Page 25 of Alchemy of Secrets

Holland couldn’t tell Gabe why she hesitated.

She had already taken off the gloves and used another cloth to clean her hands, but she took another moment to wipe her palms on her skirt before picking up the package. Her skin prickled as she touched it.

If it wasn’t the Professor’s journal, then Holland had no other leads on the Alchemical Heart.

Carefully, she unwrapped the stiff brown paper.

With bone-deep relief, Holland recognized the worn red leather cover. The Professor’s journal was thick and beautiful—or it was beautiful to her just then—full of pages that had wrinkled and spread apart from years of use.

“This is it,” she said.

The front cover was plain, but Holland could feel something scored onto the back.

She flipped it over. There was a large symbol covering the book, freshly carved.

Holland wasn’t a symbol expert, but last quarter, she’d taken a course called Common & Uncommon Symbols in Folklore.

The class had been as dry as stale toast, but Holland had been interested enough in the subject that she’d done a lot of studying on her own.

Holland could tell that this symbol was actually composed of at least five other symbols—a burning heart, filled in with a labyrinth, which wrapped around an antiquity eye that appeared to have two symbols coming out of it.

On top of the eye was the symbol for tin, and below it was the symbol for sulfur.

“This middle part is the same symbol that you and January have tattooed on your wrists,” Holland said.

When January had first gotten the tattoo, she’d claimed to have done it on a whim, after her breakup. She had said she had no idea what the combination of symbols meant, but she’d thought they looked interesting. She’d lied.

Holland reached up and touched the matching symbol around her neck, but for the first time, it didn’t feel special. It made her feel like she’d been placated.

“I want to know about the tattoos. What do they really mean?” Holland asked.

“Doesn’t matter right now,” Gabe said. Then he pointed at the larger image on the journal. “This is the symbol for the Alchemical Heart.”

Hours ago, he’d talked about the Alchemical Heart as if it was just a myth. But it was clear now that Gabe believed in this myth more than he was letting on, or more than he wanted to admit to himself. He ran a hand across his jaw. “How would she have known to send this to you?”

“I don’t know,” Holland said. “But there are a lot of things I don’t know right now.” She wondered what her sister knew about the Alchemical Heart. And what other secrets January was keeping.

Then she opened the journal. The pages were covered in the Professor’s cursive. Holland scanned the notes about familiar urban myths and legends: the devil’s business cards, the After Midnight Menu, the Watch Man.

Holland continued flipping pages, until the myths turned unfamiliar. There was a new one, which Holland had never heard before, about a hotel called the Regal.

Then, near the end of the journal, she found it.

Class #6

The Chained Library

Most of the Professor’s notes were exactly what Holland remembered from the class. But then near the bottom was a fresh line of ink.

All that remained was a slip of parchment with a series of numbers on it.

The Professor had then written a list of numbers.

They looked like dates—months and years.

The numbers went back for centuries. The last date, 10.

2025, was this month, which aligned with what Gabe had said about the sudden frenzied search for the Alchemical Heart.

But it was the number before that Holland found even more arresting: 10. 2010.

Fifteen years ago, one of my clients leased a safety deposit box , Mr. Vargas had said.

Holland had thought he was a con man. But now his words felt more like a clue in one of her father’s old treasure hunts.

If she was piecing things together correctly, then she knew why someone might send people after her and her sister.

They believed that fifteen years ago, her father had found the Alchemical Heart. And he had hidden it for his daughters.

“Did you find something?” asked Gabe.

“I think you were right—”

A heavy knock pounded against the front door, cutting Holland off.

Gabe picked up his gun.

Holland jumped to her feet—still holding the journal—and looked out the window flanking the door. “Oh no,” she muttered.

Chance Garcia stood on the porch, hands in his pockets, concern etched across his perfect movie star face.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Gabe asked.

“He’s my friend.”

Gabe looked immediately skeptical. “ Friends don’t just stop by at a quarter to midnight.”

“Is it really that late?”

Gabe nodded, as if this proved his point.

“We’re just friends,” Holland repeated.

“Then get rid of him,” Gabe warned. “Or I will.” He held up his gun.

“Put that away. He’s not involved in any of this.”

“Then why is he here?”

“Probably because I was on the phone with him when I found Jake. I hung up to call the police, and then, a little bit after that, someone tossed my phone out the window.” Holland gave Gabe a tart look.

“My guess is that Chance has tried to call me for the last couple of hours and been terrified that I haven’t answered. ”

“Fine,” Gabe muttered. “Just make sure whatever conversation you have is quick—and keeps him out of this.” He tucked the gun in the back of his pants. “Oh, and you might also want to cover that up.” He pointed toward her pale pink blouse, which was spattered with his blood.

Holland quickly opened the hall closet and grabbed a long trench coat.

She was going to look ridiculous, but she couldn’t let Chance see the blood.

She wished he hadn’t come here. But part of her also loved that he had.

He cared. He was her friend. Her good friend.

Which was why she needed to get rid of him.

With a deep breath, Holland cracked her front door open, just enough to dip her head out.

The relief on Chance’s face nearly broke her heart.

“Hey!” she said. “What’s going on?” But her voice might have been a little too cheerful. Chance’s relief turned sideways, into something that looked more like frustration.

“What the hell happened to you? I’ve been trying to call for hours.” He took a step toward the door, but Holland knew she couldn’t open it wider. She wanted to, but then she thought about Gabe and his gun and she narrowed the door instead of opening it.

Chance’s frown deepened.

“I’m sorry—” She didn’t want to lie. But she also knew there wasn’t anything truthful she could say that would make this situation better.

“Holly, I’m worried about you. You told me someone died and then you disappeared.”

“I know—I said that. But—”

“Babe, who is it?” The deep sound of Gabe’s voice was followed by his arms, wrapping around her waist from behind. He pulled her close to his bare chest. Then, in a voice made of pure exclamation points, “No way—you’re Chance Garcia! Babe—you didn’t tell me you knew this guy!”

Hurt cut across Chance’s face.

Gabe tightened his arms, in a way that didn’t feel necessary.

“We’ve been friends for years,” she said, and she tried to put as much feeling into her voice as possible. But Chance seemed fixated on Gabe’s naked chest pressed against her back. He also appeared to be eyeing her trench coat with a new level of disdain.

“Babe, I can’t believe you never told me you know Chance Garcia!”

“That would make two of us,” Chance said. “She’s never mentioned you, either.”

“Well, Holly and I are pretty new.” Gabe leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. His lips were warm and soft and he let them linger. “I’ve been trying to keep her all to myself. But, dude! You should totally come in! I have so many questions about that unaired episode of The Magic Attic .”

Chance’s face turned ashen. For a second, he didn’t even look like himself.

“I try not to get into conspiracies,” Gabe said, as if oblivious.

But Holland knew he wasn’t. She wanted to pull away, but Gabe’s grip felt like a warning and a reminder of what he’d just said minutes ago about not being a good guy.

“Man, there are some wild theories out there,” he went on. “I’d love to get your take on them.”

“Maybe another time.” Chance started backing away. His eyes met Holland’s for a painful second. Questions, disappointment, and hurt all flashed in his gaze.

Holland tried to think of something to say.

Gabe tightened his arms and rested his chin on her shoulder. Then she felt his lips move closer to her ear. “Don’t even think about chasing him,” he whispered.