The Fake Heart (Time Alchemist Series) (11 page)

He whistled, “Wow, sounds interesting! Need any help?”

“I—help?” I squeaked, mentally slapping myself, “But don’t you have your own studying to do?” What I really wanted to say was: “Wouldn’t you rather hang out with your friends than some loser sophomore with baby hairclips like me?” But I bit my tongue.

He gave me a crooked smile before turning away and heading to the far corner of the room, where a small couch and a few chairs had been pulled around it. He turned his head and winked at me before slinging his bag onto the nearest chair, “
Yeah, but i
ts more fun in a group, don’t you think? Besides, maybe I can help.”

So that is how I, Emery Miller, found myself sitting practically knee-to-knee with possibly one of the hottest guys at St. Mary’s—no,
probably
of Savannah, but that was pushing it.

Jack was
amazing help. When I brought out my notebooks for studying (which was partially true—I was here to study for class, and not to mention keep up the whole “it’s for a (fake) project!” front)
,
Jack had disappeared for a good ten minutes before he came back with an armload of old textbooks.

They landed with a heavy thump on one of the chairs
.
I stared at them, floored.

“These are—“

“Books on
science and alchemy
,” Jack said, “Thought you could use ‘
em
.
There’s not much in ‘
em
, but maybe they could help you a little bit?
”

I gingerly picked up the first one, admiring just how old it was—it was as if it would crumble to pieces if I held onto it too tightly, “How did you get these? Where did you get these?”

“Let’s just say I know people who know people,” he winked again, “I already checked them out for you; all you got to do is just bring them back whenever you’re done.”

“I—Jack!”
I breathed, “This is amazing!” Wow. That had to be the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. I didn’t really get much credit back at home for being a “book worm” and a lot of the guys would rather use textbooks as substitute footballs or back-up lunch trays than reading material.

But Jack was different. He was actually
honestly
interested in my studies, and that made me feel like my hard work meant something. You know?

His grin
widened as he settled down
next to me, his knee touching mine
. My body flushed, but I noticed he didn’t move it away

And that’s how the next couple of hours went. Me, reading about the history of alchemy (which was, I admit, pretty amazing
, if confusing
)
,
and Jack studying his own classes, jumping in now and then to help me. But it wasn’t just studying that got done. Every little touch sent a spark of excitement through my veins. Just the little things, like bumping knees, or our hands brushing made me feel eager.

I could tell by the amusement flickering in Jack’s
cool eyes
that he felt the same way.

I mean, he had to feel
something
, r
ight? I smiled tentatively; his
smile grew wider.

Suddenly, everything was looking up.

CHAPTER 10

Training
with Dove didn’t exactly go well the next night.

Or any other night
,
for that matter.

In fact, the term “training” might have been too light. It was more like verbal lessons instead, followed by epic failure on my part.

“You won’t be able to harness your alchemy if you can’t understand it,” Dove said the first night, and every night afterwards.
“Think of alchemy as a sort of…
magic
inside of you. Then you just have to find it, and control it.”

“
But
,” I had protested loudly, “How am I suppose to know what to do if you don’t explain
what
exactly alchemy is?” Although it didn’t help that I hadn’t even begun to research the topic. The first day was so busy and I was so loaded with homework I hadn’t even though of checking out any books in the library or surfing the net for hints
; even with Jack’s help on the subject, barely a word about alchemy had sunk in
. Guilty as charged, I guess.

Even when I had doubted all of this alchemy and Elixir stuff, I did imagine how cool it would be to use alchemy and make weapons and stuff appear out of nowhere. That would surely impress Jack (not that I was thinking about impressing him, or trying to outwit that Mallory girl. Nope, not
at all.), but according to Dove
that isn’t what alchemy is.

“You can’t create something out of nothing. It’s not magic.”

“But you just said it was like magic.”

Dove had let out a groan of frustration, pinching the bridge of her nose, “This is going to be a lot harder than I thought.”

Yeah.
You and me both.

My mood was already sour
a following
morning. It seemed that every night I would come home completely irritable and have restless nights filled with nightmares of a guy wielding a black sword, or suddenly collapsing in the middle of the forest dead, and nobody would be able to find my body.

I always woke up in sweat, my fake heart always ticking with crazy nerves.

Yeah.
Ticking.

When Dove explained how she had fixed my heart, she had to use an object to seal the gaping hole.

A
small, golden
pocket watch that had been given to her as a gift.

So if I concentrate really, really
hard
in a quiet room, I could hear a faint
tick
tick
tick
mixed with my normal heartbeats.

It scared me. It really, really scared me because I was afraid that the ticking would stop in the middle of the night and then I would never wake up again.

This was a situation I couldn’t talk to
anybody
about—not even my Dad. During our few calls I had a hard time con
vincing him everything was fine
when all I wanted to do was cry and beg for him to come take me back home.

But my
biggest
grief
was my lost bracelet. I had searched everywhere—my dorms, the nurse’s office, the bathrooms, even the same spot where
that
had happened.
All I found was a large gaping hole in the black iron fence wi
th yellow tape across it
and damaged trees and shrubs from the fighting.

But no bracelet.

And with all the homework contently piling up, barely any time to study for tests and almost wasting every precious night trying to connect to some ancient, magical alchemy…I always had this weird feeling of being watched. A kind…of tickling in the back of my head when I was outside or alone; a nagging feeling I couldn’t push down any more. So one night I finally mustered up the courage to ask Dove the question I’ve been dying (not literally) to know since…well, all of this happened.

“Dove,” I asked
, “I need to ask about him. That guy who killed me. Who is he?”

She
stared at me with ice cold filled with apprehensiveness
. “Are you sure? The less you know the safer you’ll be—”

“No! I want to know. I want to know everything,” my voice rose with every word, “I need to know everything if I’m going to survive this. Please,
Dove
.”

I must have looked serious (at least, I hope I was. Inside I was shaking like a leaf), but Dove finally agreed, settling down next to me. “It’s a bit of a long story.”

“Hasn’t everything been a long story?” I tried to joke, but even though she smiled, it didn’t reach her pretty blue eyes. “C’mon, how bad could it be?”

“His name is Leon.” Ah. Leon. I finally had a name to my supposed killer. I remained silent as she co
ntinued, my trembling fingers absentmindedly picking
on a
loose thread on my sweater.

Dove looked uncertain, biting her lip. I inched a little closer and gave her a small smile. “We have a name; it’s a start.”

She trained her eyes on me, but finally relent
ing
to my persistence. “He was an apprentice of Guinevere also, just as I was. Though we both joined Guinevere around the same time…well, we both simply had different views of her ways.” I didn’t press on when she paused. The night was eerily still, as if the entire world was honing in, listening, hanging on to Dove’s soft words. “After
she disappeared
, we had some…difficulties with each other. And finally, we just decided to split up.”

“But why exactly?” I asked. “What was so bad that th
e two of you are…fighting
like this?
To get the Elixir?”

She said nothing, refusing to look at me.

“Dove,” I persisted, clenching the hem of my jacket. “What is Leon to you?”

“He was…my…no, it’s not important, alright? Let’s get on to your training.”

She shot up faster than a jackrabbit and started tromping through the woods in the direction of the church. I scrambled up after her, my feet tripping over the roots and the weeds tangled in the grounds, ducking and dodging low tree branches that slapped my face.

I was more angry tha
n shocked at
that reaction, but I held face until I emerged from dangling tree limbs and saw Dove walking up the side steps to the church. I was right about before: the property around the church was ten times worse. There were even beer cans, cigarette butts and crumpled, empty chip bags (and, oh, gross, was that a condom wrapper?!) littered all over the dry grass.

Compared to the rest of St. Mary’s grounds, which was always beautiful and lush with the greenest grass and the brightest flowers, the church really looked like something out of a horror movie. The outer walls where a bright almost blinding white, despite its damage (and save for the few cracks and spray-paint) and some of the glass windows were broken and
had
fallen apart. In fact, all the windows on the second story were boarded up. Even the front doors were shut tight so nobody could get in.

Unless you were a stupid drunk trying to pull off a dare, or somebody (like
Dove) who could easily jump
through one of the first floor windows where the bottom half of the window was missing; there really was
no possible way
to get inside without help. The jagged pieces
looked sharp and dangerous, and I’d imagine nobody would be dumb enough to try and crawl through without cutting themselves up. But Dove made it look easy as pie.

She was in and out before I reached window, and she landed gracefully at my side, holding an old book in her hands.

“I—do you
live
here?” I asked, standing on the tips of my toes to peak into the window. My eyes barely come up to the sill, but if I tilted back just enough I could try and see the mysteries held inside the old, abandoned Chapel. But all I saw was an inky black darkn
ess. There was a heavy wet and m
usty smell coming from the hole, and I swear I heard something small skittering near the floor.
Scary.

“Temporarily,” she said, brushing dust off the brown book and handing it to me, “This is a book that
my father used to read to me when I was a child
. It’s a bit…how do you say, old fashioned, but it should do well.
It might be easier to understand.
”

I gingerly took the book, feeling the dust stick to my fingers. The book must have been old. I couldn’t even make out the title; let alone what kind of symbol was etched onto the cover. “What is it?”

“An old alchemist text,” she said, “It’s very old, so be careful with it. But it should help us study the basics of alchemy and find a way to trigger your own alchemic element.”

“Hey, Dove—”

“It’s getting late. We’ll start trying to find your certain element tomorrow. I would recommend starting with earth. It’s the easiest and most common compared to the other three.”

“Dove—”

“Either way, we need to hurry,” she kept on, ignoring my outbursts even as I handed the book back to her, which she rested carefully on the window sill. “Read up, rest up, and be ready. Meet me here again tomorrow night, same time.”

“Enough!” I screamed. The angrier I felt, the more my fake heart was hurting but at that one moment I didn’t care, “Stop avoiding my questions, Dove! Why aren’t you being honest with me?! What’s wrong with me knowing who this Leon guy is anyway? What are you trying to hide?”