Flawless//Broken (6 page)

I freeze, my words catching in my throat like barbed wire. It’s a lie. But I have to cover it up before he realizes it’s a lie. It’s my past. He doesn’t deserve it. No one deserves the horrible, dark thing lurking in me. Darius’ stare burns. The tension in the room grows until it’s a huge monster threatening to swallow us both. Finally, he looks away and begins unbuttoning his pants. I make an attractive squawking noise and look immediately out the window, my face burning and other parts of me throbbing unhelpfully as my brain races to fill in the gaps of what he looks like.

“I’m questioning the f-fabric of your reality and you’re worried a-about what pants you’re wearing?” I snap.

“Hardly,” He sniffs, sounding offended. “I simply find it irritating to be in the presence of others without proper attire.”

“I bet you tell that to all the ladies who’ve been in here before,” I scoff. I hear his exhale and the sound of a zipper going up.

“No woman has set foot in here,” he says. “You’re the first.”

My chest tightens weirdly. No way - a guy like him? A guy as beautiful and magnetic as him? There’s no way he’s never -

“The Holy Blood doesn’t generate a smell to the homunculi until at least a decade of maturation inside the body,” He continues. “But it’s not uncommon for that maturation process to take longer. However, you’re what, seventeen?”

“Nineteen,” I set my jaw. “And a half.”

Darius’ chuckle throws me off-guard. The sound is so pleasant, like a warm, silken echo vibrating my body.

“Eager to be seen as mature, are we? Don’t be. The world of adults is nothing special.”

“I’m a totally capable adult already! I’ve paid my own bills since high school, I can clean better than a nitpicky grandma, I can cook anything that isn’t French or four-star -”

“Alright, alright,” Darius takes a breath as he sits in his chair, fully clothed. “Settle down, firebird.”

The name feels so strange - no one’s ever given me a nickname before. Dad never called me anything but ‘slut’ and ‘idiot’. Mom called me ‘sweetpea’ the first and last time I saw her - on that day she took me shopping at the mall - and it never felt sincere. But this nickname rings true, like Darius means it. Like it
belongs
to me. It feels right. I savor it but let it go quickly; nothing that feels right ever lasts. Not around me. It all goes to shit sooner rather than later, or I fuck it up, hard.

Darius takes what looks like a bar of rusted metal out of his pocket. It’s small, the size of a large paperclip. The rust coats it thick and fast. Some of it flakes off as he holds it out to me.

“Take it.”

“What is it?”

“A test.”

I grasp it. It’s cold, but slowly gets warmer the longer I hold it. And right in front of my eyes the rust starts to come off, like very old petals on a dried flower. First in small flakes, then in huge chunks, revealing a shiny coppery color beneath. Darius’ attention is riveted to it, and with every passing second as the metal becomes cleaner, his expression grows sharper. I shake the rust off my jeans and frown.

“Is it…supposed to shed like this?”

“Yes,” Darius says quietly, still staring at the bar. “But not this quickly. I’ve never seen it react this fast -”

He looks up to me. I stare at him, trying not to give away how I feel - confused, hungry, sore, desperately attracted to his every part. In a few more seconds, the small copper bar is completely clean, shining happily in my hand. Darius takes it, his fingers glancing against my own and sending sparks across my skin. Whether that was his weird alchemy or something else, I have no idea. But I felt it as clearly as I feel my gnawing stomach and aching muscles. Darius pulls away quickly, like he felt it too. But he composes himself much quicker.

“In France, in 1402, there was a man named Nicholas Flamel,” His voice is low as he studies the copper bar in the sunlight. “He discovered a legendary gem called the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“You mean…the guy in Harry Potter?” I laugh. “You’re totally convincing me all this hocus pocus is real, right now.”

“The
real
Nicholas Flamel,” He snaps. “Was a scribe. He sold books. He studied hieroglyphs in his spare time. He came across a scroll that once belonged to an Egyptian alchemist - and it led him to an artifact we know as the Philosopher’s Stone. The Egyptians knew it as the Ankh.”

“Oh, the Ankh! That thing Egyptian gods carry, right? It looks like the symbol for female or something.”

Darius looks surprised. “How did you -”

“I went to college.” I sniff. “For a few months.”

Darius’ smile is small, and he smothers it quickly. “Regardless, yes. The Ankh was Life, the lifeforce inside all things, made real and tangible in the form of gems no bigger than our palms. The gods carried one stone each. They’d been lost to time, broken or shattered by wars and ancient pharaohs greedy for power, but Nicholas Flamel found the last one. He became an alchemist of great renown by studying it, and single-handedly revived the art of alchemy. He taught many people, and they taught many people, and soon alchemy spread across the globe.”

“What about the stone? Where is it now?”

Darius points to me. “In you.”

I scoff. “Yeah, okay, good one.”

“I’m entirely serious. As alchemy spread, alchemists came from all over looking for the Philosopher’s Stone. No alchemy can be preformed without the essence of the stone. Nicholas extracted that essence - what we call Azoth - and sold it to alchemists. But a certain group of alchemists got greedy. They wanted the source of Azoth for themselves.”

“So they killed him.”

Darius’ eyes darken, the gold turning to hard amber shaded with sadness.

“These greedy alchemists call themselves the Mutus. The Mutus killed Nicholas, but Nicholas was both wise and far-seeing. He created the greatest work of Alchemy ever known - distilling the entire Philosopher’s Stone into the blood of his two daughters. All the Azoth in the world was in their bodies, and could only be removed and used by drawing some of their blood. Blood carries Azoth. But the Mutus didn’t know this, and continued to search for the stone. Nicholas had long sent his daughters to be married elsewhere. The Azoth was safe, for a time. And then his daughters married, and had more daughters, who had their own daughters. And so Azoth spread around the world, held in the bodies of females of Nicholas Flamel’s bloodline.”

“So I’m -” I look at my hands.

“This,” Darius holds up the copper bar. “Is what we call prima materia - the most basic form of matter. It can be turned into anything, provided the alchemist has enough Azoth, and an item of equal value to trade for its creation.”

“So you could just…just make a bunch of gold out of that right now and get even richer?”

Darius scoffs. “Fortunately, the Sage Council has rules. They keep tabs on every act of alchemy performed in the world. If one of us gets too greedy or too destructive, they arrest us, bring us before trial, and throw us in Darkland if we’re guilty. No one likes to risk it. Darkland is much, much worse than any human jail could ever aspire to be.”

He puts the prima materia on the table next to the bacon, and motions to it.

“The Holy Blood is Azoth. Some human women produce higher concentrations of it than others. And you - raw prima materia reacts to the presence of Azoth by refining itself. You refined it in a matter of seconds.”

“So I have a lot of Azoth.”

“
Incredible
amounts of Azoth,” He corrects.

“And homunculi…eat Azoth? They eat people like me?”

“Only the most starving homunculi consume the entire body. The rest prefer to bleed them dry with special incisors they have in their mouth.”

“Like…like
vampires
?”

Darius scoffs. “Vampires don’t exist. Homunculi do. Your human minds created a monster with a far more intricate mythology than the reality. Humans excel at getting creative when they’re terrified.”

“This is insane,” I say slowly. “You realize that, right?”

“What’s insane is you leaving the safety of this house and attempting to live a normal life after what I’ve just told you.”

“This may come as a shock to you, but I don’t want to be involved with this crazy homicidal thing you alchemists have going on!”

“You don’t have a choice,” Darius snaps, standing abruptly. “The homunculi will keep coming after you, and the Reapers can only protect you so far.”

“Reapers? Dudes with hoods and big scythes?”

“Battle alchemists,” He sighs. “Who focus on hunting and killing homunculi to protect humans - look, that isn’t the point. The point is you should stay here, for your own safety, until I can contact the Sage Council and they find you a strong alchemist. Now that your Azoth has matured, the homunculi will swarm you like hungry wolves.”

I stuff bacon in my mouth to stop my head from spinning and level my blood pressure out. All of this is too much. I chew furiously, the moment of silence between us heavier than a block of lead.

“I don’t want a strong alchemist. I want to go home and live my damn life.”

“Most alchemists have an Azoth. They live with the alchemist, and the alchemist uses their blood for experiments. The ones who can’t afford a live-in Azoth buy vials of it from those who can. You have the strongest Azoth I’ve seen - some very wealthy and powerful alchemists would be more than happy to have you live with them. In exchange they’d protect you, and pay you for your Azoth. It’s a very good deal.”

“Why don’t you have one?” I shoot back, deflecting the focus from me. “You’re rich enough.”

Darius tenses. I know the second the words leave my mouth that they were the wrong ones. His amber eyes turn to pained golden slits. He looks at his hands, then up at me.

“I can’t. I would hurt them.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sir?” We’re interrupted by Reeves rapping on the door. “Should I bring her things down to the car? It’s ready.”

“No. Change of plans,” Darius says. “She’s staying here.”

“Like
hell
I’m staying here,” I stand and grab my bag. I march out the door but Darius is quicker, so much quicker. He blocks it with his lean body, height towering above me. He’s so close I can smell the cloves on him, and my body goes wild, like something’s clawing out of my skin to get to him.

“You’re staying.” His voice is final, like he’s used to giving orders. I want to obey. The unadulterated longing inside me wants to obey his every command. To submit. But after everything I’d been through, I promised myself I’d never let a man fuck me over again. And I intend to keep that promise to my last breath.

“I’m leaving,” I glare up at him. “I have a roommate to get back to, and a job to find and a life to live, whether or not I’m a damn Azoth. Now get out of my way.”

***

She’s so incredibly brave, and so infuriatingly stubborn. My admiration for her resolve wars with my irritation at her ludicrously strong will. If she leaves, the Sage Council will surely track her down again at a later date provided she avoids homunculi - her Azoth is too strong to go to waste. It could do wonderful - and terrifying - things in the hands of the right alchemist. It was strong enough to feed me just by being in her presence. I didn’t need to consume her blood to feel full, satiated, and content. That alone is evidence enough. Perhaps it could even destroy the homunculi and the Mutus for good. I’d die as well, but it’d be a small sacrifice to rid the world of an evil that has long overstayed its welcome. I have always been ready to die for that cause, no matter how impossible it was. But with this girl’s Azoth -

Suddenly, a wave of heat washes over my skin, and a low buzz itches at the back of my brain. No. Not here, not now -

The girl’s glare is interrupted as my wolf Avalanche runs in, her snow-white coat gleaming against the red carpet. Her blue eyes find mine and she barks, tail wagging furiously.

“I know, Ava.” I kneel and scratch her head. Ava turns to the girl and growls.

“Looks like she wants me to go, too,” The girl says, and turns on her heel. There’s a flash of silver outside the window she’s passing, and the world seems to move in slow motion as I lunge for her. I can only scream internally and wordlessly.
Not her. You’ve taken so much from me, you Mutus bastards, but you will not take her, not my firebird
-

Avalanche is faster than I. She leaps ten feet horizontally, powerful forepaws slamming down on the girl and forcing her to the floor just as the dagger shatters the window and pins to the wall where the girl’s head was but a moment ago. I turn to Reeves.

“Quickly, arm yourself and get to the basement. Activate the Stormhearts.”

Reeves nods, and disappears downstairs.

“Ava, off her,” I say. Avalanche backs off. I bend down and help Mia up.

“What the hell was that for?” She coughs, brushing glass from her hair. I point to the dagger, and her eyes go wide. “Is it the -”

“Homunculi,” I nod. “But I have a Thorngate alchemy around the perimeter that repels all homunculi.”

“Then how did they get in?”

“Mutus. They have alchemists who can reverse a Thorngate with a Softcarve alchemy. But Softcarve takes huge amounts of Azoth - and the Mutus don’t care much for Azoth lives. I’m sure they sacrificed a few to get in.”

A bigger crash resounds, and the window shatters in a hailstorm of glass as a woman homunculus barrels in. Her eyes are crazed, completely white with the feeding urge. The girl’s scent, now full and robust, is driving them literally insane. I’ve never seen anything like it. The homunculus lunges, but I slam her against the wall, pinning her there. She gnashes her teeth over my shoulder and growls in an inhuman voice. Then she starts laughing like a banshee at the girl.

“There you are, pet! Come a little closer!”

I twist the homunuclus’ head around, the vertebrae cracking. But it doesn’t kill her. She just laughs louder, her head hanging backwards.

“Coward!” She spits at me. “She’s right there, the best - the sweetest - and you haven’t claimed her. You haven’t even tasted her blood! You’re a fucking
coward
, a disgrace!”