She was the whole reason Nathaniel and I could do anything beyond telekinesis and compelling coins. She’d spent years searching for the magical books that were our entire foundation.
Which was my reason for coming here today.
I had homework. Even though it was only the second day of school, I already had assignments.
But those could wait until tonight.
For now, I needed to practice some self-assigned homework.
I took a seat at Mom’s desk. I pulled the book toward myself.
Alchemy was real. There were exceptionally vague instructions in this old book Nathaniel thought originated from Ireland. I’d been able to prove that it was possible. Though maybe not permanent. I had to wonder if this was where the term “fool’s gold” came from. I could certainly pass off the gold temporarily, but within a short amount of time, it would return to a rock.
I thought my ability to perform it had something to do with affinities. Nathaniel’s affinity was with paper and he’d never been able to turn anything into gold. But mine was earth related. And I’d been able to transform rocks into gold, both of which were naturally found in the earth.
I wondered if Borden would be able to do alchemy. I doubted it. His affinity, from our exceptionally limited experience with him, seemed to be electricity. I couldn’t see any kind of tie between electricity and gold.
I took one of the rocks from the basket beside the desk and held it in my hand.
Alchemy was a mix of words and will and blood. Thankfully for me, I was already exceptionally well versed in Latin, so I knew what words I was saying when I’d very first read them.
“Spiritus sanguinis mei, et cor meum: ut quod fuerit ferrum, et hoc in clara.” The words felt beautiful as they rolled off my tongue.
Spirit of my blood, will of my heart, take what is dull, and bring it to bright.
I took the pin on the edge of the desk and pricked the tip of my middle finger. As a drop of blood bubbled out, I pressed it to the rock.
I watched as the blood seeped into the pores of the stone. And instantly, it changed from red, to brilliant, shiny gold. Veins streaked throughout the rock, growing wider, bigger. They expanded until slowly, the entire rock was consumed by shimmering gold, until the entire thing was a huge lump of gold in my hand.
Will of my heart. That was the one that wasn’t exactly clear. What did that mean? Much of what I was able to do as a mage was a matter of asking the object of my attention and willing it to happen.
Was my will just not strong enough for gold?
I let my eyes close and I let my heart reach out to it. I was aware of the gold. But it was also physically sitting in my hands. It wasn’t the same as the tingle I got at the back of my neck sometimes. It felt too…normal and tangible.
But I reached out. I imagined every surface of the gold.
You are not a rock. You are precious, valuable gold.
I spoke the words in my mind, willing them to be true. I spoke the words out loud, as if it could hear me.
Stay gold, stay gold, the words repeated in my mind, over and over.
When I could think of nothing else to try, I set the golden rock down on the desk, in line with two dozen others.
All of them had been gold at one point. But now all of them looked like ordinary stones.
I pulled my journal out of my bag and opened it to the next blank page.
This was something exceptionally important. Taking notes of everything. We recorded all our experiments. What worked, a lot of what didn’t. After going through vague notes and failing at things over and over, we didn’t want future generations to have to do any guess work.
Nathaniel informed me that historically, books like these were called grimoires. The word felt dramatic, but fitting.
I finished my notes, closed the book, and cast my eyes around the office.
I wondered why it had been built, and by whom. It had been here long before my Mom would have become a teacher. Alderidge was over two hundred and forty years old. This wasn’t a new addition. Someone had seen a reason for a hidden office a long, long time ago, and somehow, my mother had inherited this space.
I prayed that someday I would find her again and she could tell me the story.
Guilt ate at my stomach just a little bit. This was becoming less her space, and more ours. Several of my jackets were lying around the room. Nathaniel had a change of clothes in one corner. Our notes and books were scattered everywhere. There was a stack of dirty dishes that needed to be taken back to the house on one shelf.
She wouldn’t mind. I kept telling myself that, because I knew it was true. She had wanted this for me someday. She’d said, in her own words, that she was going to tell me about my blood on my eighteenth birthday. I’d been nineteen for three and a half months. This would have been the norm for a while now. We would be working on this together.
My eyes flicked to the clock, and when I found it was five, I snatched my grimoire, stuffed it into my bag and headed for the stairs. I cast one quick look back at the last stone on the desk.
It was still gold.
But the real test was to see if it stayed gold until I came back.
Every day over the entire first week, Borden sat with us and ate lunch. Every single day, David would stop by our table, and give Borden hell. Nasty words and threats. It was as if his favorite dog had suddenly decided he no longer loved his master.
Borden took it. He was always exceptionally calm, never fully rising to David’s taunts. He’d dismiss him like he didn’t matter at all to him.
And over the course of those five days, I started to believe Borden could be trusted. That he truly was done with the Society Boys.
“Meet us at the solarium at nine tomorrow morning,” I said at lunch on Friday, just before Nathaniel and I walked to put away our trays.
Borden looked at us with wide, surprised eyes.
So, on Saturday, I went to the solarium at eight, carrying breakfast in a brown paper bag.
Steam coated all the windows, blocking my view into the solarium. But I grabbed the knob and twisted, letting myself in.
It was quiet inside, though a fire crackled in the fireplace. It was warm, just enough to be comfortable.
I looked around, and realized Nathaniel was still in bed, sleeping. I smiled as I set the bag on the coffee table and crossed the solarium. I shed my coat, and then my shoes. And carefully, I lifted the covers and slid into the bed with Nathaniel.
Sleepily, one eye slid open as I nuzzled up into him. A loopy smile spread on his face as he wrapped his arms around me and tucked his chin over my head. I felt my entire body relax as I wrapped myself around him. He smelled like cotton and sandalwood and paper, and it was the most intoxicating thing I’d ever smelled in my life.
“I could get used to this,” he said, echoing exactly what I’d been thinking. He pulled me in tighter, trying to drive away the cold that had seeped into my body from my walk in the snow.
“Buy me a gigantic bed with ten pillows on it and the fluffiest blanket you’ve ever seen?” I said shamelessly.
“Promise,” he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
I smiled and relaxed even more, because I could picture it so easily, so exactly. Him and me, sleeping in on lazy Saturday mornings. Kids running around the house and crawling into bed with us. Sunday mornings reading the newspaper and chaotic Mondays, getting ready for another week.
It wasn’t hard to imagine at all.