The Fake Eye (Time Alchemist) Read online

  Now, when they started swinging alchemic-made weapons that was where I would draw the line. So at a quarter to eleven, I snuck out of the dorm with only a flashlight and my phone in tow. I’ve learned enough about the campus to know where to stick to the shadows, and it was easy to get to the library in fifteen minutes flat.

  Again, there was a chill in the air—odd for a spring night, even in the South. It felt like a sign, but I brushed it off and kept going. I’m not letting my fears—and possibly overactive imagination—get the better of me.

  Heck, what was the worst thing that could happen? Nothing would happen and I would have wasted a couple of hours in hiding. No big deal.

  Hoping I wasn’t too late (and also hoping that Samantha didn’t get the date wrong on her Trial), I tiptoed around to the back, surprised to see the school had given a clean trim to the blooming bushes that blocked some of the windows that led to the basement floors. Now I could see clear in there, and it made it a little easier to crawl through.

  And even extra lucky for me—they were unlocked.

  Finding the very same one I used to sneak in back when I was being chased by an Ice Alchemist, I shimmied around the bush, brushing leaves off

  my face and gently pushed it open. It gave out a slight creak that sent my heart fluttering, but before I could give it a second thought I crawled through backwards and slammed onto a cardboard box that (luckily) broke my fall.

  I had already planned on how I would escape if nobody showed up: I would just stack boxes and chairs to get back to the windows. Unlike that December night, the April nights were cool, so I didn’t have to worry about freezing to death.

  Double checking my flashlight for batteries and making sure my phone was on silent, I searched around until I found a broken desk that looked like it had plenty of room to crawl under. After another search around the room (and oddly enough, most of the clutter had been pushed back into their former places—there wasn’t any sign or hint that the Magnolia Bells had met her weeks ago), I discovered an oily white blanket, long enough so that when I draped it over the desk, the entire thing was easily covered from top to bottom.

  It was my own makeshift hidey hole, and it was perfect.

  It was pitch black under the desk and it smelled horribly like old wood, dust and something oily. It was a little cramped, but with some adjusting I got as comfortable as I could get with my butt on the concrete floor.

  And then I waited. I resisted the urge to check my phone every other minute, instead keeping my ears strained for a any sort of noise. Feeling like it would be a little bit of a waste, I practiced some breathing techniques and meditation. And when I was bored I played a little with my Time alchemy, bouncing a stray paperclip I had found on the floor up and down in the air to see how long I could get it to float when put in slow motion.

  After a long, long moment, somewhere on the grounds was the very faint, straining sounds of the clock tower bellowing twelve rings. Midnight had come. And there wasn’t any sight or sound of a Magnolia Bell around.

  But my gut told me to do this. To sit and wait underneath the dark,

  musty desk. I just knew something bad was going to happen—but I never really expected how horrible it was going to be.

  CHAPTER 13

  A muffled scream slammed me back into reality, shocking me so suddenly I dropped my phone, sending it clattering on the floor. I reached for it and hugged it to my chest, holding my breath; my heart thudding heavily against my ribcage. I counted the seconds that went by…one, two, three, four, five…

  but there wasn’t any sound at all. No whispers or giggles, or heels clicking on the cement floor.

  I glanced at my phone, fumbling it open until the little white light almost burned my eyes. It was only a quarter until one. I must have fallen asleep, given the piercing pain in my cramped neck and the fact I couldn’t feel my butt anymore.

  Another scream broke the silence. This one a little louder—closer.

  Abandoning my hidey hole, I swept the white sheet away and half-crawled, half-ran towards the empty bookshelf. My limbs were cramped and numb from being under that desk for so long, and it took every ounce of strength to pry the wooden shelf away. A nail caught and I hissed in pain when I felt blood trickle down, but eventually the damn door finally squeezed open.

  It was like a blanket of déjà vu had been tossed over my hot body; me, standing here not four months ago in a torn black and green dress and silver heels. Instead I had come fully prepared, wearing thick, layered clothes just in case. I noticed that the shelves attached to the inside of the doorframe were wiped clean. No emergency lights or snacks or blankets. Maybe that was the point of every new year of the Magnolia Bells.

  But it still felt odd. Something about this whole thing felt off—

  A shriek echoed from inside the tunnel. A bob of white light clattered to the ground and I could barely make out a girl in a white summer-like dress

  falling to the ground like a broken angel; her blonde hair spilling around her

  —

  When she opened her mouth to scream again, my heart seemed to stop beating for a full minute.

  “Samantha!” I cried out, running towards her just as a bloom of fire erupted only feet away from the poor, horror-stricken girl. She let out another shriek that evaporated into the air, and she collapsed to the ground, splayed out like a doll. A red rose was clutched so tightly in her left hand that her entire palm was soaked in blood.

  “Oh my god, Samantha! Samantha!” I knelt by her, cradling her head in my lap. Her face was as pale as a ghost, but besides the cuts on her hands I didn’t see any other external injuries. The smell of earth, blood, and smoke nearly suffocated me.

  As I shrugged off my jacket, placing it over her, I couldn’t help but notice that this kind of smoke smelled different from the fire…it had less of a smoky smell and more of a…powdery smell? Like firecrackers. Or gunpowder…

  Another boom ricocheted somewhere down the tunnel. I didn’t have time to explore, to see who the culprit was behind this, even though every cell in my body itched to find the perpetrator responsible for Samantha’s shock—

  and possibly the fate of the Old Chapel.

  The library wasn’t far at all. I scooped my arms around Samantha’s small waist, dragging her slowly and carefully towards the entrance. I felt bad seeing her pretty dress covered in soot and dirt, and every time I glanced down at her sweat covered face I felt a surge of anger spike through me. Whoever was doing this must be targeting Magnolia Sisters. Why else would this be happening? Where were the other Sisters anyway; the rest of the newbies?

  Shouldn’t they be meeting Samantha here—or was her target initially to get to

  the cemetery?

  My thoughts broke off like they had been sliced clean in half when the door leading to the exit slammed shut.

  Just then, a spark ignites somewhere down the tunnel. Flickers of orange and red light begin to grow as fast as the ticking of my heart. What kind of sick prank was this? And how the hell could there be any fires in such a damp tunnel?

  Unless this wasn’t a prank at all—but something…unnatural. Like a—

  The air began to thicken with smoke. I pulled my shirt up to cover my mouth, dragging my other sweater over Samantha’s pale head. Stepping back some, I gathered as much speed as I could and slammed as hard as my body would allow against the wooden door. The sound that reverberated in the hollow tunnel seemed like bones snapping, but it hadn’t even budged an inch!

  I slammed again, and again, until my shoulder felt like it was going to dislocate. So I kicked it, trying everything I could to at least get a crack on the surface.

  When nothing would work, I stood back, choking smoke into my already burnt lungs. The flames grew hotter and closer; my vision swam. It was so damn hot…I couldn’t breathe—

  “Someone help!” I gasped out, pounding my fists on the door. “Help us!

  SOMEBODY HELP!”

  Nothing. Nobod
y was going to be in the library at one in the morning.

  There was nobody to help us. What could I do? I pulled Samantha’s limp body even closer to the door as I could, a stabbing fear cutting into my body that seemed to numb my thoughts and movements.

  Samantha was going to die because of me—

  No! No she would not! Dammit, Emery Miller does not freakin’ give up

  —hell, I’d survived death numerous times. I could do this. I would figure something out!

  But what should I do? Could I maybe halt the flames long enough to get the door open? Could I stop the time around us and venture forward down the tunnel in hopes that the fire stopped somewhere? But how could I even last that long, plus carrying Samantha?

  The best bet seemed the former. So I gathered my strength, breathing in slowly even though my throat felt like it was shredded in pieces. Instantly gold threads dangled around us, almost invisible from the bright lights of the fire; I squeezed my eyes shut, envisioning the flames halting with the switch of a pause button.

  And they did. Even the smoke stopped as if frozen. But I didn’t have long. I turned to the door, and then a new idea hit me: Could I possibly reverse the time on this door? Did my alchemy expand beyond people and moving objects?

  I had to try. I placed a hand on the door, feeling its warm surface press into my hand. I could see the strands around it, but I had to mentally place ones on the other side, watching them fly around like webs. Imagining me opening this door not minutes ago, how it had creaked open painstakingly slow; the raw cut on my nail from where it caught. I was mentally following my footsteps backwards in time—I could see myself opening the door again…pressing it, pulling it…

  Rewind the time on this door….rewind it…now!

  I gave an extra hard yank in my head, and the door swung open in a blurred motion.

  There was no time to celebrate even though I gave out a bark of joy. I

  dragged Samantha out of the door, wincing a little when her knees knocked against the side and pulled her as far back as I could, then raced back to the hidden entrance. I still had a hold on the flames, but from all the energy it took to reverse the time on the door, I was about to lose them; they blurred and moved together like a calming sea ready to explode.

  But now the biggest problem was: I couldn’t get the damn door closed!

  It was stuck like cement, no matter how much I pushed against it. I kept willing it to close—to push time back to where it was, but I was being too reckless, to panicky—I couldn’t get my thoughts straight at all!

  A hard hand came down on my shoulder and pushed me back so swiftly I couldn’t even blink.

  “Get back.” A gruff male voice said. I lost my footing, stumbling onto the ground as I watched a boy with dark locks squeeze through the opening of the tunnel—a red fire extinguisher in hand.

  “Are you alright, Emery?” a sweet, familiar voice said in my ear. I turned slowly, achingly, like a machine in need of oil, to the girl at my right: the girl from my dreams.

  “I—what—” My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth.

  She smiled a smile as sweet as candy and warm as sunshine; her light hair falling perfectly over the right side of her face. “I’m sorry it took us so long to meet—in real person. I’m Chrysanthemum Blackwell; the one over there is Rudolph Chima…my…cousin of sorts. You can just call me Chrys, alright, Emery?”

  Before I could say anything, the boy, Rudolph (what kind of name was Rudolph? Hell, what kind of name was Chrysanthemum?!) stepped out of the tunnel entrance; his one dark eye staring blankly at us, “The fire’s been put out.”

  “I see,” the girl replied, “Well, we made it just in time again, didn’t we?”

  His nod was stiff, almost forced, as he locked gazes with me. I swallowed the dust that had piled up in my throat. “Ya need to take your alchemy off this shelf; otherwise we can’t close it.”

  I blinked again as he pointed his thumb towards the empty brown shelf.

  It was still stuck in place, and if I concentrated I could still see the faint whisps of golden light around it. No wonder I couldn’t close it—I had stuck its motion in the past!

  “Uh, I’ll try…” I said slowly, standing to my aching feet. But I glanced back wearily. The girl, Chrys, sensing my doubt, gave me a wave of her hands.

  “Please, don’t worry. Your friend is alright—just shocked, not seriously injured. We’ve already called an ambulance for her, so you’d better hurry.”

  I nodded dumbly, looking between Chrys, Ru, and Samantha’s sleeping form. My sweater had been pushed off and had been folded and tucked under her head to protect her from the cold floor. I gave a sigh, then turned towards the shelf.

  I placed a hand on its surface; it felt oddly hot and cold. Maybe when I make an object reverse in time, I reverse its feel, too. It should have been hot from the fire, but it was cool. Taking a calm breath, I concentrated, though I felt like I was going to pass out any minute.

  Unlock…unlock…

  In seconds, I saw the strands around the shelf vanish into the air, and with barely a nudge it closed snug in place, locking out the secret tunnel.

  My vision went temporary dark, and I felt myself fall. But not before I felt someone grab me around the waist, keeping me up. Before I could utter a

  single word of protest, I felt Chrys’s small hands grab my arm gently, pulling me around the clutter of the archives basement and up the stairs. I heard Ru stomp behind us, and looking back he held Samantha in his arms bridal style.

  I couldn’t even say a word, sure that we were going to walk straight into trouble. But we veered through the dark, empty library, out the back door just as flashing red lights flickered in the dark air. An ambulance had pulled up, and at that time Samantha gave a wretched cough, as if she had caught her breath for the first time.

  “Samantha!” I protested, but Chrys dragged my weak body into the shadows as Ru hurried towards the paramedics. In seconds Samantha was strapped to a stretcher as someone—a police officer? A teacher?—began questioning Ru. He looked back only once, the studs of his earrings gleaming in the artificial lights of the lampposts near the library, and turned back.

  And just as I thought that the lights actually flickered a little before going still. I turned towards Chrys, who gave me a sad smile.

  “We really need to have a talk.”

  Chrys smiled, her one cobalt eye twinkling in the gray light. “I agree.”

  CHAPTER 14

  The rest of the night felt like a drug induced blur. The two new students wouldn’t answer my questions just yet because we had one more important thing to take care of: Samantha. Thank God, she wasn’t hurt horribly at all, and with Rudolph’s help (who Chrys insisted he liked to be called “Ru” for short), we managed to get her to safety. Shortly after the ambulance had come and gone, we were all surrounded by teachers, including Nurse Alexandra, who insisted we all go to her office for a quick check up.

  With Nurse Alexandra, my dad and the police around me, plus with all the confusion and death looming over me like a bad cloud, I finally confessed what really happened (of course, leaving the part about alchemy about because I doubt any sane adult would believe it). I told them a little about the first fire, maybe, and how I could have played an unwanted role in it. It honestly made it easier when Chrys and Ru both spoke up at the appropriate times, supporting my story and how we rescued Samantha.

  We wouldn’t know the rest of the story until Samantha woke up, but it didn’t take the administrative—especially Nurse Alexandra—to realize what was going on: The Magnolia Bells.

  Since Samantha and I were okay and no property was damaged, the police didn’t have to stay long at all. The new Headmaster, from what I heard, gathered all the members of the Magnolia Bells and put their trials on indefinite suspension, and “dorm arrest” for the remainder of the school year.

  Which, to me, sounded like a slap on the wrist. If these girls (not pointing fingers but by girls I
mean Mallory) really did this to me or Samantha, they deserved to be expelled. But I had no control over it…and to make matters worse, Karin of all people got the worst of the punishment

  because she was the leader. I had no doubt in my mind she wasn’t behind those traps, and I wished desperately that I could do something. But she hasn’t been answering her phone calls or returning my e-mails, so I decided to just give her space.

  I found out late in the afternoon, the morning after the incident that Samantha finally woke up and was fine. Besides smoke inhalation and stitches needed in her hands, she was perfectly fine.

  Except she never came back.

  I wasn’t sure if it was her parents doing or her own will, but Samantha withdrew from St. Mary’s and moved back up to Atlanta to finish schooling.

  She didn’t even say goodbye, though I got an e-mail from her with a new cell number, with the promise of a call.

  I felt both relieved and disappointed. I didn’t know Samantha well, and I hadn’t even bothered to try and strengthen a friendship between us. But she was safely away from St. Mary’s, away from Hurricane Mallory and maybe something worse.

  And now all that left was to answer the question of the two mysterious exchange students; including the girl that could enter and morph my dreams with no trouble at all.

  ○○○

  “I can’t understand why you would purposely put yourself in danger like that,”

  Dove’s voice trembled slightly and I detected a hint of anger and disappointment laced in her tone. “Not once, but twice—all for some…club?

  Some sorority?”

  I shrank back against the plush green chair and played with an invisible thread. I couldn’t let myself meet her or Leon’s angry eyes. After the incident, I came out with what had happened. Of course, not like I should have been

  surprised, they were both beyond furious. Mainly at themselves for not protecting me.

  And to be honest, I didn’t really have an excuse for the second attack; I knew perfectly well what I was going into. Why didn’t I wake Dove and explain? Was I scared to tell her the real reason or was it that I didn’t want her to stress over something that I could only go on a hunch?