Ghost of a Chance

Alex opened his eyes and found himself staring at the ceiling of his office. The back of his waiting room couch rose up on his right, so he slowly turned his head left.

The window behind Leslie’s desk showed the pale light of evening beyond, and his secretary was nowhere to be seen. Her desk had been cleared off and a wooden case sat open, pivoting on a hinge down its center so its contents could be easily accessed. An alcohol burner sat in front of the case, under a metal stand that supported a glass beaker with a triangular base and a narrow neck. A viscous, sludgy liquid the color of mud churned and bubbled within the glass.

As he lay, watching the muddy liquid, a woman entered his field of view. She wore a knee-length blue skirt with a white blouse and a jacket that matched the skirt. She looked to be in her late sixties with white hair bound up in a bun behind her head. Her face was lined and a bit severe, but she had blue eyes that sparkled with an element of mischief.

“W-who are you?” Alex asked. His mouth felt dry and his words were a bit slurred.

The woman walked over to him and held a monocle up to her eye.

“So you’re back among the living finally,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “It’s about time.”

“Didn’t answer…” Alex swallowed hard, but his mouth still felt like it was full of cotton. “My question,” he finished.

“My name is Dr. Andrea Kellin,” she said, squinting through the monocle. Alex remembered the name, she was the alchemist he was looking for when he met Jessica.

“Dr. Bell asked me to come have a look at you. It’s a good thing I did,” she added.

Alex felt somewhat exposed under the doctor’s gaze as she scrutinized him through the little glass. As he observed it, however, Alex noticed that instead of a proper spectacle lens, the monocle had some kind of gemstone in it.

“What’s that?” he croaked.

Dr. Kellin smiled and took the monocle away from her eye.

“You’re just like Ignatius,” she said. “He doesn’t miss a detail either. This is a Lens of Seeing.”

Alex had no idea what that meant.

“It’s actually a salt crystal,” Kellin said, holding it close enough for Alex to see it clearly. “I grew it over the course of six months in a vat filled with the philter of true sight.”

“Very patient of you,” Alex managed.

Dr. Kellin laughed. Her smile was a bit crooked, but it was warm and genuine, and Alex decided he liked her.

“The philter of true sight is one of the most difficult concoctions in alchemy,” she said. “I spent the better part of a decade learning to brew it and the batch I used to make this,” she held up the monocle, “took me two years of work.”

Alex opened his mouth, but she put her finger on his lips to silence him.

“The lens allows me to read your energy,” she explained. “I can see where you are hurt.” She touched his side where his broken rib was, and he felt a twinge even from that gentle contact. “I can also see what you need to get better.”

Alex chuckled at that. He doubted very much that even the formidable doctor could cure him of having spent the majority of his life-force.

Kellin’s face turned sour when Alex laughed.

“Yes,” she said, giving voice to Alex’s thoughts. “I can also see the terrible price you’ve paid for your magic. I hope whatever power you sought was worth it.”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” Alex croaked. “Can you tell how much—”

“No,” the doctor said, anticipating his question. “I only know what’s left isn’t much.”

Alex felt a cold knot of fear in his guts. He’d successfully suppressed that emotion for months by the simple trick of not thinking about it. He wouldn’t have changed what he did if he could go back, but he didn’t want to die any more than the next guy.

“Thanks anyway,” he said.

“Enough questions,” Kellin said, turning and walking to the bubbling container on Leslie’s desk. She extracted a small brown bottle with a dropper in the lid. As Alex watched, she carefully added one drop of red liquid from the dropper to the muddy sludge. Instantly it began to roil and churn like a living thing until it burst into a pale yellow light that pulsed out like burning phosphorus. A moment later the light subsided, leaving a clear, yellow liquid behind that looked, to Alex, like a beaker full of urine.

Dr. Kellin picked up the alcohol burner from under the beaker and blew out its flame. That done, she produced one of the shot glasses Alex usually kept in his desk and poured two fingers of bourbon from the bottle Leslie kept in her desk, Alex’s bottle being empty. To this, she added an equal part of the yellow liquid and swirled them together in the glass.

“I want you to sit up,” she said, walking back to the couch. “Slowly,” she cautioned.

Alex moved and the pain in his head nearly blinded him. Taking the Doctor’s advice, he slowly levered himself up into a sitting position.

“I want you to sip this,” she said, handing him the shot glass. “It’s hot.”

Alex raised it to his lips and just touched the hot liquid to his tongue. It tasted sweet and the moisture was welcome in his mouth.