Rooming with the Wicked

34 | speaking of trees

My footsteps echoed down the empty corridor—too fast to be casual, too slow to be stressed. Determined, yeah. They sounded determined even to me.

Every door I passed was closed. No surprise there with classes only resuming next week. Still, the person I was seeking was sure to be here. Door's always open, he'd said, "I practically live here."

On a sunny day, this part of the building was lively with its colorful posters and green-painted lockers, but the sun was nowhere to be found now. The morning fog had vanished, but only to be replaced by low-hanging gray clouds.

That's the Halloween spirit.

In mock contradiction, classical music drifted into the hallway alongside the scent of freshly brewed tea. Peppermint and honey. He was here.

If anyone could help me figure out what the hell was going on in Silvarden, it was him. Or well Dad, but I wasn't ready to face him yet. Not today anyway. Not tomorrow either. Not until I figured out how to catch him in his lies.

I drained the last drop of heavenly pumpkin spice—yup, that's become a permanent fall addiction—from my paper cup and tossed it into the trash can in front of Professor Flamel's office door.

When my knuckles connected with the white wood, the door gave way with a creak. Bags of herbs and empty vials littered the white tabletop in the center of the small room. Two large beacons, one filled to the brim with a clear liquid, the other nearly empty of a pale green fluid, stood between two stacks of handwritten papers and his box of dew drops. A steaming tea kettle and one cup were placed in the middle of the table.

"Yes?" Professor Flamel called from somewhere in the back.

"It's Ariel, Professor," I replied. "I was hoping you'd have a minute."

A soft thud sounded from the walk-in storage closet on the back wall, and a moment later, my alchemy professor's familiar face peered out. "Come on in," he said, nodding at the chair closest to me. "Have a seat. I'll be with you in a moment."

I shut the door behind me and sat down. The peppermint smell was weaker inside the room, overshadowed by a distinctly ethereal scent. In the far corner, the Bunsen burner's blue flame licked at the bottom of a large boiling flask. Fiery red liquid bubbled inside. The remnants of reddish-brown roots and crushed crimson petals were strewn about a wooden cutting board to the left.

Strange. Professor Flamel was many things, messy wasn't one of them.

That smell though...

I took a deep breath. A mixture of citrus fruit and wildflowers. Blood poppy. That explained the red petals and color of the elixir. Its stimulating effects were incredibly potent. Most potions only required a single petal or, at most, half a teaspoon of blood poppy powder. Yet here he was using the juice of what had to be at least half a dozen petals. There was only one elixir I could think of that required that amount.

"Is that...Perpetual Vigilance?" I asked.

Professor Flamel's tired face appeared in the storage room opening once more. Dust stuck to the tips of his messy blue-black hair the spectacles sat crooked on the tip of his slim nose. "Indeed, it is," he said, smiling.

"Don't tell me we finally get to make this after break."

He chuckled. "Sorry to disappoint you, but that's not even in the curriculum until—let's see—ever."

Of course not, that would be too much fun. In all fairness, the side effects were known to be life-threatening, and I could think of at least half a dozen people who most definitely abuse it. Being able to stay awake for days on end and immune to any other mind-numbing or mind-altering effects was useful after all.