Page 111 of The Alchemists

“N-no. Thanks.”

“Oh, but there is one more thing I found fascinating—Jean van Bergen—he was a member of your school’s first graduating class. Did you know that?”

“Windermere?” Tori stopped mid-stride.

“Yes, yes, the very one. College was very different then. Students started higher education much earlier.”

Lily’s mind fritzed out from entirely too much input. Tori took one look at her and yanked her out the door, shouting thanks over her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Tori said once they were outside, the cold slapping sense into Lily’s face.

“I—yes. No, I mean…I need paper, I need to write this out.”

She fumbled out the keys and flung them, unintentionally, at Tori’s face. Tori caught them in a reverse one-handed grip, so automatic that it startled both of them.

“Old habits.” Tori shrugged.

“Can you drive?”

Tori grinned savagely. “Of course.”

Seb had told Lily never to let Tori drive his car, and on the way back she found out why. Tori had a single speed—F1. As she white-knuckled the door, Lily realized she wasn’t even sure if Tori had a license. She certainly didn’t drive as though she’d passed a road test.

Lily tried to keep a firm grip on the dates and theories roiling through her brain as she assured herself that this was not possibly how she died—but flop-sweat anxiety overruled all.

“Jesus fuck, Tori!” she exhaled as Tori cut the engine, before sprinting into Millay Tower and throwing herself into the elevator.

She hurled herself onto the floor, grabbing her tatty spiral notebook, and flipped to a blank page, scribbling everything she could remember, thumbing open her phone with sweaty hands. Tori observed her for a few amused moments before pouring herself a Scotch and settling on the couch to watch Lily unspool before her eyes.

“How can I help?” she asked, pulling off her boots.

“Just let me talk at you,” Lily said, without looking up.

“Shoot.”

“Jean van Bergen was a Magician.”

“Seems so.”

“April, May, June…” Lily muttered the months under her breath, counting on her fingers. “There’s no way.” She shook her head.

“No way what?”

“Jean van Bergen couldn’t be Karl van Bergen’s son. He was Windermere’s.”

“You think?”

“I’m certain. Read this.”

She hunted for the printout of the letter she’d found and handed it over, watching Tori’s face as she skimmed.

“Well. C’est brutale.”

“She knew she was pregnant, right?”

“I don’t get it, though—Windermere was rich. Why not just let him set her up, and⁠—”

Lily jumped in. “Think of the times. Even if Magicians weren’t, everyone else was ultra-religious—Huguenots? Selene at least believed in God. A child out of wedlock would have ruined them both. And she says it in her letter.” Lily took it back, scanning. “‘I trusted you, handed over myself and my virtue to your keeping, but all is a ruin.’ She’s basically saying she put her belief in Windermere, and instead of being her salvation, like she thought, he was her fall.”