“Good evening,” I called, voice steady. “I’m Poppy Morton.”
“So I assumed,” he said. His voice was deep but roughened from disuse.
“These are my friends,” I said as I motioned to the small crowd behind me. We’d taken two cars to get here.
“I assumed that as well,” he grumbled.
“And I’m assuming you are Klaus Schwarzkopf, the author of the alchemy books?” I asked.
He gave me an irritated expression. “Do you know another Klaus Schwarzkopf?”
I tried not to be offended. If I were dying, I’d probably be grumpy too.
“You didn’t have to wait out here for me,” I said.
“I don’t know you, do I?” he asked. “Had to get a good look at you before I invite you in.”
Then he took about five seconds to turn around and began hobbling back up his lawn, looking like he was going to keel over any second. Figuring this was the only invitation I was going to get, I turned to face the group behind me and shrugged as if saying I guess we should get a move on.
“Well, are you coming?” he asked, still moving at turtle speed.
***
The house sagged like it was tired of being a house at all. The porch boards were soft and they splintered underfoot. When we walked through the front door, I noticed every window was filmed over with grime, letting in only the weakest smudges of daylight. Inside, the air was stale, thick with dust motes that drifted through the narrow beams of light. Furniture sat where it must have been placed decades ago, covered in a thin gray pelt of neglect, the fabric now faded to the color of old bones. Meanwhile, the floor was littered with brittle leaves that had blown in through a cracked pane in the door that no one had bothered to fix. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the faint groan of settling wood, and the place smelled faintly of mildew and old secrets—like a house long abandoned, even if someone technically still owned it.
The group of us crowded into the small living room as Klaus wobbled over to his couch and then sort of dropped himself into it. The thing responded with a cushion of dust that nearly choked me.
“Well then, where is Dirk?”
I glanced behind at Smith, who produced the cat carrying cage we’d managed to scrounge up. Dirk was inside and once we put the cage on the ground, Smith opened it and out popped Dirk, who immediately approached Klaus.
“Dirk apologizes to Master,” he started.
Klaus waved his concern away. “It’s all forgiven, Dirk.” The little creature seemed mollified at that and disappeared into the darkness of the house.
I straightened, brushing the dust from my palms as I approached Klaus. “I wanted to talk to you about what’s beenhappening to me. The power I can feel within me. It started when I joined Scapegrace coven.”
“A gypsy in a coven?” Klaus asked. “Never heard of that.”
“No one has,” I answered.
“Tell me about this power of yours.” He patted the couch seat next to him, and a fit of dust billowed into the air. I reluctantly took a seat. Then Klaus faced everyone else. “The rest of you can find whatever seats you can. Or sit on the floor.”
It was funny to watch Lorcan, Andre, and Smith all saying nothing as they opted to sit on the floor in front of us. Wanda chose to stand, eyeing everything around her in distaste, and Violetta took the arm chair across from us, which also erupted into a fit of dust. As soon as everyone was seated, I explained how I’d come across my own alchemy and how I didn’t have a handle on it to say the least.
“You shouldn’t waste your time and forgiveness on old monsters like me,” Klaus said, surprising me.
“I don’t think it’s wasted.” I met his eyes. “I need a teacher, and I’d like it to be you.”
For a moment, he said nothing. Then, quietly: “You realize what you’re asking for? Alchemy is not a gentle art. It burns what it touches.”
“And so do I, when I have to.”
Klaus’s mouth twitched. It wasn’t quite a smile, more the ghost of one. “Poppy Morton, I would say you’re a fool,” he said at last. Then, after a beat, “but a daring fool. I can respect that.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“As you should,” he said, adjusting his spectacles. The light caught the silver rims and made his eyes look almost opaque. “If you’re set on this, I agree to your terms, as I said. I’ll teach you what I can—if you truly can do what you claim.”
