The Etsey Series 1: The Seventh Veil Read Free Page B

that you want.”
    What he wanted? Charles blinked, then frowned. “I thought Bimsy told you. I have nightmares—”
    “I did not ask you why you wanted my help,” Smith said. “I asked you what it is you want .”
    Charles didn’t know what to say. What the devil could this have to do with anything? “I don’t know. To—well, to be happy,” he said lamely. “I want peace. Happiness. Peaceful happiness. Money’s all right, but happiness or peace would be fine. If the dreams were gone, if I could forget—” Charles blushed and looked down at the floor. “I don’t know,” Charles said again, almost in a whisper. “I truly don’t know what I want.”
    Smith rose from his chair and gestured at Charles. “Remove your clothes, then turn and face the door.”
    Charles took a step backward, stumbling over his own feet. “I beg your pardon?”
    “I’m certain I made myself clear.” Smith ran his gaze up and down Charles’s body once more, then curled his lip and shook his head. When Charles failed to move, Smith clapped his hands sharply. “Strip, pet. I don’t fancy doing it myself.”
    For a moment, Charles considered bolting. This meeting was clearly going pear-shaped. He’d known the alchemist would be eccentric, and Charles wasn’t against sex, obviously, but—well, this was just odd as all fuck, wasn’t it? But where else would he go if he left? If he got high again now, high enough to dull the wraiths, he risked killing himself or worse. If he went back to his grandfather’s house, he’d have to kill himself.
    “Please,” Charles said, trying to sound penitent, not panicked. “Please—I need you to stop these dreams.” He glanced at Smith’s long hands again, then, since the subject had been broached, at his groin. “I’m not—I don’t mind trading sex, if that’s what you want, and I’m flattered, but I truly need—”
    Smith laughed so hard he could not speak for several minutes.
    “Trading sex.” Smith wiped tears from his eyes and righted himself. “I’m not going to fuck you, pet, not if I can help it.”
    Charles glanced again at the door. “Bimsy said you used sex magic. I don’t know what that is, but…” When Charles trailed off, waiting for Smith to clarify, the alchemist only lifted one of his pencil-thin eyebrows. Charles cleared his throat. “How does it work?”
    Smith leaned forward, his pale eyes dancing in their own cold light. “Take off your clothes, and I’ll show you.”
    Oh, it was time to run. The stink was climbing inside Charles’s nostrils now, and he’d gotten his answer as to why this alchemist was rogue: because he was barking mad. Charles began to back away toward the door. “I think I will give this matter a bit more consideration. Thank you, though—yes, thank you , because you’ve been very helpful. Truly.” He tripped over a pile of books and knocked his elbow against a table, jostling some tubing. He laughed nervously. “Thank you. Very much. I’ll just—be going—”
    Smith tilted his head curiously to the side. “Goodness. Is that fog creeping beneath my door?”
    Charles turned, knocking the table again as he cried out. Goddess save him, it was here . And it was well formed. It was beneath the door, clinging to the walls, the ceiling—it was everywhere. Charles could see the hands of the wraiths and the edges of their faces. He shouted, glanced around for an exit, then slammed into the table and pressed himself tight against it.
    It was at the windows too. It was everywhere.
    Smith rose from the desk and walked idly toward Charles. He reached over Charles’s shoulder to a shelf behind the table, withdrew a cigarette from a box, and waved it at Charles. “Undress, pet. I need you naked for what I intend to do. If you hurry, I’ll drive them back before they can reach you.”
    Charles started to refuse, then stopped short, realizing what the alchemist was saying. “Wait—you can see them?”
    Smith picked up a flint from