AS BETH AND I said our good-byes and walked back toward the waiting car, I noticed an old apothecary shop at the end of a narrow alleyway. It reminded me of something out of Romeo and Juliet. A man stepped out from behind the counter and came to the doorway, giving me a slight bow.
He was probably in his twenties, handsome, immaculately dressed. But there was something very Old World about him. I took in a deep breath and had a flash, nothing more than a split second—like a blinding burst of sunlight peeking through passing skyscrapers—where I saw him standing in that same spot, dressed in tails and a top hat, waiting for someone. Waiting for me.
“Do you know him?” Beth asked.
“I’m not sure.”
As I took a hesitant step toward him, he slipped inside as if he wanted me to follow, which I did.
“Ash, I’m not really sure if we have time for—”
I knew she was right, but the moment I entered the shop, I felt something open inside of me. Like taking that first deep hit of air after you’ve been released from under a riptide.
The shop was full of the regular things you might see in a forgotten pharmacy—dusty aspirin, bandages, sun lotion—but beyond that there were pestles, herbs, oils, and a sheen of fine gold dust clinging to the grooves of the worktables. He was an alchemist. And, I’d gather, an old one at that. Definitely immortal. I could smell the centuries on him.
Following his scent of cypress, brisk granite, and black sage, I gravitated toward the back of the room. Behind a heavy tapestried curtain was a small inner chamber, adorned with art and antiques, layers of Persian rugs, and an old record player, Mozart lilting through the cozy space.
“May I read for you?” he asked as he took a seat behind a claw-foot mahogany table, fanning a deck of cards before me. The backs of the cards were the color of wet shale with a hand-painted ouroboros symbol, the snake eating its own tail, each scale gilded with painstaking care.
“Sure, I’ll bite,” I said as I stepped up to the table.
He pursed his lips as if he were stifling a smile.
“Choose three.”
I reached to grab the first one in front of me.
“No, not like that.” He took my hand, fanning out my fingers. “Skim your fingertips over every card, and let your soul choose for you.”
I did as he said. I felt silly at first, but soon I relaxed, letting my senses lead me to the first card. I swore I could feel the energy thrumming through my palm. “You’re immortal,” I said, dragging the first card forward.
A mischievous smile crept into the corner of his mouth. “What gave me away? My boyish good looks or the smell of my blood?”
I looked up at him sharply.
“All immortals have a heightened sense of smell, but yours is especially keen.”
Interesting. So he could smell it on me, as well. Time to test the waters.
“I’m Katia, but you probably already know that,” I said as I slid another card from the spread.
“Rennert, the alchemist, at your service.”
“Are you part of the council?” I asked, searching for another card.
“I prefer to remain on the fringe. But certain members of the council seek me out when they are in need of my skills.”
“And what are those?” I asked, sliding the final card forward from the deck.
“All sorts of follies and unpleasantries. But I wouldn’t be in business very long if I spilled my secrets so easily.”
“Are you a seer?” I asked.
“Heavens, no.” Rennert crinkled up his nose as if he were disgusted by the notion. “No offense,” he said to Beth.
Beth tugged on the edge of my shirt even harder. “Ash, I really think we should—”
“Your past,” he said, placing his hand on the first card, but not turning it over. “There’s a tree, split down the middle, roots reaching through your bloodline. There’s pleasure and pain, passion and death—so much death—but there’s also love. Deep sacrifices have been made for this to come to pass.”
Beth laced her cold fingers through mine. She was scared.
“Your present,” he said, caressing his thumb over the second card. “Danger abounds.” He looked at me with a raised brow. “There’s a battle between your heart and your mind. Judgment and forgiveness. You’re standing on the precipice, a razor’s edge. It’s all so delicious,” he said, a grin easing across his lips. “Do you let yourself fall once again or do you hold on to the guilt and bitterness that have become your constant companions? To dance with the darkness. To dance with the light. Which will you choose?”
I stared down at the third card, sensing the weight of it and everything it implied.
“Your future.” As soon as he placed his hand over the last card, I watched the tendons in his hand flare, the tension traveling up his arm, like visible poison. “Twins. All coiled up. Vessels for each other.”
“Rhys,” I whispered.
“The light you carry inside you was a gift, but it’s not meant for you. It’s keeping the darkness at bay, but if you hold on to it, it will be your ruin. In order to save yourself, to save them all, you’ll have to give it away and step fully into the darkness. The darkness may be your curse, your immurement, where your heart will turn to ash . . . but it’s your only chance at salvation. Remember, no one is irredeemable, Ashlyn.”
“H-how did you know my name? How did you know my mother used to say that?”
“I knew Katia. Who do you think made her immortal?” His head snapped toward the windows, a look of unease coming over him. “The reading is over. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have important matters to—”
“What did you mean about the twins? The vessel? Did you see my brother?”
“Good day,” he said, turning his back on me.
“Am I becoming like Katia . . . is that what you’re trying to tell me?” When he didn’t answer, I frantically flipped over the cards to find they were blank—and so was the entire deck.
Beth yanked on my shirt to leave, but I didn’t need any more encouragement. I was thoroughly creeped out.
Just as we were almost to the door, he turned toward me. “Ashlyn, wait. You have a light of your own. Trust your blood. Trust your instincts. And don’t worry, I will keep your secret until my dying breath,” he said with a sweet sadness. “Now go.”
I hadn’t taken two steps away from the shop when a man in a smart seersucker suit and a straw hat hurried by, brushing up against my shoulder. He was drenched in a terrible amber cologne that couldn’t mask the fact that he was an immortal, too. He glanced back at me as if he could feel what I was. As soon as our eyes met, he tilted his hat to obscure his face and slipped inside the shop, locking the door behind him.