Page 53 of Atlas of Unknowable Things
“Trade secret, I’m afraid,” said Aspen with a wink.
“Yeah, well, I’m not drinking anything unless I know what’s in it.”
“That’s a shame because we’re not talking unless you drink.”
I inhaled and grimaced. “It smells awful.”
“Things that are good for you usually smell bad,” said Aspen.
“Drink up,” said Finn with a smile. “I promise it won’t hurt you.”
I wasn’t sure what to believe, but I didn’t think Aspen would try to outright poison me, so I decided to trust her. I assumed there might be something slightly hallucinogenic in it, but I’d taken mushrooms before. If they decided to dose me or do something stupid like that, I’d just ride it out.
I took a sip, a single sip, and soon the room began to change. The air seemed to sparkle and my heart began to buzz like it was filled with hungry honeybees. Whatever this reaction was, it was too soon for a hallucinogen to start working, so I assumed my response was due to some kind of placebo effect.
My head spinning, I focused on the blue of the rug, on the tiny tendrils, the softness, the sturdiness. I worried the edge with my fingers, but then I hit something hard underneath.
“What is this?”
“It’s a rug,” Lexi said with a laugh.
“No,” I said, feeling around. “There’s something under here. Is this a trapdoor?” I started to peel back the corner and saw that I was correct. Dorian put a hand on my forearm to stay me.
“Leave it. It’s a remnant from another time—our predecessors’ time. They built tunnels that ran all underneath the groundshere, but the tunnels flooded back in 1890. Now there’s nothing down there but swamp water and cholera.”
I let the corner of the rug flip back into place.
“Okay,” I said. “So tell me, then. What’s the big secret?”
Aspen leaned forward and spoke in a low voice, which seemed crazy, since we were in the middle of nowhere. “This place,” she said, “these mountains, they’re unquiet. Some places are like that. I’m sure you’ve heard of haunted houses, right? Well, these mountains are like that. We’re not alone out here. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”
I started laughing. “That the woods are haunted?”
“Not just the woods, and not precisely haunted. Unquiet. Occupied.”
Unquiet—the exact same word that had occurred to me when I was in the woods.
“Occupied?” I asked.
“Yes. Occupied long before mankind ever walked this earth. Robin, do you know what alchemy is?”
I sat there speechless. Of all the things I’d been expecting her to say, this was not on the list.
“Of course I know what alchemy is,” I said, but my voice was shaking.
I stared at them blankly, a sudden understanding washing over me. The book that had so enchanted me in the scriptorium, it had contained an illustration of a woman in robes I’d mistakenly identified as the Oracle of Delphi, but it wasn’t the oracle, was it? It was a famous image—Mary the Prophetess, the mother of alchemy. Of course! How could I have missed it? She was one of the first scientists in history, pioneering alchemy, which later became chemistry. The bain-marie we’d all used in high school chemistry was even named after her.
“Alchemy takes many forms,” said Aspen.
“Right. Metal into gold. All that nonsense.” I was starting to get confused, unable to find the words I wanted.
“It’s not nonsense,” she said. “Tonight we’re going to make you believe. Drink up.”
I took another sip, trying not to look as repulsed as I felt. “What am I drinking?”
“A form of alchemy.”
“So you’re telling me you’re, what, alchemists? Alchemists trying to make gold out of metal in the mountains of Colorado? Like the pseudoscience gold rush?”
