The Alchemists curse- part 1

Things in my life aren’t as easy as the tabloids makes them out to be… in fact the bits of my life that are not televised or reported in the magazines, wouldn’t only push the boundaries of the average person’s reality, it would rip their reality to pieces and then burn what’s left to ashes.
It all began on my twenty first birthday, the day I was scheduled to inherit my father’s fortune.
I woke up as usual, aside a girl whom I had met the night previous, I think her name began with a J... The ocean breeze flew in through my open balcony doors and ruffled the satin curtains.
Melting out of the ocean of white covers, I emerged from bed and stepped through the balcony, leaving my one night stand sound asleep and tangled up in my coverers and her hair. I did my routine morning workout, dressed, and then went down my spiral staircase to the kitchen. “Good morning. Omelets and pineapples for breakfast, and Turkish coffee is brewing,” said my butler, Ron.
“That’s fine Ron… but next time I’d prefer some starbucks. No offence, but that crap tastes like crap.”
Ron smirked slightly. His father had worked for my father after he had moved from Turkey, and now Ron worked for me. “None taken. It doesn’t taste well to me either. But… your father had an outstanding order for it before he…” Ron trailed off.
“Before I buried him yesterday?” I asked.
Ron blushed slightly, he was always so proper and would never speak ill of the dead. “Well, yes.”
I yawned as I sat in my chair. “Well a lot of things are going to change today, I think it’s time the coffee does too. “
“Yes sir, Mr. Douglass,” he said with an almost mocking bow and a smirk, then returned to the kitchen. Mr. Douglass… not quite sure how I liked being called that. I’ve always been known as Kurt, the disgustingly rich playboy who had a knack for getting himself into trouble. Or at least that’s how everyone portrayed me. They were mostly right. Then again being called Mr. Douglass, just as my father had been, made me feel as powerful and important as he used to be. I liked that. I liked the power that came with the name.
“The lawyer will be arriving tonight at 6 o’clock, to sign everything over to you,” Ron told me. “He called earlier to make sure you would be here.”
I flipped open the paper and began to read the headlines. “Oh, is that tonight?”
“Kurt, damn it, you have to be there or you could lose everything…” Ron said as he laid down a plate of eggs and fruit.
“Don’t worry Ron, I got it. Mr. Portland won’t be disappointed; the blood sucking lawyer will get his ten percent.”

6 o’clock rolled around and passed; during this time I was helping run my father’s true business… let’s call it experimental pharmaceuticals. Bent over a desk full of test tubes and glass containers, I stirred a phial of green liquid as I slowly mixed in another green liquid till it began to steam and change to a golden color. Staring intently as it smoldered in its container, I held it up and felt the warmth of it in my palm. Dragging me back to reality, my phone buzzed, Ron was calling again. I hit the ignore button.
Empty faced, I sat and looked at the small plant on my desk; the tall red, purple, and green leaves, flowers, and seeds commanded my attention… this was how my dad had made the majority of his fortune, discovering supposedly the most deadly drug and dangerous medicine known to man. He had run across it in his early twenties, after he was already famous for being the son of an important politician, and himself a highly acknowledged chemist.
I reached for the universal remote, and turned the lights in the small room fully off; nothing was visible… except for the glowing plant on my desk in the center of the room. It wasn’t completely illegal… only in most instances. It did have uses for treating numerous diseases, but considering it was sold for tens of thousands of dollars a single plant, not many could afford this treatment. The majority of the world could only afford miniscule doses of it, and those were only available illegally. Coincidentally I had greenhouses full of the coveted plant.
Its potential for addiction made cocaine, meth, and opiates seem like a baby’s candy. Chemically it was similar to cannabis, but on a whole other level. Unlike cannabis this drug, which goes by many names, but mainly just glow or dragon leaf, didn’t have the psychoactive THC, but instead something dubbed ZKF… something previously undiscovered by modern science and not fully understood(like people understand anything)
Not only did it increase the strength of the user, their speed, their senses, but also their intellect. Additionally it causes hallucinations in some user. And for some it caused extreme sickness, and eventually death. For a reason I hadn’t figured out yet, ZKF had an amazing effect on users with a certain gene… and for most of them it didn’t cause very many negative affects except for dependence, and wild hallucinations that often led to crime.
In some cases of people with mental issues… it would bring them back to reality. So it had some unpredictability.
And depending on the prevalence of the gene in the person, the increase of the good affects, and the decrease of the negative effects were directly related to how much of the gene one possessed. Very few people in the world had even a part of the gene, and so far not one person had been found with the complete gene… yet thousands of people used it due to its enhancing affects and strong euphoria until they went mad, or died from it poisoning their veins. Yet there was still that small percentage of people, who possessed enough of the gene… they could use it their whole lives and no one would ever know.
Around eight, I checked the phial of golden liquid. It was now a lukewarm temperature, and ready to be added to the next stage. I poured in a third liquid and stirred till the solution became crystal clear, then slightly warmer, then extremely cold. Finally it reached the end stage of its creation; It began to glow a bright green. Taking a sip, I tasted its sweetness, almost like mint. But mint never caused such valuable effects on those who ingested it. I poured the rest in my open mouth, and gargled and swallowed. I Figured that Mr. Portland was long gone by now, fuming somewhere else. I headed home.

My Audi purred like a lion as I pulled into my curvy drive. Lights lit the trees along the way which were covered in white lilies. Parked in the garage, my car beeped as I locked it and walked away up to my elevator.
“Ronny!” I called as I set my briefcase down on a dark oak desk in the lobby. “Ronny, is Mr. Portland gone yet?”
Turning into my kitchen, Ron sat at the table, his face in his hands.
“What’s up Ron?” I asked, sliding into the chair beside him. Compassion wasn’t my strongest virtue, but I had known Ron since we were kids. He jerked his head up and his eyes bulged with a fury I’d never seen in anyone’s eyes.
“You missed Portland, as I’m sure you meant to. Kurt this will have devastating effects. He shook his head, and a bead of sweat fell down from his thick black hair.
“Er, Ron, I don’t exactly need any more money… and I’m sure I can reschedule with Portland,” I tried to calm him.
He shook his head, no. “Kurt… shit… you don’t even know what’s coming… you need every second you can get, and you just wasted a night…one of the most important nights of your life.”
Obviously Ron had snapped. I stood from my chair, and it squeaked as it slid. “Well, I’m pretty sure everything is going to be fine Ron… so good night.”
Cleaned, and showered, changed, and tired I crawled into my bed sheets. I fluffed my pillow, and a note covered in lipstick fell out… I threw it to the floor, and laid my head on the pillow. Although Ron had disturbed me a little, it was mostly just for his sanity… how important could that meeting have been?
My eye lids quickly became very heavy as they fluttered. And then my consciousness, like a boat in a storm that sinks into deep tumult waters, sank into the deepest and most horrible nightmare I had ever had. If I had had one wish I would have wished that the entire nightmare had been a dream. Sadly, it was not.
My mind was spat back into the world of reality as I gasped for air. Instinctively my hands shot up above me, hitting something solid which was very near my face. I was still on my back so I felt behind me and again there was a soft, velvety, solid surface. My breath quickened and I began to hyperventilate. Where was I? Dread spread throughout my body faster than the adrenaline, and I kicked and swung my arms in every direction, always with the same result that formed only one conclusion; I was trapped in a very cramped, very dark prison.
“Help!” I bellowed so loud it burned my lungs and throat. I told myself not to panic, but I couldn’t help it. Ever since I was a kid, I was claustrophobic.
Suddenly the dark space above me began to slide off, being slowly pushed by a black loafer, and I was confronted with just how serious this was. I was trapped. In a coffin. In a hole. In the ground. Six feet deep.
The lid of the coffin hung by a hinge, and now someone’s face appeared above me, smiling. “You should have made it to our meeting, Kurt,” he told me. Mr. Portland told me.
I didn’t respond, I tried to move and scurry out of this hell… but I was paralyzed. “Get me out!” I said through rasping breaths and squelches of fear.
He clapped his tongue in a disapproving manner. “Oh yes, I’m afraid your absence is going to cost you very deeply… you do know the depth of the dilemma you are now buried in?”
“You’re burying me alive!” I screamed in anger. His bald head gleamed in the moonlight as he laughed up at the moon, like a wolf howls. “Sorry, but that is the least of your worries.”
“What-”I said, trying to slow my breathing so I could think clearer, “-what do you mean?”
“My dear boy… I’ve known you since you were born… in fact I was at the hospital… in fact your father and I talked often of you before you were even born. And therein lies the tale of why you lay in a coffin six feet under.”
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” I shouted.
“The deal, Kurt, the deal your father made with me… the deal that made him who he was, and made you who you are. But-” he pursed his lips and looked at a watch on his wrist, “- We haven’t got time for the dreaded story, so I’ll give you the essentials, and you can figure out the rest on your own, providing you survive tonight that is. Kurt, about a month before you had been conceived, your father was just a poor idealist with a dream and an aptitude for pharmaceuticals,” he laughed at that. “But he wanted more. He wanted power… He labored in his lab like a slave but couldn’t quite find what he was looking for, even though he had made some important discoveries that began to give him recognition. Enter: me; I had a meeting with your father, he showed up, by the way… and I promised him the most powerful drug to have ever existed… in exchange for the life of his firstborn, aka you. Guess what? He made the deal. He is now dead, and you’re now twenty one Kurt, and as it were, its harvest season,” he finished with a sharped tooth smile.
“You may or may not believe in higher powers, Kurt…. But here I am. I am god!” He chuckled to the sky as if there was some sort of inside joke. He must have seen my eyebrows furrow in disbelief. “Oh… you want a demonstration?” he looked at his watch. “Fine… I suppose we have time…” and then Portland wasn’t Portland. He became a monster hidden in shadow except for his long serrated teeth, bright red eyes, and flaring nostrils.

My mind was in such a panic, I couldn’t fully comprehend what they were seeing.
“You have two weeks to live, unless you can find a way to save yourself and or your immortal soul.” The coffin closed. And I was left to die.

It wasn’t as if I had expected to wake up after being buried alive, and then somehow put to sleep after excruciating anxiety. But when I woke in my bed, the late morning sun warm to the touch of my bare chest, I laughed and rubbed my eyes. I must have taken something bad last night… it had all been a nightmare, I reasoned. Clambering down the spiraled stair case into the kitchen, my legs were shaky… my fingertips hurt, and my fists were bruised. This surprised me.
“Ron… I need some really strong coffee,” I said with a harshly soar voice. “Whatever crap you have will-” but I didn’t finish the sentence because I don’t make a habit of talking to myself out loud. Ronald’s caramel colored body lay strewn on the marble floor, bleeding from several cuts that made his flesh look like fish gills. I dropped to my knees beside him and lifted his head in my arms very delicately, as if it were a bomb.
Not only were his ears missing, but so were his eyes, and judging by the dried blood on his mouth and chin, I guessed a few teeth and or his tongue had also been removed. “No…”
My first instinct was to just run away, and try to forget it. But I couldn’t do that. Ron had been my friend since childhood.
My second instinct was to call the police, but then I noticed it. A small piece of folded yellow legal paper clutched in his left hand. Struggling to open his stiff hands, tears began to fall and trail down my high cheek bones.
I unfolded the paper and read the note, which was written in red ink;
“Dear Kurt… sorry about Ronald, but he knew a little too much, and frankly I didn’t like him. So, now he is obviously dead. And by the way, last night wasn’t a nightmare; you have two weeks to live~ Portland.” It was real after all. Portland was a monster, and as of right now he owned me to the point that he decided whether or not I lived… or at least he would in two weeks.
Panic attacks are something only those who have been through them can fully understand; basically you feel as if you are dying and going insane at the same time. Struggling to keep my breathing steady, I jumped to my feet with my fist to my lips, fighting the waves of overwhelming fear. I tried to think. Not think. I prayed. I prayed to anyone who could help me, anyone who was listening on the other end. No one answered.
I tore across my own home, knocking over a very expensive vase, which in turn spilt water and ruined a priceless book which happened to be lying next to it.
I searched my brain, wrecking it for a course of action, any action that I could take. I sprinted back to my bedroom and went through my smart phones, trying to find someone who could help.
I knew plenty of powerful people, people who could make people disappear, but I didn’t think they normally dealt with the supernatural… then three options crept into my mind: I could visit a priest, a psychic, or some kind of witch… someone who did actually deal with the supernatural… a thing which I had always believed in, but never gave much thought… until now when someone owned the rights to my soul.
I ran back down stairs to go through a phone book, but something caught my eyes as I passed Ron’s cold body. A bloody puddle lay all around him… but there was a separate less random puddle, something scribbled in blood. Words. Or to be more precise there was a word; “sword”
Sword? The only sword that I knew of in the entire house was in Ron’s room… like a scurrying rodent on the highway, I hustled down to the second floor and into his room. It was neat as usual, with mostly bland neutral colors, and very few valuables; the most notable valuable would be the long sword which hung from the southern wall. It was clean and very well kept, a family heirloom handed down from generations of Ron’s family. Gold was laden into his hilt, and unfamiliar creatures were depictured on the handle but I couldn’t discern anything from it… the blade was empty of any message. Spinning it around and around in my hands I examined ever inch with no luck. I was missing something. I looked again. Nothing.
Then I had a brilliant idea. With remarkable detail I took pictures of the entire sword, especially the depictions, and then texted them to a friend of mine, a history professor at the Jeffersonian institute. I made sure to imply the importance and need of any information as fast as possible. Then I walked around the room, looked through Ron’s shelves, his closet, under his bed, everywhere for some other clue… but again I was met with nothing. Time continued to pass slowly. I sent several more texts stressing the urgency of the situation. No reply. I ran down to the kitchen and tried to down a piece of toast, but with no success. It was to dry and made me thirsty. I downed a glass of imported vodka, some opiates, and a couple benzos to help calm me down. Then I checked my phone again. No answer.
In frustration, my temper rising, I raised the sword and smashed it against my oak dining room table, cutting completely through the overly priced, but extraordinary workmanship of the bulky table. That was a surprise. This sword was in more than great condition; it cut better than a light saber from star wars. I let my arm go lax, and the tip of the sword hit the marble floor, making the whole thing rattle, including the very tip of the hilt which was pressed against my wrist. That was it.
Holding it up hilt first, I examined the round gold knob at the end; it was in the shape of a man… and it was loose. I twisted it to the left, and sure enough it detached, reveling a cavity within the hilt. Exhilaration filled my body, and my hands began to tremble again. Fumbling with the contents I pulled out a single piece of rolled up parchment. It was a scroll, something from ancient history. The sword clattered to the ground as I forgot about it. I was entirely focused on the scroll, my only salvation. Ron, my trusted friend, was about to reach out from the grave and save my life, I just knew it.
Then I read the words. Or rather I tried to read the words. I spoke English, French, and knew a little Spanish. But this writing was unlike anything I had ever seen. If I had to describe it, I would say it was like a three way blend between Egyptian hieroglyphics, Chinese, and germen. In other words, it was gibberish to me. Useless.
Anticlimactic would have been an understatement. The dread filled my veins as fast as the blood left them. I dropped into the dining room chair, and stared at the parchment with my jaw dropped. I had no hope of salvation from this nightmare, from that… monster.
My phone rang, which scared me enough I almost ripped the paper in half when I jumped. An unknown caller.
“Hello?” I whispered into the speaker, my mind blank as if it were on autopilot.
“Kurt?” said the smooth and mellow voice of a man on the other side.
“Yes?” I didn’t know why I was even talking to someone… but I had a feeling that feeling of complete hopelessness.
“Is there anything I can help you with?” the man asked in a neutral tone.
“What? I… why are you calling me, and who are you?” I said when I finally came to my senses.
“My name is James… I understand you found something strange, a sword of some kind, and need help with understanding it?” the man said with the air of business as usual.
“Um… yes… how did you-”
“Your friend, David, at the Jeffersonian, he told me to contact you about the sword… I believe I can help,” he said calmly. I wondered if he also knew my life, no my soul was in the balance here.
“Al-alright…” I stumbled through my words. Suddenly my upbringing and training, and always being in the public eye with a witty comeback, it was all gone.
“I’m afraid I’m leaving town tomorrow… rather early,” he said. “The only time that I could meet you would be at 3:00.” He said.
“Alright, Three tomorrow afternoon?”
He laughed. “No, three tomorrow morning.”
I wasn’t exactly in a place to be picky, and I didn’t really care about how early it was.
“Can’t we meet sooner?” I asked.
“Im afraid not… I am a little tied up at the moment. If you want your questions answered, than meet me at the Prince Hotel. Walk into the lobby, and tell the person at the counter that you have an appointment with James Daughtry. Then she will get you the rest of the way.”
“O-okay… thanks.”
“Take care,” he said. Click. Again I was alone.

I tried to sleep, but my mind kept me awake, so I decided to head towards my meeting, seeing as how it was only a few hours away. The traffic was light, and the hour drive had a calming effect.
The hotel was several stories high, and made mostly of tinted glass on the outside. Putting my car in park, I took a deep breath. Two hours till my meeting with the mysterious man…. I should probably sleep some. And sleep I did, but it wasn’t restful, due to my dream.
“I never want to hear of this happening again!” my father yelled in my face as he pointed at the phone on his desk. “You are in a good school, Kurt! One of the best in the world! How could you be so stupid as to piss off an entire gang! And you couldn’t just piss off any gang in New York! No, you had to go after the most dangerous one! One which happens to…” he trailed off.
But I didn’t even need him to finish his sentence to know what he was going to say. “One which happens to be my biggest client!”
“Dad… this is stupid. They wouldn’t allow me to walk around in their ‘hood’ as if they owned the place. Simply because I’m white!”
My dad studied my face, and then he took a seat in his leather office chair at his desk. “So that made you do something as stupid as to steal from them?” he asked.
I didn’t answer. “Kurt, cut out the shit. I know what you were doing there.” He now seemed more reclined… more calm. That wasn’t a good sign. It meant he really had figured out what I was up to… again.
“You are interested in my business. What I do.”
I just looked at my shoes. “You stole their drugs… because you want to know if they had come from me… you wanted to know if I was a bad guy.” Again he had actually guessed my thoughts.
“Yes…” I said timidly, testing the waters.
“And how were you planning on figuring it out after you stole the drugs?” he asked as he clasped his hands together and set his elbows on his desk.
“I was going to analyze its compounds, and compare them to the stuff in your lab…” I admitted. I might as well, since he knew it all already.
“… And you think you could have done that? You understand enough chemistry to know about such things?”
“I know more than enough,” I answered confidently. I was in high school, but hadn’t even officially taken a chemistry class yet.
Thinking hard about my last words, my dad stood from his chair and walked over to me. “Do you really?” he asked as he gently put his hand on my shoulder.
“Yes, really.” I answered. “I’ve read every chemistry book you own, and more. I could probably teach a class,” I said stoically.
“I think it’s time you started learning the family business then…” he said as he opened his office door.
“Go to my lab… I’ll meet you there in a minute.” He directed me out, and through the door to the hall.
“Okay… “ I said as I walked towards the basement, I had only met it a few steps down the hall before,
“Oh… and Kurt. Don’t ever do anything like you did today… ever again. Got it? You can’t die so young…. If you died I would die too…. I would die…” he trailed off as if in deep thought. A deeply disturbing thought.
“Alright…” I said. This was how I had come into my dad’s empire. The dream was correct in every way, as if it had just happened again. Then I awoke.
Slowly I rolled my head over and looked at the clock in my car. 3:55, it said. I was late, hopefully not too late, because this was probably the second most important meeting in my life.

“He can’t be gone…” I muttered to myself. “He has to still be there…”
I briskly walked toward the hotels entrance, my long black jacket fluttering in the wind as I tried to hold it as close to my body as possible, my hands in my pockets (one of my hands was tightly grasping the scroll). Around my shoulder was slung a long bag which held the sword, although I was pretty sure he was going to be more interested in the scroll… if he was still there.
A burly man in a thick red coat labeled with the hotels sigma opened the door for me, and said, “Good-day, sir.” He had a strange accent, but I was too distracted to really care at the time.
The hotel’s lobby was ornately decorated with old fashioned candles on the walls, and chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. All the employees wore funny red hats, or had immaculately styled hair which they didn’t want to ruin. There were only one or two guests checking in so late, so I had to wait in line only a minute. When I finally came to the front desk, I was able to appreciate the looks of the blond woman behind it. “Yes, would you like a room?” she asked in a thick accent I couldn’t place. Was it Swedish? Italian? I had no clue. All I knew was that she was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Plump lips, a soft genial face with smooth cheek bones and perfect creamy skin, and the strangest eyes I had ever seen… eyes so unbelievably blue, they almost shimmered they were so bright. In fact they were two different shades of blue; her iris’s were deep blue like a dark ocean, but it appeared that on top of that ocean floated diverging lines of the brightest blue which circled the pupils.
I was so absorbed, I had forgotten to speak. She smiled at me like she got this all the time, but was still a little embarrassed. “Hi… I need to see James Daughtry, he told me to meet him here.”
Her smile faded a little. “I hope everything is alright with you, brother?” she asked. ‘Brother’? That was weird. Or maybe it was normal, wherever she came from.
“Of course it isn’t alright,” she snapped at herself. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be meeting him,” she said. The way she said him had meant several things to me. One; she was afraid of James… two; she also had some sort of respect for him. Three; he must have meetings here often.
“Anyway, yes, he is already here. I will lead you to him promptly,” she said, and turned around and opened a door behind the desk area. “Right this way,” she said with that strange seductive accent as she walked in front of me. My eyes dropped for a moment.
Through the door was another richly decorated area, but the theme changed from red to a golden color with just a few dashes of red in places. Walking casually in front of me, the women kept turning back to stare at me. I can’t say it bothered me. But it was strange…
“Am I that good looking?” I asked playfully.
She stopped and turned to face me, her head tilted a little. “Aren’t we all?” she asked, filled to the brim with happiness.
“We all, who? What do you mean?” I asked. That made her laugh.
“You are funny, brother,” she said as she began to walk again. Nothing was stranger than how she called me brother… if there was one thing I wanted to be for this women, it wasn’t her brother.
At the end of the hall was a door made from a dark, expensive wood. “He is right through there,” she said pointing.
“Thank you,” I said as she smiled.
“You’re most welcome. I hope everything turns out okay, brother. Goodbye!” she kissed me on the cheek and walked away. I thought to myself, “Well… I feel a little better…” Then I saw the image of Ron’s dead body lying filleted and bleeding on my kitchen floor…. And there I was again.
The door opened to a vast ball room filled with tables, and even a fireplace. The tables were all set, every one of them complete with silverware, plates, bowls, and wine glasses. Dark red wine was in each and every glass; as if a party was expected, but the lights were off, so the only illumination came from the candles along the wall, and the fire at the end of the room. Directly in front of the fireplace was a high backed chair, something from the eighteenth century, definitely an antique.
“Come in Kurt,” James said from the chair. I saw his hand gesture me to come join him sitting around the fire. Taking a similar chair next to his, I looked at him for the first time. The light of the flame danced and rippled across his deadly pale face, and lit up his dark brown hair which was thick and wavy, coming down around his brow and ears. Brown eyes were set deep in his face, and their gaze was locked on the dancing fire before us. I waited for him to speak, but he didn’t. He just sat there looking at the fire.
I didn’t know whether or not to speak … so I didn’t say anything. “Kurt, Douglass,” he finally said with the same smooth, deep, mellow voice, as if just noticing my arrival, despite the fact he had ushered me in. “May I see the sword?” he asked, still looking at the fire… which I noticed had grown stronger since he’d spoken…
I pulled the pack off my back and revealed the sword. The fire surged when the sword was bared. I looked up at him, and then the fire died as he now studied the blade. Without speaking he held out a hand, asking for the sword. Setting it gently in his paper white hand, I noticed just how eager he was to have it.
Suddenly I was afraid that I had possibly made a mistake by taking it to someone whom I’d never met. Looking at the hilt, his lips moved silently as if he were reading to himself. After only a few more seconds he set the sword down, and looked at the fire again, just as it began to grow and thrash about wildly.
“Great… he is back to not talking…” I thought.
“Where is the scroll?” he asked moments later.
“Hmm?” I said with a higher pitched voice and more than a slight hint of surprise.
“The scroll that should be in the swords hilt, where is it? I trust you brought it with you?” he asked. If I didn’t know before then, I definitely did then, that this guy was seriously creepy. The way he spoke, as if addressing no one when he talked to me. “How do you know it had a scroll?” I asked, my suspicion rising.
“This is a sword meant for a spy. Typically they have a cavity in the hilt to hold things and keep them hidden. This one does but this one is also empty,” he stated with the upmost confidence.
“You didn’t even open it!” I said. “How can you tell it’s empty?” I demanded.
He turned and looked at me, one eyebrow raised as if he thought I was an idiot… and for some reason, I felt like an idiot compared to him… even though I was probably the smartest person I knew, aside from my father.
“These swords aren’t common, at least not ones from this era. They only came from one blacksmith who followed so closely the exact specifications for each sword that their weight differs only minutely from each other. And when they carry anything in their holds, they become heavier, depending on the object. But this sword is the exact weight it should be when empty… and if it was empty then it would be of very little importance, and hardly worth me taking the time to see you. So, this is either a huge waste of my valuable time, or, there was something inside, most likely a scroll, and you’ve already found and removed it.” He paused. “So which is it?” he asked as he turned to eye me.
I reluctantly removed the scroll from my pocket and handed it to him. A smile creeped along his lips as he took the scroll. Distractedly he unrolled the scroll and scanned it halfheartedly… then a few moments later, his study of it became intense… he had found something.
“What! What is it?” I leaned forward and asked.
“Shh! Shut up!” he said, now holding the scroll firmly with both hands.
“By god, he made a blood oath…” murmured James.
“Damn it! Tell me what it says!” I told him.
That got his attention. He lowered the scroll slowly. “You… can’t read this?” he asked.
“Of course I can’t read that damn thing!” I said aggravated. “How on earth would anyone read that! I’ve never seen that language before!”
“Hmm… interesting…” he again murmured, his attention back on the scroll.
After setting the scroll down on a table in front of him, he leaned towards me and now studied my face. “Aeroth!” he said suddenly.
“…What?” I said. “What does that mean?” I asked.
“Oh, god,” he said sitting back in his chair and crossing his legs. “You don’t know anything do you?”

“I- don’t— You do know I practically own new York?” I said indignantly, my pride surging.
“Huh…” he responded. “But you know nothing of Aeroth?”
“I have no idea what it is,” I told him becoming angry. “Why don’t you enlighten me?” I said with a faux-smile as I crossed my legs and sat back.
Surprisingly he smiled back and mirrored my moves. “I’m happy to tell you… that everything you know is a lie. You are from a place called Aeroth…”
That last part barely fazed me… because it didn’t mean anything to me. “Where is that and how do you know?”
“Sadly our time is running short and-” James suddenly stopped talking, his smiled faded and he sat up completely straight and stared at the fire like it was hypnotizing him.
I waited a second to see what he would do… I thought at first he had just figured something out, but after a few minutes I decided something must be wrong. “James?” I said. “James, what are you doing?”
Yet he remained unchanged, frozen like a statue in his dream like stare. Next moment, his eyes blink and remained shut. “I cannot talk much longer,” he informed me. “Something is wrong… I am needed urgently. Seek the Torn Tavern… Alexia will help you get started… but I fear it is too late for you,” he said. He spoke as if he were in a trance.
“WHAT? WHAT DO YOU MEAN!” I shouted as I jumped to my feet. But he was already gone… I couldn’t explain it. I blinked my eyes to make sure I was seeing things right. But as I opened them, I confirmed that James Daughtry, the mysterious man who made me feel like an idiot, had vanished.

Until the hands on the clock moved a few notches I wouldn’t dare move. How can someone just disappear? Was it a magic trick? Surely my eyes had deceived me somehow. Yet I couldn’t explain it. His last bit of advice was to speak with Alexia, and she could send me to the right place. That meant I had a problem. Who was Alexia? I thought long and hard, trying to remember, but couldn’t remember ever even hearing the name before then. Perhaps the girl at the front desk? I decided to go see.
Opening the door back to the hotel lobby, sure enough the attractive blond was at her station. I have to admit also… my eyes may have wondered briefly. Only briefly.
“Oh! Your back!” she said turning around. “How did it go, is everything alright brother?” she asked.
I looked for a name badge, but couldn’t find one. Damn it. “Yes… he … vanished though,” I said trying to sound casual.
Her face became horror struck. “What?” I asked. Her breathing became heavy and she leaned on the front desk for support.
“It can’t be… he’s been waiting for Shane for so long… it can’t happen tonight… we aren’t ready!” she said, mostly to herself.
“Um, what? Who is Shane?”
Flopping down in her chair, she continued to remain stunning as a piece of her long hair fell in front of her eye. “He’s… oh forget it,” she told me.
“So, um James vanishes a lot?” I asked, still slightly stunned by the act.
“Only for something important, or when something is wrong, he doesn’t always have enough energy for that,” she told me.
“Okay… what is your name?” I finally asked. Her head tilted to the side.
“Kallae,” she said. “What’s yours?”
“Kurt Douglass. Do you know a woman named…. Alexia? James told me to go see her.”
“Alexia?” she asked, spinning in her chair so she faced the desk. She began looking through her computer. “Let me check the guest list.”
I tried to wait patiently for five seconds. “Got it yet?”
“Hold on, brother!” she snapped at me. Hmm, so she was a feisty blond. Me liked.
“Yes, we have one tenant by just the name Alexia… should I call her?” she asked, grooming her hair back.
“Please?”
“But a moment, brother,” she said as she picked up the phone.

In hindsight, I wish I had pursued the solution on my own… Kallae had called Alexia, who surprisingly answered her hotel phone at 5am. They talked for a minute, and Kallae explained about the situation and how James had directed me to her. She agreed to meet me, but refused to leave her room. So of course I went to hers, which was the bad part.
Her room was, to put it delicately, the most disgusting, ill kept, insect infested hotel room I had ever seen. Nothing at all like a room I would expect in a place that appeared so decent on the outside. So I explained it away as simply as I could; she had been there a while. Cob webs hung from everywhere. Strange scented candles burned in every corner, and if I dared look down at the floor I would see roaches and spiders scurrying out of the light and into the piles of clothes and trash, which had begun to smell very offensive. My nose wrinkled, and I resisted the urge to clamp my nose shut, only out of some sort of respect… “This slob had better be able to help me,” I thought.
“Now, your name is?” The old hag asked from a desk chair, her legs crossed and her skin covered by the long patched up dress that she wore. Her hair was thin and withering. Decay was the only thing her teeth had ever known, judging by the yellow and black that covered them. Patches of dry skin covered her, and hairy forearms protruded from a thick turtle neck collar that didn’t match her mile long skirt.
“Kurt, D-Douglass,” I managed to speak, without vomiting. Her head inclined slightly, as if this revelation intrigued her.
“You do not know the way, I assume?” she asked through her mouthful of rotten teeth.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stated. She cackled a bit.
“I suppose you don’t, young one. But you are strong… your presence carries great power. You’re going to change things…” she said cryptically.
“Um… mind telling me what all this secretive talk you and James have means? Please?”
The corpse of a lady laughed again, but it was harder this time, more like she was being strangled.
“That is not for I, darling,” She told me. “Only the informers can do that… when regular folk like me get into that business, things can get messy.”
“Informers? What?”
“Oh, don’t bother trying to figure it out sweetie,” she said, and I was almost afraid she was going to pinch my cheek. “It will all become clear soon.”
“How soon?” I asked. “I need to know now, I can’t wait.”
Her smile died a little. “You wish to leave me so quickly? I don’t get handsome visitors like you very often…” she said in a very ominous manner as she scanned the room absently.
“Look… James told me you could help me… I need that help fast,” I told her. Her head rolled around and around on her spindly neck, her eyes focused on nothing.
“Fine, fine, but I need something first,” she said.
“Ugh, what?”
“I need you to help me finish a potion I am creating.”
“A potion? What do you mean?” This was getting to me. I needed to get this over with, and get out of this garbage bag.
“I am working on a potion for… a friend. And she is very- uhh- unusual. So Sometimes I help her to transfigure… but I am having a bit of trouble deciphering this… language that the instructions are written in. Would you be a doll and help an old, lonely women?” she pleaded with as much sweetness in her eyes that they could muster up… which was zero.
“No,” I said resolutely. “Just help me, now! You don’t know what’s at stake!” I shouted, maybe a little too loudly.
She stared at me, stunned by my outburst. Then her face became indignant and she pouted like a four year old. “If you don’t help me… I won’t help you,” she said with the same maturity.
“Fine… I’m leaving then. I don’t even know how you can help me… this is all bullsh-“
“It was your father that set this is motion, boy. He was the one who made the oath for your life,” she spat at me.
Now I stared at her, dumbfounded. How had she known that? I hadn’t told her anything, just that I needed her help.
“Give me the freaking thing!” I said in frustration, taking the recipe… it was written in English, the same language she was speaking.
“Where are you from?” I asked after a long moment of staring at the instructions, which were written on the back of a receipt from a small drug store I’d never heard of.
Reclining in her rocking chair and propping her spindly legs up, she smiled at me, but didn’t answer.
“What does it say, dear?” she asked contentedly. I gaped at the old hag for whom I harbored so much hatred… almost for no reason other than her inconveniencing myself.
My logical mind had already concluded there was no way around helping her, if I wanted her help. A debt for a debt.
“You swear you will help me then, after I read this to you?”
Staring at the floor, she shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I swear, my son,” she said.
I ignored the strange son comment, and began to go over the ingredients. Most of them were everyday simple items you could buy at a local grocery store… except one. “The last one,” I said after listing the rest.
“Yes, what is it?” she asked. Her eyes never really focused on me… like she was watching something I couldn’t see.
“Glowleaf… that’s illegal,” I told her. “You’d never be able to get it.”
Now her gaze shifted back to me, a sour look in her eyes. “Really? There’s no one I can get it from?” She prodded. “No, I can’t think of a single person,” I lied. And she knew I lied, somehow those… ancient eyes knew.
“If you’d be so kind as to allow me this favor, my son, I would be so indebted to you,” she said and then smiled as kindly as she could with her willowed and wrinkled face.
I stood up, without knowing what I was going to do. I could help her… it wouldn’t bother me any… it may help me in fact…
“If I get you the leaf, I want your help right after.”
“Then you shall have it.”
“And you will owe me,” I told her sternly. Something told me I couldn’t trust her… but I had no option.
“Indeed, young one.”
With pursed lips I removed a small zip lock bag from my jacket, inside was one faintly growing leaf, worth thousands by itself.
I began to hand it over to her, as she hopped from her chair and reached for it eagerly; I held it back at the last second. “Ah… this potion… what is it for?”
“It’s a medicine… a healing remedy that humans have yet to recognize.”
Immediately I decided, what the hell, and handed it over. “I really don’t care as long as it doesn’t affect me,” I said.
She smiled wryly like a mother who knows something that her child doesn’t.
“Now I believe it is your turn. How do I find the Torn Tavern?” I asked.
She bellowed a hearty laugh, which almost killed her with a fit of coughing. “It’s right through there, son,” she said, pointing a shaky and crooked finger at a pantry door in the trashed kitchen which was piled with dingy dishes.
I jumped to my feet, and approached it cautiously, avoiding all the papers, boxes, glasses, small animal bones, bugs, and a few mice, plus I think I saw a few snakes or two.
“You’re kidding. Its just right through this door? In the hotel? Then why didn’t James just get Kallae to help me?” I said as I faced the heavy wooden door, my back to her. “Tell me!” I said spinning around.
But she was gone. Apparently I was growing use to vanishing informants. I waited only a moment before turning back to the door, my feet sloshing through a pile of stuff, which is all I really wanted to know about it.
Putting my hand on the knob I hesitated. Whatever was behind this door was going to be strange. I just knew it. So I took a few deep breaths and prepared myself. Then I opened the door.
As soon as the door was opened, a cold wind rushed in behind me, barraging me with tiny particles of coarse sand and sharp drops of rain. From the other side of the door a voice shouted, “Aye! Shut the door, you bloody prick!”
I didn’t even really have to shut the door; an unknown force pushed me into the room where I stumbled into an empty dining table as the door slammed shut behind me. My eyes were closed. I hadn’t even taken my first look yet, but I smelt vapors of steam from something being slowly roasted. I smelt tea, and coffee, and then something like coffee… but not coffee. I heard dishes clattering, and voices speaking. Laughter in some places was very common. Opening my eyes, I saw for the first time. It looked like a mix between an old time café, and some kind of bar from a western gun slinging movie. Goose bumps popped up on my skin because the air was much colder. There was a hearth burning behind the bar, and a pot hung over it steaming.
“Take a seat, you freak,” said a man who appeared behind the counter. He was robust, to say the least. White stubble covered his skin, and a stained white apron hung around his bulbous stomach. I just stared at him. “Is- is this the… Torn Tavern?” I asked as I looked around at the many guests sitting at bar stools, tables and booths enjoying their conversations and drinks. “Yeah, of course it is. What are you, some kind of idiot?” the man asked in something similar to an Irish accent. He was the same man who so kindly greeted me when I entered the tavern. “James… James Daughtry sent me… if that means anything to you?” I said to him. Eyeing me wearily for a second, he then turned his back and began to stir something on a stove I hadn’t noticed before. “Take a seat,” he said, still gruffly, but not entirely malevolent. “She should be along shortly,” he told me as he continued his business. “Is there anything I can get you as you wait for your company?” he asked. Hanging my mouth open, I didn’t respond.
“He’ll take a coffee, black, no sugar, but with a shot of whisky,” said a woman who had appeared beside me on a stool. “There she is,” said the chef as he flipped something in a pan. I think he actually smiled “Anything for you miss?”
“I’ll take the same,” she said as she smiled at me. I opened my mouth to speak, but I wasn’t fast enough. The curly young red head that had appeared from nowhere smiled with brilliant teeth, and began talking at a million miles an hour. “James told me you’d be coming. I’m your informer. Are you ready to learn about the world yet?” she asked energetically.
“Here’s your drinks,” the chef said as he slid them on the bar where they sloshed to a stop in front me us.
“Yes,” I said. In the past few hours, I’d learned that it’s best to learn as much as you can, as fast as you can, until you can’t and the people vanish.
“Mmk, then come with me,” she said, took a sip, and then lifted her slender frame from the bar stool. Clad in tight fitting jeans that must have been very expensive, a silky light blue blouse, and a light brown leather jacket she led me to a table in the corner of the tavern. I didn’t mind following her.
The people here were strange… almost like there was some kind of clash between past and present. Some were dressed as though they’d stepped out of the 1500’s others wore the trendiest clothes and actually shaved and cut their hair.
In our own booth we studied each other, until her pale face blushed, and her green eyes looked into her steaming cup. “You want to know everything?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “There is so much going on that I don’t understand.”
“Well then brother, prepare to be enlightened,” she said as she pulled a discolored book out of a satchel that hung around her shoulder.
“In this book is all you will need to know.”
“You expect me to read this?” I said a bit miffed. Hefty wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the book. It was thicker than three bibles stacked on top of each other.
“Um… yes. It’ll only take you a minute!” she said, confused, but then put her face in her palms. “Oh I forgot… you haven’t read it yet… so you can’t know… this isn’t a normal book,” she told me.
“What do you mean?” I asked as I leaned across the table closer to her face. She did the same. With our faces only inches apart, she placed the book on the table between us, and then opened its cover. “Touch it. Place your palm upon the first page,” she said. I looked down at the strange language… “Don’t worry… I’ll do the same. I’m here to help you along.”
I understood that my life was in danger. That I had seen impossible things. That my friend had died. The people had mysteriously disappeared. But sitting here with some strange book that would explain everything to me… I still felt that urge to lean in only a little closer and taste her red lips… feeling her hands on mine, she slowly lowered them to the paper. Upon contact, my whole world began to spin out of control, like my mind was in a blinder. All I could see now was a spinning blackness, pulling me downward, but I heard her whisper in my ear, “Come with me.”
My world exploded. Like an old dvd, it rewound, and then played through again.
I jerked my hand away from the book. “What the hell was that!” I bellowed as I stood from my seat. The tavern quieted, and focused on me now. Great. “Kurt, I’m trying to help you here,” she said.
“I don’t even know your freaking name!” I said as I took me seat back.
“Amber Melrose,” she said calmly. I stood still, the main spectacle in this dingy bar from another world.
“Kurt, please sit back down… you don’t have much time.”
As I sat back down, the tavern lost some of its tension. “Alright. But, I still don’t understand everything.”
I told her once more to make it clear.
“Of course you don’t. My job isn’t finished yet. The rest of it isn’t in a book yet. You see,” she said sadly as she felt the warmth of her cup, and the steam curled up around her flawless skin. “Your father, was from this world you just read about-“
“Aeroth…” I said solemnly, as I relinquished grip of my own drink, and fell back in my booth seat.
“Right,” slowly she replied, as she analyzed my expression. “But, there is no way you can understand Aeroth, from just reading a book, even a magical one from that world. Visiting this world is the only way to truly understand the magic of it.
“I can’t even except that this place exists,” I say, suddenly feeling rebellious. “No, I can’t. This isn’t normal. And I shouldn’t just accept it because I can’t explain the strange things that have happened recently to me.”
Ashen faced, I rose from my seat again, but not in anger; I rose in sadness.
“I must be insane,” I admitted the thought that had been nagging my subconscious since I awoke that first day.
“Don’t even say that,” she says with a smile, which does anger me. Her cold hands rub up my left arm, and then back down. “Let me show you something.”
Turning my body to face hers straight on, she then pulled me down by my collar and stared daggers into my eyes. Suddenly I was no longer in the bar. Green hills and windy fields of wheat, along with ice capped mountains that towered in the sky, this was Aeroth. Or at least my first taste of it… and I wanted more.
She let go of my shirt, and I slowly stood up straight, my chest heaving. “What was that?” I asked breathless.
“Did you like it?” she asked with a bright smile that made even my face blush from how cute she was.
“Uh- yeah. But?” I tried to find more words but couldn’t, and so just stopped trying.
“I just shared a memory with you Kurt. Actually I shared a few. All of those were memories of mine, from aeroth. The place I’m from. That you’re from,” She let the words hit me like a falling brick wall.
“But how did you… how can these two worlds exist at the same time?”
She sighed, and ran her fingers through her hair brown hair, thoughtfully.
“Because there is more power in the universe then you can yet imagine. The people you have grown up with don’t even understand science yet. They use it as proof against magic… that’s like trying to disprove mammals with a dog.”
I honestly never even tried to understand that analogy. My, supposedly scientific mind wasn’t yet abstract enough to understand it.
“There was a time in Aeroth, which was so tense there was a break in reality… in both worlds. A connection was made with magic stronger than anything any Un-god being had ever experienced. It still isn’t fully understood, even in Aeroth. But this connection was hidden for so many years, and covered up every time it appeared in history. There is so much myth that cloches the bridge,” she ranted like a lunatic. A very attractive lunatic.
“What is the bridge?”
“It’s only mentioned in a few writings, but the few that know of it, know of it as the mirror. It’s the second most powerful magical object known to exist.”
“What’s the first?” I asked, mystified in my insanity that I was growing to except even my own delusions.
“That—is something for another discussion, another lesson, but you will know it one day,” she promised as she slid her hands into mine. It was shameless, the way she openly flirted. I was used to women like this. Then again, she was completely different, because it actually worked.
“How would you like to visit this place?” she beamed.
“Aeroth?” I questioned as knots turned in my stomach.
“Is there anywhere else you’d rather go?” she chuckled.
I considered that question for a moment. “No… there isn’t. If this place is real, it’s the one place I want to go,” I confided in her.
“Then let’s go!” she bounced with infectious energy.
“How?” I asked.
“I’ll take you to the gate,” she told me. “But— you have to take this,” She reached in her satchel and pulled out a phial of a pure silver liquid
“What is it?” I asked as I took it and held it in the light.
“It will put you in a dreamless sleep, while I take you to the gate. I’m sorry but it’s a rule. I can’t let you know the path to aeroth yet. You haven’t accepted it yet. If you want to live, you have to trust me. So the question is, do you trust me?”
I tipped my head back and drank.