The Alchemy of Forever

waiting for us just inside the door. His eyes flicker with purpose under the low tracking lighting. “Seraphina, you look so beautiful,” he murmurs, pulling me close. I am enveloped in his herbal scent, his strong arms. A memory of the masquerade ball rises in my mind, but I push it down. Nostalgia is my enemy tonight. I can’t look backward.
    “This is amazing,” Charlotte says, smoothing down her green sequined dress. “I’ve never been inside Emerald City before.”
    The interior of the club is all shades of green—velvet couches the color of damp pine needles, intricate stained-glass chandeliers in chartreuse, wallpaper in turquoise. Waitresses cross the crowd with trays of absinthe and Midori in small crystal glasses.
    Not long ago I would have loved a party like this—dancing till dawn, slipping through the crowd with purpose, making eye contact with Cyrus as we decided, together, who my victim would be. There is something undeniably thrilling about this part. The promise that, no matter what, I can change my body. That I can walk out a new person, presenting a brand-new face to the world. If only my memories were as easy to shed.
    “You fit right in with that dress,” I tell Charlotte. “But in the first Oz book, the Emerald City isn’t really green. The Wizard makes everyone wear green-tinted glasses, so that’s what they see.”
    Cyrus frowns, as though I’ve insulted his choice of venue. I put my hand on his arm. “I think I’ll get myself a glass of champagne.”
    He brightens. “Yes, go get a drink, and don’t forget to . . . look around.” He finishes this statement with a sly grin and a knowing look. My stomach turns, but I make myself return his smile.
    Charlotte and I cross the dance floor, which pulses with bodies dancing to electronic beats. The DJ is playing a remix of the old Neil Young song “Heart of Gold.” It makes me unaccountably sad.
    I crossed the ocean for a heart of gold. And I’m getting old.
    Charlotte looks behind her to make sure I’ve followed. “Let’s dance after this?” She has to shout to be heard. I grab her hand and give it a squeeze. Yes.
    She asks the bartender for two Midori sours with wedges of watermelon, and we toast. “To new beginnings, and old friends,” she says.
    “Cheers.” I smile, and we clink glasses. “Friends forever.”
    The cold melon-flavored sweetness of the Midori trickles down my throat, and I am reminded of the summer we lived in Alabama. Cyrus found us a broken-down farmhouse with a brilliant red barn out back and a massive watermelon patch. Charlotte and I spent hours in the cool shade of the barn, the smell of hay and horses all around us, eating watermelon after watermelon and making wishes on the sticky black seeds.
    I wish to fall in love.
    I wish to live forever.
    I wish to be friends until the end of time.
    I have only one wish for Charlotte now. I take her wrist, suddenly urgent. “Charlotte you need to tell Sébastien how you feel. Promise me this.”
    Charlotte’s smile falters. “Sera, you know what Cyrus would say.”
    “Screw Cyrus.” When I see the stricken look on her face, I soften my tone. “What is eternal life without love?”
    Cyrus appears behind us at the bar and encircles my waist with his arm. I twist to the side so he won’t notice the folded note in my pocket. “There’s someone I want you to meet,” he murmurs. He must have already made his choice. It didn’t take long.
    I take a deep breath and pluck the empty wineglass from his hand. “Let me refill that for you, then I’ll be right there.” He kisses the side of my neck, then nods toward a girl standing alone under a chandelier, light falling in lacy patterns on her gleaming chestnut hair. She looks almost exactly like me, a minor variation on a theme.
    When he’s gone, I pull Charlotte toward me in a tight hug. “Thanks for being my best friend, Char. I mean it.” When I pull back, my eyes are filled with tears. I blink them back.
    “My sensitive Seraphina.” She pushes my hair back and holds her palm to my icy cheek for a moment. “I will see the new you soon enough.”
    I swallow hard as the bartender places a full glass of red wine in front of me. I pick it up and make my way through the crowd toward Cyrus and the girl. When I’m confident no one is looking, I flick open my poison ring and, in one practiced movement, dump its contents into the glass. Then I stride forward, catching Cyrus’s eye. He looks