Isla obeys without a word. When she is standing next to Ari, Mr. Reed tells him, “Change her hair to black.”
Ari stiffens. His eyes go to Mr. Rudra, and from the man’s expression, he can tell that this isn’t a request he’d expected. Despite the extent of Ari’s bioalchemy work, none of it has involved people yet, and the thought of something going wrong while changing Isla’s hair color makes Ari’s blood run cold. He looks to her, wondering if he’ll see the same hesitation in her eyes.
But Isla just turns to him and lifts her chin. If she’s nervous, she doesn’t look it at all. A wild spark gleams in her eyes. “Piece of cake,” she murmurs to him.
Ari takes comfort in the clarity the sand continues to etch into his mind. He forces himself to concentrate.Human hair.Human hair is made mostly out of keratin, a protein very similar to the keratin found in plants; and melanin, which gives human hair its color, is the human equivalent to a plant’s chlorophyll. He thinks of his extensive work with both chlorophyll and keratin, then brings up in his mind the geometric structure of hair, visualizes the organic makeup, the soul coursing through the strands.
His heart is beating fast now, whether from anxiety or from exhaustion, he can’t tell. He brings up the formula in his head, all the steps needed, then calls upon his soul to take from itself again, to tear away a fragment and devote it to this. Then he reaches over to Isla and gently tucks her hair behind her ear. He imagines himself back in the Central Library, at the secret lab tucked away behind the door of the study. He remembers the wayhe would collapse, the world spinning all around him, the thud of the knife into the wood as Mr. Rudra reminds him of why he is here.
Isla’s hair, fair as wheat, turns whiter for a few seconds. Then, like the shifting colors of a chameleon, it turns into a gradient of grays before darkening into an inky black.
Her smile widens at him. Ari lowers his hand and feels an indescribable sense of loss.
Mr. Reed comes over to inspect Isla’s hair, noting the evenness of the color, the way the composition of the strands is still preserved. Ari holds his breath, not knowing exactly what the man is looking for, afraid to disappoint.
At last, Mr. Reed exchanges a look with Mr. Rudra.
“Does Diamond know about him?” Mr. Reed asks.
Mr. Rudra shakes his head. “Not that I’m aware.”
“Anyone at Grand Central?”
“No.”
“Good.” Mr. Reed doesn’t smile. The reflection of the water against his glasses washes out his eyes into white.
Ari shivers as the man approaches him. The man pulls something from his pocket, then holds it out. When Ari looks at it, he realizes it is Lumines’s fox crest, the gold pin gleaming in the night.
“My boy,” Mr. Reed says, “you are about to step into a new world. In doing so, you’ll be required to leave behind much of the old life you once knew. Your reality is shifting quickly now, the people in it about to change forever. Do you understand?”
It will be years before Ari fully unpacks everything Mr. Reed says here, before he comprehends what his skills mean and how he will be used. But as Mr. Rudra pins the fox crest to the lapel of Ari’s suit, Ari feels a sudden swell of emotion, understanding that this moment is the reason why he’d been taken from home and sent across the ocean, why he has missed out on an entire childhood with his family. He imagines setting foot in Surat again, feeling the warm wind through his hair. He recalls Kriti rinsing bowls in the courtyard, Pappa standing in the sun, Dev laughing. The chatter of his mother and her sisters. Will he ever speak to them again? See his father, his brother and sister? Will he be able to send money home, change their lives for the better? Is he going to leave them behind for good?
Sam. What about Sam? He’d always known that his path was divergingfrom hers, but until now, he hadn’t considered the fact that she might simply become a part of his old life too. Will this be it, then? Will he also leave her behind?
Mr. Reed regards him with a knowing gleam in his eye. “A Shakespeare,” he says, “if I ever saw one.”
Shakespeare, someone who can move millions. Ari swallows at his new attribution. His heart oscillates between pride and grief. “Thank you, sir,” he says.
As he turns to Isla, who congratulates him, Mr. Reed mutters to Mr. Rudra, “He draws too much attention.”
“How many years have you been trying to find an alchemist at his level?” Mr. Rudra replies. “You want to destroy Grand Central? Then he’s what we need.”
“He’ll be trouble.”
“He’ll be worth it.”
The party goes on, well into the night. The entire time, a steady stream of people cluster around Ari, their attention helplessly drawn to him, laughing at his charm, touching his elbow, lingering, wanting to hear his voice, wantinghim.To Ari, the world has turned impossibly bright, halos around the lights wrapping the trees, glitter on the surface of the pools’ black waters. His soul expands, hungry to take in the world. He smiles at the right time, gives the right demure glance, is graceful at each turn. When he is on sand, no one can get enough of him.
At last, Isla appears at his side, her hair now its original blonde. She slides a hand along his back when he finds a moment’s peace, and when he looks at her, she grins. “Tired yet of preening, Shakespeare?” she teases close to his ear. “I’m ready to take these damn heels off.”
The never-ending attention is indeed exhausting him, and he exists now in a state between elation and grief, his mind still haunted by Mr. Reed’s words to him.Your reality is shifting quickly now.He leans gratefully toward her, looking forward to the idea of hiding away. “Lead the way, Archimedes,” he says, and she laughs.
Isla tells Mr. Rudra that she’s going to take Ari home. Then she guides him out of the museum’s grounds, a slew of fond farewells following in his wake, and to a black car parked and ready for them at the front of the villa.
Thirty minutes later, they find themselves at the Rainbow on Sunset, a bar of mismatched architecture and an overwhelming sign, names of rock stars engraved into its storied bricks. Ari is nineteen and technically too young to drink, but it doesn’t seem to matter, because the bouncer notes their fox pins and lets them in without a word.
“Lumines property,” Isla explains as they nurse beers in a private corner booth. She removes her glasses and rubs her temples.
