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TP had to meditate before entering the lab to dispel the anxiety caused by Mel's words. He kept thinking about the people he'd injured, hoping they'd all fully recover. It was an impossible situation for him. If he went to the authorities and told the truth, they'd think he was mentally ill. They'd give him a psychiatric evaluation, then he'd either be committed to an asylum or tried and convicted. One of the women had had an expensive watch stolen. TP was almost certain he hadn't taken it, but he couldn't prove it, and theft of over $1,000 was a felony in Maryland, punishable by up to ten years in prison. Then there was the weird twist of the drug found in all but one of the victims' systems. Surely he was not responsible for that. So how did it get there? But he had to clear all the questions and anxiety away for now. He must focus on the job at hand: getting the formula for the vegetable stone completed and in the furnace for its 40 day firing. He would not think about how long 40 days was, and how he could survive that long.
"Breathe, focus, breathe."
It was hard to be calm with a crashing thunderstorm going on outside, but he couldn't waste this valuable time. He unlocked the lab, turned on the lights, donned his clean white lab coat, and began to work. He wasn't quite satisfied with the distillation of the final preparation. Hollandus hadn't specified how many distillations were required, only to distill until the residue was as white as snow. Was his? He scrutinized it carefully. The glass it was in altered the color a bit. He decided to distill one final time, as it wouldn't hurt anything, and might be helpful.
The lights flickered as a bolt of lightning struck nearby. Rain slashed against the windows. All he needed now was a power outage. Should he wait for the storm to pass? He thought a moment and decided to go ahead with work.
Meticulously he set up his still and began to heat the precious liquid, watching steam swirl into the tubing. Good grief, it was dark outside. An eerie green glow filled the lab and his neck began to prickle. The words in his manual danced on the page.
"Scientist."
His head shot up. The sound of that hissing voice inside his head sent an electric jolt through him. Slowly he turned around, peering into the corners of the room.
Something stirred behind the small furnace he used for firing. A dark shape appeared, lit up by two fiery red eyes. A head formed, dissipated, formed again.
"Scientist, surely you're not surprised to see me. We've been together a long while now, haven't we? I've spent the past months quietly learning the workings of your mind and body. You knew I was there, didn't you?"
"Not at first," TP whispered. "I thought you were gone."
"I had to overcome your own doppelganger, the one you were born with. Pah, a weak and puny thing! I had no trouble subduing it. But now I know all your secrets! I've sifted through all your thoughts and memories, lingering over the ones that intrigue me. I know what drives you, what brings you excitement, fear, desire. It's given me hours and hours of entertainment. Such a learned man! I've read through all the papers and articles you've published throughout your career. Very impressive. Very commendable."
TP sank onto his lab stool, his eyes following the billowing shapes forming and dissolving in the corner.
"You want to know why I'm here, don't you. Why I'm communicating with you in this way. You still want to get rid of me, but once I reveal certain things to you, you may very well change your mind."
"What things?" TP asked.
The chimera laughed, a huffing, unpleasant sound. "Here's the thing," it said, coiling itself around the stove pipe. "I admire you so much I've decided to give you a choice. It will make matters more interesting. I mean to stay with you to the end of your days, either with your permission or not. If you rebuff me, I'll be forced to stay in your subconscious and you will go mad. But if you agree to let me abide with you consciously, willingly, you and I can benefit beyond measure."
"I'll never agree to that."
"Oh, but wait till you hear my offer! I know what you desire most in the world, Scientist, and I can give it to you. You're not a man who craves power or wealth. Those things don't attract you in the least. No, it's knowledge you crave, isn't it? Remember that day in the marsh when you saw the Lord of the Dance? Remember the feeling of bliss you experienced when your eyes were opened? I can give you that permanently. You'll know all the workings of spirit in nature; you'll have the wisdom of the old alchemists plus much more. The secrets of the sun and moon, the stars and planets, what energies pulse through the deepest layers of the earth and how to harness them. You'll know the workings of creation on this plane, you'll be able to command the elements to make any formulas, any medicines and elixirs you want. What do you think of that?"
TP was mesmerized. He could actually picture it as the chimera spoke. His fingertips tingled, his heart swelled with joy. But a part of him resisted. He struggled to think clearly.
"The choice is yours. I will have you either way. A mad man is better than no man at all. You have no idea the pleasure I get from the sensation of eating and drinking, of experiencing life in a physical body. Even a mad man has to eat, and he still feels fear, anger, lust, confusion. I can have great pleasure in orchestrating these things in him, and in the people he comes in contact with. But if you allow me to merge myself with you willingly, I can experience physical life in the deepest of ways. You and I will grow tremendously strong, tremendously wise! There are large groups of beings we can work with to bring about monumental changes to the earth!"
TP sat silent a moment, digesting all this information. Then he spoke. "It seems to me I have a third choice."
"And what is that?" asked the chimera dragon.
"I can produce the vegetable stone, the Quinta Essentia, and drive you away with it."
Now the chimera was silent, save for emitting small puffs of sound - laughter or anger? When it spoke, it's voice in his head was low and raspy. "You're being stupid. I thought you were an intelligent man, Scientist. Do you really think you can produce a vegetable stone in your paltry little laboratory? You haven't the wisdom, nor the equipment, nor the intuition to do such work. You'll fail, and in your heart you know it."
TP felt the weight of those words pressing down on him like a mountain of iron. But he couldn't let it crush him.
"We'll see, won't we?" he said. "We'll just see."
A big clap of thunder rattled the windows; the chimera rushed at him and he fell off his stool, crumpling to the floor and passing out.
When he awoke, he was lying facedown on the rubber mat he stood on when working. His forehead ached from the fall but there was no blood that he could see. He lay there awhile, drifting. It wasn't unduly uncomfortable, lying on the mat. The storm had passed; all was quiet except for a faint humming noise drifting through the wall. Up and down the humming went, expanding into a warble now and then. It sounded like an off-key rendition of My Darling Clementine. Could a strange bird have flown in during the storm? A Clementine bird. This struck TP as hilarious. He guffawed into the mat, wheezing and gasping, nearly suffocating until he turned his head to the side. A wave of dizziness followed and he closed his eyes, waiting for it to pass. More sounds followed. Thumps, voices. Harold and Madeline must have returned from the aquarium. He heard small footsteps running down the hall and Archie's excited woof of greeting.
Then Madeline's voice rang out from across the hall. She sounded angry.
"What are you doing in here?"
"Cleaning, obviously." Gladys. He realized she was the Clementine bird.
"You have no business being in this bathroom! Does TP even know you're here?"
"He's busy in the lab. And I have every right to be here. Thad and I have an arrangement."
"What sort of arrangement?"
"Well, I hardly think that's any of your business."
"Whatever your arrangement is, it stops in the kitchen. The guest rooms and bathroom are off limits, at least as long as I'm here, is that clear? Take your things and get out."
More thumps, and the sound of water sloshing. "We'll just see what Thad has to say about this. You're overstepping your bounds, young lady. Though you're hardly a lady."
TP thought he'd better intervene before they killed each other. Slowly he stood, using the table to pull himself up. Still a bit dizzy, and his head hurt but otherwise in one piece.
The distillation was complete. He disengaged the tubing and capped the flask. Tomorrow he would mix in the purified white residue, seal it up in a flame proof mold and cast it into the furnace. Then, in forty days' time and by the grace of God, he'd have his Quinta Essentia, and salvation from the beast.
Madeline was across the hall in the library where she was temporarily sleeping, rummaging through her bags and boxes. Gladys had apparently left. The clock beside the couch read 4:10. He'd been knocked out a long time.
"Did you know she was here?" Madeline asked. "I swear, if she's been going through my things I'll - what happened to your forehead?"
"It's a long story," said TP, glancing at Harold, who stood beside the library door. "I'll tell you later. How was your trip, Harold? Did you have a good time?"
Harold treated him to a long tale about his new friends, Sadie and Pete, about the creatures he'd seen at the aquarium, where they'd eaten lunch, how they'd gotten caught in the storm and had to pull off the road.
After the story, Harold and TP took Archie for a walk, checking out the fallen leaves and branches from the storm. Harold tested the depth of the puddles with a stick, and Archie splashed through them happily.
Gladys didn't show up with supper that evening, so TP fixed towering, messy sandwiches that squirted out everywhere and had to be eaten with a fork. Afterwards they had strawberries and cream for dessert.
When Harold had gone to bed, Madeline wanted to hear what had happened in the lab.
"What a nightmare," she said, her face strained and white after he'd told her everything. "Are you sure you're all right, other than that knot on your head?"
"I feel surprisingly well, actually, now that the dizziness has passed. And I have a feeling I got the dragon rattled by talking about the vegetable stone. Maybe I'm wrong, but I sensed agitation in its voice."
"Did it give you any indication of how long before...you know."
"Before I go mad? No. I'm doing everything I can to resist it, and to figure out how the dragon operates. If the beast can learn all my secrets, maybe I can learn its secrets too. Maybe it has an Achilles tendon, so to speak, a vulnerable spot."
Madeline smiled. "Now you're talking, TP."
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