“Please—” Zan sputters in between his wails. “—please, please! I didn’t mean it!”
“No one ever does,” Mr. Rudra answers mildly.
“Please—please!”
Whatever he’s begging from Mr. Rudra, Ari doesn’t know, because the man ignores his cries and instead drags him toward the black door at the back of the study. As they near the entrance and Mr. Rudra slides the door open, Zan’s struggles turn wilder.
“No—no!” the boy now adds. “No—please, please!”
For an instant, Zan manages to break away, and bolts for the doors. Mr. Rudra snaps something under his breath and stalks after the boy. As he goes, he puts his hand briefly against the wall—and before Ari’s eyes, the double doors transmute into a smooth, unchanging panel of wood.
Zan throws himself against the wall in vain, his hands flattening against the surface as if in an attempt to push it open. An incomprehensible wail rips from his throat.
Then Mr. Rudra is on him. He seizes Zan by the hair and yanks him viciously backward. The boy stumbles again, half-dragged across the carpet by his head until he manages to catch himself with his feet. He tries again to twist out of Mr. Rudra’s grasp, but this time the man’s grip is like iron. Ari watches, horrified, as the man drags him back toward the open black door and into the hall leading to the lab. The door closes behind them, but Ari can still hear Zan’s muffled cries as they fade steadily down the corridor.
Ari looks around frantically, wondering if someone else will come through the double doors. He crouches down against the railings, straining to hear more. But Zan’s wails are turning distant enough that they’re becoming difficult to catch.
And then, all of a sudden, they cut off.
The study falls back into an eerie silence.
Ari stays by the railings and trembles. His shallow breaths sound loud in the new quiet of the space. What did he just witness? What could Zan possibly have done? Surely he couldn’t be the only one who heard the commotion—for a while he waits, listening for some security guard to come in, shining a flashlight up at the stacks, asking aloud if everyone is all right.
But no one comes.
The minutes drag on. Ari starts to wonder if he should get up, if he should leave. Mr. Rudra must not have known that he was up here, spying on the entire affair. And suddenly he realizes that the man might be angry if Ari witnessed something he shouldn’t have, that he might turn the same wrath on Ari. But he remains frozen in place. If he risks moving now, and Mr. Rudra emerges from the hall, he’ll see Ari.
So Ari stays where he is, until his legs start to cramp.
Finally, Mr. Rudra steps back through the black door and shuts it behind him, securing it with its lock. As he goes, he brushes the wall again with his hand. Ari glances over to see the wall that the man had transmuted earlier, sees it ripple now and shift back into wood and glass, the double doors returning to their original form as if they had never been erased at all.
Ari doesn’t dare make a sound. But as Mr. Rudra reaches the double doors, the man lifts his head and stares up at exactly where Ari is hiding.
Ari bites the inside of his lip so hard that he draws blood. A metallic tang fills his mouth. Still, he doesn’t move.
Mr. Rudra stares for a long moment, then looks casually away and pushes the double doors open. He disappears without a second glance, and at last, Ari is alone.
The next afternoon, Zan isn’t in their class. When Dominique asks about his absence, Isla just shakes her head.
“Zan won’t be joining us anymore,” she says.
There’s a brief silence. Dominique glances at Ari, then back down at her notebook.
“Why not?” Ari dares to ask.
Isla shrugs. “Some just aren’t cut out to be alchemists,” she says.
She doesn’t say more. Ari’s toes curl in his shoes. He searches Isla’s gaze for clues as to what had happened, but she just flips to a new section of their book and nods at Dominique.
“Now,” she says, “can anyone tell me the difference in geometry between lithium and sodium?”
Dominique answers, and the session settles into a state of normalcy. But Ari’s eyes continue to wander in the direction of the black door. He imagines Zan at the end of that corridor, in the lab room, standing in the center of the space, staring quietly at nothing.
After their session and study hours end, and Dominique has gone home with the setting sun, Ari catches Isla as she packs up her bag. He takes her by the wrist, tugging her gently to a narrow space between two stacks.
“Isla,” he says, dropping his voice, “tell me what happened to Zan. Please.”
She frowns at him. “I’ve already told you what you need to know.”
