Free Alchemist's Kiss by AR DeClerck Page A

velvet hat, trimmed with all the nonsensical oddities that women liked, brushed his nose.
    “Why is it so cold?”
    “Long ago, before the city of London even existed, a spell of great power was worked here. It left a magical residue that will never be erased.”
    “A dark spell.” she guessed.
    “It was not meant to be,” he squinted as the smoke darted around a corner and he quickened his pace to keep up with it, “In fact, it was supposed to be a protection spell.”
    “It must have gone very, very wrong.”
    He felt his lips twitch as amusement lit up his dark thoughts. His Cora was always so perceptive to the aether.
    “It did. For hundreds of years people avoided this place. But as time grows long memories grow short.”
    “Non-magics can't feel it?”
    “Not the way we do. But it's no wonder this place has always been associated with poverty and grief.”
    They turned the corner and Cora covered her mouth against the offensive smell of the refuse pile that occupied the space between the tall buildings. The smoke hovered over the pile, spinning like a top.
    Icarus began to rush forward, but Cora grabbed his arm. “No. Wait.”
    “He's here, Cora.”
    Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “It could be a trap, Icarus.”
    Icarus brushed aside a tear and smiled ruefully. “What would I do without your clear head, Cora Jenkins?”
    “Most likely die.” The words were weak and muffled, coming from the refuse pile.
    Icarus raised his head sharply. Cora released his arm and he hurried forward, stumbling over the rubbish piled high around them. He slipped in something and went to a knee, but he saw the glint of gold in front of him. Uncaring of the muck he began to dig with his gloved hands, pushing and pulling the piles of garbage away from Archimedes.
    He looked up when Cora joined him, uncaring of the way the rubbish clung to her heavy, full skirts. She dug into the pile with her immaculate white gloves, finally uncovering Archimedes' face.
    A sob escaped her as the extent of his ordeal was revealed. Icarus mashed his lips together to hold back the curses that gathered on his tongue. Incredibly, Archimedes' least swollen eye was open and staring at them. He blinked and tried to smile past the damage to his face.
    “Hello.”
    Cora pushed more of the refuse back, exposing the horrors that had been done to his body. Icarus raised a hand and shoved the muck back with magic, splashing it over the walls in his anger. He reached for Archimedes' hand and took the broken fingers into his. “Hello, old friend.”
    “I might live.”
    Icarus nodded. “I'm afraid so.”
    Cora touched his swollen nose and split lips gently with her fingertips. “Don't talk, Archie. We'll take you home and make you all right again.”
    She looked him over with the frown that told Icarus she'd moved into her nursing mode. “Broken ribs. Fractured jaw.” She ran a hand over Archimedes' legs. “Nothing too damaging to the legs.”
    “My back.”
    Icarus helped roll him over, hissing at the sight of the raw red brand marks covering the flesh. They were already festering from their contact with the wet rubbish.
    Tears rolled freely down Cora's cheeks as she bit her lip. “Oh, Archie.”
    “Nothing home won't....help.” He slid blessedly into unconsciousness as Icarus held him.
    “We're going to kill them all, Icarus. Every last one.”
    He nodded at Cora's low threat. “Yes. We are.”

CHAPTER FIVE
     
    “I've done what I can.” The apothecary removed his spectacles and rubbed them on his shirt. “He will need all his considerable strength to recover.”
    I looked up from my place by Archie's bed, his mangled golden hand still in mine. “He's not in pain?”
    The man shook his head. He was neither young nor old, not fat and not precisely thin. He picked up his bag with a groan and a crack of his back. “No pain. Let him sleep as long as he will.” He pressed a packet into my hand. “Tea, three times daily with this root.