The Alchemy of Forever

biology is the study of life. And where, in this mess of cells, does your consciousness reside? Is it a chemical reaction?”
    I can’t pay attention any longer, but I can tell by the expressions on my fellow students’ faces that they’re fascinated. I find it hard to believe this is happening, but I’ve been on this Earth long enough to know the difference between waking and dreaming.
    What gave me away? I must have made a mistake, somewhere. I probably made a million mistakes. It was a mistake to go into that bar. It was a mistake to talk to Taryn. It was a mistake to leave the bag behind. It was a mistake to try to save Kailey—then try to live as her. And, I realize with a sinking heart, it was probably a huge mistake to report the car missing. What if the police called the man I’d bought it from? What if I didn’t properly clear my browser history and Cyrus saw that I’d bought it in the first place?
    How had I ever thought, for even a second, that Cyrus might not find me? He always gets what he wants. Always.
    I’ll find out soon enough if he knows it’s me. I don’t have any illusions about it—I betrayed him, and I will have to pay. I doubt he will kill me. After the note I left him, he knows that I don’t want to be with him. He’d probably just lock me away, force me to swap bodies with innocents, and live with him for all eternity. Cyrus has always enjoyed meting out his particular brand of torture.
    In all the years I’ve known him, Cyrus only had one true friend. Nathaniel joined our coven in the nineteenth century, when we lived in New York. Nathaniel was just as exuberant as Cyrus for the subjects of science, metaphysics, the chemistry of spirituality. But then one night Nathaniel told me he had fallen in love with a human.
    “Ada,” he replied. “She’s so beautiful.” His eyes were so serious. “I haven’t told Cyrus yet, but I’m going to marry that girl, I swear.”
    I chuckled. Marriage took on a new meaning for an Incarnate. “Till death do us part”—we understood the solemnity of that like few mortals ever could.
    Later that night, I overheard Cyrus and Nathaniel arguing in the library.
    “She’s mortal! She’ll grow old before your eyes. And it won’t be long till you need a new body. What will you tell her then? You can’t even give her children,” Cyrus boomed.
    “It doesn’t matter,” answered Nathaniel. “I will love her when she’s old.”
    Nathaniel was gone the next morning. Cyrus didn’t worry much at first. “He’ll be back,” he promised us assuredly. But the days turned into weeks and the first snows blanketed the city streets. Cyrus searched the whole island of Manhattan, combing the Five Points area, sure he’d find Nathaniel dead or hurt. But one day Cyrus finally admitted that Nathaniel was gone.
    He was despondent. He sat for days in his library, reading books or just staring out the window, snapping at servants who brought him food. He dragged me out into the night with him, to gambling dens and bars, to smoky places where men fiddled frantic songs of love. One snowy night on our way home, we noticed a familiar man in front of us.
    “Nathaniel!” Cyrus grabbed my hand and pulled me into the shadows, then forward, trailing the man for blocks and blocks.
    “Cyrus,” I whispered, “let’s go home.”
    “No!” he hissed. “I just . . . want to talk to him. I miss him, Sera.”
    I obliged, keeping silent pace with him till the moment he stepped out from the shadows and confronted his old friend.
    “Nathaniel.” Cyrus sounded strong, certain.
    Nathaniel whipped around. When he saw us, fear crossed his face. He took several steps backward. “What do you want?” he asked.
    “Want?” Cyrus laughed bitterly. “Aren’t we friends?”
    “Cy—” Nathaniel began.
    “How’s the wife? Did you tell her what you are?” Cyrus took a step closer to Nathaniel. “Did you tell her about us?” Another step, and another.
    Nathaniel shook his head sadly. “I didn’t tell her anything. Cyrus, I’m sorry I left you. It was the only way.”
    The snow was falling so softly, thick upon the ground. It was white, then orange, under the dim light of the gaslights. I buried my nose in the fur stole, shivering.
    “I loved you like a brother.” Cyrus’s voice snarled. “And you betrayed me.”
    His hand darted down to his boot, the boot where he always carried a very sharp knife, and in one swift movement he stabbed Nathaniel. I don’t