Page 47 of Alchemy of Secrets

Adam didn’t look as if he’d done anything wrong—or done anything at all. Which was perhaps the scariest part.

“What did you do to my friend?” Holland demanded. “Did you just use your ability on her?”

Adam shoved his hands in his pockets. He didn’t deny it, which meant the answer was yes.

“You didn’t need to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” said Adam tightly.

“Cat’s not part of your world. I don’t want her hurt by any of this.”

Adam worked his jaw. Until that moment, Holland realized, she’d never seen him angry, even in the Professor’s office, right before Gabe had shot him. “You didn’t seem to mind when I did it to the couple at the hotel.”

Holland wanted to say she hadn’t known he was using his ability, but she had—she just hadn’t known what his ability was yet. She hadn’t cared that he’d used magic, she just didn’t like that this was his magic.

“Have you ever done that to me?” she asked. “Have you erased any of the conversations we’ve had?”

Adam burst out laughing. “If I had used my ability on you, you wouldn’t be asking me that question. And you wouldn’t have let your friend Gabe shoot me.”

Holland felt another stab of guilt, but she couldn’t quite let this go. Not with all the things that had been going wrong with her memories. “That still wasn’t a no.”

Adam sighed. “Anyone can say no, Holland, I just told you why you should believe my no.” His eyes met hers and Holland saw a sliver of hurt.

“I’ve never erased your memories or planted new ones.

In my world, you have to have an ability, but I don’t really like using mine, not unless it’s necessary.

And… I’d much rather get by on my charm.

” His mouth tilted into a familiar smirk.

But Holland couldn’t help noticing he still had his hands in his pockets.

He kept them there as they quietly walked the cobblestone path to the bungalows.

Everything at JME was picture perfect, and even with all Holland’s fears and fraying nerves, she still fell under the studio’s spell. The buildings were all from the golden era of Hollywood, when people still dressed up to go to the theater, and most moving pictures were under an hour and a half.

Movie posters were everywhere. Huge murals covered the exterior walls of buildings, so large that people could see them from certain freeways.

Holland saw one that read Knife and Cross — Season VII coming soon!

On the poster, the television show’s namesake characters were facing each other as a fire raged behind them.

Then, of course, there were all the framed posters for classic films, hung in the ivy that covered most of the buildings.

Holland snuck a look at Adam. The movie posters in his penthouse had made her think he was a film fan, but he didn’t seem as enchanted as she was. Of course, his hands were also still in his pockets, so maybe he was just uncomfortable.

“Did you know,” she said to Adam, “that in the mid-90s a studio exec wanted JME to feel like an old East Coast college campus, so he had them plant all that ivy?”

Adam shook his head, as a squirrel darted out of said ivy and scurried across the path, reminding Holland of another story.

“I was also told that another studio, which I won’t name, has allegedly trained their squirrels to come up to visitors and beg for treats.”

This one earned her a smile and inspired her to keep going.

“Unfortunately, the squirrels here are not as friendly,” she continued. “And there’s supposedly an entire kingdom of feral cats that come out at night. Gardeners leave them treats because they keep out all the rats and mice.”

“How do you know all this?” asked Adam.

“Cat told me.” Holland was always asking her questions about work. Ben Tierney didn’t come up much in Cat’s stories, but every time he did, Holland felt like a piece of him was still alive somewhere.

They reached Bungalow 17.

Everything smelled like oranges, and for a second Holland was five again and her father was letting her and January pick oranges from a tiny grove.

The grove was still there, but it was no longer tiny. The trees in front of the bungalow had aged, just like Holland. They were full and knotty and beautiful, and in front of them was a faded hand-painted sign:

Free oranges

—Farmer Ben

It hurt, how much she missed him in that moment. She wanted to take one of her dad’s oranges and keep it forever, even though she knew oranges didn’t last forever.

She started to reach for one, when she noticed the production company name on the bungalow: VX3.

Holland dropped her hand, took a few steps closer, and looked through the window.

This bungalow was Vic VanVleet’s now, and she was inside, talking to Chance Garcia.