Page 41 of The Alchemists

Inwardly, Seb grimaced.

“Pinot’s fine.”

He studied Gemma as she studied the wines, wondering what was wrong with him. Gemma was attractive—he himself found her attractive—so he wasn’t sure why a “why the hell not?” was the best he could muster. Had Conrad irreparably broken him, the part of him that was capable of love, or at least something beyond base horniness? Was he sliding gayer on the Purple-Red scale, he wondered, thinking of Professor Chant? Or was it just Gemma?

If Tori were here, she’d tell him that this—this serial overthinking—was the problem. When their wine came and Gemma clinked her glass against his with a suggestive gleam in her eye, he drained his in nearly a single gulp, then ordered another.

“I didn’t realize it was that kind of a night,” she said, eyeing him.

“What kind of a night?” He sipped his water, for something to do.

“A party night.”

“It’s Tuesday,” he said lamely, wondering in that moment what, exactly, she saw in him.

“Then you must just be thirsty.”

He choked on his water. Already the wine was going to his head. Slow down. “It’s been a long week already.”

“Amen to that.” Gemma slid her knee between his.

Stop. Thinking.

COAGULATIO

Take thee thy purified substance and mix with sulfur—the element of earth and flesh—until that which is ephemeral is rebuilt: made solid, fixed in position and shape, such that it shall hold together on its own.

Sylphanus von Essen

Chymycal Practicum

LILY

She changed her outfit three times between going home after her morning class and returning to campus for alchemy, hating that she couldn’t stop herself. Changing meant that she cared what Sebastian thought she looked like; meant she thought there was a chance he would even notice her as something other than his cauldron-ordained lab partner. Even so, she couldn’t get the image of him calling her “secretly cool” out of her head.

They’d seen each other since that night on the bridge, to dance, and it had been fine, good, even, but whatever she thought she’d felt in the woods, on the dam, had vanished. He’d asked her about her hike but nodded vaguely at her responses. Mostly he’d seemed tired.

Eventually, she settled on a slouchy cream sweater with horizontal navy stripes, and her well-loved brown lace-up boots. She pedaled back to campus, light jacket stuffed in her backpack so that she wouldn’t get sweaty. When she got to Paracelsus, she ducked into the bathroom and checked her lip gloss.

He entered shortly before the start of class, flanked as usual by his roommates. She felt him coming before she saw him, framed in the doorway, as if his magic were a magnetic thing. Supposedly some people could actually see the weave of Æther, but she wasn’t one of them. Across the sea of desks, their eyes met, and he gave her a smile so small that you could only see it if you were looking for it. Then he took his usual seat and flipped open his leather-bound journal.

Lily busied herself with going over her notes, looking up only as Gemma entered. She kept looking as Gemma made a beeline for the Millay Tower crew. Gemma leaned against the desk in front of Sebastian, studying him beneath her strong eyebrows, and pursed her lips. They were very glossy.

“You look tired.” She reached out and brushed a lock of dark hair out of his eyes.

Lily gaped into her notes. Ahead of her, Allsaires’s neck tensed almost imperceptibly. She couldn’t hear his response, but Gemma chuckled throatily and swatted him on the shoulder before perching on the desk next to him, her bare legs swinging in their Chelsea boots. As Chant entered, Gemma slid theatrically into the desk and leaned in to whisper something.

“Hello, hello!” Without looking, Chant frisbee-tossed his leather satchel toward the lab bench, where it spun and landed neatly in the center. “What an exciting day we have ahead of us. If you’ve done the reading, you should be well prepared for the work of these next few classes. This week we’ll focus on preparing for the initial stages of the alchemical process through several smaller experiments, designed for you and your partner to hone your process.”

Lily’s stomach flopped unpleasantly. Working with Sebastian alone—in the library, in the Metaphysics building, the woods—was one thing, but what would he be like here, among his friends, among their peers?

“As we’ve discussed, there are as many different processes as there are alchemists, so lean into your strengths as a unit. Don’t cave to pressure or conventional wisdom—the more authentic the work, the more likely success. Today we’ll begin with a simple transformation. You’ll be working with antimony, and you may reshape, or transmute it into whatever form you desire. I’ll put further guidelines on the board but grab your partner and get started.”

A shuffling chaos broke out in the slanting light. Desks scraped against the floor, and sudden claims were staked to particular tables. After a brief interchange with his roommates, Sebastian turned in his chair to face her, eyebrow raised. She gathered her papers and met him at the only table left, between Gemma and Braithwhite, and Vis and Beaumont.

“Antimony,” he said quietly, mouth quirked in thoughtfulness.

“Easy,” she agreed, trying to ignore the heads swiveling in their direction, focusing on the lump of lustrous, dark gray matter in a jar on the table. “The wolf of metals. Any ideas?”