“Useless!”Stone paced away, shoving his hands through his hair.
Itwasuseless.He’d already tried.Several times from the privacy of his own rooms before surrendering the device to Stone.And several times since then, right here in the master’s forge.But lead remained lead for him.
And for Stone.
But he liked trying.It made him feel closer to Sybil knowing he put his lips so near where hers had been.Like kissing.
Only now if he did that, it would be like kissing Stone, too, and… No thank you.
Stone yelled, and Apollo winced.The apprentice beside him jumped.
“What do we do?”the apprentice asked, as if Apollo had a damn clue.Ever since he’d returned, the others treated him as if he’d eclipsed them in status and skill.But without Sybil, Apollo’s heat was gone.Dwindling at least.It took for-fucking-ever to call it up, to make it work.
He rubbed his chest with one hand and stuck the other hand in his trouser pocket, wrapped it around the gold there.Half of it.Did she have the other half?Had she found it, too, on the stables floor?He liked to think she did, and that she kept it in her pocket.On a chain dangling between her perfect breasts.Likely she’d thrown it away.
He slipped his half onto one finger.A week of shaping it aimlessly had formed it into a slender but rough-hewn ring.It was warm, warmer than the heat of his own body, and he felt dizzy from a roiling storm of emotions.All new.He could barely pick through them.Fear, yes.He knew that well.And… and… courage?Bloody hell.Something else.So many other things.Bitterness.The sharp edge of sorrow.He felt each emotion to his core, but they—he somehow knew—were not his own.He pulled his hand out of his pocket, studying the crudely shaped ring.
“What in Hades…” he whispered.
The apprentice jabbed his elbow into Apollo’s ribs.“Well?What do we do?”
“Hell if I know.”The answer to so many problems in his life right now—he had no bloody clue.
“Why won’t it work?”Stone screamed.His voice rumbled with rage as he snapped a hammer up and reared his hand back.
Apollo and the apprentice ducked under the worktable and winced when they heard the metal hit the walls.
“We have to do something.”The apprentice winced again as another tool clanged behind them.
“Well, Tom… Tom, isn’t it?”
“Michael.”
“Well, Michael, if Stone were a reasonable man, we’d remind him that turning lead to gold is a myth, and?—”
“But you said it happened.”
It had happened, but Apollo had begun to question why it had happened, how.And he had to keep Stone from making the same leaps of thought.God, he’d mucked things up.He should have listened to Sybil.
Another clang of metal against stone made Apollo and Michael jump.Apollo hit his head on the bottom of the table and cursed.They couldn’t hide out here all day.He reached into his other pocket, found a vial there.The stuff had become necessary since Stone had begun to lose what few wits he’d had to begin with.
After the next slam of a tool against the wall, Apollo popped out of his hiding place, holding his arms above his head, potion bottle secure in one hand.“Peace!”
With another primal scream, Stone hurled every bit of metal within reach at Apollo.
Who ducked.But got hit in the shoulder with a mandrel anyway.
“Bloody hell, man!”He sprinted for Stone before he could procure more projectiles, and when he was close enough, he un-stoppered the bottle, shoved it beneath Stone’s nose.
One inhalation was all it took, and Stone’s shoulder’s slumped, his strained features relaxed.
“That’s a good boy.”Apollo dropped an arm around his shoulders and guided him to a chair as Michael peeked out from under the table.
Though he seemed gentle as a lamb, a predator prowled beneath Stone’s skin.As he sat, he said, “You’re hiding something from me, Chester.You’re a transcendent nob at heart, and you don’t want to see an alchemist succeed.”
Apollo put the bottle to Stone’s lips.“Drink up.”
Under the potion’s control, Stone did.As his eyelids fluttered, his arms hanging loose on either side of the chair, he managed to mumble, “You’re keeping something from me.Or”—his eyes shot wide for a wild moment—“or it’sher.”His eyes closed.“Need…” His chin drooped to his chest.“Her.”His snoring tore through the quiet of the forge like a rumble of thunder.
