Chapter 91: Chapter 36: Restored selves

> “The Guild and the country are at a crossroads. There are thousands of miles of land to explore, and we must be the ones to discover its secrets first.”

In the end, the solution was elegant but time-consuming. As D.C. had told me, you couldn’t rush things. And the problem about warping your mind, as Beatrice had done, was that you were eventually going to miss something. But thanks to Lucca’s fastidiousness, the pair had corrected the slight imperfection in the tablet’s recipe that had led to its catastrophic failure, even if it meant we were one week closer to the Guild meeting with still no Compendium to show for my efforts.

I spent that time stewing over my latest revelation in the lab day and night without the means or help to do anything about it. Neither Beatrice nor Lucca seemed interested in going toe-to-toe with someone capable of creating new glamours, even he had been reduced to a rapidly aged old man. And there was no telling how Polly would react if we told her that the Eva skin she wore about the city like a costume was an actual person.

“You were lucky,” said Lucca. “The memory loss you inflicted on your own mind was not as severe, so the tablet’s odious effects weren’t able to trigger.”

“Thanks?” said Beatrice. I hadn’t told Lucca about the sequel to her original foray in memory erasure or any of her other misadventures out west. Not after how Hugo had reacted. But she would find out soon enough, and I wanted Beatrice far away from here when she did.

“It’s time,” said Lucca, and Beatrice handed her the other three tablets, which she put together with the new fourth one in a mortar. A pestle appeared and much grinding transpired, at the end of which a multi-colored powder was produced. This was placed equally into two glasses of tepid water, which Lucca stirred with metal straws. She motioned Lisa and Stacy to her side and handed one to each of them. They looked at the concoction for a moment before they both sucked down the entire contents in less than five seconds.

“Huh, wasn’t expecting that,” said Lucca. “Don’t think it tastes very good.”

“Now what?” I asked. “They don’t seem to be getting better.”

“Give it a second,” she said.

I did as instructed and sure enough, Lisa and Stacy’s blinking increased rapidly, their arms started to twitch, and they began to stomp their legs to a rhythm only they could hear. Then they started swaying back and forth and that was when something clicked in Lucca’s head and she ran off into the back of the lab. She returned a minute later with a small blue square which she threw across the room just as Lisa and Stacy fell backwards onto the concrete floor. But they didn’t. Instead, the blue square expanded into a full-size blue gym mat that slid to a halt behind the falling women, who landed with a plop. I hurried over to them and was met not with stares of indifference, but with knowing looks.

“JJ?” said Stacy as she sat up. “What … just happened? Where am I?”

“Why does it feel like someone drove a metal spike through my head?” asked Lisa, who spritely got to her feet and immediately began gawking at all of Lucca’s lab equipment.

“You know who I am?” I said, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Of course we do,” said Stacy with a slight scowl. “You’re our slightly less cooler friend who went AWOL on us right before Lisa’s big day because you were insanely jealous.”

“Why weren’t you at the wedding?” Lisa demanded. “And why haven’t you returned any of our calls for the last three months? Who does that?”

I gave Beatrice a “what should I do?” look, but she just shrugged her shoulders. Fortunately, Lucca came to the rescue.

“If you’re about to do what I think you’re going to do, then bring them in slowly. Pretend they’re toddlers trying to learn about the world.”

I nodded.

“You two should sit down,” I said.

----------------------------------------

“That went better than expected,” said Beatrice several hours later in my cramped studio apartment.

“Lisa tried to strangle me!” I said, collapsing onto the worn-out sofa that the previous tenant had left here. “Before having a nervous breakdown. And who knows what Stacy would have done if Lucca hadn’t stepped in with her flaming glove?”

“As I said. If that were me, I would have at least managed to stab you in the abdomen or something.”

“Then I sure am lucky!” I said. After the attempted violence, Lucca had calmed both of them down and offered to introduce them to one of the lower-level clans in the city if they wanted to continue learning about alchemy. They nodded sullenly and Lucca handed them leftover pamphlets from the early days of the Quest Board, when the Guild had expected a slightly higher advancement rate than what had eventually been achieved.

I had snagged one too, and was astounded at the level of detail contained inside. From a brief listing of old Night Market locations, to the best sources for local prima materia flora and fauna, to animals likely to have useful concentrations of the same, and even a glossary of some of the more potent substances, it was something I wished someone had given me at the start of my Questing journey.

“You are lucky,” said Beatrice. “You cleaned up most of your loose ends, your conscious is clear, kind of, and now you can get back to stealing that library of insane memories and skills that you promised me.”

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“Oh, right,” I said. “Not sure that’s the best idea now. It’s going to look not-at-all suspicious when I pump that machine for every last bead of electrum right after Lucca discovering that you’re here in the city.”

“Then I guess you really don’t want the Compendium back,” said Beatrice, who walked into the small barely-a-room kitchen but returned later with a huff. “Why is your fridge filled with nothing but off-brand bottled water? And you have absolutely no alcohol.”

“I’ve spent two waking minutes in the past three months here,” I said. “It’s been one thing after another ad infinitum.”

“Then let’s go somewhere when I can get a drink,” said Beatrice.

“It’s 11 a.m.!”

“Did you just spend a week bent over a labtop trying to fix other people’s problems? Didn’t think so.”

“Fine,” I said. “I know a place that might do the trick.”

We trekked off to Firebird, and I was surprised that it was open at this hour. And even more surprised to see Svetlana tending bar. And even further surprised when she said, “Emma’s friend. You’re back.”

“Why the hell would you take me to the one bar where they actually know who you are?” scowled Beatrice.

“Because before I was wearing the glamour!” I said. “And now I’m not. I’m not, right?”

“You’re not,” said Svetlana. “But I still saw through you that night.”

“Am I the only one in Manhattan without a warehouse full of druithyl?” I said.

“I didn’t need that to pierce through your glamour. Which I hope you got rid of, by the way. They’re horrific.”

“I did, inadvertently,” I said. “But if you didn’t have druithyl, then how did you do it? And why didn’t you rat me out to Emma?”

“Figured you had a good reason for using one,” said Svetlana, who slid two drinks our way even though we hadn’t ordered anything. “And I’m a bartender. I’m around people all the time. You looked uncomfortable from the moment you sat down. Like you were wearing an ill-fitted costume. It’s not hard to spot if you know what you’re looking for.”

“You haven’t seen, umm, me, recently, have you? Or any other glamours?”

“Can’t say that I have,” she said. “But I’ll be on the lookout.”

“What is this?” asked Beatrice, who drank the whole glass before Svetlana could respond.

“It was a Rush Hour,” said the bartender. “Bourbon, tangerine, and maple syrup. A cocktail of my own concoction.”

“Another,” said Beatrice.

“Coming right up,” said Svetlana, who walked away to give us a modicum of privacy.

“Now that Ms. Busy Body is here, we may as well go back to your apartment,” said Beatrice.

“No need,” I said, pushing my thoughts into Beatrice’s head, like we had in the past.

“I can barely hear you,” she replied. “You really want to go down this path again? I think we both regret it.”

“What’s done is done,” I said. “We should take advantage of our advantages.”

“That was louder,” said Beatrice. “And not sure if I agree. But at least this chick makes a mean drink. So we can stay put for now.”

“Good,” I said. “Because I’d rather we be in public for what I’m about to tell you.”

“What?” said Beatrice out loud.

“We’re not going to be able to sneak into the Guild. Not now,” I continued. “So we need a new paradigm. A way to solve all our lingering issues.”

“You’re not suggesting what I think you are, are you?” asked Beatrice.

“Yes,” I said. “I am. We go right to the source of everything. To Dalia. You trade the Compendium for a fresh start. And maybe she’ll be in a charitable mood and just hand you the key to the library.”

“Absolutely not,” said Beatrice, pushing me out of her mind with a violent shove that made my own head burn. Svetlana conveniently returned with a new round of drinks, all the while pretending that Beatrice was not talking to herself.

“Why not?” I asked.

“It would have made more sense a few weeks ago, but right now? When I’m at my weakest? Might as well just hogtie me over a spitfire and invite her to dinner.”

“That’s quite the image,” I said. “But I don’t think it will go down like that.” I took a sip of my still-full first drink and recoiled at its bitterness. “I thought you said this was sweet!”

“I didn’t. I match the drink to what the person needs,” said Svetlana.

“So I need to be bitter?” I said.

“No,” said Svetlana. “It’s more of a wake-up. Supposed to help you remember the bitterness in your life.”

“Why would I want to do that?” I said. “We came here to get away from our problems. Not be reminded of them!”

“I don’t agree,” she said. “You could have gone to any of the dozen establishments within a few blocks of here. Yet you chose my bar. Why?”

“Yes, why Jen?” asked Beatrice, who began sipping her second drink.

“You were hoping to run into her here, weren’t you?” asked Svetlana. “Something happened between the two of you.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” I said.

“Sorry to hear that,” she said. “But I haven’t seen her recently. You’ll have to find her some other way to apologize.”

“What … are you in my head?” I asked.

“If only. That would make my job a lot simpler,” said Svetlana. “I think if you both finish your drinks, though, you’ll figure out what you need to do.”

I took another sip of the drink, which went down slightly easier the second time, and let the flavor wash over me.

I was back in the Board Room. Emma was there, and I was happy to see her alive. But then I saw her hand, saw her demeanor, heard her ordeal, and realized what my carelessness with the glamour had done.

I took another sip, and was in the Met bathroom, giving the note to Stacy, watching her act against her will, then doing the same to Lisa a few moments later, and then abandoning them to their fates, so eager to run off with Beatrice. And even though I had “fixed” the damage afterward, absolution would not be as simple as ingesting a magic drink.

I blinked and saw Svetlana smiling at me.

“How was that?” she asked.

“What did you put in here?” I asked, fighting back sobs. “The memories, they were so vivid, what I felt, it was like I was reliving it the first time. That wasn’t just my own doing.”

“Trade secret,” said Svetlana.

“So you’re drugging us?” asked Beatrice.

“That’s an ugly word. I prefer inebriated therapy.”

“This has been super fun,” said Beatrice. “But I’ll be going now.”

“You didn’t finish your second drink,” said Svetlana.

“Doesn’t look like something I want to do,” replied Beatrice, “after seeing what it did to her.”

“Indulge me,” said the bartender. “Cards on the table. I put Hohenium in your drinks. It’s my calling card. Thought your friend here knew that. You drank the first one so fast that it didn’t have time to kick in. If you don’t like the experience, feel free to splash the remaining contents in my face in a theatrical way.”

“Fine,” said Beatrice. “How is this supposed to work?”

“Take a long sip and swallow. And then let go.”

Beatrice complied, and I waited to see what sort of reaction Svetlana’s alchemy would generate. I watched as her pupils shifted back and forth rapidly, as if she were asleep. But she still managed to take seven more sips before opening her eyes a few moments later.

“Thank you,” she whispered, turning to the side to wipe the newly formed tears from her cheeks.

“Happy to help,” said Svetlana with a smile.

“I want him back,” said Beatrice to me.

“Who?” I asked.

“Jack-Jack. And she will help me.”

“You don’t mean…”

“Yes, Dalia. Your plan may get us both killed or worse, but I’m done running. Set the meeting. Let’s make a deal.”