seventeen

I think of myself as a realistic optimist. It’s how I’ve survived for over 340 years in relatively good physical and mental health. It was why I hadn’t truly believed Tobias would be arrested. But at the police station, I wasn’t allowed to see him and nobody could tell me how long he would be held.

My palms sweating, I knew where I had to go. I drove to Blue Sky Teas. Given that she used to be an attorney, Blue would be the best person to go to for help. She’d reinvented herself here in Portland after escaping a life that had been abusive in multiple ways. But she’d had to break the law to escape. Her old name was Brenda Skyler, and she’d changed it to that of the woman we knew and loved, Blue Sky.

The teashop was crowded once again, a long line snaking around the weeping fig tree and not a free seat to be seen at the tree-ring tables. And as Dorian had anticipated, the glass counter of treats was nearly empty. I couldn’t catch Blue’s eye because of the crowd, so I waited impatiently in the line.

“You look terrible, Zoe,” Blue said once I reached the counter. “Did you catch Max’s cold? Let me make you your friend’s cayenne tea.”

“Tobias has been arrested,” I whispered.

Her eyes grew wide.

“Or at least he’s being questioned,” I added. “Nobody will tell me anything.”

“Give me one second,” she said, and disappeared into the back room.

“Hey.” The muffled sound of a young voice came from the back room. “My break isn’t over yet. Oh, hey Zoe.” Brixton appeared behind the counter with Blue.

“Sorry, Brix,” I said. “I need to borrow Blue. It’s important.”

“No problem. I get overtime for this, right?”

Blue tousled his hair and he scowled at her.

“Come with me,” she said, and led me to a back room opposite the kitchen.

Whereas the front of the cafe had high walls that stretched to a ceiling painted blue like the sky, including wisps of white clouds, I doubted anyone over six feet tall could have stood comfortably in Blue’s backroom office. But like the cafe, the office had a cozy feel. Blue had made the boxy little room a comforting sanctuary, with a tiny desk that had space for a laptop and a reclining cushioned chair with a reading lamp and a side table with coasters. A large corkboard covered one wall, filled with photographs she’d taken of friends and of plants from her wildcrafting.

“If you’re willing,” I said slowly, “I need some informal legal advice. For what to do about Tobias. He has some things in his past that would be better if they didn’t come out. But I swear it’s nothing bad. Just … complicated.”

Blue nodded. “First, what are they accusing him of?”

“Detective Vega mentioned a fake ID. But the thing that worries me the most is that it’s the detective looking into Logan Magnus’s death. She said she had questions for Tobias about the case.”

“I thought the poor man killed himself.”

“The detective doesn’t think so.”

“I’ll be right back.”

She returned a few minutes later with two steaming mugs of tea. “Better for thinking.” She smiled as she inhaled the scent of her spicy cinnamon chai.

“How can I help Tobias? Should I get him a lawyer? I know you don’t practice law here, but do you know someone I can call?”

“If your friend is arrested, he’d be allowed a phone call. Who would he call?”

“Probably me.”

“And he hasn’t called?”

Why couldn’t I get used to these damn things? I hadn’t thought to check. I pulled my cell phone from my bag, but I hadn’t missed any calls. I tried calling Tobias, but his phone went directly to voicemail. So he was most likely still talking to someone at the station.

Blue reached over and took my hands. “They’re probably just talking with him. The police won’t arrest someone unless they’ve got good evidence. That was the problem in my case, that there was too much false evidence against me. But unless someone has set up your friend, anything ‘suspicious’ doesn’t mean much.”

“Then why do I feel so wretched? And so helpless.”

“Because he’s your friend. And because I’ve always known you were an old soul. Even though you’re young, you understand the importance of old friends. How did you two meet? No, let me guess. Was he one of your teachers? He has that vibe.”

“That he does. But no. We met in a small playhouse production for a play about the Underground Railroad.” It was the cover story we’d come up with. A lie is always best when it’s as close to the truth as possible. “We lost touch until I saw a picture of him online last year.”

I’d found Tobias because I was trying to locate another true alchemist and saw a familiar face. I hadn’t known that the young man I’d met when he was an escaped slave had become an alchemist. If he hadn’t been photographed as a speaker at a spiritual alchemy conference, I never would have found him again. The discipline of spiritual alchemy uses the same principles I use to transform plants into purified essences for healing. In practice it means looking inward to find your flaws and transform them, to become a better person and more accepting of the world. It was how alchemy survived publicly in the last century.

“Those unexpected reunions are the best,” said Blue. “As much as I hate that our identities are everywhere for the world to see, there are silver linings if we’re open to them.”

“I’m glad you’re getting more business at the teashop thanks to that article.”

She took my hands in hers and said, “Don’t worry about keeping up with demand. We’ll be fine. Focus on taking care of your friend.”

When we emerged from the back room, Brixton’s mom was helping him behind the counter. At the sight of me, Heather squealed happily, set down the pumpkin muffin she was holding with metal tongs, and enveloped me in a hug. Even though I saw her several times a week, this was her standard form of greeting. Half of her long blonde hair hung down her back, the other half was braided with daisy chains encircling the top of her head. Her white sundress, covered by a short jean jacket on top, swished around my legs as she hugged me.

Brixton had been born when Heather was sixteen. In many ways she’d grown up quickly, but also she had missed her youth, so at thirty-one she often acted more like an adolescent than her son did at fifteen.

“You dropped this customer’s muffin, Mom,” Brixton said, retrieving a fresh muffin for a man with a handlebar mustache and aviator glasses.

“No coffee?” the man said. “You’re serious? This place only serves tea?”

“Tell me what kind of coffee you like,” Blue said, taking Brixton’s place behind the counter, “as well as why you like it, and I promise I’ll find the perfect tea for you.”

“Zoe,” Heather said as she took my hand and led me to a table that had just opened up near the weeping fig tree, “you’re looking really stressed out. Come with me to an essential oils workshop later today. I know you already know all about herbalism, but it might get you out of your funk. It’s with a group of women participating in the upcoming Autumn Equinox Fair. I know you’ve got a table at the fair, so it would be nice for you to meet some of the others. Since you’re a little younger than me, I hope you don’t mind that I feel like a bit of a big sister to you.” She beamed at me.

“Thank you for the offer,” I said, amused that someone nearly 300 years younger would think of me as a little sister, “but I need to help a friend today.”