Free The Masquerading Magician by Gigi Pandian Page B

the couch next to me. His feet didn’t touch the ground. “I suppose it is too much to ask an alchemist to avoid speaking in riddles.”
    â€œI don’t mean to be enigmatic. Take a look at this book.” I lifted the library book from the coffee table and opened it to the bookmarked page.
    â€œThe Fire God magician,” Dorian remarked. “Prometheus. I would not have thought him good enough to merit being featured in a book. It is an unflattering photograph, no?”
    â€œTake a look at the title of the book. It’s a book about Portland’s infamous murderers.”
    Dorian’s snout twitched as he looked from the front cover to the information about the photograph. “But this is … How is this possible? It says this man was killed by les flics in 1969.”
    â€œI think he’s an alchemist. A real one who’s discovered the Elixir of Life.” Something was wrong with that picture, though. Alchemists aren’t immortal. If he was truly dead, as this picture indicated, there were only two ways he could have come back to life. One, he could have faked his death in the first place. Two, it was possible he could have used backward alchemy, the same unnatural alchemy that had brought Dorian to life and was now killing him.
    â€œ C’est vrai? Is it true? But this is wonderful! You have had such difficulty locating another true alchemist all these months. Monsieur Danko means to help you, yet he is not a true alchemist, and cannot know your true mission. Why is your face grave, Zoe? Working with a learned alchemist who may have been alive longer than you, this could help you decipher my book, no?”
    â€œHe’s a murderer , Dorian.”
    Dorian waved his hand through the air. “You fail to see the big picture. Ah! I am settling into American life so well that I am using American idioms! Did you hear?”
    I sighed. “I’m glad you’re feeling more at home in Portland, but the big picture generally includes staying far away from murderers who the police felt necessary to shoot several times.”
    â€œYes, but—” He broke off. “ Attendez . Why did he come back?”
    â€œLook at his name.”
    â€œFranklin Thorne? Ah! He is the man who stole the Lake Loot that has enticed these meddlesome treasure hunters.”
    â€œHe would have been forced to leave town quickly at the time, unable to get the loot without being found out. But now that enough time has passed, he most likely wants to retrieve the rest of it before someone else finds it, since part of the stash has already been discovered.”
    â€œ Mais, why would he care for jewels?” Dorian asked. “He could simply make gold.”
    â€œAs you’ve seen, not all alchemists are good at transmuting lead into gold.”
    Dorian frowned. “I thought you were a special case.”
    â€œIt’s a huge depletion of energy for anyone. It’s the level of difficulty to complete the transformation, and how quickly we recover, that’s personal. But we’re getting off track. Dorian—if he truly died in that shoot-out, and it’s the same man we saw on stage last night, he had to use unnatural means to bring himself back from the dead. He would have to be using backward alchemy.”
    â€œThat is even better! He might understand my book.” Dorian grinned, his wings wriggling in his excitement.
    â€œIf he doesn’t steal it first.” My hand flew to my mouth. I hadn’t realized the implication of my words until I’d spoken them out loud. There was another reason besides the valuable jewelry that could have lured an alchemist who practiced backward alchemy to Portland in the first place. “An immoral alchemist,” I said slowly, “might want Not Untrue Alchemy to use himself.”
    Dorian gaped at me, his dark gray tongue hanging over his light-gray little teeth. “You think,” he said,