The Alchemy of Forever

like.” Cyrus’s voice is slightly slurred as he steers her toward a cluster of couches and sits down. He rubs his eyes as if to clear his vision. I take a nervous gulp of air and hand Claudia a glass of absinthe, trying to find a comfortable position on the pillows piled on the floor. I try not to look at the balcony doors. Even in his impaired state, I’m terrified that Cyrus can read my intentions. My good-bye note feels heavy in my pocket.
    “So, Claudia, tell me about yourself. You’re not from San Francisco, are you?” I lace my fingers together to keep from tapping them impatiently. Cyrus’s wine is half gone.
    “No,” she replies. “I am from Munich.”
    “Traveling with friends?” I ask.
    “Oh no, traveling alone. I adore it. I’ve been all over, but San Francisco is an amazing city. That’s why I want to get a job here, so I can stay.”
    Even though Claudia will ultimately survive the night, rage courses through me. Cyrus knows my one criterion—that I only take bodies ready for death, either physically or spiritually. But Claudia is clearly healthy and happy and looking forward to her future. She is alone and beautiful—all that Cyrus needs to know to decide she deserves death.
    Cyrus, pale and with dilated pupils, shoots me a smile devoid of any trace of remorse. I close my eyes for a moment, willing myself not to give in to the anger that’s sparking in my heart.
    Claudia smiles shyly. “So tell me about the photo shoot.” She crosses her legs and touches her hair. “I have done some modeling.”
    I stand up, needing to dispel my anger somehow, and the effort causes the room to swim briefly in misty gray. I walk slowly over to the bar, feeling their eyes on my back. I pull a bottle of water out of the minifridge. “The shoot, right.” My voice sounds thick. “It’s an editorial piece. It should feel like a fairy tale.”
    “Like Snow White?” she asks. “That is my favorite story.”
    I glance at Cyrus. “You remember that story. Is it like that?” I ask him.
    His expression is dreamy. “The wicked queen demands Snow White’s heart,” he whispers, and something snaps inside of me. I walk over to the leaf-green sofa where he sits.
    “But she doesn’t get it!” I say. “Snow White tricks her and sends her the heart of a deer instead.”
    He sees my rage, but just smiles and drains his glass in one swallow. Suddenly I realize just how much I’m going to enjoy what’s about to happen.
    One, I count silently.
    His eyes, which had begun to close, fly open, and his hand snakes out and grabs my wrist.
    “What’s going on?” asks Claudia.
    Two.
    I lean close to Cyrus, ignoring the pain in my wrist. “She doesn’t deserve to die. None of them did.”
    “Sera?” His voice is weak and his grip on my wrist loosens.
    “Good-bye,” I answer.
    Three .
    His eyelids flutter, then close, as he slumps forward. I plunge my hand into my dress and pull out the note, slipping it into his pants pocket. I feel his hand fall away from my arm as he crumples onto the low table, his head making a loud thump as it hits the glass.
    Claudia lets out a scared gasp. “Run!” I whisper. Then I dash toward the balcony doors, and like a bird taking flight, I am free, out into the night.

five
     
    The balcony swirls with fog. I swing my legs over the railing, slippery with marine air. I lose my grip and force myself to focus. One misplaced hand and I will tumble to the concrete below. I do intend to die tonight, but not here. Not like this.
    I can hear Claudia yelling inside and grit my teeth. I should have spiked her drink too. One of my shoes slips off. As it disappears into the fog, I picture it bouncing on the sidewalk. I struggle to find a foothold. Amelia had trained me as an acrobat, but that was a long time ago, and my body is very weak.
    Breathing hard, I kick off the other shoe and ignore a pounding sound above—Jared and Amelia kicking in the door. I can’t afford to dwell on it, so I keep moving. Bit by bit, I make my way down.
    Once on the sidewalk, I can’t hear anything else from above; all other sound is swallowed by the dance music pouring from the club. I shove through the crowd still waiting to get in to Emerald City, then start running up Spear Street.
    Each time my foot lands on the pavement, hot pain shoots up through my body. My breath comes in rasps and my lungs feel as though they’re collapsing. But I know what I’m running toward and push myself forward.