Page 23 of Alchemy of Secrets

The neighbors’ houses were brighter than Holland remembered. A few front doors were open, and people were peeking outside anxiously, wondering where the gunshots had come from.

“Drive,” Gabe ordered. His head was at an angle as he slumped in the passenger seat, gripping his ribs.

“Is this one of those cars you can talk to?” Holland asked.

He narrowed his eyes, or maybe they were only half-open to begin with. “Why do you need to talk to the car?”

“I need to take you to the hospital, but I don’t know where it is.

” Her knuckles were white as she gripped the wheel.

She started driving, but she had no idea where she was going.

She just knew she needed to get out of there.

Neighbors had moved from porches to sidewalks.

At least one had taken a picture. She hoped it was too dark to capture her face, but if someone had, then she could possibly be wanted in connection with two murders.

“No hospitals.” Gabe reached up and undid his tie with one hand. “You can stitch me up at my place.”

“Oh, no—” Holland said. “I don’t stitch people. I don’t even stitch stitchable things very well.”

“You’ll be fine. Just think of it as stabbing me with a needle.”

“But I don’t want to stab you.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “You did earlier.”

Holland couldn’t argue with this.

“Relax, it’s not that bad. I think it bounced off my rib,” he said, but his voice was a little breathless. And Holland didn’t think a bullet bouncing off anything sounded very good.

Gabe directed her to turn until they reached a main street.

Traffic lights and neon fast food signs replaced the neighborhood lampposts.

Holland felt as if she was driving too fast and too slow all at once.

Every time a light turned red, she felt herself holding her breath until she could put her foot on the gas.

They passed a billboard with a shimmering ad for the Hollywood Roosevelt’s Halloween Ball. The image kept blinking in and out. One second it showed the iconic HOTEL ROOSEVELT sign, then the words switched to HAPPY HALLOWEEN.

The holiday greeting glowed in neon Roosevelt red, and suddenly Holland was remembering earlier that day, when she’d seen the words stamped in the corner of a paper package.

She’d thought it was just another esoteric book about the devil, but now Holland wondered if maybe the Professor had mailed her something else.

“We need to go to my house,” she said.

“No, we don’t,” Gabe immediately replied.

But Holland was already heading toward the freeway that would take them back to Santa Monica.

“You’re going the wrong way,” he said.

“You just said you’re not dying, and the Professor mailed me something that we might need. I just remembered when I saw that Happy Halloween sign—there was a Happy Halloween stamp on the package. Now I’m wondering if the Professor sent me her journal.”

“Why would she do that?”

“I’m her favorite student. If she knew something bad was going to happen, she would send it to me to keep it safe. We need to go get it. Unless you have another lead for the Alchemical Heart?”

Gabe worked his jaw, as if he wanted to argue but couldn’t. “Are there any other secrets or surprises you want to let me know about?”

“I wasn’t keeping the package a secret,” Holland said. “I genuinely forgot about it.”

“Is there anything else you’re forgetting?”

“Probably. A lot has happened today.” A lot had actually happened in just the last few hours.

Holland could still feel the dead leaves from the Professor’s house on her feet, and the water from the sprinklers as she’d stood next to Jake’s dead body.

It felt like the sort of night that, even once it passed, would never fully wash away.

And yet, she also felt as if she was already losing pieces of it.

She tried to make a mental checklist of what she did and didn’t know.

She now knew for certain the Professor’s myths were very real.

Which meant the Watch Man’s prediction was going to come true.

Holland would die tomorrow, unless she found the Alchemical Heart.

But she had no idea where to look, and after seeing the Professor’s house, she was quite sure others were searching for it.

Gabe had said there was some sort of list of dates of when it was supposed to reappear. Holland had never heard of this list, but if it was true, then others would know that now was the time to search.

Like Adam Bishop.

Adam was clearly the person January was afraid of in her note, which made Holland suspect he was hired by the same person who had hired Jake.

She glanced toward the passenger seat, where she’d left the black folder she’d found in Jake’s apartment. She wondered again if the art deco border was a coincidence, or if it was a clue that proved the devil was behind all this.

She thought once more about Adam warning her away from her thesis topic about the devil. Was he trying to keep her from finding out who he was working for? Or had he been trying to protect her?

Holland struck out the last thought. She couldn’t keep trying to make Adam the good guy. He only looked like the good guy, with his eyes that effortlessly said trust me —which was probably why he’d been hired to seduce January.

“Do you think Adam is working for the devil?” she asked.

Gabe grimaced. Holland couldn’t tell if he was just in pain, or if he was bothered by her question. “When you’re talking about the devil, are you referring to the biblical devil?”

“What other devil would I be talking about?”

Gabe didn’t respond.

Holland shot a quick look to the passenger seat.

He was now fully slumped against the door, and his eyes were closed.

“Hey!” She shook his shoulder. “Don’t fall asleep.

” Holland wasn’t an expert on gunshot wounds, but she’d seen enough movies to know that if someone fell asleep after being shot, they usually didn’t make it into the sequel.

She pressed harder on the gas.

Gabe opened his eyes. “I’m fine,” he said, but his voice was even more breathless.

“We’re almost there,” Holland said. “Stay with me.”

“I’m not going to die,” he grunted. Now he sounded annoyed, which was better than breathless, but Holland’s heart continued to race as she pulled onto her street.

Holland lived in Santa Monica, near Montana Avenue, in a Spanish-style house that immediately made people feel as if they should take off their shoes and then ask questions she didn’t want to answer.

She knew that everyone who visited wondered exactly how she could afford it. She didn’t like to lie, but she also never told anyone the truth about her parents. Instead, she made up stories. Stories that were so obviously false, they didn’t count as lies.

It’s all dirty money , she’d say sometimes. I was a child bride, married to a mob boss. He was Catholic and didn’t believe in divorce. I poisoned him to end it and now his body is buried out back under the veranda.

She tried to finish with a look that said I might bury your body, too, if you ask another question. And usually people didn’t ask more. Usually, people would laugh or play along, and then she would change the subject.

Gabe didn’t ask anything at all as they pulled up in the driveway and Holland killed the engine. He only said, “You should have parked down the street.”

“I don’t think you can walk that far.”

He looked insulted. She wanted to remind him that he’d been shot. But he actually seemed fairly recovered as he stepped out of the car. If not for the way he clutched his side, Holland wouldn’t have known anything was wrong.

He moved ahead of her down the drive and disappeared behind the back of the house, before meeting her on the porch. “It’s all clear.”

She wanted to tease him for being overdramatic. But then she pictured Jake, lying in a pool of blood, followed by the Professor’s ransacked house, and suddenly she felt a little nervous about stepping inside her own house. “How many other people do you think are looking for the Alchemical Heart?”

“I don’t care how many are looking. I just care who is looking. There are certain organizations you don’t want the attention of.”

Holland wanted to bring up her devil theory again, but under the glow of her porch light, she could see sweat glistening on Gabe’s forehead, his face a little ashen. He was still standing upright, but he didn’t seem as steady as he had when he’d first exited the car.

“Maybe you should take a seat.” She pointed to her rocking chair, which she’d gotten because she’d been inspired by the Professor. Same with her doormat, which, like the Professor’s, had an old movie quote, only Holland’s was from The Wizard of Oz instead of Casablanca .

Bell Out of Order

Please Knock

Holland felt a pang in her chest as she read the words. She really hoped that wherever the Professor was, she was all right. She also really wished she could talk to her. But hopefully there would be some answers in the package that she had sent Holland.

“Keys,” Gabe said, holding out his palm.

Holland pulled them out of her purse, but she didn’t hand them over. His eyes were drooping again. “I really think you should take a seat.”

“We’re not staying. You’re getting the package and then—” Gabe swayed.

“Oh no!” Holland darted to his side and wedged her shoulder under his arm.

He was heavy. He felt like pure muscle. And he was hot.

She could feel the heat through his shirt and jacket.

He definitely wasn’t fine. And yet he fought her at the door.

He wouldn’t take a step past the threshold.

“What is it? Are you a vampire? Do you need me to invite you in?”

“No,” he groaned, and Holland almost thought she saw a hint of a smile. “I just feel like I shouldn’t go in there.” He cut a look from the blood soaking his hand to the white oak floors and smooth white walls. “It’s very clean .”

“It’s okay,” Holland said. “If I don’t live past tomorrow, your drops of blood will only add to the mystery of my death.” She hoped for a hint of another smile or a scowl or any sign of life, but Gabe really wasn’t looking well. “Let’s just get you to the bathroom.”

She helped him through the door. “Come on, it’s not much farther.”

“I think here is good.” Gabe slumped against the stair railing, shoulders drooping, eyes closing.

“Don’t pass out,” she warned. “I’m going to get medication and stiches and washcloths and—” She didn’t know why she was babbling. She darted to the closest bathroom.

She grabbed towels and Band-Aids and hydrogen peroxide, and then she remembered that January had given her a first aid kit the size of a suitcase.

Holland had never used it. She had never needed more than a Band-Aid.

She remembered jokingly asking if her sister had thought the apocalypse was coming.

You never know when disaster will strike , January had deadpanned in return.

Holland had thought she was joking. But now, as Holland pulled out the enormous kit, she wondered if her sister had expected something like this to happen.

Clearly there were things about her sister’s life that January wasn’t telling her.

Holland jolted at the sound of movement coming from the front of the house. The spot where she’d left Gabe… and the Professor’s package.