The Accidental Alchemist (13 page)

I wrapped a blanket around me and went into the kitchen. To cleanse the toxins from my body after touching the unknown poison, I made myself a dandelion root tea. With the warm mug in one hand, I walked through the drafty house, making sure the doors and windows were locked. I clicked off the porch light and the other lights downstairs, pausing in front of the living room bay windows to straighten the curtains. The lights were now off inside, so nobody could see in. But I could see out.

A streetlight halfway down the block cast faint light on the front part of my yard near the street. A moving shadow caught my eye. Not only because it was the middle of the night, but because of where the figure was. It didn’t appear on the sidewalk or the street; the shadow flitted across the fence inside my yard.

I gripped the edge of the curtain as my eyes followed the figure. Dorian was already outside, but this figure was the wrong shape to be Dorian. It was the shape of a human. Should I venture outside? If I did, I could see who it was, but they might be dangerous and then I’d be leaving Brixton exposed.

Before I could act, the decision was made for me. As my fingers closed more tightly over the curtain, the figure vanished. I shook my head. People don’t just vanish. The person must have disappeared from my line of sight. That was all. Most of the yard was bathed in darkness.

Veronica and Ethan were safely at home, so it couldn’t have been either of them.
So who—or what—was it?

seventeen

I woke up not
with a start but with a groan. I’d slept on the living room couch. After seeing the shadow lurking around the house the previous night, I’d added an extra layer of protection to the house. I fished through my crates for a string of bells from Morocco. I separated the bells and placed them in front of the front and back doors. Several windows were effectively locked by virtue of being rusted shut, so I only tied bells to the latches of the ground floor windows that could be opened.

“What is the purpose of the bells?” a deep voice asked. “And for you sleeping on the couch?” Dorian sat in front of the fireplace a few feet away from me.

“It’s creepy to find you hovering while I sleep,” I said, stretching. My body ached more than I expected from the couch. It was the poison I’d touched.

“You are the one who is not in your proper bed.”

“I don’t like how we don’t know what’s going on. With Brixton staying with us, I wanted to add an extra layer of security.” I omitted the fact that I’d seen someone lurking outside the house. Part of me wasn’t sure I’d seen anything. The poison had affected me more than I wanted to admit.

“Why do you not call a security company?”

“I tried that already. They all said the house needs to be fixed up first. It has too many loose parts, so I’d get too many false alarms.”

“
Mon dieu
.”

“Agreed. And none of the home renovators will call me back after what happened to Charles Macraith.”

“How odd.”

“Not really,” I said. “They probably think I’m a murderer.”

“
C’est vrai?
”

“Yes, unfortunately I think it’s true.” Though as I spoke the words, I realized it
was
strange that the people I’d called got skittish as soon as I said the address, but not for the reason I’d originally considered. Even if people didn’t like the idea of working for a possible murderess,
how did they know
? It wasn’t as if I was only calling contractors who frequented Blue Sky Teas or who lived in my neighborhood.

I shook off the disconcerting feeling. The murder had taken place only days ago. The address could have been reported on the news. That must have been it. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling I was missing something.

I hadn’t heard any of my makeshift alarm bells during the night. Dorian followed me through the house as I checked that all of them were in place and the house was secure. I picked up the bells and put them in a basket on the mantle. Now the decorative tin bells looked like a piece of home decor, not a burglar alarm. No need to unnecessarily worry Brixton. Even though I was still mad about what he’d done, I wanted to protect him from what was going on, both physically and emotionally.

In spite of only sleeping for a few hours, my mind was alert. I watered my herb garden in the kitchen window box. The two mint varieties had grown a few inches in as many days. They liked their new home. In spite of the pressures weighing on me, so did I. After drinking a cup of lemon tea, I hopped into the shower, cursing as the water alternated between glacially cold and blisteringly hot, as usual. It did nothing for my aching muscles.

Being in the sun would help, but Brixton would be up for school shortly, so I couldn’t go far. I took my laptop to the back porch to look up a few more ideas about Dorian’s book. When I sat down on the rickety back steps, the sun was poking through the clouds at the same time that a light mist fell from the sky. As I hit another dead end in my research, the light rain turned into a full-blown downpour. It was time to go inside anyway. I found Dorian and Brixton sitting at the dining table, which was covered with enough food to feed half a dozen pe
ople.

“The boy has apologized,” Dorian said.

“Yeah,” Brixton mumbled, speaking to the table. “It was stupid. I see that now.”

“You understand you can’t ever let anyone know about Dorian,” I said.

Brixton’s hazel eyes met mine. Instead of the defiance I had so often seen in his eyes, I saw humility. “I promise.”

“
Bon
,” Dorian said. “Help yourself to food, Zoe.”

“Crepes?” I
asked, looking at the spread of thin folded pancakes.

“
Galettes
, to be precise,” Dorian said, looking up from
Le Monde,
“because they are made of buckwheat. These are a specialty from the Brittany region of France.”

“You should try one, Zoe,” Brixton said. “They’re wicked. The filling is mushroom. I used to hate mushrooms, so I think Dorian is magic. I mean, he
is
kind of magic, right? There’s no other way these would taste so good.”

“I didn’t think it was possible to get these so thin without an egg batter,” I said, scooping one of the buckwheat crepes onto my plate.

“Silken tofu is an amazing invention,” Dorian said, a pleased look on his face.

“There’s tofu in here?” Brixton said, stopping mid-bite and eyeing the gooey crepe suspiciously.

“
Pardon
, I misspoke. It was not tofu used for the
galettes
. For these buckwheat crepes, I soaked freshly ground flax seeds in a warm water to replicate the properties of the egg. The tofu was used in my chocolate cake.”

“There’s
tofu
in the cake?” Brixton repeated.

“
Mon dieu.
Here, let me read you news for the day. The European gold thefts are spreading. There are no leads. The thieves are clever. They also have a flair for the dramatic. They continue to leave crumbling imitation-gold statues and gold dust in place of the gold items they are stealing.”

The way Dorian spoke of the crumbled gold made the thefts sound much more ominous than they must have been. The little gargoyle had a flair for the dramatic himself. A sense of unease crept up my spine as he recounted the news.

“You’re going to be late for school, Brixton,” I said. “It’s raining too hard for you to take your bike. I’ll drive you to school.”

———

On the way home after dropping Brixton off at the high school, I passed the teashop. I had expected it to be closed. Not only was it open, but people poured out into the street. Blue was in a coma, so of course people would flock to the store. I should have expected it. Morbid curiosity no longer surprised me.

People would say the right things—that they were there to support the shop and to come together to offer each other a shoulder to cry on—but I knew the truth. I’d seen the crowds that flocked to the town square back when there were public executions. When murder and mayhem could be observed at a safe distance, people wouldn’t miss an opportunity to be there.

But who had opened the teashop?

Instead of driving on, I found myself pulling over and walking through the melee into the shop. I was human, too. I was curious. I suppose it was human nature drawing us all to the teashop.

It was crowded enough that nobody noticed me. Stepping into the line that was six people long, I caught a glimpse of Olivia. Though she was tiny, it was impossible to miss her in the deep red shawl draped around her shoulders. The gossip who had brought me tea now stood behind the counter, taking orders herself.

I caught snatches of conversation from various people, most of whom were talking about Blue, but a few seemed not to know who owned the teashop. They were drawn in by the presence of a crowd, and I heard them asking their friends what it was about this shop that made it so popular.

When I reached the counter, Olivia took my order before waving to a woman sitting at a table near the counter. It was the redhead I’d spoken to when she manne
d the counter two days before. The woman excused herself from her conversation and stepped behind the counter while Olivia made my ginger tea. Again I was struck by the fact that the woman looked like she had been crying. She covered it up well, but the signs were there.

“This place is claustrophobic,” Olivia said, handing me the tea in a to-go cup. “Cora can cover while we go to the hospital to see Blue.”

“Are they allowing visitors now?”

“Not that I’ve heard. That doesn’t mean she won’t feel our presence nearby. I’ve spent more time than I’d care to think about in the hospital. It’s not the visit as much as it is knowing that someone was there to see you. I thought we could pick up some flowers for her.”

“That’s a lovely idea,” I said, thinking I’d misjudged Olivia. “I’m surprised this place is open. I didn’t know anyone else worked here.”

“Sam works here part-time during the peak afternoon tea-time hours, after he’s done teaching for the day.” Olivia took her coat and purse from behind the counter. “It’s charity, of course.”

I gave her a questioning look.

“Blue doesn’t really need help most of the time.” She led us through the shop, maneuvering through the crowd. “When Sam and I were having trouble paying our bills, after my illness made me too sick to work, Blue offered him the job, even though it was a stretch for Blue to pay him as generously as she did.”

We reached the sidewalk and Olivia ke
pt right on talking without missing a beat. “Sam teaches during the day, so he can’t be here now. It’s the least I can do to help the teashop make money while Blue can’t be here. Who knows what kind of medical bills she’ll have. Health care costs are exorbitant these days. We can stop at the corner shop to pick out flowers. Over-priced, but qui
te skillfully prepared. They’d better be, at those prices! And where is your car parked?”

It took me a moment to realize she’d stopped talking.

“My car is right over here.” I pointed at my truck.

Olivia frowned disapprovingly at my lovingly up-kept truck. I reminded myself to feel more charitable toward her. Underneath her faults, she was a good person, helping keep open the teashop to help Blue. Or had she opened it because she wanted everyone to gather there and gossip? I tried not to be cynical.

We picked out an assortment of white flowers that Olivia insisted upon, but let me pay for, before getting into the car.

Olivia frowned again as I revved the engine. It was in perfect condition, but wasn’t as silent as modern engines. She pointed me in the direction I should drive, then shook her head as I pulled into traffic. If Olivia wasn’t going to hide her feelings, I might as well
take advantage of the opportunity to learn something useful.

“The police aren’t telling me anything,” I said. “You seem to know everyone here. You must have had people open up to you about it. What do you think is going on?” A little flattery never hurt.

Out of my peripheral vision I saw her frown change to a sly smile.

“I thought it was
you
who would know more, my dear. The Taylor boy is staying at your house, is he not?”

“Brixton?”

“And what kind of a name is that? Heather has damaged that boy in so many ways. It’s too late for him.”

“He’s only fourteen.”

“He’s already been arrested for assault.”

My hands tensed on the steering wheel. Blue had said he’d been in trouble before. But in trouble with the law? Assault?

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Olivia’s smile widened.

I was almost afraid to ask. “What happened?”

“I’ll spare you the details, but he’s a violent child. I thought it wise you should be warned, since you’re vulnerable alone with him in that big house of yours.”

“Why did you think Brixton would know what’s going on? You don’t seriously think he had anything to do with Charles Macraith’s death?” Brixton may have been making my life difficult by trying to show the world Dorian existed, but I couldn’t imagine him hurting anyone.

“I wouldn’t put it past him. But that’s not what I meant. That boy is always sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.” Olivia paused and pointed. “Turn here.”

“You were saying?” I prompted, hoping we had a little more time before we reached the hospital.

“Wisdom comes with age. You wouldn’t understand this yet, dear. I’ve tried to counsel Brixton’s mother Heather to improve herself and the life of her boy. And I tried to stop her from marrying her deadbeat husband.”

“I haven’t met him.”

“You wouldn’t have. He’s never here. Some people, there’s no reasoning with.”

“What do you mean he’s never here?”

“He disappears for long periods of time.”

“And you don’t know why?”

“I’m not one to gossip.”

“Of course not.”

“Now
Charles
,” Olivia said, “he was a better father figure to Brixton. I would often see him helping the boy with his studies. He was the most sensible of the lot of them. Brixton’s mother thinks my nephew Sam is a good influence, but I don’t buy it. Sam was too lazy to finish a PhD. Instead of being a true historian, he’s teaching history to children at the high school! That’s why he can’t afford a place of his own and has to live with me. What kind of message does that send? Turn again here, dear.”

“Mmm hmm,” I murmured, following her directions.

“I wish my friend Ivan were a better role model. Did I introduce you to him? Oh yes, the other day at the teashop. That’s a man who was a scholar during his time. A prominent chemistry professor. But he doesn’t take care of himself. He has health issues but won’t look into finding a cure. I don’t understand that man. I tell you, I don’t understand any of them.
Men.
”