The Alchemy of Forever

Morgan.
    I stand up awkwardly. “I’ll go get changed.”
    As I put my clothes back on, I feel a pang of sadness. Mothers and daughters. Is there any relationship more complicated in the entire world? I don’t ever want to hurt Mrs. Morgan. The fact that, unknown to her, her daughter is already dead pierces my heart. Even though I know it’s just the continuation of a fantasy, I want to let her live happily as long as possible.
    Am I just trying to atone for my past? For the pain I caused my own mother? I don’t know. All I can think of is Cyrus’s smug grin.
    Mrs. Morgan pays for the clothes. Back outside, the light is failing swiftly, a quiet November twilight settling in over the shops and the restaurants. “Thank you,” I tell her.
    “You’re welcome,” she answers. “We should probably head home.”
    I feel tender and protective toward her as we walk back to the car. I’m lost in thought and barely hear when Kailey’s name is spoken. Mrs. Morgan stops, looking curiously around. I follow her gaze, spotting the all-too-familiar platinum hair.
    Cyrus is seated at an outdoor table in front of an upscale cafe. A half-drunk cappuccino is in front of him, and he’s holding a book by Terence McKenna. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he says, flashing his perfect smile.
    I feel like there’s a metal band around my chest, restricting my breathing. “Hi,” I mumble. Mrs. Morgan has an expectant, confused look. “Mom,” I tell her, “this is Mr. Shaw, our substitute bio teacher.”
    “Delighted,” says Cyrus, taking her hand. “You must be Mrs. Morgan?”
    “Nice to meet you,” she says, and I cringe as she gives him a warm smile. He’s too charming, when he wants to be, giving no hint to the monster that he really is. His victims never stand a chance. I want to get her away from here as soon as possible.
    “I just found out I’ll be teaching the class for the rest of the semester,” he says, taking a sip of his cappuccino and somehow managing not to get a single bit of foam on his lip.
    “What? Why?” I ask. “What happened to Mr. Roberts?”
    Cyrus narrows his eyes at me. “He decided to take a sabbatical. He needed the time off.” I know he must be lying. Why would Mr. Roberts leave without giving us any notice? I wouldn’t be surprised if Cyrus killed Mr. Roberts. The thought makes me sick to my stomach. But I smile even wider.
    “Well. Good for him. We were just leaving, so I’ll see you tomorrow.” I try to make my voice as carefree as possible, and start to walk away. “Come on, Mom.”
    “Great to meet you, Mr. Shaw,” she says, reluctantly following me.
    “He seems very nice,” she says, as we buckle our seat belts.
    “He is,” I lie.
    I’m reminded of how I used to play chess with Cyrus. It was his favorite game, and he was very good at it. I only won once, after which he smashed the board against the drawing room wall, splintering the wood and cracking one of the marble queens.
    Suddenly, I am furious. There is hate in my heart, coiling like a snake, wanting to strike. The more I think about Cyrus’s smiling face and his perfect black suit, the angrier I get. In one day he’s managed to threaten everything I’ve come to care about. I’ve lived for hundreds of years under his rules—trying to keep him calm, trying to appease him, to help him. All for nothing—it never stopped him from hurting people, from killing senselessly, from acting cruelly. And here he is again, ruining what little I have as carelessly as he would smash a plate against the floor.
    He’s so arrogant. He didn’t even try to hide from me. He came waltzing in to Berkeley High in the same body that I last saw him in. He thinks he knows me so well—that I’d blush the second I saw him, stammer, or do something to give myself away immediately. Well, I didn’t, and for that I am proud of myself.
    He won’t catch me so easily. I’m leaving tonight. If I go as soon as the Morgans fall asleep, I’ll at least have a night’s lead. When Kailey’s parents discover me missing in the morning, they’ll sound the alarm. I need to cover some ground before now and then. I am picturing the moment when I don’t show up for biology tomorrow. Cyrus will definitely know it’s me. He’ll know that I won this round—that I got away before he could catch me.
    Then I have a thought that sends me reeling: Cyrus wants me to run. Of course. That’s why he didn’t switch bodies. It wasn’t just