The Iron Witch (6 page)

As her hand made contact with the dark flannel of his work shirt, she felt a burning heat radiating from his body. Even through her gloves. Pain shot toward her wrist.

“Maker, I don’t think you’re well. Here, let me help you.” She shot Navin a glance she hoped he understood. Her friend was hovering nearby, having squeezed out from behind the heavy door, and looked as though he might try to take the old man’s other arm. Not a good idea.

Maybe Maker was just tired, but there was a quality of
strain
about him that Donna wasn’t used to seeing. She could smell a sharp-edged sourness; it reminded her of the stale scent of water that had held flowers for too long.

“Donna, please stop fussing. I’m fine.” Maker brushed her away with his free hand. And yet the fine sheen of sweat on his brow and the crease between his eyebrows told her that things were very far from
fine
. He took a breath and appeared to make an effort to steady himself. “Really, I’m quite well.”

She bit her lip. “Is it safe to go back inside?”

He nodded briskly. “Yes, yes. Everything has been dealt with.”

“You mean, you … ” Donna let her voice trail off, wondering what Maker had done to “deal with” the wood elf. Last she’d seen, it was attempting to escape from the bathroom window. And the alchemist hadn’t been anywhere around at the time; she was sure of it.

“The creature has been neutralized. It was just a stray.” Maker’s wintry blue eyes focused on Navin and narrowed.

Donna cringed. How was she going to explain his presence? This was a breach of confidence that would surely be unforgivable.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend, Donna?”

Navin stepped forward and Donna reached down for his hand. She gave it a gentle squeeze. “This is Navin Sharma. Navin, this is Maker. He … works with my aunt.” She took a deep breath. “Maker, I’m sorry about Nav being here. It won’t happen again—it was a mistake.”

Maker’s expression softened. “I think we can come to some kind of agreement, don’t you?”

“Agreement?” Donna frowned.

“I don’t want Paige worrying about you and what happened here.” He nodded in the direction of his workshop. “Normally my experiments don’t run away before I’ve finished with them.”

Experiments?
Donna’s stomach clenched. That didn’t sound right. Since when did the alchemists experiment on stray elves?

Before she could interject, Maker continued. “If you take your friend away and promise that he will never return”—here he gave Navin a fierce look—“we will say nothing more about this.
Any
of it. Do you understand? I don’t want to share my findings with Simon until I’m sure of something.”

Simon?
Simon Gaunt?
He was Quentin Frost’s partner—they’d been a couple for many years, at least for as long as Donna had known them—and he was also the official secretary of the Order, Quentin’s right-hand man. Simon Gaunt gave her the creeps, if she was honest about it, and it made Donna go cold to think there were secrets between him and Maker.

She wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, but it seemed like Maker was willing to let the Navin situation go, so long as she didn’t tell about the wood elf in the workshop. At least, for now. It was a deal she could live with.

Except that something definitely wasn’t right. Where had Maker come from? She’d been all over the workshop and the corridor out back, and there’d been no sign of him. Had he seen them come in? Also, it really was strange that Maker wasn’t angrier about Navin, since secrets were a fact of life for the Order. Then again, seeing how Maker
was
being oh-so-reasonable about Nav’s presence, it could be an unexpected gift. Maybe she shouldn’t be in such a hurry to risk messing with that.

And of course, if she ignored Maker’s request and told Aunt Paige what had happened, what if she ended up getting everything wrong? Donna didn’t want to look like she’d been sneaking around, or worse, let on that she suspected something horrible had been happening in Maker’s workshop. Especially when he’d never given her reason to think badly of him before. Just the thought of telling Aunt Paige that Navin had encountered an elf made her feel sick. There could be no going back from that—not for her, and certainly not for Navin.

She watched as a bead of sweat slipped slowly down the side of Maker’s face. He must be exhausted after handling the dark elf all by himself, despite the magic Donna knew he could craft. Alchemy—
real
magic—was all about transformation. It was a very different sort of power than the ridiculous things that regular people saw in movies. You didn’t just wave a wand and say a few words; there was a lot of work involved. Painstaking preparation and ritual. Maker always said “magic is technology,” and Donna hadn’t fully understood this until the first time she saw his workshop.

Pulling herself upright, she smiled tightly at the old alchemist. “We’ll get out of your way, then. Don’t worry, I won’t breathe a word—and neither will Navin.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Will you?”

Navin had been watching this exchange while slouching against the wall with his arms crossed. He was doing his best impression of Harmless and Totally Trustworthy. Donna almost smiled despite the tension in the air. He was a terrible actor.

“Huh?” he replied.

“Nav, I said you’ll keep your mouth shut about all of this. Right?”

“Right,” he agreed, nodding so hard she thought he’d lost control of his neck muscles. “I won’t say a word. Never. I’ll take it to my grave and—”

“Nav?” Donna cut in.

“What?”

“Shut up.”

“Shutting up.” He made a zipping motion across his lips, mimed twisting a lock shut, and threw the imaginary key over his shoulder.

Rolling her eyes, Donna wished she could avoid telling him all the things she’d been forced to keep from him for so long. The truth was a slippery slope, and once it was really
out there
, it would be impossible to stop it from taking on a life of its own. While she didn’t generally believe in the power of prayer—she’d given up on all that when her father died and her mother got sick—right now she would try just about anything. Swallowing past the sudden dryness in her throat, Donna prayed that revealing her secrets wouldn’t be the biggest mistake of her life.

She prayed that Navin wouldn’t turn his back on her, once he knew the whole dark and twisted truth.

Donna sat cross-legged on her bed as Navin slouched (his usual position) into the oversized beanbag on her bedroom floor. They had done this for the last three years—talking far into the night in either her room or his, whether or not there was school the next day.

“So,” said Navin.

“So.”

“Elves.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh.”

“It didn’t look much like Orlando Bloom … ”

Donna threw the nearest cushion at his head. “I wondered how long it would take you.”

“What?” He gave her his best wounded expression, all big brown eyes and indignation.

She forced a smile, trying to push down a rising sense of panic. She was so tired thinking about it all; why couldn’t she just have a normal life?

“Earth to Donna,” Navin said.

“Sorry. I was just … you know. Thinking.”

Navin heaved himself out of the beanbag chair and came over to sit on the bed next to her. He put his arm around her and she gratefully leaned into his warmth, her head resting on his shoulder.

“Donna, it’ll be okay. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“Navin, it’s not that simple … ”

“So make it simple. Just tell me what that thing was—what this
means
.”

“It’s just that I’m not supposed to tell.
Anyone
. Not even you.”

“I’m not going to say anything. Who am I going to tell? Dad? Nisha? She’d open her big mouth to her friends if I told her what color your bedroom walls are, never mind any of this stuff.”

Donna bit back a smile. Navin’s younger sister wasn’t known for her discretion. “She’s just young.”

“She’s fifteen and should know better by now. She’s such a little gossip.” Navin shifted on the bed and Donna lifted her eyes to his. “Anyway, forget her. Tell me about that thing back at Maker’s. The … elf. And who
is
this Maker? Is that his real name?”

“I think we should start with him—and with the Order. You need to know that before you can understand the more crazy stuff.”

Navin nodded, for all the world as if there was anything sane about any of this. “Right. The Order. You mentioned it back at the workshop. Is it, like, something to do with witchcraft? A group your aunt belongs to?”

Donna sighed.
Here went nothing
. “Yes, it
is
a group Aunt Paige belongs to—a group she was born into, just like I was—but it’s got nothing to do with witchcraft or paganism. It’s actually short for ‘The Order of the Dragon.’ The members are alchemists, and it’s a secret society that’s been around for centuries.”

“Please don’t tell me there are actual dragons involved.” There was a pained expression on Navin’s face. “I’m trying to be cool here, but that might ruin everything.”

Donna couldn’t hold back a smile. “Don’t worry, it’s just a symbolic thing. There are four alchemical Orders, but ours is the oldest and one of the only ones that’s still actively involved in anything magical. The dragon has always been linked with alchemy, especially the great serpent, the ouroboros. It’s usually shown lying in a circle—mouth to tail—devouring itself.”

“Magic?” Navin said faintly. “For real? Is it like in
Charmed
? Because I think I could handle that. Maybe.”

Donna knew that the only reason Navin watched
Charmed
was because of his huge crush on Alyssa Milano. “Are you listening to any of this?” she demanded. “You’re the one who insisted on knowing the truth.” She was trying to hide how afraid she was that every word out of her mouth would drive Navin further and further away.

“I’m listening. I’m fine.” The expression on Navin’s face said that he was anything
but
fine, despite his enthusiasm for her blowing away his entire worldview. “What were you saying about … um … Oberon?”

“
Ouroboros
. It’s a symbol. Here, let me show you.” Donna swung her legs off the bed and crouched down by her bookshelves, glad of an excuse to move. To
do
something. Grabbing a thick volume jacketed in a glossy collection of symbols from around the world, she flopped back down next to Navin and began leafing through the heavily illustrated pages. She jabbed her finger at what looked like an ancient bronze seal. It was stamped with the image of a simple yet highly stylized serpent, curled in a circle with its mouth and tail almost indistinguishable.

“See? It has different names depending on the culture, but the most important thing is what it symbolizes. It’s something to do with ‘all being One,’ and it reminds us that the cycle of death and rebirth might be considered a natural thing. Although death is something that alchemy seeks to overcome.”

The part of the mythology she didn’t tell Navin was the part she’d held close to her heart ever since her father’s death. In traditional alchemy, it was only by symbolically “slaying the dragon” that any kind of real transformation could occur. Donna knew that she had a long way to go before she was ready to face her
own
personal dragon—the monster that had destroyed everything good in her life—but the belief that she would someday face it had kept her going through many painfully long nights.

Navin was looking thoughtful as he stared at the image of the ouroboros, and she knew that he must be thinking of his own loss. His mother’s illness and passing had been hard on all the Sharmas, but Donna knew that Navin still mourned her every single day. They’d talked, before, about how his family’s Hinduism had helped his father to cope; back then, Donna had had to fake the whole pagan thing when they were comparing experiences. She wondered how Navin would react to the ideas she had
really
been brought up with—alchemy wasn’t exactly an easy subject to come to terms with, and it was more science than religion despite what many detractors would say to the contrary.

“Okay,” Navin said. “So I get it. Alchemy, life and death, blah blah blah. What else? Tell me about the other three Orders—you said there are four.”

Donna slammed the book shut and dumped it on the floor. She crossed her legs on the bed and began counting on her fingers: “The Order of the Crow, the Order of the Lion, and the Order of the Rose.”

He frowned. “Rose?”

“What’s so funny about that?”

“Well, there are three Orders that are all,
rah
, scary creatures; and then there’s the ‘Order of the Rose.’ Sounds kinda lame to me.”

Donna rolled her eyes. “That’s because you don’t understand Hermeticism.”

“Hermeti-
what
?”

“Never mind. Just go with it: Dragon, Crow, Lion, and Rose. That’s the way it’s always been. And like I said, the others aren’t so important these days. Well, apart from the Order of the Crow. We have what some old-school practitioners call Dragon Magic, and they have their Crow Magic in England. But each Order is very different and follows a separate mission. We don’t see representatives from the other Orders very often—like, once a year is pretty much it.”

Navin smirked. “At the annual Alchemy Con?”

“This is
serious
.” Donna swatted him with the cushion she’d been leaning against.

Deflecting the blow with ease and grabbing another pillow, Navin pretended to suffocate her with it. “And this is my way of dealing with it.”

She pushed him away impatiently, though she could hardly blame him. “Okay, so that’s the Order—”

“Hold on a second there, Underwood, we haven’t even scratched the surface yet.”

“Nav, there isn’t time to give you every single detail. I’ve been a part of this my whole life; it would take forever!”

His face was serious again. “I know that. But what do alchemists
do
? Surely they’re not really searching for the philosopher’s stone? Even I’ve heard of those myths, but … is that real?”

Donna wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against the wall. She couldn’t tell him everything; she just couldn’t bring herself to talk about the Order’s hunger for eternal life and their single-minded dedication to that cause. Especially not after the whole wood-elf-in-the-workshop incident—it made her feel nauseous to even think about it. She needed to figure some things out before she could even consider going there.

“Well?” Navin nudged her with his knee.

“It’s complicated, but for one thing, there’s the science of it all—which would include things like the philosopher’s stone and the elixir of life.” She saw that Navin was about to say something and rushed on. “Transformation. That’s a huge area of study and practice, way too huge to go into now. If you’ve read any kind of fiction about alchemy, heard the legends, or seen it in a movie … you at least get the idea. Maker’s a very powerful alchemist. He makes things—as his name suggests.”

Navin screwed up his face. “Like, what things?”

She blew out a breath. “Just … stuff. Lots and lots of different kinds of stuff.”

“Magical stuff?”

“Sometimes, yes. You saw some of it at his workshop.” She curled her legs beneath her and fixed him with a determined stare, one that dared him to interrupt her again. “And then there are the elves.”

“So, you’re skipping over the part where you guys make gold,” Navin said dryly, “and I get to hear about the monsters. Great.”

Ignoring him, Donna continued, wondering if this was how her tutor, Alma Kensington, felt after all those years of teaching her. She already felt exhausted, and Navin had only known about the magical reality of her life for a few hours. “So, the creature we ran into today was a wood elf, although the Order also calls them dark elves since they’re among the most dangerous beings to come out of Faerie.”

Navin leaned forward. “‘Faerie’?”

“Oh, right. Sorry, I mean the place. That’s what it’s called.”

“You’re seriously telling me there’s a place called
Faerie
.”

Donna wasn’t sure if Navin meant this as a question or a statement. “Um, yeah. It’s another realm that exists right alongside ours.” She caught the look on his face. “What? You thought our world is all there is? That’s so … limited.”

“Well, excuse me for being
limited
.”

“As I was saying,” Donna said loudly, talking over him, “when the faeries—as in, the actual
beings
—left this world and finally went back to their own realm, the wood elves got left behind. They refused to pay the tithe, you see—”

“Wait a minute. Tithe?”

“The tithe that Faerie has to pay to Hell every seven years.”

“
Hell
?!”

Donna grabbed his arm, for a moment forgetting her own strength. “Keep your voice down,” she hissed. “I don’t know when Aunt Paige will get back.”

“Shit, chill
out
.” Navin’s brown eyes were filled with reproach. “I bruise easily.” He rubbed his arm and wouldn’t quite look at her.

Donna threw her arms round his shoulders—taking more care this time—and hugged him. “I’m sorry; she just can’t find out I’ve told you all this. Ever.”

“It’s okay, Underwood. I get it.” His arms went around her in return, and he stroked her back before gently pushing her away.

Donna cleared her throat and decided it might just be easier to keep talking. This was getting way too intense. “It’s not like the Christian place. Hell’s just a convenient name for the demon realm—the Underworld. The tithe is like a payment. A penalty of sorts. If they don’t pay it … well, I don’t really know what happens. But the wood elves refused to pay their tithe to the demons, and war broke out between them and the rest of the fey—resulting in the elves being left behind in the human world. They got all evil and twisted, the longer they had to stay here.”

She shrugged, trying to remember the things she’d learned from Alma over the years. According to alchemical lore, there were three main races, or factions—humans, protected by the alchemists; the fey, of which the wood elves were just one subculture; and the demons, which Donna knew next to nothing about and would be entirely happy to remain ignorant of for the rest of her life. She gazed at Navin, waiting for him to say something.