It took Elrick longer than he’d thought to reach the Alchemist’s Guild. It was in the city, and he could see the spire from the Agora, so he figured it couldn’t take that long. Then he remembered that it could take hours to walk across an efficiently built city like New York, with a clean gridline of streets. Antia had so many dead-ends, winding roads, and entire city sections that ended on a sheer cliff or river with no bridge.

The sun was low in the sky by the time he approached the gate of the Alchemist’s Guild.

Owen would wonder where he was, but if he came back with news of an ongoing agreement with Taalia, all would be forgiven. He hoped.

The gate was ominous and foreboding. It had tall metal posts with serrated spikes atop each post. The metal was black, and the gate was closed. In front of the gate stood a man in a black cloak, his hands disappearing into his robes.

Elrick approached him, hoping he came off much more confident and less exhausted than he felt.

“I have a delivery for Taalia,” he said, stopping five or six feet short of the cloaked man.

Nothing happened. The man didn’t move. He didn’t look up. His hood obscured his face—he could have been a statue for all Elrick knew.

“It’s from Taalia, for Eadmon,” Elrick corrected.

“Eadmon,” the alchemist said, finally looking up. He was young, with a cocky smile. “Taalia is long overdue.”

The gatekeeper raised an eyebrow, which must have been meant to tell Elrick something. The subtlety was lost on him, from his lack of sleep, his exhaustion from walking all day, and from his overall ignorance about this world.

“Mhm,” Elrick said, nodding as if he got it.

“You enter on her behalf?” he asked.

Why did that feel like an unnecessary question? It’s not like he could say ‘no,’ right?

“Yes,” he said.

“Say it,” the gatekeeper said.

“I enter...on Taalia’s behalf.”

It must have been some formality, or some cultural thing he didn’t quite grasp.

“Leave your weapon with me,” the gatekeeper said, holding out a hand.

Elrick hesitated. This was his sword. He didn’t know this man. What if he just stole it? Who would ever believe a nobody like Elrick over a member of the Alchemist’s Guild? Then again, if a guild regular stole from guests, it would tarnish their image.

With great reluctance and hesitation, Elrick handed the sword and scabbard to the gatekeeper. “Take good care of it.”

The gatekeeper pulled out a large brass key from his cloak, turned the lock, and opened the gate.

“Go into the tower,” the gatekeeper said. “Eadmon is on the fifth floor.”

Elrick nodded and walked on. Thanking the gatekeeper didn’t seem necessary.

On his way to the tower entrance, there were many young boys and girls in robes hauling carts of kegs, carefully carrying trays of bottles and vials, and carrying large sacks of pungent ingredients.

Elrick’s nose crinkled up at a particularly smelly apprentice. The apprentice scowled back at him.

Most of the apprentices were heading toward the tower. The sun was mostly below the horizon, and Elrick followed the long shadows of the apprentices into the tower entrance.

No one asked who he was or tried to give him a hard time as he entered the huge double doors. The gatekeeper had let him in, and they must have assumed anyone who passed through the gate had a valid reason to be here.

He followed the apprentices through a grand lobby that looked like equal parts medieval church and mausoleum. Alchemists walked above him on the hallways of the higher floors, all visible from the ground of the spacious lobby. He didn’t see a stairway, so he just followed the larger group of apprentices, assuming most of them would need to go up sooner or later.

After leaving the grand room, they all crowded into a narrow corridor. The corridor had many rooms on either side, and some apprentices disappeared into them, but most went forward. Elrick followed until they came onto a large platform fastened with thick ropes on all four corners. It was large enough to hold two carts, and he watched as the apprentices lined their carts up onto the platform. They stepped away, and one rang a bell. Moments later, the platform rose up into the air.

“Is that how we get up?” Elrick asked a girl next to him.

She looked at him as if he was an idiot and pointed to a door.

Most of the apprentices were filing into the doorway. Elrick followed, and saw the door led to a spiral staircase. It was cramped, dark, and the stairs were incredibly steep. As he climbed, the person behind him bumped into him several times. After the third time, they hissed at him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Where is the fifth floor?”

He’d lost count.

“We just passed the second,” the girl behind him said. “Do I seriously have to walk behind you for four more floors?”

“You’re going to the fifth floor?” he asked.

“Stop talking and focus on moving faster.”

On each floor, there was a small, flat area and a doorway that led out into that floor’s corridor. Elrick made sure not to lose count, and after what felt like much too long, he finally counted the fifth floor.

The girl shoved past him. “Finally.”

“Where is Eadmon?” Elrick asked.

“You don’t want to bother Eadmon today,” she said. “Come back tomorrow.”

He grabbed her shoulder before she could get away. “Listen. I’ve come a long way. I can’t come back from here empty-handed. People are counting on me. I need to see him.”

She pointed down the corridor. “Fourth door on your left. I wouldn’t though.”

Before he could thank her, she had turned around and gone the other way.

Elrick reached in to touch the pouch Taalia had given him. It was there, and whatever he was meant to give Eadmon was as well. He put a finger on the cool glass vial she had given him. He didn’t look at it, but he remembered the thick, blood-red liquid inside.

He’d only had his sword for such a short time, but already he felt naked without it. Why had Taalia given him this vial? Something wasn’t right here, and this was his last chance to turn back. He could go down the stairs, leave the tower, get his sword from the gatekeeper, and go back to his master and apologize. Owen might not fire him if he were honest and explained everything.

Might not. He remembered what Mariana had said about the vials he’d been taking. Elrick needed this. All he had to do was deliver a stupid pouch to some old man. What was there to fear?

He knocked on Eadmon’s door.

Nothing happened for a long time. Each second he waited, Elrick’s urge to turn around and leave grew. The only thing keeping him there was his fear that Eadmon might open the door as Elrick’s back were turned, revealing him as a coward.

Finally the door opened, and a man only ten or so years older than Elrick smiled up at him, his smile favoring his right side. He was handsome, with close-cropped hair and broad shoulders. Even beneath his robes, Elrick could tell he was strong. He wasn’t the decrepit old man Elrick had expected.

“Come in,” Eadmon said. “I heard you were coming.”

Elrick stepped inside. There was no going back now.

Eadmon’s room looked more like a library than an alchemist’s lab. He’d expected to see vials and kegs and potions everywhere rather than full bookshelves pressed up against every wall.

“I keep the chemicals in the lab,” Eadmon said, “My living space is for reading. Do you like to read?”

Elrick nodded. He had liked to read. Sort of. He was more into playing games, but sometimes they forced him to read books at school. And sometimes he caught himself enjoying them.

“Would you like some wine?” Eadmon asked.

“That’s okay,” Elrick said. “I have a long way back.”

“Then stay the night. I’ll get you a room.”

Elrick smiled, not wanting to commit to anything. “I um...I have this for you.”

Eadmon’s easy-going smile disappeared, and he held up a finger, wagging it at Elrick. Elrick froze.

“Just a minute now,” Eadmon said. “I was told you are here on behalf of Taalia. Is that true?”

“Yes,” Elrick said.

Eadmon sighed, gesturing with his hand. “Say it. Say the words.”

God. He should have left. He could feel it now in his bones. His adrenaline spiked, and he wanted to run, but it was too late now. All he could do was say the words.

Fuck it. This felt like a trap. He wasn’t going to say the words now.

“No,” Elrick said. “I’m just bringing you something from her. That’s all.”

Eadmon shook his head. “You wouldn’t have been allowed in if you hadn’t said the words. Asking you to say them again is a mere formality. Should I fetch Severius from the gate and ask him if you said the words, or can we spare ourselves the waste of time?”

“I’m just going to give you the pouch. I’m not saying any ‘words’ again.”

“Fine,” Eadmon said. “Now show me what Taalia has given me. Has she chosen to repay her debt in full?”

“Of course,” Elrick said, sounding 100% more confident than he felt.

The pouch felt so tiny as he reached for it. Maybe she was paying him in precious gems, or something else much lighter than gold. Not a lot of gold could fit into this little pouch, and gold would be much heavier than the pouch felt.

Elrick pulled out the pouch, and Eadmon frowned. God, was he thinking the same thing?

“You owe me much more than this, boy,” Eadmon said.

You owe me. Not she owes me. I’m here on Taalia’s behalf. He’d said the words at the gate. It didn’t matter if he didn’t say them again.

“You must owe her a lot,” Eadmon said, snatching the pouch away. “To take on her debt. You should have feared us more than you feared her, boy.”

He reached into the pouch and pulled out what was inside of it: a severed finger. The bone was hanging out of the skin, snapped off at the joint.

Eadmon smiled, and he sighed relief. “Ah, this will do.”

Elrick cocked his head. “It will? This is what she owed you? A gross finger? Can you make some potions out of this?”

“Nothing like that, but the debt is paid in full now,” Eadmon said, packing the finger away. “Now, I insist you have a drink with me, Elrick. It’s too late to travel, but I invite you to have a drink while we prepare a room for you.”

He wouldn’t make it back in time anyway. Owen would already be angry with him, and getting back at the crack of dawn or getting back around mid-day wouldn’t change that. Coming back with Taalia as a partner would erase any anger, and it wouldn’t matter if he rushed back now or not. He’d done his job. He’d succeeded. All of that “saying the words” crap had scared him shitless for no reason. He’d done what she’d asked of him, and now he could leave this creepy tower. Maybe it was better to not stay the night. He’d rather sleep on the streets than in a room here. He’d take a drink to not offend Eadmon, then he’d make his excuses to leave.

Eadmon came out with a glass decanter. He removed the glass stopper and poured each of them a drink.

Elrick sat down at the table across from him and took a sip. He didn’t really like wine, but this tasted great.

“Why is that…” Elrick pointed to the pouch, which Eadmon had left on his desk, “Why is that worth anything if you can’t even make potions from it?”

“Oh,” Eadmon said, waving a hand. “It’s not worth anything.”

Elrick took another big swig. “I thought you said she owed you a lot? You said this was enough to pay off her debt.”

“You…” Eadmon said. “You aren’t from around here, are you? Your accent makes it sound like you are, but you are deeply ignorant in a way that should not be possible.”

He felt like he should be offended, but he couldn’t deny the truth of what Eadmon was saying.

He took another swig, and it hit him hard. How much alcohol was in here?

“A severed finger is just a symbol,” Eadmon said. “It means she’s not going to pay me.”

“Then...why were you happy?” Elrick said. His voice had become mush. His ears were ringing.

“She’s defaulted. She’s given herself to me. I own her.”

“That seems stupid of her,” Elrick said. “Why would she do that?”

“No,” Eadmon said. “Stupid of you. You represent her now, and you’ve just defaulted on your debt to me. You belong to me now.”

Elrick tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t work. His vision blackened around the edges.

“It’s hitting you now,” Eadmon said. “You’ll be out cold in a minute or so. We’re not cruel. We’re not torturers. You won’t wake up, Elrick. It’s over, just let it go. You’ve donated your body to our arts. You’ve donated your lifeforce as well. You won’t come back as a ghost. You’ll never be resurrected. It’s complete peace—true rest. I almost envy you…”

He felt it going out from his core. His arms were losing strength. If Eadmon was right, then it was all over. He had been brought into this new world and given a second chance, only to naively trust the first pretty woman to smile at him—okay, technically the second one—and then to die again after just a few weeks.

He thought about just giving up. Surrendering. He’d died because of a girl on Earth. He’d loved Laura at least. Taalia meant nothing to him. He wasn’t just repeating his old mistakes, he was repeating them in an even more pathetic and inept fashion than he had on Earth. What if he woke up after dying here in another world? Another world to repeat his mistakes into, but somehow even worse this time around?

No. Unacceptable. He wasn’t Adrian anymore. He was Elrick.

He remembered the vial with the red liquid. He was only supposed to drink it if he were in trouble, and he was most certainly in trouble.

With the last of his strength he grabbed it. He ripped off the stopper. And he downed it like a shot of bad tequila.

The rush hit him like a truck. Like the truck that had killed him on Earth. It jolted him to his feet, and he became acutely aware of the dagger in Eadmon’s hand—pulled suddenly from his alchemist’s robes.

Elrick’s sword was with the gatekeeper. He had no skill in unarmed combat. And yet, the elixir surged through him. His body tightened like a rubber band twisted hundreds of times. The kinetic energy became too much, and it had to find release.

Elrick grabbed Eadmon’s wrist and squeezed. He felt the bones shatter in his iron grip. Eadmon squealed, and Elrick jerked the alchemist’s mangled arm around, slamming Eadmon face first onto the ground. As the dagger clinked against the stone floor, Elrick kicked Eadmon, turning him onto his back.

Eadmon’s face was covered in blood. His nose was broken. His breaths sounded like a rattling tin can.

The smell of the blood hit Elrick’s nose, and he trembled.

He needed to drink it.

“Don’t,” a soft voice said.

Elrick looked up and saw a young girl in an apprentice’s robes eyeing him. It was the girl from before. The one who had complained he was too slow. She shut the door to the main hall behind her.

Shit. He had to run. He’d never get out of the tower now. If he hadn’t been spotted, he’d—

Eadmon’s blood was on his arm. It had soaked into his sleeve already, but Elrick licked at it.

“I’m serious,” the apprentice girl said. “Don’t drink it or you’ll turn.”

Elrick looked up at her, locking eyes with her. The question must have been in his eyes, because she answered without him asking.

“Into a drinker,” she said. “99% of drinkers don’t make it past the first week, and drinkers don’t have souls. The ones who do make past the first few years end up being powerful and revered...but judging by this mess, you’d be one of the ones who don’t make it.”

“Girl!” Eadmon croaked. “There’s an obsidian dagger in my lab, if—”

Eadmon coughed up blood, and Elrick lunged down toward Eadmon’s bronze dagger. Did it take an obsidian one to kill him now? He kicked the bronze dagger away from Eadmon’s reach, just in case it could still harm him.

Just as he went to bite into Eadmon’s open wounds and to suck on them until Eadmon’s arteries were completely dry, the girl grabbed hold of Elrick, tugging him away. She was so much weaker than him now that he’d drank the potion, but he hesitated because of her warning. What if she was right?

“I’ll try one more time with you,” she said, her voice low but strong. “I can get you out of here, but not if you feed.”

“He’ll kill me…” Eadmon whispered.

The girl grabbed the dagger off the floor, and jammed it into Eadmon’s heart. His eyes widened, and he gurgled instead of screamed. She twisted the dagger, and the alchemist went still.

The hunger consumed Elrick, but he could smell the blood going bad now, just fractions of a second after Eadmon’s heart stopped beating.

The girl looked at Elrick. “You’ll have to kill me now if you want to feed. His blood is already bad.”

That broke Elrick out of the spell, at least partially. Or maybe it was the smell of the rancid blood. God, could it really be that bad? It had been so deliciously fresh just moments ago.

“I’d give you something to dull it,” she said. “But we may need you to stay like this for a while to get out of here.”

“Why are you helping me?” Elrick asked. “I killed your master.”

“No,” she said, smiling down at Eadmon’s corpse, with the dagger sticking out of it. “I did it. I killed him.”

She licked her lips and smiled. “I’m Elise. I have no master now. Will you accept my help or not?”