Sadie Madison and the Boy in the Crimson Scarf

10 | The Alchemist

All trace of the strange, little house disappeared, and a much larger room came into view. The revolving platform stopped with a splutter of machinery, the hiss of pistons. Sadie's eyes took in a room filled with busy workbenches and complex systems of pipes, vials, pots, and bubbling tubes. Curved stone walls were plastered with crude scribbles on old parchment and disorganised bookshelves. Hanging lanterns swung over an unmade bed, bookended by a wireless and a shabby clothes trunk.

Vulpes hopped off the platform and swept around the workbenches gathering items in his pale fingers. He came to an abrupt halt in front of Sadie. "Chin," he requested. "It is bleeding."

"I fell," Sadie said. "I thought it had dried."

Vulpes produced a fine cloth and, after dipping it in a clear substance, dabbed the wound. It stung at first, but quickly faded. He ran the cloth over the cut, making Sadie wince. "You will live," he declared, smiling brightly. "Try not to prod it or it will never heal."

"Thank you. That was very kind."

Vulpes waved away her thanks. "Do not mention it."

"I do not trust him," Oliver told her, inspecting her chin.

"You are right," Vulpes called as he walked briskly around his laboratory, collecting more items, and dumping them on one of the workbenches. "The Fire Wolves," he added. "They are afraid."

"Afraid of what?" Sadie said, immediately prodding her chin.

"The dark mist," Vulpes replied ominously. "At least, that is my theory."

Sadie could hear Oliver swallow.

"You saw it," Vulpes grinned. "It is okay. I can tell."

"Yes. Through the wolves. It follows them, watching, waiting for something."

Vulpes plucked a silver goblet and a large blue bottle from a high shelf. He opened several vials and small boxes, sprinkling unmeasured amounts of one thing and another into the goblet. "Not something—" he started, popping the blue bottle open and filling the goblet to the brim. "—someone." He pushed the goblet towards her. "Here. Have some of this. It is cold, but it will warm you through. Sounds backwards, I know, but it works wonders."

Sadie swung her legs off the lift and approached the table. She stared down at the dark contents swirling in the goblet.

"Do not—" Oliver said.

"It is quite safe," Vulpes assured her.

"Who is it? The dark mist."

Vulpes steepled his fingers, running his tongue over his priceless teeth. "He is a shadow. I say he, could be a she, could be an it, could be all manner of things. Been in the trees east of Iron Bridge for as long as I can remember. Watching, waiting—for what, I have no clue—but searching for something. Or someone."

"How do you know?"

"Sadie Madison, you are not the only one in tune with the animals of the forest," Vulpes informed her. "What did you see through the eyes of the wolves?"

"We were running through the woods, scared, terrified. A choking, smothering darkness. Chased and chasing at the same time. Locked between the two things. It was painful, sad, and angry all at once."

"It is called Skinwalking," Vulpes told her. "The ability to see through another's eyes."

Sadie's forehead wrinkled. "How did I—?"

Vulpes tightened. "You do not know?"

"I was alone. Terrified. Convinced the wolf would to tear me to pieces. But Oliver returned and I found a sort of inner calm, like I wasn't afraid anymore."