Demoniac

Alchemy

Halak knocked on the Alchemist’s door. It was old and rotting, overgrowing with vines along the edge, despite probable complaints from nearby tenants. All very typical Alchemist. Halak rocked on his heels before raising his fist to knock again.

The door swung open. “Knock again like that and I’ll cook up something that will make you disappear, and I not talking about an invisibility potion.” The man behind the door croaked. Halak looked down at him. He was hunched over and glaring at them. “What?”. He said with unsubtle impatience. 

“Are you Bacchus?” Halak asked. The old man watched them without a answering. The air grew stale between them. Halak shifted on his feet, unsure whether he had been heard. “Are you-“

“Come in.” Bacchus said, turning and walking into the house. Halak exchanged a glance with Arlo, who only shrugged. They followed the old man inside.

As they stepped into the house with Bacchus leading the way, the ripe smell of rotting wood hit Halak. He expected expected to see moss hanging off the walls but instead was greeted by a surprisingly sterile interior. Arlo shut the door, cutting off any outside street lights that were filtering in through the doorway. Inside, the walls were lit by wall lamps that glowed blue. As Halak walked, he passed tanks under each lamp that grew various plants and colonies of things that were slimy or otherwise oscillating. He passed one and the source of the rotting wood smell became clear. Inside the glass encasement, which looked like a large fish tank minus the water, there were pieces of dead bark. Among them, things not quiet like slugs stuck to the surfaces and made subtle but audibly sucking noises. Halak turned away and tried to ignore the smell, passing into the room beyond. 

Bacchus stepped up to a metallic counter, took a beaker that was placed above a burner, and waved it around it circles. The mixture inside was still boiling, but the old man didn’t seem to mind. Once the bubbles died away he downed the concoction and placed the beaker back on the counter. Bacchus turned back to them.

“I’m going to need a good reason for why you decided to stop by my shop this late.” He said. His voice suddenly sounded much healthier and full. 

Halak frowned. “I need to know if someone’s been tainted.”

“I just want to make sure we’re using the same vocabulary here, young man. By tainted you mean-“

“By a demon.” Halak finished. Bacchus eyed him. Halak wasn’t sure, but Bacchus looked like he was standing a little straighter. 

“You let me finish my sentences, son.” The man said. “I don’t care if you’re some kind of mind reader, you don’t need to try and prove it.” He didn’t relent his disapproving look until Halak finally nodded his consent. “Good.” He said. 

Bacchus turned back and, this time, Halak was sure he wasn’t as bent over. Halak glanced at Arlo who lifted his hand to his mouth and pantomimed throwing back a couple drinks and then pointed past Halak and the old man. Halak looked to where he was pointing and saw the empty glass from which Bacchus had drank earlier. Bacchus acted as if he didn’t see the exchange, but his thinning white hair began to regain it’s color.

“I thought youth serums weren’t possible to make.” Halak said, watching the hair as it slowly, almost imperceptibly, turned to a hazelnut brown and regained some of it’s fullness. Bacchus reached out and plucked the tie from Halak’s hand, careful to hold it by the small section where none of the blood had smeared. He turned back to his table.

“It’s not possible, yet.” Bacchus said, pulling his eyewear down from the crown of his head. “But an aging potion can be quite easy once you’ve done it enough. And the antidote for that, is equally so.”