“His name is William. He is unassuming yet powerful. A man of few words yet influential nonetheless. The perfect conduit to push things past the tipping point.”

As a kid, I would fantasize about a secret room in our small apartment. I imagined that if you pulled out the correct brick from the living room wall, there would be a switch that would make the wall behind the fireplace rotate. Then, if you crawled through the opening, there would be a long, candlelit hallway leading to a set of stairs. At the bottom of the stairs would be a room where my mom would work late into the night on clandestine missions.

But no matter how many times I tried to find it, the key to that secret room remained hidden, and no matter how many times I tried to pretend otherwise, my mom was just an ordinary accountant, not a superhero or super-spy in hiding.

Stepping into the secret room behind the bookcase now, I couldn’t help but feel some excitement that my childhood dream was at least partially coming true. The room was dark, only a sliver of daylight peeking through from above a bookcase to my right. Across from me was a long tabletop that went from wall to wall, held up by small sets of drawers, with two stools tucked underneath. Every other inch of free space was covered by shelves and bookcases filled to the brim with everything you could think of.

“Wow,” I said. “This room is-”

“Incredible,” said Beatrice. “I know.”

I walked over to one of the bookcases, where one shelf held scores of small mason jars, each filled with liquid and a floating mass, and sporting pieces of masking tape with handwritten notes.

“Pigeon liver, 6/12/14,” said one.

“Rat spleen, 11/9/11,” said another.

I stepped away from the jars and resisted the urge to vomit (again), but then recalled what Steve had told me at the bar those many months ago about the utility of vermin organs. I just never thought anyone would take it to such an extreme as Beatrice apparently had.

“Yeah, best not to look carefully at that shelf,” she said. “Sometimes it still makes me a bit squeamish and I’m the one who actually cut open all those animals.”

Beatrice pulled out the stools from underneath the table and sat down.

“So, before we begin, let’s see the goods from the Raid.”

“Sure,” I said, sitting down on the other stool. I brought up the email I had written to myself and handed my phone to Beatrice, who stared at the screen, a look of confusion on her face.

“What is this?”

“I don’t know. I hadn’t looked at it since the Raid. The tattoo was a ring of ivy on her back and these numbers were in the center.”

“Oh. Well, this could be anything. It’s 12 digits of nothing.”

Beatrice handed my phone back to me and sighed.

“Sorry,” I said. “It’s not like I could have asked Frankie. Not that she would have told me anyway, after I threw up all over her.”

“Wait, what?” said Beatrice, a look of shock on her face. “Start from the beginning please.”

I recounted my two days of spin trials in excruciating detail and Beatrice nodded along, as if this was a perfectly normal day at the office and I was presenting at a status meeting.

“Well, that was an interesting way of getting things done.”

“Thanks. I think,” I said. “So what are we going to do now? Drop off the tattoo numbers and get our reward?”

“Of course not. We’ve got plenty of time before the Requester thinks we should be done and I’m not handing over the information until I know what it is we’ve found.”

“That makes sense, I guess. But if we can’t figure it out?”

“We will. I have plenty of stuff in here that will give us some … inspiration if you will. Now, since you’ve proven yourself above and beyond the call of duty, it’s time to live up to my end of the bargain.”

She walked over to one of the book-laden shelves and pulled down a small notebook with a worn blue cover.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“This, Jen, is my compendium. At least one part of it anyway. I’ll give you the basics of alchemy but this you can study on your own later. Here.”

She handed me the notebook and I carefully opened to the first page, which was dated March 26, 2008.

“Finished reading diary and found silver ring taped to last page. Initials RvA inscribed on the band. Considering whether to put it on.”

I held up my hand and looked at the handcuff on my right index finger, ignoring its urge to move toward its twin.

“You found this in Rita’s diary?”

“No,” said Beatrice, holding up her own hand. “It was this one. Yours I found later. The rings are a good starting point though because they’re an example of one of the main classes of alchemy: linkage. You actually know a lot about it already, don’t you?”

I thought for a second and then it was as if a light went off in my head.

“Vervorium - it links places. The apples - they link minds.”

Beatrice smiled.

“Yes, very good. The apples contain celestonite if you want to be specific. And the rings are linked together with auragen. You apply a bit of it to each object you want to link and it’s like attaching an invisible string. At least that’s the theory. I’ve never been able to get a pure sample of it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, would be good to have some. I can think of all sorts of uses for it. But let’s keep going. There’s memory serum and truth serum and they sound exactly like what they’re called - one will wipe a memory clean out of your head and the other will make you tell the truth. You would think they would be very useful in all sorts of situations, but I’ve used them pretty much only on Garrett.”

I nodded silently, having a slight inclination as to why Beatrice had needed to use those serums on Garrett, but I didn’t want to let on that I had more of her memories floating around in my head.

“Next is another big class: buffs. Sounds like you know about those too. Polly’s dad is smarter than I give him credit for.”

“You know Steve?” I asked.

“Not directly, no. It’s too bad you used up the one he gave you, I would have liked to analyze it. Bet I could make a much better version.”

“His was decent,” I offered.

“Oh sure. But it didn’t really help you so much during the Raid. Actually, come to think of it, I guess it did. If you weren’t so hungover, you might not have vomited all over that poor girl. Heh.”

Beatrice got up and walked over to the closet at the other end of the room, where a set of drawers was set inside. She opened the middle drawer and fished around for a second, before returning to the table and placing four little gummy squares of different colors on top.

“These are my specialty. Enhancement buffs. This one here,” she said, pointing to the green one, “is like a magic Adderall. Gives you laser focus. Very popular with the college set. This next one,” she pointed to the lilac gummy, “is a five-minute speed booster. Not just physical, but mental too. You’ll run faster than you’ve ever run before and at the same time work through your multivariable calculus syllabus in your head. Don’t eat these two at the same time though, unless you have someone looking after you.”

I stared at the gummies, thinking of the possibilities they presented. Super focus, super speed, super smarts. It was like getting stat points from Dungeons and Dragons. Despite Beatrice’s warning, I immediately wanted to pop both in my mouth and see what would happen.

“This third one,” Beatrice continued, “It’s like the buff you got from Steve, except much better. It’s like a hangover cure, caffeine pill, and the feeling you get when you’ve slept for 12 hours all rolled into one. The last one gives you a burst of strength. Good for people who keep getting into fights. Though I always tell the buyer to make sure they end things quickly. It doesn’t last very long.”

“Wow. These are incredible,” I said. I imagined taking all four at once and turning into a veritable Superwoman. Or at least a really powerful Batman.

“I know. I have more I’m working on but it’s tough finding ways to test them out.”

“Oh, wow. Do you have an imperfect phoenix down stashed away in here?”

I didn’t mean to let my inner geek flag fly, but with everything else I’d seen today, maybe it was possible.

“What’s a phoenix down?” she asked.

“Oh. It’s umm, you know that video game Final Fantasy?”

Beatrice shook her head and looked at me warily.

“Well, when a character dies, another member of the party can use a phoenix down to bring the dead character back to life.”

“Ah. Well, we’re not living in a video game, so I don’t have anything like that for you here.”

She collected the buffs from the table in a single swooping motion and handed them to me.

“Here. You’ve earned these along with your token stipend and your cash.”

“Thanks,” I said, placing the four carefully in my bag and trying to remember which color did which.

“Now that last buff is a good segue into the final category for today. I’ll skip the compulsion ink because you already know about that too.”

A flicker of anger sparked within me at the mention of the ink but I managed to quickly suppress it. I was beginning to come around to my new boss, what with the secret laboratory and magical enhancers. As long as she didn’t try to use the ink on me again, this arrangement I’d stumbled into could actually be the best thing that had ever happened to me.

Beatrice held out her right hand and my eyes were immediately drawn to the large rock on her ring finger.

“Wow, that’s some ring.”

Beatrice frowned.

“Oh that. Yeah, sure. But look above it.”

I did and saw a smaller purple stone set in a silver band.

“It’s amethyst. Not especially valuable. Except this stone has a special property.”

She opened one of the drawers of the desk and pulled out a rock the size of a grapefruit, held it out for me, and I took it.

“It’s a rock. Heavy.”

“Yes. Just wanted you to confirm for yourself. Watch.”

Beatrice took back the rock with her right hand, slowly closed her eyes, and started mumbling softly to herself. The amethyst stone began to softly glow before the rock suddenly shattered into a dozen pieces.

“What, what happened?”

“Did you see it?” Beatrice asked.

“See what? You crush the rock with your bare hands? Yes, how could I miss that?”

“Not that. The stone.”

“Oh. Yes, it glowed a bit. But I don’t underst … oh. Wait. The stone, it’s like the strength buff, except ... except you tapped it somehow.”

“Exactly. The stone is a well of strength. Unlike the buff, it can be continuously tapped as needed.”

“Wow. So then why do you bother with the strength buffs?”

“Three reasons,” Beatrice said, and I noticed the little beads of sweat that had formed on her temples. “First, the stone’s well is not limitless. I have no clue how much was in it when I got it, how much of it I’ve used so far, and how much is left. The buffs I can make more of, but the stone, the stone is practically priceless. Second, the amount of strength I can draw from the stone is much greater than the buffs. And third,” she wiped the sweat from her brow, “even tapping the strength I did just now takes a toll on my body. If I kept tapping it, I would probably pass out.”

“Oh. Still, must be reassuring to have that in reserve if you need it.”

“Yes, it is. OK, final lesson. But I’ve got no demonstration for you, so you’ll just have to trust me.”

She walked out of the room and returned shortly with what looked like a small dagger sheathed in leather. Its grip looked smooth like ivory and the metal guard had an otherworldly sparkle to it.

“What is that?” I asked as Beatrice unsheathed the mystery weapon. The blade had a sheen that somehow topped the guard and I stared at its smooth surface wondering what magic was imbued within.

“This,” said Beatrice, “is the creme de la creme of my alchemy arsenal. The Medoblad.” She resheathed it with ease and set it down on the table next to us.

“Got it. Interesting name.”

“Do you know what it does?”

“Well, actually, I got to pick the names of some of the weapons in our game a few months ago. Which basically meant translating weapon names into different languages and combining them with other random words. So blad is Dutch for blade. And medo … no. You’re not saying …”

“Yes, I am. Continue.”

“Medo is Greek for ‘to rule over’ and is the root for Medusa. But I don’t understand. I already looked at the blade and nothing happened.”

“It doesn’t work like that. Besides, who would want to wield a knife that turned you to stone if you looked at it? No, that only happens when you stab someone with it. Ordinarily, I’d have a rat lying around here to show you how it works, but I’m fresh out at the moment. You can just use your imagination though.”

I sat back in my chair and tried to wrap my head around it. A knife that turned you to stone. The sight of Steve’s green scar was horrible enough, but this, this was another level. Taken with everything else stuff Beatrice had shown me today, it made my pulse start to race.

“Well, I think that’s enough for today,” said Beatrice. “We still need to tease out what these numbers mean. Go somewhere to clear your head. Maybe take a bit of the lilac buff. I’ll do the same. Then let’s meet tomorrow at 11 at BSG to compare notes. Sound good?”

She smiled at me as if we were working on a group project in college, as if she hadn’t just unveiled an inventory of deadly magic and I struggled to maintain a calm and collected mask.

“Sure. That works. Umm, do you have anything to drink? My throat’s a little dry.”

“Yeah. The fridge is well-stocked with ginger ale, my favorite. Help yourself.”

I got up from the stool and left the dark room, the collected sweat dripping down the small of my back. She didn’t follow as I walked to the small kitchen, where, as promised, there was a fridge loaded with cans of ginger ale and nothing else. I took out a can, and, my curiosity getting the best of me, slowly opened the freezer to find it full of frozen green apples.