had disappeared.

  The young man entered the confession booth. Taking a seat, he quickly did a cross sign and then spoke in Italian, his voice desperate, “Sorry father, it has been a long time since my last confession.”

  “It is alright my son, what do you wish to share today?”

  The man drew a deep breath, to steady his frayed nerves. “It is difficult to explain father...I have a terrible obsession...an addiction maybe...to help those who do terrible things...” he shook his head, “I never take part in such crimes nor have the inclination to do so but the pay...I have become addicted to money father.”

  “Are you telling me that you are the one who’s been ripping all these holes between the two worlds?” asked a different voice.

  Startled, he tried to bolt, but he was grabbed by a metal gloved hand that punched through the wooden partition.

  Two priests walking passed the confession box stopped and glanced as the booth suddenly rocked. They exchanged a puzzled glance before carrying on their way without word.

  Inside the box, the man choked, flailing at the furniture around him. His hands ignited in flame. But he froze when a blade slid half-way out of Terry’s wrist, the point pressing against the underside of his throat. “Don’t you dare.” She warned in a low voice.

  He let his hands go out. “What do you want?” he croaked.

  “I want to know why the walls between worlds have been ripped open so often lately.” She whispered, letting the point of the blade bite into his skin ever so slightly.

  “Okay, okay!” he begged.

  The blade retracted into Terry’s arm and she carefully let him go, wary that he might attempt to make another dash for it but when he sat down she realised there was no danger.

  “I take it you have been watching me then?” He asked, touching his neck. It ached from where she had grabbed him.

  “No but you’re the only one we’ve heard of that has a temporal device so I thought I’d come and speak to you. I take it you are behind them then?”

  “Yeah, it was me.” He admitted, seeing no point in lying. There was nothing to gain from it. “I’ve opened a few in the last couple of months...but nothing near where you live. You are still in Scotland right?”

  Terry didn’t answer. Instead she asked, “And why have you been opening portals?”

  “For money...it’s getting harder and hard
er to get by these days. Not all of us were given so much wealth when we were exiled here you know.” He said, bitterly.

  Terry ignored the comment. “From who exactly?” she asked quickly, more interested in why he had been ripping open the wall between realms.

  “Everyone...a lot of them are refugees, others are escaped convicts looking for somewhere to run.”

  “Refugees and escaped convicts don’t exactly have much cash and I seriously doubt you’d be charging them so little for such a service. Who else have you let through who has the money?” She asked, peering at him suspiciously through the grate. She balled her metal hand, as if to hit him.

  “Alright! Alright!” he shouted, waving his hands about in surrender. “Most of them were members of the same family and people who worked for them. Rilario had his lands and property confiscated when the other ministers in the Southlands learned that he was involved in having one of the royal family assassinated. He was worried that there would be reprisals against his family. Most of them were just his children and servants. That’s all I know, I swear!”

  Terry lowered her fist. “Lord Rilario? Really? Who did he assassinate?” she asked, surprised. She knew of Lord Rilario, he was a very influential, well, had been, a very influential politician in the senate of the Southlands – where the fire and water elementals largely abided. She had never met the man but she had always heard positive things about him.

  The fire elemental shook his head. “I don’t know, someone told me the name but I’ve forgotten it, they were a very minor member of the royal family, a distant cousin or something to the King. I never even knew they had existed until I heard about their death.”

  “Why would he have someone killed? I always heard he was a nice man.”

  He shook his head again at a loss. “I don’t know. I’ve never met him, all my business with him I have done through a middleman.”

  Terry leaned closer to the grate, fixing him with her deadly gaze. “And where do you meet this middleman?”

  “He came here, once, to Earth. He had portal devices to open rifts to this world. But he gave them to me and asked to make sure that Rilario’s family had somewhere to go after they came through, that was part of my payment. He was one of Rilario’s closest servants. He was being hunted himself and afraid to stay with them in case he led the Kindaris right to their door.”

  The Kindaris were the Southlands equivalent to police officers. They were an honourable, law abiding organisation. They would have come to arrest Lord Rilario, but not his family or servants unless they expected foul play. But it was not hard for Terry to imagine that there would be some, not just among the Kindaris, who would seek vengeance on the lord’s family for the death of a royal.

  Terry thought for a few moments, taking it all in. “Someone told me that the Southlands and the Alchemists had gone to war. Is it true?”

  The main blinked at her with wide eyes. “What? Who told you that?”

  “Then it’s not true?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Why would anyone say that?”

  She looked away, seething. “Nevermind.” Looking back at him she said, “Tell me about these convicts you’ve let through.”

  “No, because you’ll kill me...” he muttered, suddenly losing his voice. He stared at her like a rabbit caught in headlights.

  “That depends if we’re talking murderers or shoplifters.” She replied flatly.

  “None of them were killers...except one...” He said, his voice beginning to quiver.

  Terry’s arm darted through the hole, her fingers closing tightly around his throat. “Who?” she demanded, her patience wearing thin.

  “I didn’t let him through! I didn’t let him through!” he shouted.

  The blade slid up to his throat again and Terry narrowed her eyes. “You either did or you didn’t.”

  “I didn’t! I didn’t!” He gasped. “He killed two of my friends and used the machine himself. He tried to kill me too but I managed to get a way!”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know! But it was a Phantom.”

  Terry’s eyes widened with shock. But all the Phantoms are gone. Her eyes narrowed and her anger flared. She sensed a trick. “Don’t lie to me.” She warned, lowering her voice, allowing the blade to dig into his flesh once more. “If you lie again I will kill you.” It was not a lie.

  “I’m not...” he panted, heaving desperately for breath.

  “There are no Phantoms left, they’re all dead.”

  “I swear what I’m telling you is true. Please!”

  Terry gritted her teeth, the rage growing inside her. The ancient part of her mind had awoken now and it was pissed. Glaring back at him, she asked, “How long ago was this?”

  “Eight days ago...” he gagged.

  Terry let go of him then but she threw him hard into his seat.

  She glared at him through the grate, eyes ablaze as he gasped for breath. “If you tell anyone that you saw me I will kill you. If you tell anyone else what you have told me I’ll kill you and if you open any more portals, I’ll kill you, Ladre.” She warned, calling him by his true name to drive the point home.

  Without further word she left, slamming the wooden door behind her. Many sins had been confessed inside its four walls this day but Ladre feared if such sins would be forgiven by a God that was not his.

  ******

  “That’s impossible.” Were the first words to come from Connor’s mouth when Terry broke the news.

  “That’s what I thought but I don’t think Ladre was lying.”

  Her uncle furrowed his brow, sceptical. “I’m not so sure. I don’t think we can trust the word of a traitor and thieve anymore than we can trust a stranger and a crazed water elemental.” He observed from where he sat at the end of the long oaken table. They were in a meeting room, fashioned from one of the many caves that ran below Lyle’s mansion.

  Terry shook her head. “I don’t think so he knew I was going to kill him.”

  Lyle nodded grimly. “That is a fair point.” He conceded.

  Terry leant against the table, folding her arms. “If one thing rings true then it is what he said about this supposed war between our people and the Southlands. He said it wasn’t true, like Darius.”

  Lyle appeared concerned at this, his face setting into a hard cast. “And one of my old friends has been proven a liar.” He muttered bitterly.

  Terry glanced across the table at Connor, who had furrowed his brow. “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  He looked up at her. “That maybe this Phantom is the one who sent those people to kill you.”

  Terry sighed, her gaze dropping to the table for a moment. “I wouldn’t dismiss it.” She looked to Lyle for his thoughts.

  “I do not understand why this Phantom would not just come after you if that was the case. Why send humans when he would have known that they stood no chance?” The old warrior mused.

  “That I can’t answer.” Connor agreed. “It was just an idea. It all just seems far too coincidental considering what else has been happening lately.”

  “There’s something else about Ladre’s story that doesn’t quite add up.” Terry said. “It is weird if it is true, why would a man of such high profile do such a thing?”

  “And to what end?” Lyle agreed, forming a temple with his fingers.

  “I think he’s been framed.” Terry suggested.

  Lyle looked at her thoughtfully. “It is possible but I fear we are speculating too much. There are a lot of things that we still don’t know.”

  “We could phone Rufus.” She replied. Her idea was met only with silence. Lyle glared at her, his features as hard as stone. “Look, I know you’ve fallen out with him, but if there’s a Phantom here we’re going to need his help to capture it. It was him who stopped Edward last time.”

  Lyle continued to glare at his niece, visibly trembling with rage. “I will not ask that traitor for help.”

  “Lyle...”

/>   The Alchemist stood, slamming a fist into the table, shattering it. Connor jumped back.

  “Lyle, calm down!” Terry shouted, also standing. But it was too late. He was already beginning to change.

  “Run Connor, run!” Terry shouted, bolting. Connor did not have to be told twice. The fear a man gained when pursued by a Primeval Alchemist leant him wings.

  Lyle’s eyes flashed with the large yellow pupils of his Primeval form. Snarling, rows of sharp teeth and mandibles emerged from his mouth. His form then began to warp. The table was flung aside as if it were a twig as Lyle took on the appearance of a twelve foot tall, nine foot long insect. Similar to an ant, but able to stand straight up, the Primeval Alchemist was decked in the same dark, metal armour as their human-shaped counterparts. They had six legs and two arms, each clawed with black talons and the strength of a small army. They had long necks and large heads, which possessed large, oval, amber eyes, akin to a cat. Lyle rose, growling angrily as his antennae fell flat against the back of his head. Throwing back his head he roared and gave chase, bolting from the cave as fast as a bolt of lightning.

  Chapter 9

  Stay or Go

  “Uncle?” called Terry, peering around the corner of the hallway. Seeing no-one she cautiously made her way down it. It had been twenty four hours since Lyle had had his outburst. She had been surprised to find the entire mansion intact. On one occasion in the past when he’d lost his temper Lyle had demolished almost half of it. It had cost over two million pound and eight months to fix.

  Terry trod lightly – which was difficult to do when she was suited and booted weighing in at over four hundred pounds. Reaching the next corner, she peered round – no-one in sight.

  “You can stop tip toeing around.” A voice said from behind her.

  Terry jumped. “Jesus.” She swore, getting the fright of her life. She had not heard nor smelled Lyle’s approach.

  He made no apology for startling her. He simply stared at her with those hard, cold eyes of his.