The Fake Voice (Time Alchemist) Page 2

And it was that kind of power that made us special, extraordinary…

  And targeted.

  There’s an alchemist out there named White. Nobody at the Black Crown has ever seen his face, or even knows his real name or identity, but he’s as deadly as they come. But because he doesn’t exactly break the

  “laws”, the Black Crown can’t really do anything except try to monitor him, and that’s nearly impossible.

  But there’s one thing I know: White has Guinevere’s journal—the only clue that will point me to where the shards of the Elixir are. So if I want to find the Elixir, I need that book. And to get that book, I have to get it back. I need to find the White Alchemist.

  But to find him is like finding a needle in a haystack, so I had to…

  widen my search. If you couldn’t reach White, there was only one other way: find his lackeys.

  For example, a certain pair of nasty, hot-tempered (and I don’t say that literally) twin Fire Alchemists, the ones responsible for Chrys’s previous kidnapping, as well as stealing Guinevere de Blanc’s valuable alchemic text. I had foolishly let them get away with her book, and I would be damn lucky if it hasn’t been destroyed or shipped out of the country already. But I had one moment of triumph: the book was written in a secret code that only Guinevere and Dove could decipher.

  Of course, even if I did manage to get the book back, I wouldn’t be able to read it…but I could try. When I first met Leon (we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot), as a way of “peace” he gave me a bundle of pages from Guinevere’s book—pages he claimed that she gave to him.

  Though I don’t know if it’s the truth or not, regardless, I have them along with Dove’s translated notes. Surely, but with some time, I could figure out something. I know I could.

  So then, what was I even doing alone in Atlanta with no Black Crown guards surrounding my every step?

  Trying to find those damn twin Fire Alchemists.

  It all started two days ago, after the attack of Guinevere’s library in a small city called Andersonville. After Leon ran away to fight off Ivan’s soul possession, and the Black Crown took us in and placed us in

  a Tracker’s home for safe keeping. Though I appreciated their efforts to try and protect me and Chrys from harm, and the Tracker in question, a Frankie Ann Mellows, was a very sweet aunt-like figure towards us all, I disliked how they kept us locked away, like princesses in a tower. I especially disliked the methods they used—they manipulated my dad so that he had no idea what was really happening and sent him packing in New York (temporarily—though I was glad he was out of harm’s way), and they called the Headmaster of my school, St. Mary’s Academy, and pretty much brainwashed him into believing that I was in “safe hands”, in the off chance I wouldn’t be allowed to return to school in the fall.

  Basically: they were keeping us locked tight like prisoners.

  Though I did greatly appreciate their help—their Healers Julio and Gwen helped Dove tremendously—the Black Crown was keeping something big from me and Chrys. And even she, the one girl who loved the Black Crown like a family, felt something was off.

  I couldn’t tell them about Leon in fear that they would go after him and kill him, yet I had to get my hands on the Elixir, and the Black Crown refused to budge.

  So I had to take things in my own control.

  All it took was a little sweet talking to Frankie Ann. Not only did Frankie Ann gives us a warm place to eat and the most delicious southern cooking I’ve ever had, but she also worked as a Tracker for the

  Black Crown—basically, she was like a “secretary” for the Black Crown. A record’s keeper of sorts.

  Meaning, if there was an alchemist—or twins, for example—that were in the Black Crown database, she would know. But the only thing I’d been able to get out of her were hints of orphanages that Black Crown handled, taking it stray little alchemist who needed proper guidance.

  And just my luck, the closest one was only four hours away: right here, in Atlanta.

  So I did what any logical teenager would do: I ran away.

  Okay, it wasn’t easy, but it was the only way. Since Chrys and Ru were the only two who I trusted, they helped me as much as they could, going so far as to distract Frankie Ann while I stowed away in the trunk, as Ru “volunteered” to help Frankie Ann with the groceries, and Chrys happening to “complain” about a certain brand of cereal only found at a grocery store a good forty-five minutes away from the house, set conveniently next to a bus station.

  I had to travel light, so I stuffed as much clothes, snacks and emergency things (first aid kit, umbrella, etc) into my school messenger bag, and wore an abundance of layered clothing all the way through the bus ride up to Atlanta before finding a decent motel that would let an

  “almost eighteen” year old girl stay by herself.

  I didn’t plan to stay long. Just three days, tops.

  But what if this plan didn’t work? What if I couldn’t find the orphanage…or there were no records?

  What would happen if I reached a dead end? Would I go back to Savannah and have the Black Crown lock me up; lock my chances of helping Dove?

  No! Though I knew I was risking Chrys and Ru’s freedom with my stupid stunt, I had to do this—I had to, at least, save Dove’s life like she had saved mine so many times before! And I knew if the situations were reversed, she wouldn’t let some dumb rules from a group too stuck in their old ways stop her from achieving her goals.

  And I owed it to her and Leon. I wasn’t going to quit.

  CHAPTER 3

  Chrys was a charming girl—sometimes it was hard to believe we were the same age—with doll-like features: long strawberry blond hair; pale and smooth skin that put mine to shame; and always dressed in cute, frilly pink or pastel colored dresses and skirts that seemed ready made for her small frame. Really, the only thing that was “odd” about her was the patch that covered her right eye: where her Alchemic Runes are.

  Sort of like how my Runes are etched over my heart—acting as the “gate” between my heart, the source of my alchemy, to escape—

  Chrys’s Runes were located on her right eye. I’ve only seen it once, through a dream, but instead of a bright cobalt blue eye, her right eye was nothing more than foggy white glass, with etches of silver linings.

  Every alchemist had Runes, but only Blood-Borne’s are born with Runes on their skin. But neither Chrys nor I were Blood-Borne, which made the insignias on our skin unexplainable. Self Taught alchemist didn’t have Runes with such easy access, so they had some made, usually on clothes or pieces of jewelry.

  But having an extraordinary power had just as big consequences.

  Using it, even for such a small amount of time, could drain us and leave

  us weak for an entire day. But it was our only way of communicating, since I’m sure the Black Crown could easily track my cell phone (which has been off for the past day).

  It’s thanks to Chrys that I knew I was in the right area, because, just before that hellish nightmare, she had visited me in my dreams.

  Normally, visiting my dreams was no problem, but because of the distance even I could tell it put too much strain on her poor body.

  “I can’t be sure,” she had said, her voice almost like a whisper.

  Though her “dream image” looked perfectly healthy, the sound of her voice made me realize just how difficult it was for her. “But I think we’ve managed to narrow it down to this small section of the city. The building isn’t going to be labeled.”

  “Obviously,” I said, eyes scanning over the scrap of paper Chrys had hastily written on, trying to memorize it before the dreamscape ended, “But this is much more than I would have thought! Thank you, Chrys.”

  She had given me a small smile, “It’s no problem. We want you to succeed, just as much as you do, Emery.”

  I blinked back tears. I couldn’t believe I could cry in my dreams but, hey, anything was possible. “How is she doing?”

  Chrys�
�s smile faltered a bit. “She’s…stable. Julio or Gwen come by at least once a day, just in case, but she hasn’t stirred from her sleep

  since. Even they can’t tell us how long she’s going to be like that…”

  I swallowed, nodding mutely. But at least I knew Dove was alive.

  And I had both Chrys and Ru to thank for giving me this chance. “I won’t let you two down. I promise.”

  Chrys gripped my hand, but it felt icy cold, like a ghost, and she met my eyes; her one cobalt blue blazing with determination. “I know you can do it. But please be careful.”

  Her last words of encouragement echoed in my skull, driving new confidence with every step I took. After our dream meeting I had scribbled—while half asleep—the area that Chrys had told me, but the layout of Atlanta was much more confusing than I had expected. I even had to splurge my already low cash to buy a map, and even then it only helped a little!

  The heat felt like it was pounding on my skin, and as the sun drifted higher into the sky—already half a day wasted—I felt like I was going to melt in a puddle of sweat before I reached the steps to the orphanage.

  But as I pushed through the crowded streets, my brain felt as if it were overheating on pure mindless worries. What if there wasn’t an orphanage here anymore, or what if I misheard Frankie Ann? I know Chrys had said it wasn’t labeled, but come on; no city would be blind as to see a big house full of kids running around.

  But then I had to stop—literally in the middle of the sidewalk—

  and think. If I were going to run a home full of orphans…orphans with alchemy powers that might even be a little too much for them…I’d have to have a place away from the prying eyes of non-alchemist; a place that needed to handle wild alchemy to its fullest, like an accidental fire, or the earth splitting open, or metal gates all twisted into knots.

  Basically, I needed to find a hidden area with lots of room to move around and for little untrained alchemist to do…whatever it is little untrained alchemists do.

  I pulled out the crumpled paper, squinting at my sloppy handwriting and found myself sitting on a bench as I pulled out my map.

  Chrys had listed a couple of street names she had found while snooping through Frankie Ann’s desk the day I ran away. There were five streets in all, and as I traced my finger to each street, I suddenly became aware that they all formed a somewhat perfect circle around each other.

  And right in the center of the circle was an old abandoned hospital. On the map, it said it was a historical site. It was so obvious, yet well hidden at the same time. Nobody would go messing around in an old Civil War hospital, yet people could admire it from a far and never wonder what was going on inside. It would be a perfect place to house alchemist.

  It had to be it.

  I rushed off the bench like it was on fire and almost skipped down the street, taking a sharp left. I was looking the wrong way all along, searching up and down the streets listed until I realized that they go on for miles, when it was painfully obvious from the start.

  Thirty minutes later I came to the hospital. It was surrounded by a large, rusty fence, yet the outside looked pristine and neat, as if there was great care took into making the grounds look perfect every day. And oddly enough, the gate was left wide open, so I went in, my sneakers crunching on gravel as I made my way up a long curving road until I reached the steps.

  But I had to pause and take it in. The hospital was small compared to most modern ones—it was only two stories tall. Since it was used during the Civil War, chances are it might have once been someone’s home before they converted it into a hospital…or even a prison. The whole building was gray with a slanted roof, but both floors had huge wraparound porches that seemed to stretch on to forever.

  Dozens of white rocking chairs swayed gently in a warm breeze.

  This couldn’t be it. If this was a house for children, wouldn’t there be…signs? Like, shoes abandoned on the porch? Dolls or trucks on the steps and splayed on the grass? Maybe even a swing or tire tied securely on one of the trees?

  Feeling unusually queasy, I pushed my way up the stone steps

  and knocked on the door. After waiting a minute, I knocked again, then grabbed courage by the reins and pulled open the old fashioned door. My jaw dropped open. The room was large, brightly lit, and pure white.

  Actually, it was almost too painful to even look at. Different paintings and pictures were mounted on the wall, and when I looked closer I saw they were mainly Civil War related black and white photos.

  Oh Geez, I really was in the wrong place—no way could this be an orphanage.

  “Can I help you?”

  I jumped, twirling around, and spotted a girl by a back doorway.

  She was dressed in a white shirt and navy blue skirt that fell past her knees and one of her white socks was bunched up around her ankle. She had dark brown hair tied up in a ponytail that seemed pulled a little too tight, wrapped up in a small white ribbon. My heart almost leaped at finally seeing a child until I scolded myself for jumping to conclusions.

  Just because there was a little girl here didn’t mean I was right…

  “Miss?” her accent was faint, yet familiar. It sounded odd, but I shrugged it off, giving her a weak smile. My body was physically tired from the trek here, and my mind felt deflated at the realization I had come all this way for nothing.

  “I just noticed the gate was open and I wanted to see what this place was,” I attempted lamely. “Is this a museum?”

  The girl nodded. Bright green eyes stared right at me, unblinking.

  It was a little creepy.

  I tried to be friendly; it was the least I could do. “What’s your name?”

  “Gaia, what are you doing out here? Class has already started.” A clipped voice came from behind the door, and the little girl physically jumped, knocking her shoulder against the doorframe. A small woman wearing a stiff gray suit appeared almost out of the shadows, her blonde hair pulled so tightly back in a bun I thought her face was going to stretch. She pushed a pair of silver framed glasses up the bridge of her nose, and then seemed to notice me for the first time.

  She narrowed her eyes at me, taking in my sweat soaked clothes and ragged hair like I was some vagabond that had wandered into the wrong place. “I’m sorry but we are closed.”

  I blushed, fumbling for an excuse. “The gate was open, and I was just telling Gaia that I was—”

  The woman gave a sigh, muttering something about the hired help being irresponsible again before saying, “Then I apologize again, but we are closed. We offer tours only on the weekends. Come back Saturday if you’re interested. Gaia, to your studies. Now.”

  “Yes’m,” Gaia mumbled. She gave me one last look before sprinting away, the heels of her dress shoes clicking down a hall. The

  woman marched forward, obviously about to shoo me out when an idea popped in my head.

  This is either going to make me look crazy or ingenious. But here goes nothing!

  “I’m with the Black Crown.” I said. The woman paused, her eyes widening like a snake’s, and I had to bite my tongue from saying anymore. Either she really was thinking I was crazy, or…!

  Finally, she looked behind her, motioning me to a side room. I breathed a huge sigh of relief and followed, though kept rigid just in case. She was in my face before I could introduce myself. “What is it that you want?”

  Her tone was so hurried that I had to blink. Even her eyes sparked with anger. I gulped, trying to back up and get some breathing room, but the thick hot air plus the scent of potpourri was a little too much and I felt dizzy. “I—”

  “It’s not often that one of you comes for an unannounced visit,”

  she said coldly, “So, which of my precious students are you going to take this time?

  “Uh…” I coughed, then straightened my posture. I didn’t have time to stand here and let her throw accusations at me. “It’s not like that. I’m not here to take anyone. I just need inform
ation.”

  “Really.”

  I gave her a hard stare. “Yes, really.” True, I didn’t know what stemmed her hate against the Black Crown. I mean, they were supporting this orphanage right? But then her mask seemed to change, so coldly. She really was bitter towards the Black Crown. I didn’t have time to ponder; I had other business.

  “See, I’m looking for information on an…alchemist…with fire abilities.” I spoke, trying my best to stay calm. I’ve handled worse teachers than this lady.

  She narrowed her eyes, almost looking like a hawk ready to snatch its prey. “And what does the Black Crown want with a fire alchemist?”

  I forced myself to look straight into her eye. “They don’t. This is…

  a personal thing. It’s urgent, but I can assure you that even though I’m

  ‘associated’ with the Black Crown doesn’t mean they own me. I’m doing this on my own. Rather, they have no idea that I’m even here, so don’t waste my time, please, and just help me.”

  She held her gaze a little too long for comfort, then shook her head. “I don’t care what you’re doing, but you’ve come to the wrong home. There are no fire alchemists here. Most are sent up to the Northern branches. Weren’t you informed of this?”

  I ransacked my brain, trying to grasp straws. “Then what about any siblings? Like twins, for example? And it doesn’t have to be now—I

  just want to know if there are any records of fire alchemists that may have lived here once.”

  “Young lady, I have been caretaker for the Home of Fiona for over thirty-five years, and I remember every face and name of every child that walks in and out of my doors—willing or not. And I assure you that there hasn’t been a set of twins or any child related to fire alchemy during my time here. And now, I will kindly ask you to leave. Now.”

  The woman grabbed my upper arm so tightly I let out a yelp of pain and she led me out of the room and onto the patio. With a final glare, she added, “Send a message to those…people at headquarters: they may not care about these children but I do.” And with that, she slammed the door—and possibly my only leads—right in my face.